Red Head Reality

I try to spare you guys as much anguish as I can. I don’t want to add to the anxiety you feel every time you log onto social media to see that 45 has just called another ally WEAK or SAD, or that another eminently preventable gun tragedy has occurred, or that your high school nemisis’ (nemisessess? nemisii?) perfect children have landed both another full scholarship and a blue ribbon at regional semifinals.

But I got a PR email the other day that I need to process with someone else, and you’re about to be dragged into my confusion.

You don’t know this (see paragraph 1) but I get pitches all the time from casting agents looking to populate their reality TV shows. My family isn’t even that stoked that I write about them, so the idea of letting someone shove a camera all up in their home business is a nonstarter. Still, I skim the emails to glean how we’re doing as a culture.

Not well, people. Not well. Here is the latest URGENT casting request I got:

We are in search of adorable and outgoing 5 and 6 year olds with a SOUTHERN ACCENT for a fun new TV show!

We are also looking for:

5 and 6 year olds:


– with glasses


– with red hair


– that live on a farm


– with accents

I have many questions.

What are the producers going to do with all these tiny gingers and their accents and glasses? WHAT IS THE PLAN? Am I overreacting by freaking out and imagining this auburn-tinted, down-South version of Lord of the Rings? Will someone there teach them that “who live on a farm” is the grammatically correct version of that bullet point?

Also, why the “also” when you’ve just said above that you’re looking for exactly what you’re about to ask for again? Maybe the accents thing is flexible. Could they be accents from the south of France? Southern Germany? Southern Albania? I’m picturing pint-sized, red haired Eurotoddlers engaged in some sort of nationalistic trash talking around farm tasks.

Tiny Ginger 1, taking a drag on a candy cigarette and waving his chubby toddler hand with Gallic dismissiveness: “Eeee doesn’t know ‘ow to milk a cow. Eeee sinks that café au lait eez made wiz white crayons. Pffffff.”

Tiny Ginger 2, wiping his hands on his little Lederhosen: “Ach ja, in Chermany ze cows are much more efficient. Not like zose French cows, und their tiny cheeses.”

Tiny Ginger 3, whose glasses are covered in wheat chaff but the producers won’t let him wipe them off because it’s winsome, “Can y’all tell me where the sunscreen is? Aaaahm getting freckles on mah freckles.”

What possible nefarious plan could these casting agents have for a herd of carrot-tops amongst the carrots? More importantly, what parent is going to sign on the dotted line to let their kids be on this show?

Oh, right. It’s late June, and there are still two months of summer vacation to go.

Word to the wise, rising first grader redheads: this is not the time to overdo it with the fidget spinner or whine about having to feed the dog. Because your 15 minutes of fame may be closer than you think.

I don’t know what the producers were thinking. Let’s have redhead Teddy Thompson sing it out.

                   
CommentsHot damn, you're funny!