Surreal Life
New Friends

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Uncle Bob: D+ | Grade It Now!
New Friends

As God is my witness, I was convinced this was going to be a hella awesome show. And I can't help but think that the reason I'm so disappointed in it is because Robin Givens isn't in the cast. Sigh.

Anyway...the announcer reminds us that when the rich and famous fall from grace, this is where they crash: The Surreal Life. I'm already confused, because I thought they crashed at the Betty Ford Clinic. We've got some annoying L.A. deejays chit-chatting about the premise of the show as we get an overhead view of the mansion that the cast will be living in. We're told this is Glen "Rhinestone Cowboy" Campbell's former mansion. What we're not told is that Glen is currently blowing stray dogs in back alleys for the spare change of curious onlookers, and would slash his mama's throat to be allowed to set foot in this mansion one more time. The deejays proclaim these celebrities to be "super-famous," which may or may not be the funniest line in the entire show. We're given a video tour of this colorful palace as we're told that there are three bedrooms in this sprawling mansion. I'm no real estate agent, but something tells me that Glen Campbell got boofoo-ed in the butthole when he bought this shitheap if there are really only three bedrooms. There's to be no smoking in the house, no personal vehicles, and no internet access. If you see any bums hanging around asking for handouts, do not call the police; that's just former child star Corey Haim. He's not armed, but he's most likely dangerous, and more than likely trying to cop some smack from the other Corey.

Speaking of which, Corey Feldman is the first one to show up at the mansion. For me to say that he hasn't aged well is to be as kind as I can possibly be. I'll be honest: I've always viewed Mr. Feldman as the mysterious lump on society's testicles. He was doing just fine until he went through that whole "Hey! I'm Strung Out On Smack And Dressing Up Like Michael Jackson!" phase. At that point, I lost all respect for the arrogant little roostersucker. He informs us that he made his first commercial when he was three and did a hundred more commercials before anyone caught on to the fact that he was an incredibly pompous dick. A little pop-up blurb comes up on the screen to inform us that Corey's fifty movies have made $322,280,000, which must include popcorn and Raisinettes sales as well, because I'm pretty sure the total box office for Dream A Little Dream couldn't have been more than $32. Granted, he was in The Goonies, which probably counts for about a third of those sales, but I still have to think that Corey gave them this figure after sniffing glue or whatever the hell he's doing to get high these days. Corey lets us in on the fact that he's an icon and an establishment. He's more than an actor and more than a musician...he's a celebrity. Seriously, how can anybody root for this flesh-colored turd when he spouts off insane shit like that? Does he even have a freakin' clue that nobody has paid to see him in a film in the last fifteen years? We get a chance to see him kiss his girlfriend Susie goodbye as she drops him off at the door to Casa de Campbell. It's a very tight-lipped kiss. The kind of tight-lipped kiss Tom Cruise always gave Nicole Kidman in public, if you get my drift. Corey is walking around the mansion, checking it out, and says he feels like he's in Andy Warhol's apartment. Keep in mind, Warhol died while Corey was out being bucked by the white horse, so there's a good possibility he doesn't know Andy's dead. He checks out the refrigerator; it's stocked full of beer, and nothing else. Corey slouches slightly and says they'll have to get groceries, since he's a recovering alcoholic and can't drink. God bless the producers for forcing the punk to face his demons eight minutes into the show. Corey says that he's appearing on this show strictly for the "image repair" to his damaged career. He thinks this show is going to afford him the opportunity to show the world who he truly is. Which is a good thing you know...just in case Martin Scorsese is watching and is desperately looking for a pompous self-absorbed asshole to cast in his next film.

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Surreal Life




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