Summer super happy watch go-go tube hooray!

Does anybody remember when summer television consisted mostly of reruns? The networks just don’t have that luxury anymore. With hundreds to thousands of channels glutting our minds and broadbands, somebody is always broadcasting something original (albeit usually featuring Brigitte Nielsen, Rachael Ray or a meerkat; if you keep checking late-night Cinemax, you might find a show featuring Brigitte Nielsen, Rachael Ray and a meerkat). They can’t slip’n’slide through the summer months with used stuff, so what is a network to do with all those summer hours?

Reality shows are the Pampers of programming. I’m not referring to what they might be filled with (though there is certainly a lot of that in the genre), but rather to their inexpensive and disposable nature. If the point is to poop out something original, then this is the quick-and-dirty way to do it. Quality standards may go down the dumper, but at least viewership won’t be flushed away. (That’s enough of that.)

The first time I saw a promo for the upcoming ABC summer shows, I concluded programming execs were awash in a sea of crack. Announced shows like Wanna Bet, Dance Machine and High School Musical: We Will Bleed This ‘Til It’s Dry set the tone for the no-rock-unturned frolics to come. Even the news department was getting in on the act with something called The Outsiders, featuring an hour of people dressing up monkeys. In the interest of full disclosure, I haven’t screened any of these shows. There is, however, plenty to talk about with the two that I have watched: Wipeout and I Survived a Japanese Game Show.

It was against my better judgment and deeper values that I sat down to view Wipeout. I am neither a big fan of smirky-snarky ESPN SportsCenter-type hosts, nor am I fascinated by people fall-down-go-boom. And there was certainly plenty of that, along with a steady torrent of subtle jock innuendo — one of the contests was called Big Balls. And if you think I worked the disposable-diaper thing pretty heavy, you should’ve heard the mileage they got out of Big Balls. But here is the sad part: There were a couple spots that made me laugh. I hate to admit it, but one giant spinning Q-tip knocked so many people off their pedestals in one sweep that it got to me. And one of the contestants, described as “an unemployed skateboarder,” was asked what his strategy was for an upcoming challenge. The response: “I’m gonna try not to poo in my wetsuit.” (I know. It’s horrifying. They wore me down!)

While Wipeout is basically a face-value endeavor, the other show’s appeal lies deeper within its promised premise. Most of us have seen an occasional 10-second clip from a Japanese game show, and stared slack-jawed at it. What are they doing? What are they thinking? What are — huh?! So when I heard the title I Survived a Japanese Game Show, I had a glimmer of curiosity amid the mounting despair. Could this be an hour of that bewildering insanity, somehow explained through (or, at least, befalling) American contestant-victims? I had to watch an episode. (Over the closing credits I heard this announcement: “Families who substitute monkeys for real children! Coming up next on ABC!” I had become an embedded journalist.)

This I Survived thing offered the allure of exotic insanity, displaying the inexplicable oddness of this foreign behavior. But here is the problem. The moments of real (if you will) Japanese game show weirdness are fleeting, far outweighed by the standard Western reality-show melodrama. We spend far too long watching the sniping and pseudo-competing between the two arbitrarily chosen teams of Americans, and not enough time watching that troupe of Asian guys dressed like Blues Brothers running around and carrying off the loser. (What are — huh?!) I would enjoy just hearing more of the inexplicable names of stunts, like “Human Crane Finds Fluffy Bear" and “Fight On, Mailman Taro.” Begrudgingly, there is mild amusement watching the culture clash of these medium-ugly Americans, like when the Southern guy’s breakfast is covered in shaved fish flakes, and he won’t eat it until he knows “exactly what part of the fish they're shavin’.” Or when an exultant contestant says he feels “like a thousand yen,” and the message onscreen says “1,000 Yen = $10.”

We Americans don’t do fish-out-of-water very well, shaved or otherwise. ABC had the opportunity to give us some real immersion into that disorienting other-culture thing. And I don’t know if they understimated the U.S. public’s ability to go to the extreme or not, but I get enough Yank-on-Yank drama on the other shows (and late-night Cinemax); I could’ve enjoyed something that really took a risk. Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball.