Boot Camp Makes Me Want to Boot

Spring is upon us, which means singing birds, blooming daffodils, and, most reliably, tons of crappy new TV shows. We have the new mega-hyped "star vehicles" with their liberal definitions of "star." We also have the riveting new dramas about cops, lawyers, cops who dabble in law, and lawyers who are undercover cops. Last and least is the newest pestilent wave of reality TV shows.

The first wildly successful reality show in United States was Survivor, the ratings of which slaughtered even such quality programming as The Weber Show and Geena. I honestly did not mind the first season of Survivor, but this is largely because I never actually watched it. This season, I have been half-willingly ushered into the world of tribal councils, immunity necklaces, and all of that other silliness. For me, watching Survivor is like a guilty pleasure without the pleasure. Each week, the throttling drums of the theme song pacify me into a stupor that relents only at the conclusion of the show-ending tribal council.

Yet, as bad as Survivor can be, it plays out like Chekov compared to Fox's new reality program, Boot Camp. This program substitutes a boot camp for Survivor's Australian outback, "dismissal hill" for Survivor's "tribal council," and sixteen contestants for Survivor's sixteen contestants. Oh wait, that is exactly the same; Fox better hope that all of those cop-lawyers don't get their righteous paws on this case. Continuing the mimicry even further, players on Boot Camp may earn immunity each week, though Fox was creative enough to call this honor "amnesty." Of course, this word doesn't exactly fit, but the show has far larger problems than linguistic accuracy.

The central premise of Boot Camp is that the sixteen contestants will struggle through 30 grueling days of strenuous activity and non-stop admonishment from beefy instructors. The two contestants left after 30 days complete in something called "The Gauntlet" which is "48 hours of severe physical and mental anguish." Though precious few contestants stand out in the slightest, I have at least a modicum of pity for the two future finalists; after watching sixty minutes of Boot Camp, I know that even one hour of severe physical and mental anguish can be pretty tough. I also felt a bit guilty when contestants had to navigate a 5-mile obstacle course to win an extra hour of sleep; after all, I earned this privilege simply by turning on the TV to watch Boot Camp.

The show's sole saving grace is an outspoken contestant named Meyer, who has no qualms about his conniving ways and no shame in sounding like a complete idiot. When Meyer barely avoids being the first contestant kicked off, he solemnly proclaims the incident to be "one of the biggest upsets in military history"; as notable as this event may someday prove to be, I would still put my money on Waterloo. Despite Meyer's battering ram of moronic comments, he does provide a rare moment of lucidity when he proclaims "this show is stupid and retarded."

Outside of Meyer, Boot Camp is valuable solely for showing that basically any reality TV show can get on the air. Here are some ideas I came up with:

The Popular Table: This program takes place in a middle school cafeteria, where sixteen students are chosen to sit at a table designated as "cool". Each episode ends with a meeting at "fate playground" where one student is delegated to sit with the nerds for the rest of the show's duration. Those remaining at the popular table are encouraged to pummel these exiles with stale carrot cake and french fries.

Supermodels: Sixteen models are signed up to a series of fashion spreads, one every three days. Between these shoots, they are forced to eat full-sized meals and wash their hair with non-organic shampoos. They are only allowed two hours to apply makeup before each shoot. The winner is the model who goes the longest without being fired for looking too much like a normal person. The winner receives a lifetime supply of laxatives.

Reality TV Show: Sixteen people develop their own reality TV shows. The goal is to come up with something as close as possible to Survivor without getting sued. Immunity is granted for coming up with clever synonyms for "immunity." If anyone comes up with any idea that is too original or compelling, they are dismissed and forced to write for The Simpsons.

Perhaps the most frustrating thing about reality TV shows is how shockingly unreal they truly are. I may be alone here, but when I see 16 full-grown men and women stranded in the Australian Outback and forced to run obstacle courses, I do not think "Hey! That's just like real life!" When the premier of Boot Camp came to a close, my roommate blankly glanced in my direction and asked, "There is something wrong with our culture, right?" Having been dulled by sixty minutes of non-stop contrivance, I was unable to immediately recognize the reality of his words. Though I now recognize his blunt Meyer-esque wisdom, Survivor starts in five minutes so further reflection will have to wait. And so will my self-respect.