Congratulations on Getting Your Show Green Lit!

There are too many reality TV shows, but damned if that’s ever going to stop TV producers from making more.  Quite the contrary: the raw number of reality TV shows is perceived not as a marker of an oversaturated market, but rather as demonstration of the virulent sustainability of reality television as art form.

That doesn’t mean that any show can be greenlit.  America’s Sternest Jamaican Mothers, for example, was passed on, thanks to lackluster early demographic responses and a lackluster pitch.  Improv Battle was also cancelled, after it was revealed that every winning troupe was actually just an iteration of a UCB collective that was taking a break to work on other projects.  So You Think You Can DJ Your Sister’s Wedding, Fart Hunters, Beer Snob Intervention.  All intellectual abortions, dead before they even had a pilot.  You don’t want that to happen to you.

So you’ve done your market research.  You’ve got your target audience, and you’ve got your hook.  Today you’ll make your pitch. Smash cut to:

A Hollywood conference room where an obese man in an ill-fitting suit stares at an old school cathode ray television on the sort of AV cart you’d expect to find in a high school.  The ancient TV plays your pilot on a VHS cassette.  When it finishes, he strokes his chin(s).

“Interesting,” he’ll all but moan.

“We think we’ll get a good portion of the people who are interested in Tri-State area marital relations as a guilty pleasure, as well as people who are interested in Tri-State area marital relations in a genuine fashion,” you’ll proudly announce.  He’ll nod.

“I can see real conflict between the Russian mob wives and the moderate Jews from New Jersey as the series progresses,” he’ll say without looking at you or your partner.  Your partner will nod.

“We specifically chose families who are intermarried with bad blood. Grandparent feuds, that sort of thing.”

The executive will act as if he didn’t hear anything (your partner is a woman) but process the information all the same.  After a few moments of making beeping and booping sounds with his mouth and kneading his fingers, he’ll stand up, extend a stubby hand your way and inform you:

“We’re very interested in continuing Brisket Wives as a project.  Let’s get started.”

Congratulations on Getting Your Show Green Lit!

Congratulations Reality TV Show Star!

You’re a star on a reality TV show that makes dictators and B list celebrities live in houses together and solve occasional challenges before one of you is voted to stand trial before the Hague for your crimes against humanity. So far every single contestant who has been tried has been found guilty and summarily executed. The winner receives a full pardon for being a total fucking waste of humanity.

We don’t want to ruin any surprises by telling you which dictator and/or celebrity you are, because you’re going to be the last one left standing. But we do want to let you know some of the events that you’re going to have to deal with.

When Muammar Gaddafi chokes Pam Anderson to death in the hot tub, for example. That could do some damage to you if you’d entered into any kind of allegiance with him. We’d recommend steering clear of that asshole, he won’t be able to survive murdering the sluttiest house-member. And Pam Anderson, for that matter. Hepatitis, you know? And Hosni Mubarik is totally going to get into an argument with Gary Busey about Hot Pockets and that’s going to make for an awkward vote the next week. And Sarah Palin and Bashar Al-Asad are definitely going to butt heads (who didn’t see that coming?) so you’ll want to choose sides early with the two of them. Palin is more charismatic, but Al-Asad is a lot more trustworthy and less ruthless.

Of course, you could always throw everyone off and just ally yourself with Howie Mandel, who is a total fucking asshole that no one will want to remove simply by merit of being totally inoffensive. Or play it safe and align yourself with Manny Mo, who you’d have to be a total prick not to like just for being him. You could double down and get with Verne Troyer too.

The key thing will be to enjoy yourself in that house, to learn the lessons offered to you and to stop raping for at least three months, because while you might love doing it it will probably invalidate all our predictions and keep you from being able to win.

Just some friendly advice.

Congratulations Reality TV Show Star!

Congratulations on Molesting That Corpse!

Fame is a worthy goal. At least, in the minds of the disaffected loners who work in this office it’s a worthy goal. More functional men and women might consider the pursuit of fame above all else as a “petty” or “silly goal that will only lead to heartbreak. But you know what? Those people are chumps.

Those people don’t have what it takes to go into a graveyard late at night and dig up a corpse. They don’t have what it takes to rent a video camera and get their friend to film them while they do it. They definitely don’t have what it takes to edit and master that video and do a super classy voice over narration during the whole thing. And you can bet your ass and theirs that they don’t have the balls to put a corpse’s dick in their mouth.

But you do. And after you send that tape in to The Network tomorrow you’re going to explode like a bottle of acid on some crazy bitch’s face. They’ll receive it today and all the executives will watch it together in a conference room, which is normal and par for the course for Network executives.

“This man belong in prison,” one of the Network executives will say.

“I love it!” another Network executive will say, completely misunderstanding the previous Network executive. “Maybe we could get some other necrophiliacs in with him and make it a new reality show?”

“I think that could play pretty well,” a third Network executive will chime in.

A fourth Network executive will vomit into a trash-can, disgusted at the people around her.

“I’ll see about freeing up some funding and talking to some officials in various states,” a fifth Network executive will announce.

“Are you okay?” a sixth Network executive will ask the fourth Network executive.

And just like that you’ll be pulled out of your prison cell and dropped on to the TV, where you’ll place eighth in rankings and last a season and a half, enduring the horror that is cancellation just before you thought you were going to get a pardon for being such an awesome dude. C’est la vie.

Congratulations on Molesting That Corpse!