Reality Bites: Party Down South

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This is pretty much the only time you'll see the entire cast upright.
There are a million reality shows on the naked television. We're going to watch them all, one at a time.

Like Manchester before it, MTV's The Real World has much to answer for. The Patient Zero of reality programming, TRW provided a template that has served fans of poorly scripted melodrama on up through Jersey Shore. CMT, or "Country Music Television," is another Viacom outlet that's finally decided to throw its ten gallon hat into the mix. Party Down South comes from the producers of Jersey Shore, in case the word "party" in the title tricked you into thinking this was going to feature roundtable discussions on regional Marxism.


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Reality Bites: Blood, Sweat & Heels

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Sure, they're getting along *now*.
There are a million reality shows on the naked television. We're going to watch them all, one at a time.

When preparing (cough) for this piece every week, I try not to let myself procrastinate to the point where I'm scrambling on Tuesday night for something to watch. Better to find something on Saturday or Sunday, so I can absorb it and write at my leisure.That doesn't always work, of course, and if you're wondering why, you've obviously never had to force yourself to sit down and watch a show about eight-year olds giving each other concussions.

And so it was last night that I found myself with a blog to write and no show recorded. Luckily(?), Bravo On Demand was there for me. And with a show I'd never heard of to boot. What could possibly go wrong?


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Reality Bites: Friday Night Tykes

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Don't put me in, coach.
There are a million reality shows on the naked television. We're going to watch them all, one at a time.

"Remember this shit? Playing pee-wee?"
"Yeah, it was fun."
"No, it wasn't. I remember getting yelled at: 'Too fat, Billy Bob!' 'Too slow and dumb!' We were just little kids, Mox. It's like nothing was ever good enough." - Varsity Blues

Yes, I just quoted a 1999 MTV movie starring James Van Der Beek. Because -- while it wasn't what you would call "good" according to most film scienticians -- it got one thing right about football in the state of Texas. Namely, that people are fucking crazy about football in the state of Texas.


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Reality Bites: Big Tips Texas

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Oh, Big *Tips*. That's what you call one of those double Nintendos.
There are a million reality shows on the naked television. We're going to watch them all, one at a time.

If you live in a city, state, or part of the world that's been the focus of a reality show, you probably have plenty of complaints. The more thoughtful residents of the Garden State weren't overly fond of Jersey Shore, while the good people of Pittsburgh, PA probably aren't too jazzed about the picture Dance Moms paints of their fair(ish) city.

And while it would hard to fault Big Tips Texas for its portrayal of life in the Lone Star State, I can't deny it represents a not unsubstantial population of our republic. That is, those people less focused on individuality and ruggedness and more on how to best personify the ideals of the movie Coyote Ugly.


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Reality Bites: Cathouse: The Series

Categories: Reality Bites

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Air Force Amy will swallow your soul. Among other things.
There are a million reality shows on the naked television. We're going to watch them all, one at a time.

"Naked television" indeed. Our uneven and mostly unofficial look at reality nudity concludes with your final Reality Bites of 2013, zeroing in on HBO's long-running Cathouse: The Series.

I say "long-running" when in fact it's hard to tell if the show is even produced anymore. The last official series broadcast I could find was dated 2008, which a handful of specials airing since then. The "Best Of" special was The Episode I Watched, but I'd seen enough over the last six or seven years to get the main thrust of the show.

That may or may not be the last lousy pun in this entry. I'm not making any promises.


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Reality Bites: Party On

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I COMMAND YOU TO ACKNOWLEDGE HOW MUCH FUN I'M HAVING
There are a million reality shows on the naked television. We're going to watch them all. One at a time.

I was pretty jazzed when I saw the TV listing for Party On last week. "Wow!" I thought, "I can't believe E! picked up that show, though I wonder how they're going to edit it for TV. And aren't Adam Scott and Lizzy Caplan - much less Kristen Bell - way too famous to reprise their roles from a low budget Starz sitcom?"

Yes, I'm an idiot, because what I thought was a revival of the tragically canceled Party Down is, in fact, a new, quote-unquote travel show with synopses like this:

Jaqui parties in Mykonos with socialite Stephanie Pratt, after which she gets to know LMFAO's Redfoo and parties with the designers of Dsquared.

Is that even English? I understood "parties," "Mykonos," and "socialite." I guess that'll have to do.


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Reality Bites: Naked Vegas

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Surprisingly, the show featuring live (almost) nude girls was a hit.
There are a million reality shows on the naked television. We're going to watch them all, one at a time.

Our celebration of unscripted nudity continues with SyFy's Naked Vegas, in which we join the crew at the eponymous Las Vegas body painting company as they create "amazing displays of artwork" on nekkid men and women.

If those of us in what bi-coastal pricks refer to as "flyover country" are familiar with body painting, it's probably from 80s music videos and recent installments of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue (I'll pause for a few minutes while you peruse that) ... However, in places like Vegas and Los Angeles and Gomorrah, it's also quite stylish to have painted human beings gracing your soiree.

Personally, I'd have the same visceral reaction to that as I do to food being served in a strip club. But never mind that, onward.


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Reality Bites: Buying Naked

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Do I really have to say this? Fine: "Nice hooters."
There are a million reality shows on the naked television. We're going to watch them all, one at a time.

Did you know Pasco Country, Florida is one of the largest nudist friendly areas in the country? Of course not, and why would you? Who seeks that kind of information out?

Besides nudists, I mean.

The county is home to about a dozen "clothing optional" subdivisions and neighborhoods, and Jackie Youngblood -- the self-titled Queen of Nudist Real Estate -- is here to help you with all your naked home purchase needs. Thanks again, TLC, for reminding us that the "Learning" in your network name is far from a mandatory requirement.


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Reality Bites: Vegas Strip

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There are a million reality shows on the naked television. We're going to watch them all, one at a time.

If you've read "Reality Bites" more than once (unlikely, I know), you've probably figured out what a big fan I am of COPS. It's arguably the first reality show -- in the format as we've come to recognize it, that is -- and is at least somewhat egalitarian in its depiction of criminals of all races and creeds unsuccessfully attempting to flee "the men and women of law enforcement" before getting pepper-sprayed and whacked in the kidneys with a side-handle baton.

The drawback to longtime viewing, of course, is the number of episodes set in Cleveland or Buffalo or other AFC shitholes. Does crime happen in these places? Of course (have you *been* to Cleveland?), but it's so depressing. You can only watch some mulleted walking liver failure in a Sabres jersey scream, "That's my friend's weed!" as he's driven away to central booking so many times before pining for another episode set in that most joyful of felonious destinations, Las Vegas.

truTV heard my prayers. Enter Vegas Strip, from COPS co-creator Morgan Langley. My only complaint is that the show's been on since 2011 and I'm just now hearing about it.

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Reality Bites: Vanderpump Rules

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Yeah, but can any of them drive the last of the V-8 Interceptors?
There are a million reality shows on the naked television. We're going to watch them all, one at a time.

When civilization finally collapses, thanks to (take your pick) climate change/overpopulation/civil unrest/alien invasion, life as we know it will devolve into a series of running battles waged against mutant bikers on the blackened, twisted hellscape we used to call Earth. This isn't just my adolescent fever dream, it's inevitable.

When that day comes, we'll need new leaders. Men and women produced not by Ivy League universities or churned out by diplomatic or political institutions, but rather forged in the unforgiving crucible of reality TV. I've been doing this for a while now, and have come to realize these shows serve a purpose beyond irreparably damaging my central nervous system; they're providing us a way to survive the coming chaos.

That's what I tell myself, at least, every time I force my remote control hand, Dr. Strangelove style, to change the channel to Bravo.


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