In order to facilitate Warhol’s prediction, Hollywood came up with a new concept: a streamlined reality casting corps, traveling the country searching for good-looking, inhibition-free, attention-hungry future reality superstars.  After whetting the fame seekers’ appetites for renown by filming an interview during the day, the company lures them to a local bar with the promise of meeting a real reality star — from such memorable shows as “Real World: Paris” and “Real World: Las Vegas.”

Big time reality casting usually targets hotspots for attractive, camera-loving youth like Las Vegas, New York and Los Angeles.  Reality Casting Call instead goes to places like Baltimore, Richmond and Washington, the ugly step-cities of the reality craze.  Let’s be realistic here: no one wants to watch future — or current — politicians. Why do you think C-SPAN and “K Street” have such low ratings?

There’s a reason they say politics is showbiz for ugly people.

But don’t tell that to Josh Landsberger, a 28-year-old federal government employee I met last Thursday at the Reality Bar Crawl in McFadden’s on M Street.

“Are you here for the reality casting?” I asked him innocently. He shook his head no, explaining that he had already been cast. “But I can’t disclose which show I’m on,” Josh confided with the clandestine nature of a not-yet-aired icon. Less than five minutes later, he admitted he was making it up, but that he had “actually considered” being on his favorite: Love Cruise. “Oh sure, I’d be on one — in a heartbeat.”

George Mason juniors Courtney Dofflenyr and Sonia Garmerian, both 21, blonde and petite, and both dressed in scandalous devil costumes almost leaped out of their thigh-highs when I mentioned the words “reality,” “show” and “would you be on one?”

“Oh yes, yes, definitely!!” they chirped in unison. “It would be a good experience!”

They couldn’t hide their disappointment when I told them that I didn’t have the ability to provide them with a reality role, and they had obviously missed out on Reality Casting’s interviews that day.  “That’s OK,” chimed one. “My parents would kill me!”

Most people at McFadden’s Thursday evening didn’t seem to know anything about the “Reality Bar Crawl” other than rumors that there would be two hot “Real World” studs serving drinks. This proves to me, if there was ever a doubt, that the reality stars become more famous the more sex they have. Or the more sex people want to have with them.

Steven of “Real World: Las Vegas” and Ace of “Real World: Paris,” are both men with whom a lot of women wouldn’t mind having sex. Clad only in bathrobes, I figured both hotties were into exhibitionism (and what else is reality TV?).  I posed my first question: “What if I asked you to take off your underwear?”

“I’d do it,” said Ace, obviously game for anything (a common “Real World” trait). “No, wait,” he said, reconsidering, “give me an hour.” Then he made me a drink that tasted suspiciously like it was 100 percent alcohol.

“Why’d you do the “Real World?” I asked Ace.

“I always wanted to try out,” he replied, cautioning that “still, you really never get used to the cameras being in your face all the time.”

But this is obviously a lie.  Ace is used to the cameras — Ace loves the cameras.  So does Steven from Las Vegas.  “If you watch the show, I’m like the ‘Real World’ slut.”

Oh, really? My ears perked.  Just how many are we talking about, I asked him, referring to his number — yes, that number.

“I passed 30 long ago,” he winked.  Ew?

So what can we all learn from this rush of reality show wannabes? None of them are boyfriend material — because what makes good television rarely makes a good relationship.  Sure, they may be ridiculously good-looking, and a lot of fun to watch, but a cute 20-something deeply confused about his life’s purpose, all the while wondering where the next camera might be, well, it just gets old after a while.

As for Steve and Ace?  I'd guess they have about three minutes left — combined.  But somehow, I think that's all they'll need. ;)