But in fact, the game is inescapable, the pieces are in place, and the board is set. Let's review our game pieces:
Dustin as The White Queen and Heather as The Black Queen--These two game pieces are destined to circle each other as rams in the wild, vying for the high ground until the opportune moment to collide. Their tête à-tête is not quite adversarial, but rather one of mutual admiration--a game in the truest sense of the word. The Queens feel each other out, observe patterns of behavior, and use their unmatched mobility to test all avenues of approach as well as avoid a premature engagement. As The Black Queen said: "Dustin's got swagger for a white boy." These two will sweep across the board, ignoring all other pieces (that is, unless one stands in the way of their final showdown; see Mike Mike the Knight Knight) in a graceful dance of deception and intrigue, until finally they will ram their parts against each other, sexually.
Nany as The Black Bishop--Her zig-zagging motion between relationship and singlehood is both limiting and liberating as the indecision she's caught in enables her to blindside those around her. Sadly though, her shifting course makes her an easy target for the more transitive pieces, namely...
Adam as The Faux Pawn--Adam is the all-seeing Player posing as pawn. His game might seem obvious, but there are larger machinations at work in his scheme. In a brilliant defensive move, he yet again deceives his fellow (but really, inferior) gamepieces by stripping himself of mystique and revealing a supposed vulnerability. His prey falls for the feint of the sad story of loserdom and his cover is yet again saved. He even convinces the gameboard itself (in the form of the security officer of the Hard Rock Casino) that his actions are innocent, his playing style on the up and up, when in fact he's cheating them all. He is controlling both sides of the board, playing against himself.
Leroy and Naomi as The Rooks--Their paths, as of now, are straight lines, bouncing blindly off of borders unseen to them, as they are as yet unaware that they are playing the game. Enlightenment may eventually broaden the scope of their movement, but for now they are simply lateral. Yes, toe-sucking in a game of truth or dare is considered "lateral movement," that's just how messed up this game is.
Which brings us to Mike Mike the Knight Knight. He's physically incapable of making a straightforward move on this board. For every line he tries to make, something blocks his path and forces a jarring "L." Case in point, the game within the game, wherein the pieces gather on the battleground of Rows 3 through 6 to commence a game of chance and will, that ever-fearsome equalizer, Truth or Dare. And here is where our valiant knight makes a crucial misstep. Like stepping between a mother bear and her cub, MM the KK inadvertently puts The Black Queen into a threatened position (with his lips). The Black Queen could squash this lowly knight, easily, and both pieces know it, but The White Queen (still resting peacefully at D1, also known as the couch next to the phone) learns of the aggressive check from a passing rook (Leroy and his big mouth). The possibility of another capturing his counterpart sends him into an 8-directional rage, zagging, zigging, streaking across the board, puffing out his chest and generally acting like a silverback gorilla being challenged for the rights of the troop. Yet his perception of "disrespect" entirely negates the purpose of the game. In his own obsession The Black Queen's words, "It's a game, we're all playing, and we're all playing a little dirty." The game is meant to be played, and this perceived threat to his dominance of the board (and supposed right to the capturing of the opposing Queen) is nonexistent at best. The Black Queen takes the advantage, and moves into attack position, no longer toying around, but ready to kill (emotionally) her adversary. It'll take a lot of retracing of the game log for The White Queen Dustin to regain even footing. At this moment, he faces certain doom and potential removal from the gameboard entirely, through sheer ego-destruction.
But all pales in comparison to the string-pulling of the Player-Pawn Adam. His innocuous position as a pawn is betrayed to us, the observers, but the pieces themselves remain oblivious. Their eyes firmly affixed on the gameboard, they cannot raise their gaze to see the big round head of Adam grinning stupidly down at them, manipulating their every move. Nany may be Bishop in theory, but she is The White King in practice, since it is very obviously her fate that will decide the outcome of the game known as The motherfucking Real World. Adam may be playing both sides of the board, but his allegiance lies firmly in the blackness of his soul. His lies and misdirections may be directed at only one piece, but all on the board are affected by them. There are only so many spaces to occupy, after all.
3.09.2011
The Real World Las Vegas: The Dirty Boy Rules
Damn near a year since all TV across the nation went dark, plunging American denizens into a pop culture black hole that nearly sucked our blogging creativity beyond the event horizon, but thank GOD the MOTHERFUCKING REAL WORLD is back! Okay, so maybe I slacked off, maybe the loss of Lost cracked my crusty shell of television thoughts, maybe I just got a job--any of these might be a real reason that I've been absent, but here I am, hopefully permanently, or at least while The Real World Las Vegas is airing. But in the tradition of promising things that never come to fruition, I've recently watched the entirety of Dexter, of which I may have some thoughts on eventually, as well as delving into some rather good televised nature documentaries, and the place of documentary television in the cultural landscape in general (outside the rather repugnant realm of regular old "reality" TV, which is the methadone equivalent to the nice black tar heroin of actual documentary). Anyway, here we are, in Las Vegas, let's take some bets on how long my reinvigorated blogging continues.
--
The Real World of Plato consists of seven archetypes. Seven archangels if you will. At the end of all things, these Seven will persist, planting the seeds of disparity and redemption, conflict and resolution, chaos and society that feed the entire human race and build our world anew. So says Plato. These seven archetypes were once intruded upon by an eighth, an expendable--a sacrificial lamb maybe--that while adding to the overall equation, created a mathematical anomaly known as "Not Everyone Can Hook Up With Everyone." The oddity of seven is a necessity to the evolution of humanity in that the group is forced to choose uneven sides. This will become apparent. But first, The Seven, in their current incarnation:
Cool Dad--Of The Seven, one might be tempted to choose the Cool Dad as the one that will stand out from the pack, the one that will never find peace and thus spur the others to change, but one might be wrong. The one thing about this equation is that somehow it never turns out quite the same. The Cool Dad often wears khaki shorts, reads prayers aloud to the discomfort of others, and thinks always of the Grandmother of us all: Fate. Or just Grandma. Either one. The tortured psyche of the Cool Dad lies dormant, flashing only in moments of deep contemplation, severe drunkenness, or in a crucial moment of decision with a lady. His guilt is deep, catholic (in the lower-case "c" sense, i.e. universal, and also in the upper-case "c" sense, i.e. Catholic), and persistent. Grandma is the Pope!
Dustard--Dustin + Mustard = Dustard. Just to clarify that there is no slag to any mental acuity here. Though I admit, that may come to light soon enough. The Dustard is the rhythmic bouncing of arms and chest, the generic ideal of a certain type of male, identifiable only by the constant fact of toned flesh, stubble, and a Southern accent. Dustard is monogamy personified, though never initially identified as such. But where there is monogamy, there are secrets, and Dustard more likely than not will have a bomb to drop at about the half-life of The Real World (The Real World being a rapidly disintegrating element by its very nature). This particular incarnation contains a rare and unique isotope of secrecy in that deep down he betrays his mold of the male ideal by partaking in a ritual of virile nudity, disseminated to the masses. Yeah, he was naked on the Internet. Big whoop. But Dustard's secret must be kept, because the revelation will trigger the leap to next plateau of human relation for the group. But seriously, he put an ASSLOAD of mustard on that sandwich he was making. Am I the only one concerned here?
Ree Loy--Ree Loy plays an important but isolated role in The Seven known as the Single-Minded. He is obsessed with the opposite sex, and ONLY the opposite sex, for if swords were crossed, then that X would be stamped on the base of his soul, marking him for eternity. His single-mindedness will prevent him from accepting the others as his kindred, and his judgmentality will only serve to splinter the group closer to the point of no return, only to realize his misgivings and reel The Seven in more tightly than ever before. In astrological terms, he is the Aries and will identify most with the most masculine of The Seven, namely Dustard and Shy Guy, though an uncommon and unlikely relationship may form between Ree Loy and the Cool Dad, depending on the Las Vegasian circumstances.
Shy Guy--Loki. The Trickster. Even his name is a pawn on his board. The misnomer is intentional, as Shy Guy will defend to his last breath that his intentions are innocent, when in fact they are the most dastardly of the group. He seeks to bend, break, destroy what is already built. He is Mars, the God of War, the Shiva that will always be looked upon unfavorably at the end of all things despite the fact that from all destruction comes creation. He is the last wall between The Seven and their true selves. Once he is revealed for what he truly is, the others will be free to transform, transcend to their idealized selves. In his Platonic state, he finds it ironic that his current manifestation is named Adam. The Biblical irony is not lost on the Morning Star.
Julia Roberts--Sadly, Julia Roberts must be the first to be destroyed. From there all walls will crumble. She is inextricable from Shy Guy, as they were the first and only to meet, travel, and arrive together. The streets of Las Vegas have bound them. Julia Roberts hides behind a wall of exotic skin and porcelain white teeth, and what a brittle shell it will prove to be. But in reality, in The Real World, the shell was already cracked to begin with. The painful transformation in front of her was already in progress before The Seven were brought together, and her journey will be the most difficult to experience. Her aggressive significant other will prove no match for these archetypes of humanity, nor for the powers of those almighty Powers That Be, the producers.
Ri-Ri--The wild card of the group, the Joker. Her otherworldly qualities will be irresistible to many outside of The Seven, although her charms won't quite penetrate within the circle. This archangel has nothing to offer but the wonders of variance, of the happenstance of life that can be found beyond The Seven, beyond the chains of the paradigm. After the fire of Shy Guy, she will show us what it means to be truly human.
Blonde--While her role may seem simplistic, it is in fact what drives the society of mankind in every meaningful form of literature, politics, or adventure: she is The Woman. Seemingly passive, she can bend Dustard (the ideal of masculinity)'s will with a wink of an eye or bend of a knee. She is a newly awoken Sleeping Beauty, attempting to be the free spirit she so desperately wants to be, only to find that her fate has already been written. She may stray from her path at times, but there will always be something to bring her back to the fold of Seven. The generic ideal of woman, Blonde will both fulfill and surpass her epithet by showing the power of true love, the power of sheer will to survive and grow in a new world unfamiliar, and her subsequent ruination and rebirth will be glorious.
And so, welcome to the motherfucking real world. This is how it is, this is how it will always be, even long after we are gone. The plight and triumph of humanity is right in front of us.
--
So I hope that some of that either made sense up front or will make more sense as this season of The Real World forges on. The setting of which is not coincidental. The City of Sin is a perfect backdrop for these archangels to battle both outside forces and their own demons, to test themselves against themselves and stand tall as The Seven, reformed and resplendent, yet another form of the same old shit we've seen twenty-four times before. It never changes, but somehow it's always interesting. It really is the apex of humanity, now premiering on MTV!
--
The Real World of Plato consists of seven archetypes. Seven archangels if you will. At the end of all things, these Seven will persist, planting the seeds of disparity and redemption, conflict and resolution, chaos and society that feed the entire human race and build our world anew. So says Plato. These seven archetypes were once intruded upon by an eighth, an expendable--a sacrificial lamb maybe--that while adding to the overall equation, created a mathematical anomaly known as "Not Everyone Can Hook Up With Everyone." The oddity of seven is a necessity to the evolution of humanity in that the group is forced to choose uneven sides. This will become apparent. But first, The Seven, in their current incarnation:
Cool Dad--Of The Seven, one might be tempted to choose the Cool Dad as the one that will stand out from the pack, the one that will never find peace and thus spur the others to change, but one might be wrong. The one thing about this equation is that somehow it never turns out quite the same. The Cool Dad often wears khaki shorts, reads prayers aloud to the discomfort of others, and thinks always of the Grandmother of us all: Fate. Or just Grandma. Either one. The tortured psyche of the Cool Dad lies dormant, flashing only in moments of deep contemplation, severe drunkenness, or in a crucial moment of decision with a lady. His guilt is deep, catholic (in the lower-case "c" sense, i.e. universal, and also in the upper-case "c" sense, i.e. Catholic), and persistent. Grandma is the Pope!
Dustard--Dustin + Mustard = Dustard. Just to clarify that there is no slag to any mental acuity here. Though I admit, that may come to light soon enough. The Dustard is the rhythmic bouncing of arms and chest, the generic ideal of a certain type of male, identifiable only by the constant fact of toned flesh, stubble, and a Southern accent. Dustard is monogamy personified, though never initially identified as such. But where there is monogamy, there are secrets, and Dustard more likely than not will have a bomb to drop at about the half-life of The Real World (The Real World being a rapidly disintegrating element by its very nature). This particular incarnation contains a rare and unique isotope of secrecy in that deep down he betrays his mold of the male ideal by partaking in a ritual of virile nudity, disseminated to the masses. Yeah, he was naked on the Internet. Big whoop. But Dustard's secret must be kept, because the revelation will trigger the leap to next plateau of human relation for the group. But seriously, he put an ASSLOAD of mustard on that sandwich he was making. Am I the only one concerned here?
Ree Loy--Ree Loy plays an important but isolated role in The Seven known as the Single-Minded. He is obsessed with the opposite sex, and ONLY the opposite sex, for if swords were crossed, then that X would be stamped on the base of his soul, marking him for eternity. His single-mindedness will prevent him from accepting the others as his kindred, and his judgmentality will only serve to splinter the group closer to the point of no return, only to realize his misgivings and reel The Seven in more tightly than ever before. In astrological terms, he is the Aries and will identify most with the most masculine of The Seven, namely Dustard and Shy Guy, though an uncommon and unlikely relationship may form between Ree Loy and the Cool Dad, depending on the Las Vegasian circumstances.
Shy Guy--Loki. The Trickster. Even his name is a pawn on his board. The misnomer is intentional, as Shy Guy will defend to his last breath that his intentions are innocent, when in fact they are the most dastardly of the group. He seeks to bend, break, destroy what is already built. He is Mars, the God of War, the Shiva that will always be looked upon unfavorably at the end of all things despite the fact that from all destruction comes creation. He is the last wall between The Seven and their true selves. Once he is revealed for what he truly is, the others will be free to transform, transcend to their idealized selves. In his Platonic state, he finds it ironic that his current manifestation is named Adam. The Biblical irony is not lost on the Morning Star.
Julia Roberts--Sadly, Julia Roberts must be the first to be destroyed. From there all walls will crumble. She is inextricable from Shy Guy, as they were the first and only to meet, travel, and arrive together. The streets of Las Vegas have bound them. Julia Roberts hides behind a wall of exotic skin and porcelain white teeth, and what a brittle shell it will prove to be. But in reality, in The Real World, the shell was already cracked to begin with. The painful transformation in front of her was already in progress before The Seven were brought together, and her journey will be the most difficult to experience. Her aggressive significant other will prove no match for these archetypes of humanity, nor for the powers of those almighty Powers That Be, the producers.
Ri-Ri--The wild card of the group, the Joker. Her otherworldly qualities will be irresistible to many outside of The Seven, although her charms won't quite penetrate within the circle. This archangel has nothing to offer but the wonders of variance, of the happenstance of life that can be found beyond The Seven, beyond the chains of the paradigm. After the fire of Shy Guy, she will show us what it means to be truly human.
Blonde--While her role may seem simplistic, it is in fact what drives the society of mankind in every meaningful form of literature, politics, or adventure: she is The Woman. Seemingly passive, she can bend Dustard (the ideal of masculinity)'s will with a wink of an eye or bend of a knee. She is a newly awoken Sleeping Beauty, attempting to be the free spirit she so desperately wants to be, only to find that her fate has already been written. She may stray from her path at times, but there will always be something to bring her back to the fold of Seven. The generic ideal of woman, Blonde will both fulfill and surpass her epithet by showing the power of true love, the power of sheer will to survive and grow in a new world unfamiliar, and her subsequent ruination and rebirth will be glorious.
And so, welcome to the motherfucking real world. This is how it is, this is how it will always be, even long after we are gone. The plight and triumph of humanity is right in front of us.
--
So I hope that some of that either made sense up front or will make more sense as this season of The Real World forges on. The setting of which is not coincidental. The City of Sin is a perfect backdrop for these archangels to battle both outside forces and their own demons, to test themselves against themselves and stand tall as The Seven, reformed and resplendent, yet another form of the same old shit we've seen twenty-four times before. It never changes, but somehow it's always interesting. It really is the apex of humanity, now premiering on MTV!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
