| “American Gladiators” a benefit of writer’s strike |
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| Written by Caitlyn Scott - The Daily Reveille (LSU) | |
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The writer’s strike means many things for television fans. It means waiting months to see if McDreamy and Meredith are really over on “Grey’s Anatomy.” It means 35 minute press conferences in the place of glamorous designer laden red carpets. It means an influx of reality shows and game shows such as “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader: Celebrity Edition.” But the writers’ strike is not all bad. Without TV, I have discovered a marvelous thing called sunshine - it radiates down from the sky when you are at a place called “outside.” Aside from that, though, the writers’ strike has given us one shining beacon of hope in this dark and dismal world. A hope clad in red, white and blue spandex bearing the name “American Gladiators.” It’s the best bad show on television, and in a world chock full of reruns, reality shows and “Deal or No Deal,” I will take it. As you can see, I am a “glass half full” kind of girl. In case you do not know, “American Gladiators” is an athletic competition program pitting amateur athletes against the show’s “gladiators,” who have names like Venom, Ice and Nitro. Set like a tournament, “American Gladiators” showcases 12 men and 12 women against the gladiators in tests of strength, endurance and agility. The amateurs are eliminated throughout the rounds until we are left with one male and one female victor. The winners both receive $100,000, a Toyota Sequoia and the right to be an American Gladiator next season. If I had known about the fabulous prize package, I would have have tried out. The show originally debuted in 1989 and lasted until 1996 - my formative years. I have fond memories of the original show. I remember watching it with my cousins and even at the tender age of six, wondering about the absurdity of adults hitting each other with giant Q-tips. In 2008, I am done wondering about life’s absurdities and embrace Gladiators for what it is - pure television genius. Whoever came up with the concept for a show where soccer moms from Minnesota attempt to outshine professional body builders deserves some sort of medal. I have heard the revival criticized for not being enough like the original, but I beg to differ. Sure Nitro is no longer a gladiator and is now the associate producer of the show, but other things are the same. The costumes are still deliciously tacky. The challenges are still laughable. The joust is now done over a pool of water, and the wall is eight feet higher than it used to be, but why split hairs? One change for the better is the addition of Hulk Hogan. There is nothing I like better than blending my ‘80s cliches into a low culture smoothie. I am also a huge fan of the new gladiators. Titan is the only returning champ from the original series. You probably remember him as Thor. The standout new gladiators include Wolf, who howls every time his name is called and probably would have given me nightmares as a child. Then there’s Tao, who looks like the Rock for a good reason - he is his cousin and stunt double. Then there is Militia, who used to do gay porn, and Crush, who my guy friends tell me is hot in a “she’ll-kick-your-butt” kind of way. But I do not think the gladiators are as good as they used to be. Maybe my memory of the original show is a little foggy, but I could have sworn they used to be harder to beat. Now, it seems incredibly easy to push a gladiator off his podium with the foam thingy. I have been trying to pinpoint the appeal of “American Gladiators,” and I’ve finally done it. Sure, everyone enjoys the sheer brutality of watching spandex-clad muscle men knock people off various podiums, but the one thing that outshines this is Gladiator’s focus on the perseverance of the human spirit. Did Adam Levin, a shark fisherman from Texas, let a torn ACL during Powerball stop him? No. He stayed and cheered on his alternate, Andy the youth pastor, to a stunning victory. Andy said he did it all in honor of the injured Adam. I an sure that thought will keep Adam warm at night when Andy is the next American Gladiator and he’s not. We live in a world where a shark fisherman is willing to offer his health to the altar of 15 minutes of fame and consider it a fair trade. But heck, I would do it too. In fact, I think I’ll start training for next season. For now, I will stick to watching “American Gladiators” every Monday night. That leaves six nights to hit the University Recreation Center. |
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