The term “Reality TV,” when entered into Google, returns 25,800,000 hits. “Reality Television,” another 3,000,000, so just short of 29 million hits altogether. What the hell is wrong with people? Seriously.
Albert Einstein said “We cannot despair of humanity, since we ourselves are human beings.” I’m sorry Albert, but if you were subjected to The Bachelorette or Joe Millionaire, you too would begin to despair of humanity. If Reality TV is something unpleasant to you, then summertime is the 9th Circle of Hell.
While the few scripted shows that still manage to claw their way onto the schedule take a rest, the B-list of Reality TV shows comes to take a dump on our heads. Can you imagine that? An actual B-List of what is already the Z-list of TV shows. That’s when we’re blessed with Dancing With The Stars, So You Think You Can Dance 2 and My Fair Brady, the latter of which I admit I had never heard of until two minutes ago, but it sounds like a true horror.
During TV's regular season we have the top guns, and we're mostly all aware of the better-known shows and their concept of entertainment — watching people eat vile, crawling insects, or bathing in a huge vat of yet more vile creeping, crawling insects, or snakes, or frogs, or piranhas. Well, maybe not piranhas.
The standard-bearer, however, for this dreadful spate of swill has to be Big Brother, the very concept of which makes the mind boggle when one realizes that millions watch it: A group of normal people live in a house together and we see them sitting around talking to each other.
I am a normal person and my friends are normal people, and if I want to hear a bunch of normal people talking about their normal lives, I can just invite them to my house and actually “live it.” The absurdity of watching a bunch of people I give not a damn about sitting around talking about their normal boring existence is hard for me to fathom.
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