Bobby Kaltenbach

News Editor

   It’s just before 8 o’clock, Thursday night. No one’s outside, and the world is dark, illuminated only by the blue and white flash of TV screens. There is a breeze, and the air is bitterly chilly. But that isn’t why the streets are empty.

    Inside each house, families sit together on couches. Fathers happily pat their sons’ heads, and all of the familial tensions have, at least temporarily, been forgotten. Dogs and cats have stopped their bickering, and they lie peacefully together on living room floors. The clock strokes 8, and it’s suddenly as if the world has stopped still. A little girl squeals with delight and is quickly hushed by her mother. She’s been waiting a long time for this, and she’s not going to let her daughter ruin it. It’s February 9, and it’s time for the season premiere of Swamp People.

    I must confess, I had never seen the show before writing this article, and I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to follow what was going on. It turns out I didn’t have much to worry about. The hardest thing to understand about Swamp People is the heavily accented speech in a cajun dialect so indiscernible that subtitles are used.

    It’s a show about several different bands of alligator hunters, and their struggle to kill as many as possible during the 30-day hunting season. This particular episode focused on hunter Troy Landry, who scours the swamps in a boat with his friend Clint Landry (no relation). He is engaged in a struggle to hunt down “The Godfather,” a massive alligator who rivals Troy as being “King of the Swamp.”

    Troy’s search for the Godfather is the main plot line, but the show also follows the trails of several other hunters. We are reunited with Liz Cavalier, who has branched out on her own after spending the last few seasons as an assistant to Troy. The Native American father-son team of R.J. Moliere and Jay Paul Moliere are riding high on their fan boat.

    Of all the Swamp People, however, the most interesting is Bruce. His wardrobe consists of denim overalls with no shirt underneath, an American flag bandana, and a glorious main of thick brown hair. He is the quintessential alligator hunter. For this season, he has hired an Iraqi War veteran to help snipe prey.

    In shows like Swamp People, humor is derived not from situations, but by how empty-headed the people featured are. Even though hunting gators can sometimes prove suspenseful, like when Liz’s partner is nearly pulled overboard trying to make a catch, I seriously doubt that's the main reason Swamp People has become such a phenomenon.

    To a certain extent, the show’s popularity lies in the viewing public’s desire to laugh at people they perceive as being dumber than themselves. This desire probably overrides the entertainment provided by the show’s suspense, and makes Swamp People a rich source of cruel humor.

    It would be impossible for the alligator hunters to conform any more to Louisiana stereotypes, and it’s fun to watch simple people lead simple lives. Swamp People may be mean-spirited at its core, but it is also easy, cheap entertainment.