New York- Move over "Prison Break." "Oz," Surely you jest? Imagine a high-powered reality show that would pick eight rich, dysfunctional housewives out of millions that would be incarcerated an entire month within the heavily guarded confines of a refurbished Alcatraz clad with barbed wire capable of delivering a 700,000 volt shock to any unsuspecting escapee, all for the grand prize; a $1 Million spending account with the plastic surgeon of their choice.
The mothers would congregate in herds in their blue Neiman Marcus coveralls and squawk like spastic chickens into their cell phones while struggling to walk with their babies shackled to their ankles. Various community service projects will be given to each of the women for a chance to win the luxury of conjugal visits by their second husbands while their mistresses took pictures.
All reality shows have a twist it seems, that takes us on a convoluted rollercoaster ride of drama and comedic trauma. On the 29th day of their stay it will be divulged to the remaining two women that the warden is actually the father of their child and will have to choose between a lavish plastic surgery purse and custody battle with the father who had covertly converted to scientology after constantly watching "Return of the Jedi."
Reality TV has internationally and tactically consumed American viewers with rapture and the kind of escape from their own lives that doesn't require plane tickets or narcotic dependencies. It caters to obese couch potatoes that could potentially and quite possibly become the next riveting dose of recycled entertainment and scientific exposure. FOX rival, NBC is giving them a run for their money with the anticipated launch of the upcoming pilot show "A guy, a Gorilla and a Wax Museum."
