Reality Show: Tea Party!

There is a lot of Tea-Party interest and energy out there. This show is designed to draw in viewers who want to learn more about the phenomenon. I’ve been shopping the idea around Hollywood and there is quite a nice little bidding war going on for it between the major reality-show players.

The show recruits three teams of thirteen rabid Tea-Party members each – thirteen,  or however many states there were at the beginning of the country. Twelve? Eleven? Whatever.

Or thirteen teams of three members each. I forget which I decided upon.

Every week for five weeks, the teams go out and throw a major protest on a given theme. Best protest wins the week.

Protest themes:

Child Care – We’re not talking about child-care programs for normal people, like the one down at Messiah Lutheran. We’re talking about those crazy programs like Head Start, where the government pays somebody to take care of the kids of welfare mothers, who can then go home and collect their checks from the state while eating chocolates and drinking beer on the couch. Protest hint: put super glue on the rocking-horse rockers.

Emergency Room – Have you ever got an ouchie and headed down to the emergency room at your local hospital for some TLC? You walk through the doors and WTF?!? The place is overflowing with gunshot and stab victims, drug addicts, and those same welfare mothers with their sick kids (germs caught at Head Start, no doubt). Your earnings are taxed right out of your wallet and sent to the hospital to pay for care for these losers with no health benefits of their own. Protest hint: bring a mean clown.

Soup Kitchen – What a great place for a protest. You probably won’t see much soup. I don’t know where they get it, but these places often serve actual meat, in the form of hot dogs or whatever. I’m sure that the governmentkeeps these soup kitchens open for business (who knows why), using the money that you’ve been saving to pass on to your own children. The death tax sweeps it up, right out of your family’s hands. Protest hint: bring a big truck and give everybody in the building a lift out of town.

Jail – These locations are loaded with the worst of the worst, and the government taxes you to put them up there. Most jails are little more than criminal hotels. Why should you even be working when Obama has already spent the money you hope to earn? Protest hint: to win this one, you have to end up in jail yourself.

Grand Finale:  Starbucks – Do you have any conception of the number of liberal hare-brained schemes that are dreamed up in these lairs. And every one of those schemes depends upon your savings for its funding. Protest hint: bring a gallon of gas and a match.

After watching this show, will you go out and hold a protest of your own? If you love America you will.

Reality Show: “1,000 Lbs of Love”

This project has been funded by a broadcast network, but is awaiting the signing of the two protagonists in the show.

A special RV sits in Van Buren, Maine, in the farthest north-east corner of the continental U.S. Another waits in Imperial Beach, California, south of San Diego and Chula Vista, in the farthest south-west corner of the country. 3,459 miles separate the two vehicles and their human cargos.

On each RV, built to take the load, lies an individual weighing in at 500 lbs exactly. Myrtle and Fred.

Also on-board each RV, an MD specializing in extreme weight loss, and a lab capable of monitoring body chemistry during the weight-loss process.

The two RVs will set out and head for the opposite corner of the country. They’ll pass each other at the half-way point, on the outskirts of Rolla, Missouri, where they will stop briefly while Myrtle and Fred meet first the first time. Up until now, it’s all been email, IM, Facebook, tweets, and Skype.

From the outset, the RVs will progress slowly, because by the time they reach Rolla, Fred and Myrtle will weigh only 300 pounds each.

The skin is the body’s largest organ. Lose several hundred pounds and you will discover your skin organ hanging in folds. In Rolla, a plastic surgeon will tighten up Fred and Myrtle from head to toe. Bariatric surgery. The couple will be doing a lot of pain killers. These will provide their face-to-face interactions at a rustic picnic ground with a dreamlike quality.

The show: many ups and downs. Many highs and lows. Fred looses 80 pounds and realizes that, at 420 pounds, he is still far from his goal of 165. He rebels but his contract with the network is air-tight. The producers can starve him at will, as long as they don’t actually kill him. Four thuglike individuals follow the RV in a Crown Vic all the way across the U.S., for the purpose of strapping Fred down to his bed when necessary.

Myrtle tries to apply makeup for her first appearance on the show. At 500 pounds, she has a lot of face space to fill in with her liquid foundation. She runs out before she gets any lower than her nose.

In Pharisburg, Ohio, Fred sees a part of himself long hidden from direct view. He is impressed.

Time and again, Fred and Myrtle talk about food, but the network must cut away on the basis of good taste.

Reality Show: “Stretch”

I was paid an obscene amount, just for the idea. Let me know if you like the show when it airs.

Ten men, all 6′ 8″ or taller. Single, good looking, and looking. Ten women, all 5′ or shorter, ditto.

The twenty of them are brought together at a luxury resort located in northern Georgia but not too close to Atlanta.

For ten weeks we watch the group in the pool, frolicing. This includes on-the-shoulders team wrestling. We see the gleaming bodies on the lounges at poolside. There is horseback riding. Horseshoes and crocquet and volleyball. Cocktails before dinner. We see couples dancing on the patio under a full moon. Always, onscreen, the women craning their necks, the men peering down at the top of the ladies’ heads, seeing the ladies dramatically foreshortened from crown to toes, with the parts in between, like the women’s noses, for example,  sticking out. If you’ve ever tried to draw foreshortened nudes in a life class, you know what I’m talking about.

The women are a collection of professionals. Doctors, lawyers, and college professors, like that. The men work with their hands. We see that the women often wear wedgies, even in the most casual of settings, but somehow the shoes make them look even shorter, as they’re up on their toes a little. The men go barefoot. One time a guy steps on a rock and one of the women takes his foot in her hands and she can’t begin to get her fingers around the whole thing.

The first “couple” to happen is Louise, a government economist, and Jake, listed as a roustabout. We see them from a distance, out in the garden at dusk. Jake has lifted Louise to stand on the ping-pong table so that they can have a conversation.

The show is really just about how this is going to work. We know that we’re probably not going to get to see it, even if the action goes a little blue at the end, but it’s like a car wreck. Hard to look away.

My First Reality Show

Well, my first reality show, “Walk the Walk,” is in production. It will pay me enough to live well for a year.

It was easy. Just get that initial concept, pitch it to the right guys, and you’re in.

“Walk the Walk” is so simple. Each episode begins with five guys in Central Park. In the first episode, they’re furniture movers, real professional guys, all single or divorced. Each one gets a celebrity. He takes her up in his arms and starts walking north out of the park. Maybe one of the guys gets an Uma Thurman or a Kirstie Alley – you know, a real horse – to provide us with a laugh as we watch the guy lugging her like a couch, but for the rest, it’s just normal-sized women stars. No Calista Flockharts or other lightweights with an obvious eating disorder.

So off go these guys, and they can’t put their woman down. Nature takes its course and the guys get more and more tired. Their arms are falling off, for Pete’s sake. The women try to encourage them, keep them going, because there is a prize involved. One woman might insult her guy, call him weak, impugn his manhood, threaten him, so forth. Another might nuzzle him, make promises, anything to keep him from dropping her.

So this goes on as they leave the park and head north on 7th Avenue. Destination: the Bronx Zoo, which is one hell of a hike. One by one, the guys crap out, until there is only one left with a star in his arms. It’s summer and he’s sweating bullets. But now he doesn’t have to cradle her. Now he can carry her piggyback, or reverse-piggyback in front, or on his shoulders. She’s up there with her thighs around his ears, him trudging along through Harlem at two in the morning. The show isn’t on Starz, so we only go so far with the cheese.

They talk. The show is all about them getting to know each other, their hopes, their dreams. The sweat keeps coming. They get a bathroom break at Yankee Stadium. The guy is a mess, which makes him drop his social defenses and get more animal in his conversation. The celebrity is moved by this on a libidinal level. It’s like a damned movie to her.

If they make it to the zoo, they get a free weekend at a B&B in Mamaroneck, which is up on the way to Stamford. The camera doesn’t follow them but as the show’s credits are rolling, we check back with the guy Monday morning as he goes out with his van to help a retired couple move from their apartment in the East 60s over to Bushwick, to be closer to their grandchildren.