Tuesday, February 25, 2014

The Private Lives of Nashville Wives: We No Drama

When I was in my early 20’s, I was obsessed with ‘Survivor’. I thought it was brilliant. So brilliant, in fact, that I have two anecdotes about it:

The first was that I applied to be on the show 6 times between 2001 and 2006. I made videos for it and everything. One of them involved me running around Flint, Michigan, dressed as a giant chicken. Frankly, I’m surprised I didn’t get shot for that one. I’m not sure who has the footage of these anymore but if I ever run for President of the United States, I’m sure that they will somehow be unearthed and my campaign will be ruined. My opponent would start running a campaign like “A Vote for Bohn is a Vote for a Chicken.” I should be a professional political operative. My career in public service is over before it’s even begun.

The second was in 2001. My brother got arrested and wanted to be picked up after he made bail. I was specifically told not to pick him (at the risk of losing the roof over my own head). He called my cell phone and asked for a ride but I told him that I couldn’t because ‘Survivor’ was starting in 5 minutes and I didn’t want to miss it. I wish that I was joking about that.

But that’s where my love of reality TV ends. Wait. Do Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood count as products of reality TV that I love? Ok. Three things. ‘Survivor’, Kelly Clarkson, and Carrie Underwood. But that’s it.

I was sitting at home last night trying to teach my dog to not bite my hands (she’s real dumb), while wearing my most comfy pair of underpants, and flipping through the channels when I came across the premiere episode of something called ‘The Private Lives of Nashville Wives’. It’s like one of those ‘Real Housewives of so-and-so’ shows. And if you’re reading this blog, I am sure that you’re VERY familiar with that show. You probably follow them on Pintrest. How does Pintrest work again? Am I doing the internet right? There are a ton of things wrong with this show.

First, that’s not how music works, especially if the music is terrible.

Secondly, I’m not sure if any of these women actually live in Nashville. They’re seemingly of the ilk that smells like online shopping and an afternoon drunk. And by that I mean Williamson County. It’s like saying the Jets or the Giants are New York teams when they’re really New Jersey teams. The only people that they’re fooling are dummies that are bigger dummies than my dumb hand-biting dog. I’m not sure what the overnight returns are on this show but I’m betting it was a fairly decent number. Half of my household watched it. And if you count the dog as part of the household, it was more like two-thirds. Those are some pretty decent numbers.

Thirdly, no one cares about playing at The Hard Rock Café. That’s the kind of venue that you play if your significant other is a successful songwriter or if you’ve “got an inspired funk-rock sound with a ton of energy and you can’t get a gig at 5Spot in East Nashville”. I’m not sure if that’s in any band’s bio but it should be. You know who has played The Hard Rock Café? Me. You know how many people showed up for that gig? About 17.

This show appeals to the lowest common denominator of disposable television. [In the exact moment that I typed that sentence, one of the cast members followed me on twitter.] I hope this show doesn’t catch fire. Well, literally, I do… Like imagine if all the cameras burned up spontaneously in balls of lightning (thing the end of ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’). Now THAT is something that I’d watch.

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