Reality TV
Reality shows have sort of come full circle for me. I got hooked on a reality show a long time ago, I think it was on MTV, where there was a guy with HIV named Pedro and a rude bike messenger named Puck livng in the same house together. They hated each other. I watched to see the Hollywood Endng. I was certain these two opposites would clasp hands at the end, see the light, and remind all of us in TVland how essentially alike we are. Didn't happen.
And that's reality.
If you are one of the majority of people who have been compelled to watch the public debasement of unknown human beings cooped up together for sport like me, you know exactly what I'm talking about here. If you don't know what in the Real World I'm talking about, you may have already gone on to the next blog. Because reality programming is an either/or, love/hate proposition for the world viewing public, I say the world because let's face it...we're beaming this crap out all over the globe.
Andy Warhol said at one point during the sixties that in the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes, and for some reason this little quote, this utterance of his, resonated with the American public even more than his Brillo boxes and soup cans did. And how prescient it was of Andy to think of it, because what he was speaking of has absolutely come true. It's not 15 minutes. It's actually a little longer -- 22 minutes without commercial interruptions. And it has been the hottest thing in programming for like what, ten years?
Lately, the trend seems to have metastsized into shows like the regrettable and hopefully forever-cancelled "Anna Nicole Show," or "Surreal World," where Z-List celebrities and their egos are stuffed into McMansions and forced to interact with each other. Reality for them is having to bake brownies to distribute to their new neighbors -- like a has-been welcome wagon.
Can you imagine watching these people walk up your driveway? The folks refused to come to their doors or just stared blankly at them, and the celebrities left uncharacteristically downcast, and more than a little confused.
"I mean don't they get it, we're famous! And we baked!"
In an early "Surreal Word" Corey Feldman objected to the placement in their midst of Jeri Manthey from CBS's Survivor because "she isn't in our [fame] society." It is for nuggets like this that I have endured, I have pressed on in my quest to view, no matter how repulsive (Hello Anna!) or arcane (hello Big Brother!) every single solitary reality episode out there. But no more.
The end of my addiction to reality for me was actually reminiscent of the beginning, On a Road Rules/Real World reunion show, Puck reappeared, unchanged apparently, and, in a masterpiece of aeronautics, spit 10 feet into the eye of another contestant, who refused to accept his apology and had him kicked off the show. We saw Puck, possibly the most repulsive reality "performer" in the genre's history, break down ... his lip quivered, a tear escaped his eye, and he was allowed to stay. It was an epiphany for me.
For as Puck was allowed to stay, I knew it was half-past time for me to go.
I am free of my addiction now. I have been born again! Last week, as a test of sorts, NBC, the same network which brings you Tom Brokaw and Meet the Press, also brought us an episode of Fear Factor that was described thusly in my cable guide:
"Contestants dine on horse rectums."
Don't get me wrong, I still catch myself lingering over these unreal reality shows while surfing. But I resist the urge. I move on. And I settle on more palatable television fare.
Like The Pet Psychic. Whatever happened to her? Or John Edward? He's gone. I guess there are just so many llamas and dead relatives to go around.
My father and his wife actually used Sonia the Pet Psychic. She told them their horse didn't like the color of his bridle. He wanted a red one. ("That'll be $100 please.")
And then they were gone. Psychics must see their cancellation coming ahead of time. I bet they're all great front-end negotiators. Anyway, now we have popular television psychics like the Medium. Or the Profiler. Fictional characters.
My prediction is that in two years time psyhcics will be helping John Walsh catch Howard Stern for murder of Bobby Trendy on Americas Most Wanted.
And if you don't know who I'm talking about in that last sentence, you are most likely both spectacularly uninformed and blissfully unaware of reality TV.
Andy Warhol would be furious!
And that's reality.
If you are one of the majority of people who have been compelled to watch the public debasement of unknown human beings cooped up together for sport like me, you know exactly what I'm talking about here. If you don't know what in the Real World I'm talking about, you may have already gone on to the next blog. Because reality programming is an either/or, love/hate proposition for the world viewing public, I say the world because let's face it...we're beaming this crap out all over the globe.
Andy Warhol said at one point during the sixties that in the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes, and for some reason this little quote, this utterance of his, resonated with the American public even more than his Brillo boxes and soup cans did. And how prescient it was of Andy to think of it, because what he was speaking of has absolutely come true. It's not 15 minutes. It's actually a little longer -- 22 minutes without commercial interruptions. And it has been the hottest thing in programming for like what, ten years?
Lately, the trend seems to have metastsized into shows like the regrettable and hopefully forever-cancelled "Anna Nicole Show," or "Surreal World," where Z-List celebrities and their egos are stuffed into McMansions and forced to interact with each other. Reality for them is having to bake brownies to distribute to their new neighbors -- like a has-been welcome wagon.
Can you imagine watching these people walk up your driveway? The folks refused to come to their doors or just stared blankly at them, and the celebrities left uncharacteristically downcast, and more than a little confused.
"I mean don't they get it, we're famous! And we baked!"
In an early "Surreal Word" Corey Feldman objected to the placement in their midst of Jeri Manthey from CBS's Survivor because "she isn't in our [fame] society." It is for nuggets like this that I have endured, I have pressed on in my quest to view, no matter how repulsive (Hello Anna!) or arcane (hello Big Brother!) every single solitary reality episode out there. But no more.
The end of my addiction to reality for me was actually reminiscent of the beginning, On a Road Rules/Real World reunion show, Puck reappeared, unchanged apparently, and, in a masterpiece of aeronautics, spit 10 feet into the eye of another contestant, who refused to accept his apology and had him kicked off the show. We saw Puck, possibly the most repulsive reality "performer" in the genre's history, break down ... his lip quivered, a tear escaped his eye, and he was allowed to stay. It was an epiphany for me.
For as Puck was allowed to stay, I knew it was half-past time for me to go.
I am free of my addiction now. I have been born again! Last week, as a test of sorts, NBC, the same network which brings you Tom Brokaw and Meet the Press, also brought us an episode of Fear Factor that was described thusly in my cable guide:
"Contestants dine on horse rectums."
Don't get me wrong, I still catch myself lingering over these unreal reality shows while surfing. But I resist the urge. I move on. And I settle on more palatable television fare.
Like The Pet Psychic. Whatever happened to her? Or John Edward? He's gone. I guess there are just so many llamas and dead relatives to go around.
My father and his wife actually used Sonia the Pet Psychic. She told them their horse didn't like the color of his bridle. He wanted a red one. ("That'll be $100 please.")
And then they were gone. Psychics must see their cancellation coming ahead of time. I bet they're all great front-end negotiators. Anyway, now we have popular television psychics like the Medium. Or the Profiler. Fictional characters.
My prediction is that in two years time psyhcics will be helping John Walsh catch Howard Stern for murder of Bobby Trendy on Americas Most Wanted.
And if you don't know who I'm talking about in that last sentence, you are most likely both spectacularly uninformed and blissfully unaware of reality TV.
Andy Warhol would be furious!
posted by Jon at 7:08 PM
2 Comments:
Nicely written
wonderingone:
well said. thank you for your recent comment on my silent lucidity blog.
i enjoyed reading the kite runner also. i thought it was a great book.
please keep in touch!
your new friend,
kerry
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