Real World
The Show About Nothing

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Sweet Home, Kentucky

So the episode starts with a death. The death of a member of the household. One of the fish bites the big one. Swims up to the giant fish bowl in the sky. Jon and his unfortunate hat head hold a little memorial service. Aaron comes home from school and gets the bad news from Dom. His reaction? A big girly "Shut up!" Dom performs a Catholic Lite Funeral Rite (genuflection, but no Latin. I was brought up to believe that doesn't really count if there's no Latin), and they flush the poor fish. Truthfully, the poor thing is probably better off dead than it was living in that house.

Fish disposed of properly, it's time to get down to brass tacks, as they say, although I've never actually heard anyone say that in real life. Jon gets a phone call from a man named Mike Elliott, who claims to be a film producer who caught Jon's performance at a recent country/western talent contest. He's making a film, he says, and he and the director think that Jon would be perfect for the lead. They'd like to meet him. Jon hee-haws that he's leaving for Kentucky the next morning, so they agree to meet that afternoon.

Jon, one-on-one in the hot tub: "All of a sudden, boo yeah!" Indeed.

So Jon hightails it over to see Mike Elliott, B-Movie producer (at least judging from the posters on his walls, such as the one for Piranha!). Mike introduces Jon to Dan Golden, the film's director. Dan and Mike are massive dorks, the kind of crap-ass movie producers who think they're really hot shit. The CEO at my last job was a movie producer. Can you tell I'm holding onto some residual bitterness? The stories I could tell you would curl your hair, and I'm not kidding. We're talking completely inappropriate behavior. But I'm saving that story for the bitter exposé in Vanity Fair.

Dan and Mike, Dorks Incorporated, sit Jon down in their office to tell him the plot of the film. Basically, it sounds like cheap porn: beautiful woman married to a gross older man finds lurve with a young drifter cowboy singer, who makes tons of cashola for her bar (with his beautiful singing) and brings her to previously unforeseen heights of passion (with his hot bod). Later, the cowboy kills the old guy. In an interview, Jon calls the movie "a cross between a Clint Eastwood movie and a pervert-type role." I can't really see Jon playing the role of some crazy hot drifter stud, but maybe I'm just missing his appeal because, you know, I'm not yet stone blind. Is that mean? That was mean. I'm the devil. Unemployment is destroying me. What happened to the fragile, delicate flower that once I was? Crushed! Crushed beneath the jack-booted thuggery of the Internet downturn.

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