"Tuned Into Pop Culture" guest contributor Nick Carrabine is a News-Herald staff writer.
I made fun of MTV’s the Real World for a good decade and a half.
I didn’t understand it as a child, and I still don’t understand it as, well, some would argue I’m still a child.
I do know one thing, I actually live in the real world and know many other people who do too. I don’t, nor do they, live in a fancy mansion with seven other model like creatures. I don’t go out every single night to clubs in some exotic place like Sydney, Cancun or Hawaii.
Just because you put seven strangers in an extraordinary mansion with different religions, ethnicity and sexual preferences, doesn’t mean you are living in the real world.
You know why? The real world, for most people, isn’t a non-stop party.
Most people are struggling beyond belief, hate their jobs, don’t have the money to enjoy themselves on the weekends and can’t go on one weekend vacation, let alone live in their dream location for six months.
For those who haven’t experienced this Mona Lisa of television, here is every single season in a nutshell: Seven to eight good looking snobby 18 to 24-year-olds move in with each other in a dream house, get drunk every night and fight until they want to kill each other over some of the most asinine things such as someone borrowing an item and not returning it, calling someone a derogatory name or not doing the dishes. Because we all know, those are important real world issues in the 21st Century.
What’s even better is, every single episode is the same as the one the week before that, and the week before that until you get all the way back to 1992 when the series premiered.
MTV really hit the nail right on the head. This is the real world alright.
I think I’m going to create a show called the Real Real World, where seven to eight bummy looking poor 18-24-year-olds move in to a small apartment, struggling to reach rent every month and would love to go out to your local watering hole, but can’t afford the funds to do so, so they resort to flipping burgers at Wendy’s. They’ll be too busy trying to survive in the Real Real World to hate each other or go out “clubbin” every night.
There aren’t going to be any hot tubs placed inside of the house, the wall-sized aquariums in the living room will be replaced with get this, a wall, and a gym won’t conveniently be located on the first floor because these seven to eight bummy people aren’t too much concerned with their physical appearance.
Having all this said, about two years ago, when I was living in my two-bedroom apartment in Bowling Green (that’s about as exotic as it gets ladies and gentleman) I actually watched a full season of The Real World...and liked it.
Truth be told, I’ve watched two out of the last three seasons and I’ve been watching the new season as well.
Why? Because I’m an idiot.
There is a reason why this show has been on for 17 years and its because MTV is evil and somehow get you suckered into this poppycock.
How could you not love watching these ungrateful, conceited, stuck-up, people who think they are gods and goddesses struggling to survive in what they perceive is the real world where the only decisions they really have to make throughout the season is which blond to go after in the club or whether or not they should take it easy tonight because last night they got too buried.
The show should be called “College Part II: Only here is a mansion to live in and your roommate is an aspiring model from New York. Oh, and don’t worry about any responsibilities.”
Like a stooge, I’ll be watching episode three of the new season at 10 p.m. on Wednesday.
This time though, I’ll be in my four-bedroom condominium in Concord Township.
Yes, I know. I’m living large in the real world.
I don’t need MTV to tell me that.