Unique Reality Series to Be Cast Without Assholes

hiteywood producers took a bold step in reality programming last Friday when they revealed, as part of the ABC fall schedule, one of their so-called "reality" series would be entirely asshole-free, cast only with likable personalities so unpopular in usual reality programming.

No Simon Cowels, no Donald Trumps, not even a Richard Hatch in sight, according to co-producer Bobbacrane Wilson. It's part of a risky plan to boost sagging reality ratings for those shows which haven't caught on with the public yet; while series like The Apprentice have made major waves, and American Idol holds strong, other reality series like The Restaurant have proven that reality series don't always strike gold every time out. The new "assholeless" series in development will give people bored with regular reality shows a chance to see something different.

"It's not a brand new idea," admitted co-producer of the show Harry Spalding. "Frankly, Hollywood has been trying to create a reality series without assholes since their initial burst in popularity in the early '90s, such as COPS. But once The Real World hit big, people gave up. It became apparent, at least for the time, America would much rather tune in each week and marvel at real assholes."

His partner Wilson agreed: "The big problem in creating a prick-free reality show is nobody could ever seem to do it. It became Hollywood's Gregorian knot. People tried to do reality shows based on churches and found them full of judgmental fire-and-brimstone knobs who wouldn't stop preaching. A reality show about school teachers reminded viewers of why they were in such a hurry to graduate. Someone even did a pilot about people who worked for the Salvation Army—you'd never believe what self-righteous dicks are running that place. It's enough to turn someone Republican."

Many attempts at doing reality shows in small towns, according to Wilson, failed to leave any positive impressions when every good-natured resident was outnumbered by trash-talking rednecks and closet KKK members. But this time, Spalding suggests, by returning to reality programming roots, their show has succeeded in its intent.

The show, Okay House, features six roommates, four of them from Sweden, who live together in a room paid for by the network and forced to resolve their conflicts in a polite, friendly fashion. A bonus incentive of $25,000 to whoever can keep from saying something unkind about other housemates has raised the likelihood of getting a show without jackasses.

An early version of the pilot was available for press review. In the series, the six roommates—Sven, Yorgi, Karl, Jake, Albert, and Bjorn—get into an amicable disagreement over whose turn it is to wash the dishes, as well as a polite war of words over what they can watch on TV. Of the cast, Karl, Sven, and Bjorn are non-English-speaking employees of an electrical cooperative in Sweden who were brought over by the network, Yorgi an Americanized Swedish citizen who was friends with the three in his home country, Jake is a Bible camp youth counselor from Ferngate, North Carolina, and Albert an 85-year-old man who seldom speaks.

While the producers and network claim to have high expectations for "the world's nicest reality show," critics have been less kind. Matt Roush of TV Guide called it "Paint Drying: The Series" and The New York Times predicted it would be the quickest cancellation in TV history.

According to CNN's Jeff Hinkley: "If I hear one more Swedish accent saying, 'I guess we'll agree to disagree,' I'm going to blow a hole through my TV."

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Dear commune:

I’m an idiot. Let’s just get that out in the open right now so there’s no confusion on the subject. Judge me if you will, and egg my minivan if you must, I won’t put up any kind of lame, face-saving argument to the contrary. As you may have guessed, I completely forgot to send out thank-you notes for the Christmas presents I received last year. Totally slipped my mind. Didn’t even think of it until last Tuesday, when I was shopping for a Christmas bone for my dog and I suddenly realized I was the one in the doghouse. Figuratively.

My immediate urge was to correct this oversight, posthaste. I even had a box of thank-you notes and a pair of wavy border-cutting scissors in my cart when it dawned on me that Christmas, this year’s version, is less than a week away! So what should I do? Should I send out the belated thank-yous now, only to follow them in less than a week’s time with additional notes of gratitude for this year’s presents? What if they get the first one and think this means I didn’t get this year’s presents? What if they sent me the same thing two years in a row and they think I opened it early? That’s not very nice. Should I wait until after Christmas and send dual thank-you notes? Or would that just be rubbing it in their faces that I spent a whole year not appreciating their present? Or should I just consider last year’s gaffe water under the bridge and hope they didn’t notice? But then I might have to start pretending like I did send a note last year, should it come up, and that’s one web of lies that could prove sticky. Maybe I should just say piss on it and not send any notes this year either, rather than drawing attention to the fact I forgot to last year. I could even return to sender any notes I receive, like "What the hell is this? I don’t want your charity. Asshole." Yeah.

It’s times like this I often ask myself that timeless question: WWtcD? What would the commune do?

Larry Belfast
Lower Bend, MO


Dear Larry:

Thank-you notes? Jesus Pete! No time to write, Larry, the commune has about 30 years of poor manners to catch up on and time is short! Last thing we want is to get crushed under a bus tomorrow and sent to Emily Post’s own personal version of hell. Quick, how do you spell bar mitzvah?

the commune

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Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for any embarrassing misspellings or grammatical boners on the gravestones of your dearly departed. “the commune’s Gravestone Proofreading Service� was a woefully misbegotten brainstorm courtesy of commune stone-bleeder Gay Bagel, and we must stress that what goes around should come around specifically to him some time when the rest of us are all out of pistol range.

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Hey commune:

Yo commune, I gots to get me a girlfriend, and pronto, dog! If I don’t get these boots knocked soon, my jizzbag’s gonna bust on me, yo. I ain’t playin’ dog, this is some serious shit. So what you say? You gonna hook me up or what?

"Teabag" Darnell
Wynalotte, Texas

Dear Teabag:

Though few can deny the serious threat this issue poses to your jizzbag, we here at the commune are far more concerned with the photograph you sent in with your letter. We assume it’s either of you, an example of the kind of girl you want us to find for you, or a panicked evidence shot of a rare urban Sasquach. Whichever is the case, consider yourself triply screwed. But we’ll make you a deal, Darnell. You get Bush out of office for us and we’ll see to it that you get hooked up with a Sasquach-fetishizing-freak lover. Either that or Lil Duncan. Because if we have to put up with this Bush shit much longer, our jizzbag be gonna blow, yo.

the commune

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Dear commune:

Inquiring commune readers want to know: boxers or briefs?
Lois Arbuckle
Panhands, Oklahoma

Dear Lois:

Though we here at the commune love all kinds of dogs, we must admit to being partial to snack-sized dogs like the Chihuahua or the Bansai. True, a larger dog like a Great Dane or a Mastiff can easily feed a family of four, but who in the city has a freezer that big? You’re talking about a serious waste of dog meat there, unless you open a cart to sell Gyros on the street. But believe you us, getting a permit for one of those things is a serious bitch.

the commune

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Dear commune:

Boris Utzov must be stopped! As foretold in the Bible, this man is the harbinger of great doom, the amiable fool who shall lead them astray to the ruination of all mankind! And that English! If a pure soul cannot be found (obviously outside of the commune offices) to stop this great devil outright, would it kill you guys to at least get that motherfucker hooked on phonics or something? Damn.

Ole Carpathiam
Turnstile, Nebraska

Dear Ole:

While we agree that Boris must be stopped, our main goal is to get him to stop bringing his nasty Eastern European lunch meats in here. The man hasn’t been in our offices in nearly a year, and the break room still stinks like rotten Chernobyl ferret. As for Boris’ English, we weren’t aware he actually spoke any English, so this is great news to us. Now we can finally fire that interpreter and parlay the financial savings into about 400 of those car deodorizer trees to hang in the break room.

the commune

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Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for your lack of credibility in the scientific community. For an explanation of that one, we refer you to the time you glued a bunch of dildos onto a horse and then claimed to have genetically engineered a new species of giant porcupine. Just a thought.

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