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Ok. So by this time we all know that the Real World, well, isn't very real at all. As I walk by the Chicago house in Wicker Park, I know this. Aaron Cynic told me the whole story, about when they first moved in. At the time, there were protesters out side of the building all the time. When Aaron was there he saw one member walk out of the house, shake his head at the graffiti on their door with an exasperated sigh. Then Aaron told me that the door was shut. The camera man outside said something about another take, and the same person opened the door, shook his head at the graffitti on their door with an exasperated sigh. Maybe with a little more oomph this time.
They probably couldn't use the shot because of the laughing and booing of protesters in the background. Or maybe MTV just didn't want anyone to know that Chicago hates them. But that's where it starts to bother me. Because those protesters didn't want the corporate Real World in "their" neighborhood. They protested every day. But when I get to thinking about them walking around the Real World house with their stupid Wicker Park haircuts protesting for days when they won't even show up to U.S. elections --- well, that doesn't seem very real at all, either.
So that's it. Because I have some dumb thing against certain haircuts, or because I am apathetic to the corporate sludge, or because I am a good American - I confess. I love the Real World.
I started watching it during the Boston season, though I remember bits and pieces of the first London episodes. That was when the transition was taking place from people living in a house making their own money and interacting while several "state of the art" video cameras filmed them to people who were pampered to no end, pumped with aphrodisiacs and alcohol, and given allowances and poof jobs. And do you know what? I loved them both.
I don't like it as much anymore. It was actually Chicago, as in the episodes, and Chicago, as in moving there for college and no longer having time to waste on crap TV shows to rot my brain, that started losing my interest.
But I have such a strong love for New Orleans, or even New York - with that one guy Mike who really believed in his alter-ego, a crazed wrestling star "the Mis." I like Mike because he was certifiably insane. He believed in "the Mis" so devoutly that when he had a couple shots in him he would go off mumbling in a corner in his alter-ego "Mis" voice. That is f*ing priceless.
Do I think that the reason why I love the Real World is because I relate to the cast? Hell, no. Is it real? Of course not. So what is it? I can't put my finger on it. I think it is some combination of nerve synapses that are enamored with certain colors and sounds. I think that it is laziness, to the point of escapism. And you know what? I am going to say the most blaphemous thing that any of those protesters have ever heard. I think it's funny. Nay, FUN. I LIKE THE REAL WORLD.
I probably wouldn't have been one of the protesters on the street in Wicker Park because of this reason. Also because I know that those protesters around me can't wait to find out who sleeps with who, who is a big bitch and who is a bigger bitch - whatever. They just didn't want it in their neighborhood, because it was too close of a reminder of human nature. Of the fact that not only do they want to know about the Real World's escipades, but the truth - that these contrived situations are exciting, and silly, and laughable, and interesting.
Like if someone walked up to you on the street and offered you a chance to get paid to live in a beautiful house with 6 beautiful people, it wouldn't at least be tempting.
At least a little.
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