Sure, it's fun to watch people eat revolting objects that shouldn't even be rightfully allowed in sight of human habitations, due to health code provision 701.C.12. I can admit that feeling superior to someone with millions of dollars, flawless pores, and the inexplicable interest of dozens, maybe hundreds, maybe hundreds of hundreds of people, even for just a few minutes, because "oh my GOD, did you hear the stupid sh*t she just spewed?" is...well, not exactly satisfying...it's satisfying like a ho-ho; it makes you feel gross, and a little nauseous after, and disappointed in yourself, but it's what you wanted, dammit. And yes, I, too, am interested to see what in god's name Gary Coleman is doing with himself these days...
...but seriously, people, enough with the 'celebreality.'
It wouldn't be so bad if it were limited to simply stalking Dakota Fanning's high school locker rooms and stealing session notes from Jen's extensive(ly boring!) therapy sessions about Angelina, but now we're following that guy Sanjay through a jungle because he's a "celebrity" and for some reason or other we give two sh*ts about whether or not he dies? (that was his name, yes? The annoying one from some season of American Idol, a show which, despite never watching it, I am forced to be aware of? Kinda fey? ) We care about what happens to the rock sluts who didn't actually manage to be Bret Michaels' "Rock of Love" until next season when he finds another aging ho? I'm supposed to give up pages - whole pages - of my US weekly to find out how Tara, not-a-bachelorette-for-AGES, is dealing with baby and hubby...still?
Those pages could be devoted to salacious pictures of Prince Harry forcing minions to racially slur his servants while he throws money out windows, for god's sake!
I'm all for fascination with celebrities. I'm not even that anti-reality show, as long as they give me at least one unnecessary sexual intrigue, a good villain who stays around too long, and a clear "winner," America's goddammed sweetheart, cut just before the final round...I think it used to be called a "plot?"
I'm just anti-caring about what Heidi Montag does in her spare time - these people have not done anything. They are not artists. They are not talented. They have not achieved. All they have done is be willing to prostitute themselves to more people, and with less discretion, than old-world whores ever thought possible.
Forgive me if I refuse to accept that this is in any way a reflection of "reality."
-posted by Jilly
Thursday, June 11, 2009
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Jilly, Jilly, Jilly. I may have to politely disagree with you here. Any institution that provides Janice Dickinson with the extra funds she needs to stay looking like an eternally preserved playboy alien can do no wrong in my eyes.
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