Hopefully you are all following my epic job search and its less-than-astonishing pitfalls. With no better options, I’ve now been forced to lick the long shaft of HBO. Luckily they have a new show I identify with almost as much as Real Sex. Currently, I am drawn to How to Make It In America, a show that really only shows you how not to make it in America.
Featuring the best opening credits since Cable 13’s Highland Falls—shameless plug—the show is about two dudes hustling in New York, if you define hustle the way Manny Ramirez does, which is not running out pop flies. These guys spend more time in right field playing with the grass then I did in my whole Little League career.
This duo should be dominating. We have Slick-Rick-Rico-Suave Cam smooth-talking everyone. And then you have Ben, a Jewish guy from New York. How does he not have any connections? He’s a Jew in Jew York! It’s not that I don’t want him to succeed, I just want him to want to succeed. They should just take the “Make” out of the title. How to Accomplish Nothing with Your Day Except Waste Time Fretting About How You’re Doing Nothing with Your Day in America. He doesn’t have an excuse like weed.
Also, Ben, you’re going about your love life all wrong. You can’t stand drunkenly out in the street yelling at past lovers and then threaten their boyfriends. Believe me, I know. And you can’t take them back when they get drunk and show up at your door. Believe me, I know. And you can’t pick some random girl up at a Salvation Army, invite her to a party and bang her in the same night. Believe me, I—wait, what’s that like?
Let’s talk about the other characters. Besides Kid Cudi, who seems to only be on the show to slay box and drop smooth one-liners, the best character is clearly Cam’s cousin, Rene Calderon. In his finest role since Boogie Nights, Luis Guzman shines as the ex-con gone somewhat legitimate. The new CEO of one of the best entrepreneurial ideas ever, he invested in an energy drink called Rasta Monsta, a drink he claims is “like fruit punch, pero spicy.” Wait, that’s a terrible idea.
At least Rene isn’t the only one making questionable business choices. Kappo, the Wall Street douche, decides to invest in Crispy, the clothing company started by Ben and Cam. Now I know why the banks are responsible for this recession.
Also, tell me Kappo isn’t every Duke i-banker. Coked out 90 percent of the time and pathetically eager to use his money to buy coolness. And he jizzes in his pants when he can.
Lastly, how the hell do these guys have so much fun? When I end up sleeping on my cousin’s futon in Brooklyn, you know what going out is going to be like for me? It’s called the bartender sneaks the line cook drinks when the dinner rush ends.
These guys go out every night with hot models who actually have personalities— that’s the most far-fetched part of the show. I’ve partied with models in New York. It’s like partying with a mic stand—thin as a rail and when you talk to it, you only hear your own voice. Sounds like a certain breed on this campus—I’m looking at you, Panhel.
The season finale is swiftly approaching and maybe something unpredictable will happen. At this point, I don’t expect anything to go right for them, they will never make it and I will never learn “How To.”
So HBO, give me a chance or I’ll be forced to keep making spray paint stenciled T-shirts for 25eleven.com. Hit up the site, people, I need to make 100 bucks before Google AdSense sends me a check. I’m at 20 cents.
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