The Independent Voice of Southern Methodist University Since 1915

The Daily Campus

The Daily Campus

The Independent Voice of Southern Methodist University Since 1915

The Daily Campus

The Independent Voice of Southern Methodist University Since 1915

The Daily Campus

The Texas Theater opened to the public in 1932.
Oak Cliff’s Texas Theater cultivates community with more than just films
Katie Fay, Arts & Life Editor • April 25, 2024
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Made for each other

Wise Ass Beyond My Years
 Made for each other
Made for each other

Made for each other

You know what makes for compelling reality television? I’ll be happy to tell you, kids – soft core pornography. Yep, you read me right. Maybe a foot fetish film here, perhaps a bondage flick there. Am I a sick person, you ask?

Nope, just a proud viewer of the Fox network.

Fox, in its infinite wisdom, decided it would be smart to lie to 20 young women, telling them that some dope recently inherited $50 million and wanted to find a girl via reality television.

“Joe Millionaire,” neé Evan Mariott, makes his weekly cuts, based on his weak intellect, until finally he has but one young lady whom he must inform that, no, he hasn’t inherited squat. In reality, he earns about $19,000 per year working construction – about $50 a day.

We’ve all heard plenty of preaching about the concept of the show, so I won’t waste my time dwelling on it. I myself watched the first broadcast and chuckled. I planned on watching the final episode, so I could watch Mr. Marriot drop the big news.

Last week, TheSmokingGun.com broke a story about one of the “Joe Millionaire” femmes, Sarah Kozer. The 29-year-old claims to work in “sales and design.” She is a charming blonde who in the past found gainful employment acting (kind of) in foot fetish and bondage films.

About 30 photos (non nude, you sicko) appear on the Web site, taken from her cinematic performances. A variety of poses appear, involving duct tape, ropes, gags and muddy feet. Though I could comment on the intricacies of a foot or bondage fetish, I’ll try to keep on topic here.

Now this news is not new, as it’s last week’s story, but Monday’s show brought yet another cut to the show, and our knotter remains in the hunt – with but one other gal.

Let us reflect, then, on the nature of the program. Only one person could possibly get hurt in all this mess, that one being the female “winner” of the show. Think about it; the girls cut before her will think it’s funny; Evan Marriot doesn’t get hurt because he was broke before the show, and now he possesses moderate fame; and we all gaggle and goggle over the drama playing out before our eyes.

In all honesty, the conceit of the show defines unfair. Say what you will about looking for love before money, but shouldn’t honesty come before all else?

Therefore, any woman who “wins” the show will feel simply used and deceived when Evan reveals that he actually works with dirt for a living. Naturally, she will be upset for having been lied to for six weeks, though if she acts mad she will appear to be a greedy gold digger.

Mr. Heller, we’ve found the thesis for your book about “catching 22.”

But hold the presses, kiddies. Is there not a match made in heaven in the works? Can’t you see it? What a perfect wedding it would make . . .

The bride, who would wear white though it would probably be the biggest stretch since Ted Kennedy tried to fit into his spandex jogging shorts from college, would float down the aisle unencumbered by any and all square, bowline or Kleimheist knots. Next to the minister, the groom himself would wait, wearing one of those tee shirts made to look like the front of a tuxedo, blue jeans and work boots.

The guests, all Fox viewers, would weep when the two took each other’s hands. The minister would ask for the ring, either a sawed-off portion of a water pipe from the work site or something from a cereal box. Then, the minister would ask if anyone had any reason why the young lovebirds should not be wed. We’d all try really hard not to chuckle, but the preacher would too, so they’d just kiss and get it done with.

They’re meant for each other, kiddies; they’re a match made in heaven. The tortoise and the hare? No, I’ll do you one better: the tool guy and the . . .

Never mind.

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