Jump Into High Gear

Dear Mr./Ms. Reality Show Producer:

 

I am writing you with a proposition I believe could be a win/win for all concerned.

In addition to your guys who only lust for beat up signage and old motorcycles, I  have also viewed your latest foray into the world of "reality" junking with mild chagrin.  I must say, I think you are missing the mark with your programming.  If you consider two attractive, young ladies dressed in shorts and boots, traipsing around in weeds the real deal...tsk tsk!  Monotonous is the first word that comes to mind when watching either of these shows.

Where's the sweat...the chigger bites...the cussing and fussing?  In other words...where's the reality?  In case you haven't noticed, there is a whole demographic that you are failing to attract.  I, of course, am speaking of those of us who actually do this for a living and know first hand...these shows ain't reality.

The time has come to expand your realm of thought with something different for a change---the truth!  Think unbridled, unscripted, and sometimes unbelievable...
Cat Daddy and his wing nut, Trash.  He's the driver and I'm in the poodle seat, always riding shotgun.

   Pack a bag, catch the first plane outta L.A., come down to Texas and hire yourself a coupla "real" junkers.  I swear up and down, your viewers ain't seen nothing like the two of us.  We don't just tramp around in people's yards, but hit every antique shop, auction and show we can.  We'll fight to the death crowds at estate and garage sales, risking life and limb for a good deal...and an even better story!

I've taken the liberty of coming up with several working titles and tag lines for your consideration.

1.  Moose and Squirrel...
We put the fun in dysfunctional.

You'll find you can save a ton of money on script writers 'cause you'll never know what we'll say...or how we'll say it.  Between the two us, we got enough mouth for ten rows of teeth.

Cheap is our watchword.  We buy cheap and we can be bought just as cheaply!  If you're looking for some arguing to add a fillip of spice to the show...look no further.  Just come around on loading day for our trip to the Mother Ship for all the bickering friendly disagreements we dish up.  FYI---I would however, strongly recommend placing a bleeper on Cat Daddy's mike and a mute on mine when we have these backyard board meetings.  We have been known to cuss and discuss while working long hours together.

You want drama...have no fear.  I am the original drama queen.  I've had more than one table dropped on my head, forgotten to pack underwear when out on the road, and tripped on my own tongue too many times to count.  We'll have 'em falling outta their Barcaloungers with tales of our misadventures in miscues, missed turns, and misbehavin'...to say nothing of flat hair, flat beer, flat broke and plenty of flat tires. 

2.  A Hitch On Our Git-a-long...

Livin' life where the road and the party never ends.

We run up and down the highway of life, mixing high-tone with high-jinks resulting in hi-larity.  We've been known to share the low-down on hidy-holes, steer clear of a few low-lifes along the way and keep it low-key if censors or children are around.

     

3.  Pickin' and Grinnin'...

Served up Texasified and country fried.

Our show wouldn't be about finding rusty junk and repurposing it...'cause that ain't what we do.  We're better at being inspired than being inspiring.  We scout out the good stuff, sell to our crazy, somewhat pixilated customers (usually while standing in the middle of a cow pasture) and get up the next morning to do it all over again...smilin' out loud at ourselves and our life together.  We're like a pair of scorpions.  If you see one...wait...the other 'un is just over yonder.

I would like to add a coupla caveats as these could be deal breakers.  I never...I repeat...never ferret.  If you're wanting somebody to climb into a deserted loft to scour around for stuff, it won't be me.  Doing so might result in chipped nail polish (which would break the code of GRITS) and besides....good gosh...that's what I had children for.  I will however send Cat Daddy into the trenches if I spy something shiny.

Secondly...while I refuse to wear city shorts when junking (although Cat Daddy thinks that would be a great idea), I do tend to be a bit like Mrs. Astor's pet horse when dressing to go out huntin'.  I love a lot of jingle in my jangle, but sadly this usually results in my overpaying...after being sized up.  To compensate, I usually keep my bee-decked bee-hind parked in the poodle seat of the truck, waiting for C.D. to assess the situation and give me a wave.  That hand gesture is my signal it's worth my time to get my rusty-dusty outta the truck.  Sounds complicated...but it works like a charm and I don't get dirty or sand-bagged.

Thirdly---Cat Daddy.  I will need insurance to protect him from his countless admirers of the female persuasion and will not be held accountable for any disruptions this might cause to filming.  Be sure and have the lawyers add something to the contract to prevent me from being kicked to the curb upon his reaching star status.  I promise you...this man is catnip and you'll need me to keep him...and the ladies...under control.    

Pickin' Up The Pieces...

While digging in the past.

In anticipation of your next question regarding our qualifications, we've been at this business for over 22 years.  We've seen trends come and go, but are always up to adaptation.  We know every back road between Texas, Oklahoma and Louisiana (which btw...are the best pickin's in the whole U.S. of A.) including rest stops, BBQ joints, and Stuckeys.   We have colorful customers with spectacular, off the wall shops, that could provide fodder for at least twenty episodes, but more importantly...we deliver with brio and style...guaranteed!  We are a dog and pony act in the sideshow of this crazy carny world we call junking.  We are street rat crazy...and proud of it.  In other words...together we are the whole nut.

We both firmly believe nothing ventured, nothing gained, he who snoozes, loses...and vicey versey.  It was with these thoughts in mind that prompted me to dash off this letter, but if you're not interested, you're not interested.  Pity...your loss.  On a side note, perhaps you would be so kind as to forward this letter on to some insightful, discerning magazine editors in need of a star or two for a monthly column.  We're available...and we're not too proud to beg.

Sincerely,

THE PICKUP ARTISTS...

We got a nose for pickin'!