Candid Soulless Bleeped-Up Camera, Or: Porn Idol

by hulk

While watching American Idol, I observed this one young girl who couldn’t sing but looked and sounded somewhat like a porn star. Then inspiration struck me. Porn Idol! It’s the logical evolution of reality TV. Something more bleeped-up and inappropriate. It could be on at 9:30 initially, out of sensitivity to children. Only the 12 and up crowd would be awake at that time anyway, so I’m sure they’d be safe. I mean you have all these girls desperate to prove themselves to anyone and acheive stardom, and pornstardom can be had in a day! It can be acheived in two hours! One hour to film the movie, and one for people to watch it. Bam, she’s a star! All these annoying “I have talent” aimless girls — instant porn stars.

But then inspiration struck again. Candid Soulless Fucked-Up Camera. The premise is that you take a camera around a city and find people to tell horrible lies or do horrible things to and film them weeping uncontrollably. Then laugh and hand them a dollar if they were good sports about it, somewhat like the MTV reality show where they give you money for not cursing or losing your temper.

So for my first show, I would go into an executive’s office and show him a videotape of his wife duct-taped and crying and then show me shooting her in the face and her dying. It’d be faked, of course. Then I’d show him his son. I’d demand money, and after I got the money I’d show the rest of the tape, where I kill his son. I’d wait until he’s just about to lose it and kill me or himself and then laugh and tell him it’s all a joke and bring in his wife and kid. Then I’d give him a dollar and he’d chuckle and everything would be fine. Then I’d go to a hospital and dress in a doctor’s coat and tell some woman who just gave birth that her child is dead. I’d make something up like we hired a mentally handicapped young man to work in the maternity ward and he dropped the kid and tripped over it and baby brains were all over his pants. We cooked the remains and ate them and I brought her her kid’s liver in a hot dog bun. I was considerate and brought ketchup. Oh, and her husband was being kind of a dick about the whole killed-your-baby thing so I shot him in the face. Then when she tried committing suicide I’d say, “Gotcha!” and we’d all laugh and it’d be great.

So who would watch?