LAST EDITED ON 06-17-04 AT 07:03 PM (EST)

LAST EDITED ON 06-17-04 AT 06:04 PM (EST)

That's Not Jewelry They're Talking About!

Welcome to season two of Joe Schmo. Or as the marketing geniuses have dubbed it: Joe Schmo2. It’s a lot like Joe Schmo, times two. Only not as fresh.

The opening montage sets the premise: Two schlubs are invited to take part in some lame reality show called “Last Chance for Love”. What they don’t know is that the whole thing is faked. All the other contestants are actors. The reality show doesn’t exist. It’s all been created to make them look stupid when they win.

It’s a funny premise that worked well the first time when they competely duped the dim but likable Matt Kennedy Gould. Now they’ve pushed it a little further into National Lampoon territory. The great thing about JS2 is not the stupid contestants, it’s the way they make fun of the whole reality-dating genre. If Saturday Night Live were good, it would look like this. And since this show is so funny, it’s hard for me to fire up the flamethrower.

Damn! How can I bash a show I LIKED?

This is how: The whole spoof is so over the top that even the stupidest government employee could figure out the joke. The “acting” is pathetic. No better than really bad soap opera, the sophomore class play, or those sniveling wannabes we saw two hours ago on Next Action Star. And the dialogue, while intended to be cheesy, is beyond processed cheese food; so laughably bad that it elicits sniggling from the two folks who are supposed to find it believable.

Note to the producers: While I found it to be a great lampoon of all that “Tribe has Spoken” seriousness we see on other low rent reality shows, it’s not gonna work if the Schmos figure out its all a hoax.

Obviously the biggest problem with creating Schmo2 would be locating two people stupid enough to miss all clues that reveal the hoax. Those would have to be two incredibly stupid people who are totally unaware of the first Joe Schmo series. Since SpikeTV’s core audience is, by definition, America’s Most Stupid, you can see the challenge.

This is similar to the problem producers had with “Joe Rodeo Millionaire 2.” They solved that by taking him to a place totally out of touch with America and introducing him to the desperate Gold-Diggin' Girls of Slutvakia. And the producers spent a summer in Europe banging the smelly Eurotrash castoffs.

But this is cheapo SpikeTV. There’s no budget for that crap. So where can the producers find two people who lack any reasonable grasp of their own foolishness, yet are so self-absorbed they missed one of televisions most talked about shows? Some place with domestic airfare, yet totally out of touch with America.

Yes, they went to Washington, D.C.

And that's where they found Tim Walsh and Ingrid Wiese.

Tim Walsh is the youngest of four kids born in Wilmington, Delaware. He has spent the last 20 years living in the D.C. area. He got a business degree from Mt. St. Mary’s College and hopes to own a bar. He is, in fact, an actual Schmo.

Ingrid Wiese is originally from Washington state, one of seven children. Her father is a neurosurgeon. Ingrid worked her way through the University of Washington by working as a Budweiser girl, which must have thrilled and amused Daddy’s friends. After college she moved to Washington D.C., where she works for the government and is studying to become a Foreign Services officer. She is a not quite a Schmo, but is no more than a few steps above Soiled White House Intern.

As part of the opening we get a quick run through the cast of actors playing the other roles. The actors are given reality-show names and stock personas.
We have:
Austin, The Bachelor; a model perfect man deeply in love with the mirror;
Piper, The Bachelorette; a model perfect woman desperately seeking love;
Gerald, The Gotta-Be-Gay Guy; strange and witty and a little hostile;
Rita, The Drunk; given one note to play, and thus plays it at 4000 decibels, epitomizing the worst of the School of Improv acting we’ll see tonight;
Bryce, The Stalker; who has never had a relationship end without a restraining order and thus is my favorite character;
Eleanor, the Weeper; who has no character at all, so you know she’ll be around for a while so that she can play her own Medea scene at 4000 decibels;
Ernie, The Heir; scion to the Gallo cheapo wine factory fortune, he’s a wealthy arrogant smarmy know-it-all who probably writes web summaries for reality TV shows in his spare time;
Ambrosia, The B!tch; a loving homage to (direct rip off of) The Apprentice’s Omarosa;
T.J., The Playah; a greasy self-styled ladies man who seems to have stepped in from a 1990s movie, the sort of guy Slater from “Saved By The Bell” became once he discovered the Camaro, Viagra and Jovan Musk;
Cammy, The Moron; really the Barbie Doll, who has all the baser attributes of a great stripper, but none of the intelligence;
Derek Newcastle, The Pompous Host; played by Ralph Garman. Ralph is the only actor returning from the first season of Schmo, but now he has his hair dyed neon yellow and he’s speaking in a dinner theater Shakepearean opera voice. It should go well with the bee costume.

The actual show begins with a production meeting in which producer guy tell the actors not to overact. It doesn’t work. Forgive me for not writing it down, but I believe producer guy’s name is Brite Weaselfeces.

Cut to the limo arrival at the mansion. Yes, all reality-dating shows must have the limo arrival at the mansion. Tim Schmo is first and he’s full of anticipation. Ingrid Schmo is next, and she confesses she’s nervous. Tim stares at her chest as the two of them chat, and he’s already transparent in his attempts to get on her good side. (That’s the side with the cleavage.)

Back to the actors, who are all nervous as their initial appearance approaches. They’ll have to be in character nearly 24 hours a day for several weeks to come. Of course they are scared. None of them have ever held an acting job that lasted more than four days.

T.J. arrives first, and kisses Ingrid’s hand. She squeals. Tim babbles something about kicking it kung-fu style. He’s weird.

Cammy's mammoth boobery arrives next, followed moments later by her face. Tim instantly forgets Ingrid’s chest. Ingrid realizes she’s no longer actually on the show. After a quick whispered conversation with Cammy, Ingrid snarkily tells the guys that the bimbo works at Baskin-Robbins. This catty remark is intended to belittle the brainless boobage, but instead inspires nationwide thoughts of whipped cream, cherries, hot fudge, and two scoops. Two large scoops.

(Informational sidebar: Most women seemingly do not understand the erotic potential of ice cream, or the sensual allure of Diary Queen. Doomed 1980 Playboy Playmate of the Year Dorothy Stratten was discovered working at an ice cream parlor. How do I know this? Uh, I'm a big Eric Roberts fan.)

Gerald arrives and no one can pronounce his name. He prompts them with a “hard G” but it will be of no help.

The next arrival is some unnamed, uncredited black woman, a day-player who has all the future of a Star Trek extra. During an innocuous microphone adjustment Ingrid asks this woman how they found her, and she responds, “Through my agent.”

This inadvertent reveal of the show’s core deceit snaps the necks of all the actors already on the set. Barely 15 minutes into weeks of commitment, and some $30 extra tells the mark that golly gee, she has an agent and just got called yesterday. Some panic in the control room, some hilarious winking nudging nodding and eye-rolling among the onstage actors, who fret that they won’t get paid. The whole “Ix-nay on the Acting-bay” routine.

Ingrid looks sort of suspicious, but eventually shrugs it off. She figures out that everyone in America has an agent, and her agent just sucks.

Rita arrives next, and when she’s asked about herself, she laughingly, but very pointedly, remarks that they aren’t supposed to talk. Gerald piles on by remarking that everyone is obeying that rule except Ingrid. Nice cover, folks.

Three more nameless minority walk-ons arrive without incident. Then Bryce arrives. He’s gawky and weird, and won’t speak to the others or even acknowledge them. More minority extras, Eleanor, Ernie and Ambrosia arrive without incident, and that completes the cast of "contestants."

A blare of trumpets and our host enters, riding in the sidecar of a motorcycle. Ralph Garman, as the pompous host Derek Newcastle, declares himself their “captain aboard a ship that is fueled by romance sailing in search of life’s most precious booty, love.” The line and delivery are so over the top that Ingrid begins laughing quietly.

Blah blah blah… we found one man and one woman who have everything except love. Enter the stars, Bachelor Austin and Bachelorette Piper. They are carried in on litters, drawing applause from the other actors.

Piper is introduced as a 23-year-old from New London Connecticut who is both an opera singer and a jewelry designer. She’s looking for a gem blah blah blah...

Austin is introduced as a 30-year-old New Yorker living in L.A. who is both an outstanding athlete and world traveled model… blah blah blah. Nobody cares, not even the pretty boy playing the damn role.

Surprise! Time for the first elimination. Austin and Piper are each given three black balls to hand out, sending the recipient home. Notice they weren’t white balls, or yellow balls, or even blue balls. Yes, it’s the most shocking eviction ceremony yet!

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But first we must sell some products. Specifically, the same five products, all night long. Taco Bell, you suck. What the hell is Nokia doing selling GameBoy ripoffs to samurai laundrymen? And Blockbuster’s business has crumbled to the point that they are giving away video game if you flip them off. I hope you really enjoyed these commercials. These are the only sponsors on this crappy network, and we’re gonna see the same four commercials 28,614 times. Tonight.
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Back to the most shocking eviction yet.
Our Schmos are shocked at first, and then disturbed when the six eliminations all turn out to be those nameless minority extras. Including the blabbermouth with the agent.
Cut to assistant producer Brite Weaselfeces gloating over the brilliance of their parody of institutional racism. Hee Hee Hee… minorities always go home first, so the master race of TV executives still have a chance with the blonde, balloon-chested white babes.

OK losers, get off the frick'n driveway, enter the house and off to the patio for luau, where you master thespians can begin working on the Emmy nomination. Tim orders a “Vodka and Shasta,” and Ernie describes him as a nice guy. In other words, he’s as gullible and pliable as we need him to be.

Derek Newcastle returns with more pompous dialogue, including a misquote from Shakespeare which Ernie corrects. Enter Austin and Piper. Ernie runs around telling everyone how rich he is. Rita runs around playing the fake drunk, which even gullible Tim finds unbelievable.

More stupid "get to know me (not really me)" conversation, in which Tim starts to make a connection with Piper. Gerald comes over and steals her away, hurting our Schmo’s feelings and setting up a rivalry.

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Commercials: A new Coke, but not New Coke, which was such a disaster they brought back Coke Classic. A video game; a commercial for the Scion, the world’s ugliest car, which is barely discernable in the ad; and Blockbuster flippin me off again.
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Back to the show, and we’ve gathered on the patio for a gift exchange.
(My favorite line: Following a lame joke by the host, and a few tepid chuckles, he humbly intones, “Thank you for your courtesy laughter.” Halfway written, and that’s already the way I feel about this summary).

The gifts are supposed to reveal a little bit about each of the contestants. Cammy gives Austin her cell phone, so he can call her anytime. Rita gives him a drinking glass. Ambrosia gives him a pageant tiara. Those are the gifts scripted to look stupid. Ingrid, choosing her own gift, outstupids them all with the gift of an autobiography by Former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright. She hopes to find a man who would share her interest in international politics, or at least one turned on by a bloated hag. Which she is destined to become.
Austin doesn’t know which side of the book is the front.

Now Piper gets gifts.
T.J. gives her black lace panties and a garter. Gerald gives her a basket of moisturizers. Tim gives a gift from the heart, a family picture of his nieces and nephews. Bryce gives her his pet cannibalistic frog. Yes, he’s the psycho. Ernie gives everyone a poor “Sally Struthers” orphan child, which he’ll fund for a year.

Piper and Austin reciprocate. Piper provides a lock of hair (not pubic, sadly); Austin provides a locket with his photo on one side and blank spot on the other. Ingrid finds this touching.

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Commercials…
which I can’t tolerate even long enough to scream about.
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When we return, it’s Lap Dance for Love. Austin and Piper sit in front of a runway, and the others team up in pairs. The pair that earns the most tips from Austin and Piper will get a private Jacuzzi date with the vapid love interests.

What is the real point of this game? To get Cammy The Moron into a too-small bikini and watch her writhing around on the stage. The fact that Ingrid does it as well was a totally unscripted bonus.

Tim and Eleanor are first. Tim is a gorilla, Eleanor a banana. They are awkward and pathetic. Stunning the crowd, Tim actually performs the dance made wildly unpopular by Fred “Rerun” Berry on the 80s sitcom Good Times. This tells me a lot about the quality of life in Wilmington, Delaware.

Ambrosia is the chicken, Gerald is an egg. They lapdance oddly.
No answer on which came first.

Ingrid comes out as a dog, and Ernie is a steak. She bites his meat, strips to her bikini, and rubs her previously-concealed but quite voluptuous hourglass body all over Austin. The script calls for her to win, so he stuffs his wad (of money) wherever she’ll let him. This includes her hand, her bikini top, her bikini bottom, her microphone transmitter and her trust fund back in Seattle.

Cammy and T.J. are next to dance. She’s a kitten, he’s a lowly carton of milk. But quickly enough, we see the jugs. She gyrates on T.J., she gyrates with herself, she gyrates on Austin. She’s got moves that prove she’s done this before. Even Ingrid comments on her perfect body. I think there may be other dialogue, but I missed it the first 400 times I watched this part. (I’ll review again later, when the family is asleep and my stamina returns.)

Bryce and Rita are next. She’s a rabbit, he’s her carrot. Unfortunately, when the spotlight hits Rita she thinks she’s supposed to act. She falls down “drunk” several thousand times. Tim finds it funny, Ingrid finds it pathetic. Despite bulging evidence of Cammy’s professional status, Ingrid and Ernie win the stripper contest, and plan to meet Austin and Piper in the Jacuzzi that evening.

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Commercials.
The doctor says you can’t make me talk about them. But there were a lot of them, and they are burning in my soul yet today.
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We come back, and the group has assembled on the patio. Derek Newcastle waves his leather gauntlet in the wind, and a falcon comes sailing in over their heads and lands on his arm.

It’s the Falcon Twist!

The what? you ask. The Falcon Twist.
I don’t know what the hell that means either.
Maybe it will start a dance craze.

The bird, Manticore, has a note on his leg. This note tells them that Austin will be evicting one of the women tonight. The note also reveals there is $100,000 in prize money for the winners, but they must keep the money incentive a secret from Piper and Austin.

It’s hard to hide the smirk on Ralph’s face when the pompous Derek Newcastle says “The Falcon Has Spoken.” A portentous line that is immediately followed by music that sounds remarkably like something you might have seen Thursdays on CBS.

How can Ingrid and Tim not fall over laughing? Could they believe this is REAL? Why, yes. Ingrid says the money’s not important, she interested in Austin. Seems that lap dance made them both happy.

Cut to the Jacuzzi, at the base of Passion Rock. Ingrid and Ernie arrive for the date, and the gargantuan Ernie is wearing a Hawaiian shirt. (Forgive us Average Sean, for we must now humiliate the fat guy in the hot tub.) Strangely enough, it’s the actors who are nervous around the oddly self-assured Ingrid. She’s thrilled that Austin commented on her second bikini.

While the hot tub straddling sex is taking place, the other guys gather in Gerald’s room and begin to bond. By that I mean they all gang up on the weak link, psycho Bryce. Tim actually finds Gerald and TJ funny as they all torment the mentally ill.

It’s time for stalkerboy to go into his act. Proclaiming to the others that he is falling in love with Piper, he stands on the balcony glaring intently at the couples in the tub. He also confesses that all his previous relationships ended with restraining orders. Tim is scared, intrigued and amused by this wacko, who also brags that he took community college course in hypnotism and can manipulate people with his powers. Tim declares that Bryce is psycho. I declare him to be genius.

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Commercial break.
Isn’t C2 a plastic explosive?
Where can I get some?
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Finally, we arrive for the eviction ceremony.
Derek actually says this:
“Love. It’s why we’re all here. But tonight, one of you will be pulled off its sweet teat of acceptance only to sample the bitter aftertaste of rejection.”
Ingrid begins to laugh, and the actors struggle to keep a straight face.

Derek continues: “Those of you lucky enough to remain, you will receive Austin’s ultimate symbol of love “a pearl necklace.”

This brings startled laughter from Tim. Cammy smiles as well. Actress or not, I’m sure she’s been through a pearl necklace ceremony many times.

Informational sidebar here about a Pearl Necklace.
It's a double entendre. It's porn industry slang.
In the immortal words of ZZ Top,
“It’s not jewelry she’s talking about, and it really doesn’t cost that much.”
Suffice it to say that a certain bodily fluid has an opalescence, and can resemble a string of pearls if applied liberally but forcefully around the neckline.
But of course, you knew that. I’m not sure Ingrid does.

Derek invites the women to step forward and plead their case, and then ask Austin for a pearl necklace. At every mention of this lurid imagery, Tim gives a visible lurch to control his laughter. He almost loses it completely when Derek tells the women to “step up to Austin, lean forward, and he will put a pearl necklace on your neck.”

Not fully recovered from the hot tub, Austin has only enough pearls to decorate four of the five women. He selects, in order, Cammy, Ambrosia, Ingrid, and Eleanor. He tells Rita she’s a lot of fun, but he needs someone who can help him win an Emmy, and you suck.

Rita leaves. Derek leaves. Ingrid immediately turns to the other women and asks if they knew they were supposed to speak because they seemed rehearsed. (Of course they were, but apparently not enough rehearsal to look spontaneous.) The other actors and the producers begin to sweat.

And Ingrid won’t let go of this. They head upstairs and she’s continually asking the group if they knew what was coming because the speeches seemed prepared. She’s catching on, and says she felt like she was on The Truman Show.

Now the producers panic. They may have lost one Schmo already, and they must protect Tim's innocent gullibility. They send some techie in on a charade to move Tim away from Ingrid. Is it too late? He’s standing right behind Ingrid's chair with a puzzled look on his face.

It’s the most shocking crisis yet!!!

And it's "To Be Continued..."

Will the Schmoes figure this out before week two?
Will Spike TV have to switch to Godfather reruns all summer?
Is Baskin-Robbins still hiring?
And how will Piper reward the men?
Will they get a Rusty Trombone?

It’s all “To Be Continued…”

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Well, it can’t be too serious. The promo reveals this: There’s still 2 Schmoes next week. Ambrosia and Ingrid clash, Bryce tries to hypnotize TJ and Tim, and Manticore the Falcon brings another twist, his own elaborate and dramatic suicide attempt!

Edited to say I do NOT drive a Camaro, or use Jovan Musk. TJ out.
Edited again to clarify the porn industry slang.