reality television?

Larry Elder rules the Moral Court

The call came at about noon.

�Hey Keith, wanna be on TV?�

It was Brett, my old roomie who�d gone to Hollywood to achieve his dream of being a starving actor. He�d failed horribly at the starving part and was getting gigs regularly, so I knew he was serious.

�Hell yeah! What do I got to do.�

�A woman named Sara is gonna call you and ask you about a conflict you would like to resolve on the Moral Court. Describe a conflict. She loves it. She brings you to Hollywood.�

�Great, what�s the conflict?”

�You�ll think of something. I gotta go.�

Brett had previously set me up with a gig pretending to be a series of weird characters who call in to morning DJs. I�d always wondered where they found such bizarre people and was a bit disillusioned to know they were just big fakers like me�getting up at 4 in the morning for a quick fifty-dollar phone call.

I tightened the screws on my thinking cap, but no conflicts were coming to my mind.

The phone rang again.

�Hi Keith, this is Sara with CDC productions.� (All names have been changed to protect myself.)

I had to think fast. OK, I�d gone to a record store with my roommate Patrick; and he found a rare Partridge Family album that some idiot had marked fifty cents. Patrick didn�t have any money. So I bought the record and we shared it. I now had an opportunity to sell the album for two grand. But Pat�s furious that I�d even consider selling it, and is now not speaking to me.

�So he moved out over this?�

Wow! Talk about leading the witness… Sure, so he moved out.

The story was fake, of course�all but the record and Patrick�s passion for it. The record came with a plastic Partridge Family shopping bag�the name of the record being �A Bagful of Hits.� Patrick�s copy was in mint condition and included the shopping bag.

Knowing she was deciding if we were �television worthy,� I gave one final push.

�Patrick will be great on the show. He dresses like a cowboy�rope tricks and all.�

�He dresses like a cowboy?!�

�Yep.�

Keith prepares to do television battle

�Keith, I�d love to have you on.�

I dialed Patrick�s work number franticly.

�Kitchen.�

�Patrick, we�re going to Hollywood to be on TV.�

�Yah, Yah, Yah. What are you talking about?�

I told him all the details, and he grew as excited as I. Then�just as we were about to say our goodbyes�I remembered:

�I told them you�d dress like a cowboy.�

�You what?!?�

�I had to make you sound interesting. I told �em you dress like a cowboy.�

�What did you tell them you dressed like?�

�They knew I was interesting. Besides you do dress like a cowboy.�

�Not all the time. Not on national TV.�

I was laughing hysterically as I hung up.

Patrick and I got our stories straight on the way to the airport. We flew coach. This didn�t help to make us feel like big stars at all. However, when we got to LA and the diver holding the sign with our names and the name of the studio was there to meet us, we felt a definite twinkle. From twenty feet away we announced proudly for all to hear, least of all the driver, �Yes. We�re Keith and Patrick. Here for our television debut.�

We were staying at the Hollywood Holiday Inn, which is not an impressive inn at all. The only exciting features it had for us were that it was free and walking distance from Manns Chinese Theatre, the Walk of Stars, and Hollywood Book and Poster. We took off to see the sights immediately. This part of LA seemed to roll up its sidewalks at night just like any other town. The only thing open were the sex shops and the doughnut shops. Of course, if you have sex and you have doughnuts, what else do you need?

After some doughnuts�no sex�we headed back to the hotel to try to sleep despite our excitement and sugar highs.

The next morning I called Sara; and she sent another driver.

I must do Patrick justice by explaining his is no �mall country-and-western store� cowboy gear. We are talking super-deluxe vintage wear that would�ve done Hank Williams proud. His shirt on this occasion featured a hand of playing cards equaling a royal flush on each shoulder piece. The boy was in rare form.

I myself could�ve passed for Keith Partridge�s stunt double with my long flared out greasy hair and super �70s shirt.

The studio looked just like in the movies�beige buildings with brown doors and people moving about with great intent: one of whom escorted us to our set.

On the way we passed the set of Soul Train. We could not resist stopping to bust a move on the Soul Train stage. I did some break-dancing moves I�d learned from Soul Train as a kid. Patrick did a few rope tricks. We mustered up a few weak Don Cornelius impersonations.

Sara seemed love us at first glance. She led us to our separate dressing rooms where we�d be prepped individually for the taping.

The Moral Court is in session

My room was equipped with bottled water, some snacks and a TV where I could watch the episode currently taping. A boy�s mother�a hairdresser�was charging him with a lack of morals for cutting his own hair. He was tired of her forcing him to wear a mullet. The audience sided with the young man and cheered and hissed accordingly. The judge agreed and not only awarded the kid cash�but asked mom to please relinquish the grounding she had issued.

Sara came by; and as we discussed the taping, she would actually suggest little details to the story, which she obviously knew was BS. But it was understood between us that this never be acknowledged. Things got stranger still when an intern brought me legal forms to sign, one of which stated that Moral Court did not feature �made-up� or �bogus� stories. Furthermore, anyone caught faking it, could be charged for the expense of one day�s taping.

I signed away.

I got fitted for a cordless body microphone. It was explained to me that the mics on the podiums were as bogus as my story. As soon as I was wearing that mic, I had to go to the bathroom. I have a horribly shy bladder and doing my business with the mic on was a little unnerving. Singing to myself helped. �If ya want my body, and you think I�m sexy, come on baby let me know.�

Next they recorded me telling my story for the intro.

One more trip to the bathroom (Damn that free water! �If you want my body…�) and then I was led to the door through which I would enter immortality. I stood waiting anxiously, having to go to the bathroom again. People were scurryin� every which way with headsets on. The music started, the door opened, I entered the set. I could hear my voice telling my tale of Partridge Family fanaticism and money to be made.

I reached the front with a sneer on my face. Patrick and I had agreed ahead of time: I was to play the jerk, and he the sweet romantic. We were splittin� the money either way.

Patrick entered, his voice telling of his love for all things Partridge and this album in particular. The judge of Moral Court was Larry Elder, the only black man in America to vote for Reagan. Twice. He opened by addressing Patrick.

Patrick, looking like a cowboy

�Patrick, do you know that you�re dressed like a cowboy.�

Patrick had not prepared to be picked on by the judge since I was to be the antagonist; and I think the judge’s opening threw him a little.

�Yes, sir I do.�

The judge then got Patrick�s story interrupting when the Partridge Family was mentioned to state that he himself was a Motown man.

His honor inquired as to where I was when Patrick found the album.

�Sir, I was in the Motown section.�

I made fun of Patrick�s clothes, that he was poor and that he worked in the kitchen of an old-folks home.

�Where do you work, Keith?� inquired the Judge.

I flashed my best �deer in headlights,� before responding, �At a pet store.�

Well I know how hip it isn�t to work in a pet store, but this one brought the house down more than I�d anticipated and the insulted look on my face was partially sincere. Patrick felt much better with everyone laughing at me, as I declared loudly, �But I�m the assistant manager� to defend myself. This had the �but I�m the head burger-flipper� feel it was meant to have, and my rhythm�like Patrick�s�fell into place.

We dealt with the question-and-answer section�the majority of the audience attacking me and defending Patrick. The weirdest part was that everyone seemed to believe us and several people kept giving me advice even when the cameras were off.

One man in particular kept calling for my attention, �Hey buddy! Hey! That�s your friend, man. Friendship�s worth more than money.�

The judge issued his ruling.

My conduct was declared outrageous, Patrick to receive $1,000.

Patrick then was interviewed and said, �Well Keith, I guess you finally get your 50 cents back.�

That�s a wrap. I had $500 and a free trip to Hollywood. I was on national TV.

The same day they showed our episode on network TV, a clip of Patrick and I arguing was shown on Talk Soup on E! in the evening. The show was seen by many friends, including one who�s still angry with me over my mistreatment of Patrick. I still sell varmints to spoiled children and Patrick still works in a kitchen, but like many fools before us we are planning our return to Hollywood where we will await the spoils of fame we had all too small a taste of.

Keith Lowell Jensen has been an MC for Spike and Mike’s Animation Festival. He was the founder and first person to retire from The Trash Film Orgy. He’s gone way past 2nd base with a girl, though he’s still looking for a home run.

Keith is currently a member of the award winning comedy troupe “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Comedy.” Their latest CD titled “Funnier Than God” is availalbe online here or at fine record stores everywhere.

Tags: Keith Lowell Jensen, television