Affronts to Old People #11 – God Damned Reality Television Programs
Few things bunch my shorts more than these god awful reality television programs.
Television was intended to be a showcase for individuals the likes of Milton Berle, Sid Caesar and Jack Benny. It was meant to lift people’s spirits and entertain, not be home to a motley assortment of dimwitted bachelors, blubbering dieters and wife-swapping dullards. These people aren’t television stars – they’re compelling evidence against the theory of evolution.
If I had any interest in staring at a bunch of talentless nobodies I’d pull my damned drapes open and look out the front window or attend the annual Mills family reunion. Honestly, these are people you wouldn’t speak to on the street, so why the Hell you’d invite them into your house 3 nights a week is beyond me.
And I sure don’t understand what any of these shows have to do with “reality” anyway. How many times have you found yourself on a desert island with Jeff Probst, a camera crew and just enough clothing to appease the network censors? Gilligan’s Island was more realistic for god’s sake and it had Russian cosmonauts, voodoo witch doctors and radios made out of coconuts.
It was tolerable when there was one or two of the damned things but now they’re everywhere. They’re an invasive species – like zebra mussels, purple loosestrife and twitter. You can’t get on television these days unless you’re a mentally unbalanced hoarder who flies an ice plane, wants to work for P. Diddy and is parent to unruly quintuplets.
Listen – television was never meant to be realistic. It was meant to free us from the need to think, distract us from society’s ails and mind our children for us if we wanted a night out on the town. If realism becomes the mandate of television what the Hell will become of Wheel of Fortune, Regis Philbin or CNN?
If they absolutely insist on producing this crap the very least they could do is make a show that’s sensible and which old people might enjoy. I’d like to see a program where a gaggle of television producers are confined to a nursing home and then set upon by a group of irate elderly residents who proceed to beat the living snot out of them with their canes for single-handedly ruining television and taking 10 damned points off the national I.Q.
The last one standing gets pudding and firm instructions to bring back Matlock.
Now that’s a damned reality show I’d be willing to watch.