Here’s a shocker: “Reality TV” is the biggest oxymoron in existence.
Here’s another: The above genre, especially when geared toward younger audiences, is not an accurate representation of life or a how-to guide to be taken seriously.
Don’t believe me?
Watch a day’s worth of MTV programming and compare your teenage experience with those of the young reality TV stars documented before you.
Yours truly did the above experiment and made some rather startling realizations.
I didn’t get pregnant in high school.
I never struggled with a drug addiction.
I’ve never even stepped into a tanning bed.
Oh, what a deprived youth — at least as far as MTV’s masterminds are concerned.
A typical prime-time lineup for the youth-oriented, former “Music Television” channel consists of shows like “Teen Mom,” “If You Really Knew Me” and of course, the inexplicably popular “Jersey Shore” — all broadcasting the outrageously eventful daily lives of people our age.
I guess the producers decided there had to be a way to inject trashy drama into the schedule of students who miss “Days of Our Lives” or “The Jerry Springer Show” because of classes or work.
But the whole concept of reality TV is flawed — as if people really behave like themselves when they know cameras follow them around 24/7.
The most off-base example of MTV’s “reality” — at least to native Louisianians — can be found in “The Real World: New Orleans.”
For the 24th spinoff of the original 1992 series (and the show’s second visit to the Crescent City), the “Real World” creators wanted a “recovery-based” season to highlight New Orleans’ progress (and lack thereof) since Hurricane Katrina.
Don’t get me wrong — their hearts are in the right place (or at least their PR team is), as evidenced by frequent volunteering with homeless shelters and Habitat for Humanity.
And each week, commercials remind viewers to buy promotional goodies like the “Restore Our Gulf” T-shirt.
Thanks, MTV — our oil-soaked pelicans really appreciate the gesture.
On any given episode, though, the main recovery refers to the cast’s hangover-healing trips to Subway (sponsor alert!) for breakfast.
Nothing is genuine about “The Real World: New Orleans,” or the way the city is depicted.
It’s obvious from each episode’s cringe-worthy “We in the NOLA, ba-by!” intro. (Three months of filming, and they couldn’t get the accent down? Really?)
If the by-tourists, for-tourists production meant to showcase the authentic New Orleans, it failed miserably. (Exhibit A: The perennial, tacky Mardi Gras decor adorning the cast’s uptown mansion.)
Granted, it was filmed partly during Carnival season, and the atmosphere surrounding the Saints’ first Super Bowl victory was pretty surreal.
Those are no excuses, however, for the “creative license” MTV took in its supposed reality show.
In the real world, Drew Brees’ reign as Bacchus king would never air before the Super Bowl.
Amateur radio DJs would get more than a verbal slap on the wrist for losing their equipment twice while drunk on the job.
And adults would settle their feuds more maturely than by urinating on toothbrushes and wiping their asses with their enemy’s cigarettes.
“The Real World: New Orleans” — shockingly snubbed by this year’s Emmy Awards — takes my prize for “Most Inappropriately-Named Reality TV Show.” It is not the real world. And it is definitely not the real New Orleans.
Yet the series is one of many MTV projects forcing its idea of reality onto young adults. Unfortunately, our mainstream generation is buying into it and playing it out with every fist pump and intoxicated nightly escapade.
Is it any wonder numerous social critics predict the classes of 2014 and beyond to be too immature and unprepared for college or the workplace? (No offense — I hate stereotypes, but they do exist for a reason.)
Honestly, I’d kill for three months in a “real world” where all I’d have to do is lounge around a sprawling New Orleans estate, gossiping about my roommates by day, then partying on Bourbon every night.
A sort of “Twilight Zone” where I’d never have to work, and my biggest concerns would be choosing which roommate to hook up with and which to leave the task of washing dishes.
Sadly, I’m just a student slave at LSU — welcome to the real world.
Kelly Hotard is a 19-year-old mass communication sophomore from Picayune, Miss. Follow her on Twitter @TDR_khotard.
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Contact Kelly Hotard at [email protected]