This will officially be my last post regarding reality TV. Why? Because even the criticism of the genre has grown mold and gone bad.
Case in point, the New Yorker publishes this story. Gee, thanks, Nancy Franklin for your totally original opinion on the evils of faux-reality TV. No one has ever chastised MTV for making their "realities" so unreal. Never.
Let's face it, as the era of the reality show forges on, the ability to look cool for criticizing has officially escaped us. At this point, our bitching and whining just makes us sound like the unpopular girl who spreads rumors about the cheerleaders.
After fifteen seasons of Survivor, two Laguna Beach spin-offs, Bravo's promotion of spoiled housewives, a new-found verve for prime-time game shows and an entire series following Snoop Dogg around, we have to admit the genre shown its fangs and firmly implanted them into the flesh of the American public.
Even the most defiant have fallen victim to the nocturnal yearnings ... er ... the shows. I'd venture to say that numerous intelligent individuals enjoy a relaxing night watching mindless light shows (The Hills), entertaining freak shows (American Idol), or contrived competitions that just try a little too hard (Survivor, Big Brother). Hell, I've admitted in the past to being a fan of America's Next Top Model and other "unscripted" series.
In the grand scheme of things, it ain't so bad. Maybe its time to live and let live, in a manner of speaking. I won't give up my insistence that reality TV is simply celebutizing the untalented or, in some cases, handing success to those who never earned it (as is the case with Project Runway and Top Chef). But it's become quit evident that kicking and screaming does nothing to quell the hullabaloo around other people's filmed existence.
Besides, the best way to quiet an attention-needy child is to ignor them (a method I've employed in real-life situations). Perhaps we should give that a whirl.
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