January, 2009
Reality shows. Hmmm. I’ve never really understood the popularity of them. They seem drawn out and boring- even the cliffhangers are just, sort of, real. I enjoy a good scripted laugh or cry. I enjoy the audacity of stupendous things. When the reality show drama happens, it’s just too believable. Of course it is-- it’s real (barring the obvious editing and camera angle, of course) After stewing about it for awhile, though, I realize this actually happened to someone. If these things happened to my friends, I’d be showing up on their doorsteps with ice cream and Kleenex. Where are the reality shows shoulders? Are they in the many blogs, with unknown authors, ridiculing and demeaning them? Is it their own mother, whom they call, while all of America watches the tearful call? And what about the fact that as spectators, we WANT these bad things to happen. To real people? Seriously? Clearly happiness and calm do no make for good TV. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish my Harry Potter book before Desperate Housewives comes on.
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