Reality TV

Well, it’s the silly season again – and I don’t mean Christmas.

Reality television is alive, well and flourishing amongst us. They’ve added even more reality entertainment this season, just in case we hadn’t seen enough of it last season. My idea of reality television is the 6 o’ clock news, but times are changing, and now you can have the good, the bad, and the ugly before AND after the news.

I have to admit that I’m quite partial to the Whatever-Country-You’re-In’s Got Talent, Idol, and The Voice. I’m only partial to these shows because there is a glimmer of talent here and there – and I don’t mean the host or the over paid so-called stars that do the critiquing. I tend to tune into these shows regularly, to the consternation of the rest of the long-suffering household. I’m a little hooked I guess – but I’m not completely desensitised to the motley assortment of other reality television that’s thrown at me systematically night after night in every scenario imaginable.

Take food. You’ve got at least 3 different shows pitting the aspiring chef against the home wonder-cook. You’ve got everything from Masterchef to Master chef kids and grandkids. Who would have thought we could put kids under so much pressure, and they’d like it.

Moving on, once you’ve consumed a good portion more of reality eating than you should have, you have the reality weight loss series. From the Biggest Loser, to the Biggest Celebrity Loser, there’s more pounds of flesh than you can put on a weighing scale. You can watch people go from ‘fat to fantastic’ in the comfort of your loungeroom, every step of the, er … weigh.

If that’s not to your taste (pardon the pun), you can watch even more people AND celebrities make fools of themselves in Celebrity Apprentice. I tuned into that one for about 5 minutes last week and watched a bunch of celebrities trying to raise money by picking up dog poo. Riveting stuff.

And what about The Block? A group of people getting together  to renovate their prospective dumps in record time? I watched that one for about 10 minutes and decided that the next house I buy will be post renovation and post anguish, with all the mod cons installed, and problem-free.

If none of the above  is to your liking, there’s Dancing With The Stars. We obviously haven’t already seen enough celebrities making fools out of themselves by picking up poo, now they are tripping over themselves and everybody else in an effort to master the Fox Trot and the Waltz in under a week. I tuned into that by accident one evening while I was channel surfing for Star Trek, and was treated to a woman being carried upside down in the star position with her nether regions pointing in the direction of her partner’s face.   Well, beam me up, Scotty.

We have so much reality on television I’m beginning to wonder how we find the time to fit our own reality in. We’ve got Wife Swap, Next Top Model, The Farmer Wants a Wife, Dating In The Dark. I could go on, but the list is endless and constantly being updated on the Internet.

We’ve got a major dose of reality television mania right now. Somebody must be watching it, because it’s picking up speed. It’s closet voyeurism out in the open and proud, marching to the beat of it’s own personalised drum.

We are a like-to-watch world, that’s for sure, and the more our lives are going going to hell-in-a-handbasket, the more we watch. It’s nice to know that somebody else might be doing it better or worse than we are. Preferrably worse.

These days you can become famous if you can get enough hits on You Tube. Getting your ‘8 minutes of fame’ is now on steriods. I saw kid on You Tube sitting in the back of the family car zonked out on drugs on the way home from a dental appointment. It was funny in that special kind of way that parents find endearing, or so I thought. Apparently there are enough people in the world who like-to-watch an out-of-it kid carry on like a pork chop. It managed to score well over 1 million hits in the first week. I would question the merit and the humour of this in a world full of drugged-up teenagers that is definitely NOT funny.  By the time he is 15 years old he could also be doing talk shows and signing book deals.

The world has gone mad. We should really do a reality television show on it.

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