Idecided to break with well-established college traditions the other day and actually get ahead in my reading assignments. I had been at it for a few minutes when I heard what I thought was a pack of howler monkeys in my living room. I investigated and it turned out to be my roommates gathered around the TV. They were watching "Next" on MTV.
I sat down for a minute. A minute became five. Before I knew it I had wasted a solid two hours and, at several times, laughed so hard I thought I'd blow a kidney. How could I, a self-proclaimed culture snob, get so into pay-cable, reality-show mishmash? The answer is simple: though it is far from high art, it is the best rollicking good time on television.
For the five of you not already familiar with the premise, here it is in a nutshell: An intrepid young single is matched up with five potential dates. He or she begins on a date with the first person and at any time can simply say "Next" to move on to the next date in the sequence -- all five are carried around in a special bus. Each date receives a dollar for every minute he or she lasts. At the end, the single offers his or her chosen one the choice of the money they have earned or a second date.
The people they dig up for this spectacle are an astonishing Murderer's Row of intriguing personalities, ranging from the overly energetic to the gratingly arrogant to the truly bizarre. It's practically worth the price of admission just to see these whack-jobs in front of a camera. Hilarity ensues: while one hopeful date is off the bus with the girl, his four colleagues amuse themselves by taking pictures of their naughty bits with his digital camera. Another aspiring hopeful sticks his finger in one nostril and out the other. And of course, the unwritten rules dictate that everybody spends as much time shirtless as possible, prompting the kind of frank appraisals of people's physiques that traumatized the fat kid in middle school.
This is just the beginning of the good times. To say "Next" pushes the boundaries of the English language is a vast understatement. The female narrator speaks entirely in rhyme as she pokes fun at this endless string of nitwits. Why can't real life be like this? Running into a friend in the dining hall would be so much more fun.
My buddy Josh: "Hey, Matt."
Me: "Hey, Josh. What's up?"
Josh: "Not much, just got my eye on some meatloaf."
[As he walks away, I kick the play-by-play into high gear.]
"Josh came here to eat but his pizza wasn't sweet! Will his meatloaf be a hit or just taste like --"
You get the idea. (No offense intended toward our mouth-watering dining halls.)
All of the participants are also carefully screened to make sure they are nymphomaniacs. Thus, everything on the show that isn't spoken in rhyme is generally a humorous and wildly blatant sexual innuendo.
"I thought for our first activity we'd take a spin in my car," the Hunk of the Day informs his lady. "As long as we can check under your hood later," she replies. The show is not exactly "Romeo and Juliet," but there's a certain poetry to it all, especially if, like me, you have the maturity of an eggplant.
How often does this can't-miss formula result in true love? More often than you'd think. Of course, when the featured single is a real jerk or jerkette, you'll see their chosen ones take the money and run. (We want pre-nup, indeed.) But just as often we are rewarded with a storybook ending, as the two lovebirds -- who have known each other for about an hour -- immediately go on their second date, which means satisfying their nymphomania (see above paragraph) as the credits roll.
I would advise that everybody take in at least an episode or two of "Next" when the opportunity arises. If nothing else, it's important to know that there truly are people this crazy out there. Not that I was in the habit of doing it before, but I have been extra careful not to go down dark alleys since becoming a "Next" viewer. If you're a go-getter and not choosy about how you get your 15 minutes of fame, why not try out? Just make sure to brush up on your raunchy banter before you go. You'll have me cheering you on from home -- I'll be the one in the beanbag chair clutching my kidney.
Matt's column runs bi-weekly on Tuesdays. He can be reached at mwaring@cavalierdaily.com.
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