Showing posts with label self-disgust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self-disgust. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Surviving Reality. . . Shows, That Is.

Okay, my name is Betina ("Hello Betina.") and I'm hooked on a reality TV show. I didn't think it would ever happen to me, but here I am. . . glued to the tube each Tuesday night at nine, watching a bunch of smack-talking twits compete for a fabulous prize that none of them deserve.


Hell's Kitchen. Yep, I've been mindnapped into watching the entire season and, yes, even talking back to the contestants during their "confidentials" (where they address the camera for their own personal commentary/rant). I cheer for some, boo at others, and generally make a fool of myself by getting involved with people who chain smoke (How they can still have taste buds, I can't begin to guess!), drink like fish, curse like vocabularily-challenged sailors, and back stab worse than Caesar's good buddy Brutus. How can I possibly have let myself get so brainwashed as to care what happens to these morons?

I confess. . . a lot of the appeal is the host and chief judge on the show Gordon Ramsay. Whew. He'd heat up ANY kitchen. Unfortunately, he has something of a potty mouth. . . which he's said in interviews is not his habit off camera. Personally I find that hard to believe. But he does eat with that mouth and seems to still have a palate. . .

What astonishes me is the fact that, since it's an elimination competition, the contestants are basically horrible to each other from day one. They double cross and backbite and cut each other verbally, especially in their "private" time with the camera. I'm always astonished at how low they'll stoop and how naked and simple-minded their ambition appears. I mean, it's embarrassing. . . the posturing, the bragging, the bitching, the dissing. . . it's a half step above Jerry Springer!

And I'm still watching. Sigh.

I mean, my mama taught me a code of conduct:

Do unto others what you would have them do unto you.
Don't say anything behind someone's back that you wouldn't say to their face.
Don't trust a gossip. (Also expressed as: "A dog who will bring a bone will carry one.")
Before you fly off the handle, stop and count to ten.
Remember everyone has strengths and weaknesses. . . yes, even you.
If you can't say something good, don't say anything at all.
Given enough rope, people will hang themselves without your assistance.
Keep your mind on your own work; that's what you're accountable for.
Take responsibility for your mistakes.

Well, you get the idea. But apparently when they select candidates for these elimination shows, they bend heavily toward people who are mom-wisdom deprived. Or folks whose moms went to a really different school than mine. These folks have no inhibitions and are fond of smack-talk, bragging, and the abundant use of the "f" word. Oh, and "biatch." Only without the "a." (All while handling the tenderest fillet mignon and most delicate soufflés!)

And the men are all Neanderthals. Really. They refer to the women's team as Hell's Bitches and make lots of misogynistic statements about the female contestants. And some of the women try to lure (sexually) some of the guys to "get their heads out of the game." Yikes. The back-hair alone should prevent inter-team coupling! I mean, have you seen short order cooks?

I should have known I was headed for this. It started innocently enough with an episode or two of Survivor. . . just to see what all the fuss was about.




Then there was Dancing with the Stars. And who could possibly forget the first season of The Apprentice with The Donald? Then The Next Design Star and Top Chef. It was a slippery slope toward So You Think You Can Dance and finally. . . Hell's Kitchen.

Only four contestants left in this season's Hell's Kitchen, thank heaven. Soon I can rest again and return to my usual sane viewing habits. . . until next spring and season four. . . unless I get hooked on another evil "reality" show.

Is there a Twelve Step Program for this?

So what's your favorite "evil moment" from a reality show competition? Remember the naked Richard Hatch on the original Survivor? Remember Omarosa on the Apprentice? That poor woman's name has become a synonym for double-dealing! And what about the Survivor couple that got married. . . Amber and Boston Bob. . . did you root for their romance or cringe to see them together?

What's your favorite reality show? And what bugs you most about this kind of TV? Do you think it's dumbing-down America? And do you secretly love it when the contestants go at it fang and claw?

Speaking of fang and claw. . . I'll be giving away a really cool gift to one lucky commenter today! So get ready to chat!