If this is Reality - Get Me Outta here!

You, Me, Reality TV

I was raised by TV – my mother was always on the phone, and I thought I’d be living just like Jane Jetson by now, except NOT with that hairdo.

So, being an ardent student of broadcast television in Postmodern America, I consider myself a connoisseur, and yet, the reality TV genre is one for the books. When the first wave of reality shows hit, most predicted the Fall of the American Empire, since they all were Survivor and Fear Factor oriented, or let’s torture a few people and see who wins.

Many thought it was a matter of time before someone would be killed on national TV. In fact, many thirsted for it, since TV has long been the nation’s Coliseum, and I guess; now we are in full gladiator mode. In fact, that’s another reality show – American Gladiator.

Forgive them, for they know not what they do

I shunned most of these shows, though I admit, the cop shows, and America’s Most Wanted are often a public service, and good way to find out if your boyfriend is wanted for any criminal activity. I thank Anna Nicole Smith for my burgeoning interest in the genre, since her show was such a train wreck, it became daily water cooler fodder for my coven, er- circle of women.

It also pointed to another trend in the Decline of American Civilization where people are famous for being famous. And, famous for being train wrecks.

I have come to enjoy this outrageous anthropology since Real Housewives of Orange County, Atlanta, New York City, and New Jersey since truth is truly stranger than fiction and you just can’t write this shit. Where else can you find a Brooklyn-born bitch on wheels with a shady past exposed by some malicious guidos? Did she really think that might not come up?

One of those guido princesses, given to table flipping, is probably in for the shock of her life when the IRS audits their income, especially after her husband, Tony Testerone, peeled off C-notes for a furniture delivery to the tune of a 120k. (I’m from NJ so I’m allowed to call them Guidos) They reminded me of my high school and at first I suffered nightmares, but because they were so ‘authentic,’ I couldn’t help but watch.

That - and I couldn’t believe they were paid $50k per episode. The Jewish bitches across the river in Manhattan were no better but ultimately less interesting as they promoted their wares like they just landed a gig on the Home Shopping Network.

I watch a lot of these shows because it’s akin to watching exotic birds in a cage. They are sort of pretty, but mostly exotic, in that they don’t have real jobs or real lives, really. Their reality is so bizarre – that is exactly why they are on ‘reality’ shows. One of my favorites was the Girls Next Door, or the polygamous playboy mansion girls who entertained Hef and the rest of the USA for a few years. Now there’s a a spin-off of one of them, Kendra, a “Kooky’ girl, and a travel show gig featuring bikini clad Bridget, who hops around the world inspecting beaches.

Then there’s the tabloid exploits of the main girlfriend, Holly who did a stint on Dancing with the Stars, and is now a Las Vegas showgirl. I had a feeling I will never see the inside of the Playboy mansion so it was interesting to me to see its inner workings, and then of course, what it must be like to be a playmate slash bunny. I worried about these girls once their shelf life expired.

Hef’s girls got paid one thousand a week to be his courtesans and had to adhere to his den mother restrictions which included a curfew, and yet, it appeared that they didn’t even have sex if the main girlfriend was territorial, but this was never discussed. What were the sleeping arrangements, exactly?

Now, celebrities are jumping into the reality fray with washed up actors and actresses regularly showing their petty lives for the cameras, and some of them, like Paris Hilton, create entire careers out of this genre. Even Jerry Seinfeld is joining the ranks by helping people with their relationship, as Variety reported the “comedian has made a deal to create and distribute multiple localized versions of a reality series called The Marriage Ref, in which couples put their problems in the hands of people who truly understand emotional pain: comedians and celebrities.”

The best part of the web is the peanut gallery who chimes in with their endless comments like this one from Andrea Thu, who writes, “ Did Madoff go through Jerry Seinfeld's money that he has to do a lame reality show now? “

Instead of the Roman Coliseum, where people were thrown to the lions, we have reality stars thrown under the bus at regular intervals, and this feeds the tabloids, tabloid television shows like TMZ, and then the hilarious SOUP on the “E” Entertainment Channel, hosted by Joel McHale, who “watches TV so we won’t have to.”

Should your life become a “E” True Hollywood story, you should be dead, divorced or dismembered, if indeed, you have not been convicted of a crime. I’m pretty sure; David Carradine will now be a topic since he died most embarrassingly as a result of sexual depravities.

Recently we have seen the Octomon, the sextuplet plus twins couple Jon and Kate Gosselin, go through endless revolutions of cause celebre. Where would we be without fertility treatments? The endless freak show that is multiple births is horrifying unless they hire attorneys and garnish trust funds for their seven, eight, or nine little Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen’s.

And then there are the notorious Spencer and Heidi Pratt Brats who were launched by an MTV reality show, “The Hills,” which was a sequel of “Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County” where a host of rich southern California (and White) snots became even richer and snottier by the minute. Not to ‘devalue’ their fame, Speidi went on to star in “I’m a Celebrity Get Me Outta here” where they were tortured and humiliated when other cast members peeled off the labels of their shampoo bottles.

So, for all you reality nuts, Andy Warhol’s theory of fame (where everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes) has come true, but he didn’t factor in the viral nature of the internet, so their shelf life only expires when they are no longer available on DVD.