I was unemployed for a couple months last winter. Looking for something to fill my hollow, pathetic existence, I took up watching Springer. I can’t explain my attraction to the show, but I will admit I found it endlessly entertaining.
Then something occurred to me. Springer is filmed in Chicago.
I live in Chicago.
I had nothing to do, really.
Oh, the temptation! How badly did I want to call that number and get a ticket to see Springer live! But…what if someone I knew saw me in the audience? How could I explain it?
That, and the horrible fear that people would try to get me to flash my breasts, are the only things that kept me away.
Now that I am gainfully employed once again, I have escaped the clutches of the temptation that is Springer. But…what if I am home sick one day, and idly start channel surfing at 11 am? And what if I cannot resist the pull of an 800 number for free tickets?
No, I must be strong. There will be no Springer audiences for me.
Okay, here’s my confession: I know people who have been guests on Jerry Springer. While I haven’t seen the episode because everyone thought someone else was taping it, the whole plot of the episode was the “I’m having lesbian sex with my best friend while you’re at work, Boyfriend” variety.
And it was a complete fiction. They did it just to make a couple hundred dollars. They were really broke. What amazed me even more was that the guy involved, let’s call him Dave, is a very fragile schizophrenic who gets very stressed when there is any kind of confrontation in his presence, even when he’s on his meds. When he was a homeless waif, I let him live in my home, and he would freak out at the normal bickering that went on between me and my daughter. I can’t imagine why he thought the Springer show would be a good place to be.
As an aside, my friend and I were having dinner at Houlihan’s in downtown Cleveland one night when Jerry Springer was seated at the table near us. The poor guy was just trying to eat a meal and read a book, but a line of people immediately formed to get autographs. Our server told us he’s a regular there when he’s in town, so I was surprised when the staff also lined up to pester him. It was so funny how he’d get maybe a fifteen minute break to eat, and then another line would start up. We just let him eat in peace.
I’ve always been intrigued by the situation where a grossly overweight snaggletoothed woman with thin hair is trying to win her boyfriend back from a much more attractive transvestite, and when taunted by the transvestite, shoots back, “At least I’m all real!”
Yes, you’re all real, in all your hideousness. Why is that better?
You’re right about the Playboy issue, I hope, but I’ll bet the calendar would sell in a big way, if only as a gag (make that joke, not gag–the gag would be a natural reflex) gift. Let ol’ Jer know about the idea; maybe he’ll cut you in for a share.
His show is on a re-run basis at 10:00PM on a local channel. Marcie was slaving away on the computer last night and I watched it in the bed room—I laughed so much that Marcie came out of our den/office/computer room, threatened me with death if I didn’t shut up, and then closed the door. I do hope I haven’t become addicted.
This is common enough to be a recurring show theme? No, that can’t be so-there can’t be that many transvestites dating trailer trash, they should have better taste than that!
There was an article in some newzine or another not too long ago (48 hours? Dateline, one of those), that had interviewed many citizens of some small town who frequently acted in Jerry Springer episodes as these dualling rednecks.
I don’t have a cite, sorry, just recall seeing it. ymmv
