I want my MTV

Once upon a time, MTV actually used to show music videos instead of pimping rides, pimping Carson Daly and filling its air time with supposed reality shows like ‘‘Real World,’’ ‘‘Road Rules’’ or ‘‘Real World Cast Members Play Wesson Oil Tug-of-War with Road Rules Cast Members on a Tropical Island and Everyone Wears Bikinis.’’
It used to be so cool.
Over the years, you could see Bobby Brown grow up from that crackly-voiced kid in New Edition and into the soulmate of America’s sweetheart, Whitney Houston.
That worked out well.
You got to watch Michael Jackson moonwalk and bash out a car window before he turned into a bleached-out creep. You could look at and listen to rock stars who looked like they just mugged a Mary Kay rep for her goodies. Twisted Sister’s Dee Snider, KISS’ Gene Simmons and Motley Crue’s Vince Neil were all about the lipstick and rouge, but Aerosmith’s Steven Tyler was the only one with the lips and cheekbones to truly carry it off.
He wore it instead of letting it wear him.
Anyway, back to my rant about MTV’s programming.
I turned it on Wednesday to see the network’s newest reality show ‘‘Two-A-Days,’’ which chronicles the inner-workings of Hoover High School’s football program. The school, located in a suburb of Birmingham, Ala., has won four straight Alabama Class 6A state championships.
I watched it thinking it would mostly be about football, but it’s typical new-school MTV schlock. People compare it to ‘‘Laguna Beach’’ with shoulder pads, but I can’t say because I’ve never watched ‘‘Laguna Beach.’’
In fact, I haven’t watched any of MTV’s reality shows since the San Francisco season of ‘‘Real World,’’ in which that dirty bike messenger named Puck blew snot rockets, contributed heavy flatulence, left dirty dishes in the sink and yelled at that poor kid who was dying of AIDs.
In ‘‘Two-a-Days,’’ there’s the typical package of teen-angst drama, puppy love romance and lunchroom scenes of high school kids eating the same rectangular-shaped pizzas we used to get when we were in high school.
The pretty cheerleader gets mad at her boyfriend, the star linebacker, because there’s rumors he might have, like, OK, kissed another girl or something.
To that I would have said, ‘‘Puh-leeze. Talk to the hand! I’m not going to the homecoming dance with you! I trusted you and you broke my heart!’’
The show’s best moments come when they get back to the football field. Hoover’s coach, Rush Propst, kind of looks like a porcupine in a golf visor and he’s not shy letting players know he holds the key to their college scholarship aspirations and isn’t afraid to keep the door locked if they don’t play well.
My personal favorite, however, is the team chaplain, who delivers pre-game sermons while having a Hoover Bucs football helmet perched atop his pulpit.
I wish I’d recorded the show because his sermons are unique to say the least. I’d like to show them to the priest at my church to get his views on them. They sound something like this:
‘‘Lord, let your light shine down on these young men and give them the strength to roll over those Vestavia Hills Rebels like a runaway tank. And Lord, please give them the courage to back that heavenly tank up and run over them again because we know You won’t accept anything less than a 42-0 halftime lead.
‘‘And Lord, when you sent your only Son to die for us, we know that He didn't make that sacrifice so our quarterback would throw a stupid interception last week against Tuscaloosa County because he didn’t read that the safety was playing Cover 3 ...’’
The only thing that would make it any more entertaining is if Puck was around to blow snot rockets out of his nose.