One big house

At a party earlier tonight, a very intellectual gathering, several of us were debating the relative merits of The Ultimate Fighter (TUF) and America's Next Top Model (ANTM). Some of the people in the discussion had actually watched both shows. I was participating from a vantage point of nearly complete ignorance about ANTM, because I've never seen a whole episode of it. Instead, in my commentary, I relied entirely on Sarah's reporting of it, filtered, of course, through my own inability to tolerate more than ninety seconds of it.

I suggested then what I have proposed to others (and possibly in this blog) before: If we want a blockbuster hit, we need to put all the models and all the fighters in one big house.

Think about the huge benefits of this approach.

First, the non-training scenes would be amazing. We're talking a house full of testosterone-crazed fighters and gorgeous models. Forget the TUF masturbation jokes; this place would need condoms in every room.

Second, the DVD sales would be through the roof, because though you could broadcast only the TV-M-rated bits, on the box set you could show it all. We're talking amateur porn, fighting, and modeling all in one enormous DVD collection. Pure money, baby, pure money.

The opportunities for new events are also huge.

Pose-offs for the men. With the exception of this season's heavyweights, these guys generally have great bodies. Make them learn to walk the catwalk, and dress them in thongs; women who normally avoid TUF would now give it a look.

Fights for the women. Pit the top two in any modeling event against each other in the cage; I guarantee you men would tune in.

For the finales, you go with cross-gender fighting by total weight and with clothing restrictions, say two or three of the women taking on each man, with high heels mandatory for all. The kinky crowd would not miss this.

Something for everyone, that's what we're talking. Okay, maybe not anything for anyone with any real taste, but fortunately most of America would still be in our demographic.

I clearly should work in TV programming.

Will Smith, want to produce my show while you star in my film?

Why don't you ever call?

ANTM: a rebuttal

Sarah felt a pressing need to write a guest blog entry, so here she is:

As an avid watcher of America's Next Top Model, one of the classiest shows on television, I am offended at my father's besmirching of this fine institution's reputation. On tonight's episode, a street preacher named London was sent home for having gained too much weight, and a half-naked Brazilian man presented Tyra with a bowl of nuts as an introduction to his homeland. I frankly can't see why anyone wouldn't want to turn on their TV to this at 8:00 p.m. every Wednesday. It's taught me how to find the light and to smile with my eyes. It has taught me not to mess with bitches who don't make sense because this is a competition and they're not here to make friends.

Also, last week, a girl was astounded that one of her fellow contestants had not been practicing her poses since she was "in the fetus." That is beautiful. I hope my possible future fetuses (I am currently fetus-free) will practice poses within themselves.

Anyway, you should watch America's Next Top Model, because it's fantastic. My mom used to hate it, but now she asks me to call her in every time there's a photo shoot. My friend went to the beach once with his two best female friends and spent all day watching a marathon while it was raining outside. Kyle, whom you may recognize from comments, is a big fan.

Also, you should go and listen to "Strictly Game" by the Harlem Shakes, and then you should go and try to find the lyrics, which you probably won't be able to do, and then you should check if they're playing anywhere near you, because I've heard they're really good live.

ANTM: Epic fail

Sarah, who was the female I did not name in my previous guilty pleasure post, had planned to write a guest blog entry on why America's Next Top Model (ANTM, pronounced "anty em") is in fact a better show than The Ultimate Fighter (TUF, prounced "tough"). I told her I would surrender this virtual stage to her for that purpose, wrongheaded as it was, though I would reserve the right to insert editorial comments; it is, after all, my blog.

Then she backed down.

She couldn't make herself do it.

The reason? Two little words: Clay Aiken. Yes, the Clayster is going to help with an acting-oriented episode of ANTM. Sarah told me--and, yes, she gave me permission to name her here.

Nothing I could have written could have made my case more persuasively than Clay's presence did.

ANTM loses. End of story.

Guilty pleasure confession

I have a lot of guilty pleasures, far more than would fit in a single blog entry of any reasonable length. Tonight, though, marks the beginning of this season of one of them, so I thought I'd confess it here: I like the Spike TV reality show, The Ultimate Fighter (TUF).

The show's premise is simple: Put 16 mixed-martial-arts fighters, eight in each of two weight classes, in a house for about two months. Have them train in teams, and at the end of each show have two of them fight. The winner advances in the contest; the loser has to stay in the house and train but is out of the running. The prize is a "three-year, six-figure UFC contract," which I assume means a guarantee of $33K a year for three years, for each of the weight-class winners. The show takes you up to the final fight, which airs later (in this case, in June) in a live event.

The producers create a certain amount of havoc, of course, by the way they structure the house: no TV, no books, no entertainment--but plenty of booze. As you might imagine, the testerone- and alcohol- and violence-fueled atmosphere leads to a lot of bad behavior, which I'm sure Spike sees as good television.

I watch the show for the training sequences and, most of all, the fights, but I do watch it. I like it enough that I record it each week and view it as soon after the recording as I can. I record very few shows and watch almost no live TV, so for me this level of TV show following is quite unusual.

I don't consider watching MMA fights to be a guilty pleasure, by the way; I can make a case for that. This show, however, definitely makes me feel a little guilty.

Now, I can and would argue that TUF is far less of a vice than most reality TV shows. A certain female I will not name is quite a huge fan of America's Next Top Model (ANTM), an example of a far less worthy guilty pleasure. She would argue that ANTM is the bomb, but she's wrong, pure and simple.

That said, if at the end of each episode of ANTM two of the model wannabes would put on five-ounce gloves, get into a cage, and whup the tar out of each other in the pursuit of a contract, the show's ratings would surely skyrocket--and I might give it a look-see.