I really watch too much TV.
Yesterday found me enthralled by a Gator Boys marathon followed by a few episodes of Call of The Wildman on Animal Planet. At least the Gator Boys show has some redeeming qualities, like they don't kill the gators and either keep them or relocate them, which is cool. The show borders on educational.
Call of the Wildman? No redeeming qualities whatsoever. None. Zippo.
Call of the Wildman is a show based on the escapades of one Ernie Brown Jr., aka Turtleman. He travels the backwoods of Kentucky removing nuisance wildlife from peoples' homes, relocating vicious snapping turtles and reinforcing country bumpkin stereotypes.
He's got about as much business acumen as he does teeth. Instead of getting paid for his services, he seems to get compensated in jars of honey or in captured snakes. No wonder he has to resort to home-made equipment, like a protective suit of towels duct taped to his arms and some leftover netting to create an anti-bee and skunk suit.
One of the more recent episodes had Turtleman getting raffled off at a fair in one of those Buy A Date With A Local Celebrity kind of gig. I believe he went for over $700 to a trio of big haired country gals. Big haired country gals who thought he'd take them someplace nice, like a restaurant. Um, did you just see the part where he attempted to eat a sandwich he'd lost 4 days earlier under the seat of his truck? Yeah, restaurant.
Turns out he took them to a mud hole to remove three snapping turtles. Perfect! One for each gal!
Between his scrawny chest and his bumpkin jihad scream, he managed to coerce them into the stangant pond. This is where things got hysterical for me.
Imagine a happy-go-lucky redneck and Kentucky's equivalent of a Jersey Shores Girl submerged in muddy water up to their chins. This is Turtleman's dialogue (the girls are mostly just squealing in horror):
Feel anything?
It's pretty good sized, huh?
You got it? Pull! Pull haaaard! Don't let go!!!!
At this point I am shrieking in hysterics in front of the TV, scaring my dogs. "Tugging on the turtle's tail," now has a whole new meaning in my book!
Turtleman is so caught up with his turtles that I'm not sure he truly appreciates the hilarity of his double entendres. Or maybe he does.
Those reality shows can be pretty staged. For all I know, once the cameras stop rolling, he showers, puts in his teeth and struts about town speaking the Queen's English. You know, 'cause that's what I do.
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