The Humoristian Reality Show

My dear Humoristian hooligans,

For six months I saw their faces on the cover of every magazine as I went through the checkout line at the local supermarket. For six months I wondered who the heck this couple was and why everyone was so interested in them.  It was perplexing to me. She looked nice enough – had a nice smile and kind of pretty eyes, and her husband looked like he wasn’t a bad fellow, but… well, nothing about this pair really seemed to stand out to me.  It took me six months to care enough to finally ask the supermarket clerk, “Who is this Kate person, and who is Jon, and why are they so famous?”

The clerk started laughing. “That,” she told me, pointing to the blonde on the cover of the magazine, “is Kate Gosselin, and her husband is Jon Gosselin. They are famous because they have eight children and a reality show.”

“Oh,” I said, pretending that I understood.

And then came the Kardashians.  Now their faces replaced Kate’s and Jon’s on every cover. They were pretty, I guess – but what, I wondered, did they actually DO?  “Oh,” the cashier said, “They’re rich, and they have their own reality show.”

“Uh,” I kind of grunted, non-committally, nodding my head like I knew what she was talking about.

The truth is, I was still pretty clueless about the whole “reality show” deal at that time.  But that has now changed, and I’ve come to see the possibilities for a boatload of financial gain from having one’s own reality show.  The way I see it, one doesn’t need to have any actual talent or anything to succeed in the reality show business.  One simply has to have a good agent and the willingness to put her worst foot forward in public.

Which brings me to my purpose in writing this letter to you.

I propose, me hail, hardy Hooligans, that we start our own reality show.  Ohmygosh. Can you not picture it?

I, of course, would be the star of the whole vehicle.  I am the obvious choice: First of all because, like the Kardashian sisters and Kate, my first name (Karen) starts with a “K”; and secondly, because my obvious physical charms will, I’m sure, attract tens, maybe even a couple of tens, of viewers – I mean, throwing away all false modesty here – I know my luxuriant eyebrows and noble schnoz would make even Groucho proud. And okay, so maybe the  luxuriant eyebrows and noble schnoz are but plastic and faux fur – but look at the Kardashian beauties  and Kate and tell me they, too, aren’t artificially enhanced. True, they maybe chose to take a little different route to cosmetic enhancement – but still…

Our reality show would follow the day-to-day drama of our lives – the passion and the power-struggles, the heartbreak and victories, and stuff.  It’d be Emmy-winning material, for sure.  I’ll let you each figure out what you’d bring to the proverbial table, or add to the proverbial stone soup – but for my part, I think I’d focus on the difficult choices I am constantly forced to make in my day-to-day life: Do I step on the scales so soon after Thanksgiving or do I give it a few days? Should we have turkey enchiladas, turkey lasagna, turkey sandwiches, or turkey chowder for dinner? Should I don the Groucho glasses WITH the mustache, or the Groucho glasses WITHOUT the mustache? Important stuff like that.

I hope you will join me, my Humoristian comrades, as we rake in the big bucks just for being ourselves. Well. With maybe just a little artificial enhancement.

Most sincerely,

Groucho Karen Wingoov the First. (And, I’m pretty sure, the Only.)


12 thoughts on “The Humoristian Reality Show

  1. I have ALWAYS wanted to be on a reality show, purely out of my desire to share my loud and vapid points with the world! I call the no nonsense asshole — the magnificent bastard.

  2. I’m sure with a push-up wonder bra, I’d be stunning. And who wouldn’t want to watch me play Angry Birds in my pajamas?

    • David, although your natural beauty is obvious to everyone who knows you, a push-up bra couldn’t hurt. You might also want to think about waxing your chin, maybe – actually, we could fit the chin-waxing into our show – make it the focus of an entire episode. We’d all be there to support you, of course…

  3. I say turkey enchiladas, they are my new favorite turkey leftover dinner …. I think it is a great idea to figure out how to do a reality show with all of us in different parts of the world … The production costs might be high, unless we all buy video cameras and do our own bits.

    Actually it might make a pretty hilarious reality show to show a group of people who meet on the internet, but not in real life. And then you show their real life situations, which are completely totally nothing like how they describe themselves on-line. The sweet young girl is really a 68 year old man, etc. The techno-nut is really living in his car, writing from the town library … The housewife with three kids has no children and is on a day program at the mental hospital in Cincinnatti … The middle aged disabled home-bound woman is really perfectly healthy and tearing around the world skiing and running marathons … The woman school teacher having trouble coming to terms with her job changing is really a male kingpin in the drug world in Miami … Nothing as it seems … But of course Jamie and I are the true-blue, our real life the same as our on-line life, because we are from Nova Scotia and don’t know any better … Although the new kitten is made-up, we don’t have any pets at all because of Jamie’s extreme allergies … And I don’t actually SELL anything I make, we just haul it all down to the beach and burnt it up in big bonfires … And Jamie isn’t really a carpenter, he makes a living by picking up pieces of chewing gum off the streets downtown with one of those sticks with the metal point on the end, and the town pays him .5 cents per piece …


      Ohmygosh. Ohmygoodgosh. I love this!!!

      Several years ago, when I was first getting sucked into the internet vortex, I thought it’d be a real hoot to write the book you describe in your post. There I was, exchanging witticisms (well, *I* thought I was pretty witty, anyway) and big ideas about world politics and religion and peace on earth – while in the background my dinner burned on the stove, and smoke filled the house, and I sat glued to my chair, fixated on the computer screen, in bare feet and jammies. Such a wonderfully insane juxtaposition (I really ike using the word ‘juxtaposition’ – I’m not actually sure what it means, but it tickles my mouth to say it) of images.

      (And please tell Jamie “Lulubelle” Longmire that he missed a spot.)

    • No, you’re probably right, Willow – we should probably leave the chin-waxing episode for the men. We could maybe stand by on the sidelines with rolls of bandages and stuff – like Clara Barton and Florence Nightengale.

  4. Hmmmm. Let’s see. I’ve already been doing this a lot with my rants and raves and wit(?) (Shyeah! Riiiiight!) I just take on whatever hue the background is, so I guess I’m the chameleon of the group. In fact, I’ll take on whatever colorization I want to at the time, come to think of it. It’s the ham actor in me. Sometimes I just fade into the background. Now you see me, now you don’t. I may be the fly on the ceiling. I’m the one no-one notices until sounds come out of my mouth, which may or may not be English. Take it or leave it.

  5. Hahhahahahar! Ohmygosh! I think we should all wear fairy wings! Especially JL. I think he’d look really charming in a pair of pink fairy wings with maybe some glitter sprinkled on them and stuff. And fairy wands. We should all have fairy wands. A fairy wand combined with my Groucho glasses would be an irresistible combination. To somebody. I’m pretty sure…

    And you, dear Nikki, are always lovely.

    So glad to see you here, my friend.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s