I am considering canceling my television satellite service and returning to my local cable company. I was lured away by promises of hundreds of new stations available in high definition any time day or night.
Once the satellite was installed, I took a weekâ€™s vacation just to vegetate on my couch. I anticipated happy hours of old movies, fascinating programs on world history, and constant streams of micro-wave popcorn.
Imagine my disappointment when I discovered that the majority of those hundreds of stations are either devoted to disgusting so-called reality shows or home shopping networks.
Home shopping is a concept that never caught on at my house. I swore off forever after rushing to order the Wonder Mop (they warned there were only 300 left). I paid $39.99 and found it at Wal-Mart a week later for $14.99.
How many Huggable Hangers or Slap and Chops does a woman need?
Reality shows puzzle me the most. They seem to be multiplying like rabbits on in-vitro fertilization. â€śHousewives of (Name your city)â€ť depicts snarky Collagen-plumped, Botox-stretched women who I bet arenâ€™t even housewives.
Shockingly, I learned that some of my most intelligent and thoughtful friends are devotees of reality shows. This week, I was attempting to demonstrate my superiority by ridiculing reality television and was bombarded by vehement protests.
My buddies are so addicted to â€śHoardersâ€ť and â€śSwamp Peopleâ€ť that they call each other back and forth to discuss the episodes! What am I missing here?
I rushed home and punched up â€śSwamp Peopleâ€ť which appears to be about country folks chasing alligators and snakes. For 30 minutes, I watched a man and woman trying to rope an alligator â€“ I think they were speaking English but I needed subtitles to be sure.
I switched to Hoarders which is about poor, beleaguered souls buried under 5,000 magazines and every milk carton they ever purchased. It was very depressing, probably because I saw shades of my make-up table where resides every lipstick and blemish concealer invented since 1962.
Donâ€™t we get enough reality television on Cable news? Rupert Murdoch getting hit with a pie while testifying before the British Parliament trumped any scripted, caterpillar-slurping foodie created for reality TV.
And yet, Iâ€™m wondering if there is a market for a reality show featuring a slightly delusional, almost senior citizen with a warped sense of humor and a high threshold for failure, trying to give Martha Stewart a run for her money. I have someone in mind.
Emily Jones is a retired journalist who edits a website for bouncing baby boomers facing retirement. She welcomes comments at www.deludeddiva.com.
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