How Bad TV Could Lead Me To The Girl Of My Dreams

After a month on the road, sometimes all you want to do is veg out on the couch in front of some bad television. Or at least that is the best excuse I can come up with as to why we ended up spending our first night in Omaha watching the entire two hour finale of The Bachelorette. Throughout the show (which was every bit as glorious as you might expect), they kept showing ads encouraging viewers to apply to be on the next season of The Bachelor. Although I’m sure these ads were targeting their single female viewers (I was probably one of 10 single straight males watching), my mom suggested that I should apply to be the next “Bachelor”. My mom is not one of those overbearing moms you see on television, so I assumed she was making a joke and I initially laughed it off. After she repeated the suggestion a few more times over the next hour, I began to worry. Clearly, her grandbaby biological clock was ticking. I didn’t have ii in me to break her heart by listing all of the reasons that the show’s producers might find me inadequate, so I began to think of a way to make her new dream a reality. It is a one in a billion chance, but I think I have figured out a way that it could happen. The show’s producers would have to be replaced by someone inspired by the Cleveland Indians’ owner from the movie Major League.

If you are not familiar with the movie Major League, the plot is set in motion by a former Las Vegas showgirl who inherits ownership of the Cleveland Indians when her husband dies. She wants to move the team to a warmer climate, but can only do so if attendance is so low that it voids her stadium lease with the city of Cleveland. To accomplish this goal, she attempts to make the team as bad as humanly possible. Comedy ensues.

So, in summary, the only way that I could conceive of to become “The Bachelor” is if the producer’s decide that they want to sabotage their own show and lose as many viewers as possible. Yes, that is more than a little humbling.

If the current producers get replaced, maybe this isn’t such a long shot. I can think of numerous reasons why someone would nurse a grudge against the show. Maybe the new producer is a reject from one of the older seasons. Maybe he or she is a minority who is tired of all of the African-American contestants always making it through exactly two episodes (to prove the bachelor/bachelorette isn’t prejudiced), before being dismissed in episode three. Maybe this producer just has a modicum of respect for women.

If any of my readers happen to be an ABC television producer, consider this my official application. Sure, the women might be a little confused when they step out of the limo and see me, but they will probably just assume I’m rich. Boy, are they in for a rude awakening! That said, I’m sure that I could get most of the 25 women to profess their love with me. Doubt me? Have you ever seen that show? Some combination of the cameras, the exotic locales, and the pheromones of desperation in the air would make most of the contestants they choose declare their devotion to a stone pillar. Even if I fail, it would still be a ratings killer to watch woman after woman reject my rose. And no, that is not a euphemism.

Old columns about Omaha can be found here and here.

Next Stop: Milwaukee

What I’m Listening To: Knife – Grizzly Bear, Easy – Deer Tick, Sugarfoot – Black Joe Lewis & the Honeybears