There are three things that I find addictive: chocolate, cigarettes and reality TV. The first two are understandable, but I question my moral character when I find myself sitting in front of the television on Wednesday nights watching the wanna-be stars on “Big Brother” trying to work through their serious commitment issues.
I don’t feel any connection to the characters; I don’t like them and find them all incredibly stupid, but I can’t figure out why I keep watching. Maybe it’s to see what they will do this week; maybe it’s because I have nothing better to do. After the show’s over, I look at my clock and realize I just wasted an hour of my life doing something I wouldn’t even confess to a priest. After this revelation, I start to think about these shows in general, and then it hits me: This stuff has been around long before “reality TV” was even a part of the vocabulary. It’s been sneaking up on us all along, and I think we are now beginning to realize that it has the potential to go way too far.
They are seemingly everywhere across the vast landscape of prime-time television: reality “performers,” hordes of wanna-be stars, most with no talent beyond a seeming willingness to do anything to get on camera.
They sing, they dance, they date, they cook, they make clothes, they model clothes, they eat bugs, they eat nothing, they get fired, they expose themselves to all kinds of physical hardship and emotional humiliation.
Reality TV right now is pushing decency to the edge, but still hasn’t crossed into the territory of flat out irresponsible and destructive television. However, I think it’s getting close to the time when we need to change the channel. On second thought, screw it, I’m going to go read a book.
