These days, original ideas are harder and harder to come by, which probably explains why there are so few decent shows on television.
Yet while watching Keegan Bradley and Jason Dufner duke it out for the PGA Championship on Sunday, I happened upon an advertisement for CBS’ new, reality television program entitled ‘Same Name,’ wherein famous people trade lives with other people who bear the same name. This particular Sunday, NFL running back Reggie Bush traded places with small town, Illinois farmer Reggie Bush. I decided to tune in to see if the show was worthwhile. I mean, who could resist seeing the only football player to ever be stripped of his Heisman Trophy carry a pig around the pasture. Insert Kim Kardashian joke here.
Bush, who I’ve met before, was the perfect gentlemen upon meeting his namesake’s family. He even allowed the interchangeable Bush to wear his Super Bowl ring for the week. The elder Bush’s three boys were awestruck upon meeting the NFL running back, while their father sipped champagne on his flight back to Los Angeles. Reggie’s posse later took him out for a night on the town. The more recognizable Reggie fetched eggs from the family henhouse for breakfast.
Mid-way through the show, Bush even addressed giving back his Heisman Trophy, so Kudos to CBS for forcing the issue. In the end, the show turned out to be a tear-jerker as Bush paid for his stand-in wife’s first year of college, gave them an all-expense paid trip to Hawaii and refurbished their kid’s high school football locker room.
Well, thanks to CBS and ‘Same Name,’ my fifteen minutes of fame has arrived. Since the show looks for people of the same name to switch lives, I figured I might as well submit my candidacy. After all, my name is Chris Humpherys, just like NBA power forward, Kris Humphries, who was recently engaged to Kim Kardashian, with whom Reggie Bush was also romantically involved. (Who hasn’t been?) So it only makes sense that Humphries and Humpherys switch places, with the NBA star becoming a bartender, blogger and karaoke singer extraordinaire, while I shop Rodeo Drive with the Kardashi-trons. And I hate to toot my own horn, but I could pull down a few rebounds in my day.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m perfectly happy with where I’m at and what I do, but for a few days, I suppose I could keep up with the Kardashians for the sake of science, even though I’ve never so much as seen a minute of their show. I prefer to lose brain cells in more opportunistic fashion.
Chilling with the most famous Armenians ever could be cool for a while, I guess. I could dine in Hollywood’s finest restaurants without so much as a wait, with half the restaurant wondering what Kim is doing with that short, balding white guy. Step-dad to the Kardashians, Bruce Jenner, could show me around his trophy room, where we could dust off his Olympic Gold Medals and pop open the Wheaties boxes whose cover he once graced. Unfortunately, Jenner’s now better known for his garbled facelift and for step-fathering the most spoiled children in America. Such is celebrity in our country.
And maybe during my week-long stint in the NBA, I could convince the players and owners to stop all da fussin’ and da fightin’ and finally end the labor disagreement. Back in Tampa, Humphries, in his sleep-deprived life, will be punching away at his laptop, pouring mai tais and cosmopolitans on the regular, and practicing his karaoke while I’m stuck listening to the incessant whining that is the Kardashian family.
On second thought, I rescind my submission and I’ll stay right where I am.