Skip to main content

Reality TV bites



   I try not to be a crybaby but last night I found myself tearing up over Snooki’s show. I think I’m in trouble. I knew I might be headed down the wrong path when I felt the same way over a Folger’s commercial at Christmastime. You know the one with the son who comes home in time for the holidays and sees his little sister first? That’s it.
   Who’s the Svengali who decided to pull on our emotional heartstrings with his voyeuristically styled productions? It’s like watching surgery. You want to turn away but something compels you to look again.  Somebody’s making a bazillion dollars on this and we keep looking.
   And then we get embarrassed and never admit we watch it.
   “Oh, that crap. I never watch that stuff,” everybody says. Right.
   For me it all started with Little People, Big World. I was captivated by a few aspects, one of which was the Roloff family pumpkin farm in Oregon and the really cool open floor plan of their house. The scenery was beautiful and the fact that Amy and Matt wanted to strangle each other half the time was also a factor. And the fact that they are little people who got more exercise in an episode than I will in my lifetime.
   There are so many reality shows on television now days that it’s hard not to watch them. That’s all we’ve got. You find yourself sucked into the everyday woes of the Sister Wives or wondering how they’re going to potty train the dog on Married to Jonas. Like we don’t have enough to worry about. We have our own bills to pay and dogs to take to the vet in diamond encrusted pet carriers.  
    I’ll say one thing, they’ve got us. Oh, I know there are some people who live quite nicely without television. I’ve even tried cutting the cable cord but I always come back to it like a moth to a flame.
  I miss the old days when the people on television got in those wacky situations and we just laughed along never worrying whether or not it was real. Whatever happened to Bewitched, Green Acres and the Patty Duke Show? Now that was some quality television. They don’t make TV like that anymore. Ah, today I leave you with this:

Where Cathy adores a minuet,
The Ballet Russes, and crepe suzette,
Our Patty loves to rock and roll,
A hot dog makes her lose control --
What a wild duet!

Comments

Anonymous said…
My favorite show is, was and always will be Green Acres. Mr. Haney was the leader of the political coruption we now have today. Sell us something that we think we need, although we really don't need it, and overcharge us for it. Yupper... he's the pied piper.
I don't watch tv. I loathe reality shows. If I want reality, there's a bar two blocks from my house. There's enough real life drama there.
I must run now. My cat is late for his vet appointment.
Connie Berry said…
You know I don't tell everyone this, but Mr. Haney is a distant relative. On my father's side. No joke. This may explain a lot.

Popular posts from this blog

I might need a price check

So my husband Chris works three days a week in America, and I’m trying not to take this personally.
He’s commuting Monday mornings on the 6:30 ferry over to Cape Cod, where he works at an upholstery shop in Hyannis, the Mattydale of Cape Cod, for all you Syracuse readers. I stay here and hold down the fort, cooking up a cocktail of frozen pizzas and mac n’ cheese weeknights for my poor Danny. Chris comes back late Thursday night, all giddy over toilet paper prices and quotes on cheaper rent.
No, no, no, and more no I say. I can’t possibly leave all this off-season quiet and high-priced laundry detergent. There’s no convincing me to leave no matter how many times Chris points out that there’s a Trader Joe’s “over there.”
I want to stay here until I miraculously win on one of those $5 scratchers and can buy my own house here. The difference being that I feel confident that I will someday scratch my way to freedom while Chris thinks we’d be smarter to look into a nice rental “over there.…

Library lady

So today a co-worker who is — let’s just be honest here — 70 years old, gave me a serious run for my money at the library. Some guy was looking for a specific movie, which just happened to be located on the very bottom shelf, and I did one of those pretend searches for it on the middle shelf. She walks over and squats down like she’s going to give birth in some Third World country and finds it in two seconds. Again, here we are. Now I’m at home tearing open the cardboard box of a frozen pizza and she’s obviously at home on a rubber mat touching her big toe to her nose.      I regularly call the doctor to renew my prescription for muscle relaxers, while it seems like the rest of the women on this ridiculously fit island drink hot tea and take a warm bath for their yoga-stressed muscles. Thank God my teeth are relatively good.
     It’s not easy to work with women your age and older who think nothing of drinking spinach shakes and lugging all kinds of crap around. If I tried half the…

Getting well takes baby steps

So I’ve had what you could call a case of the pneumonia. It was not pleasant. And to top it off it happened in San Antonio, Texas. Like I wasn’t sweating before the fever.
I was there to see my niece Michelle, who by the way kept asking me, “Are you going to write about this?” which is funny because she’s a writer too. I naturally said, “Oh no, of course not.” And here we are.
Thinking back, the best part of that trip teeters between meeting my two great-nephews, Oliver and Isaac, and having a couple of beers with their Yaya, my sister, who I haven’t had beers with in decades. Like I said, it’s a toss-up. There’s also the fact that I got to spend time with my niece’s husband Alex. He’s a hardcore military guy. He teaches other military guys how to be military policemen. I’m not going to gamble on writing anything about him. He’s from Wisconsin though, which I like. And he likes to cook, which I also like.
I thought to myself before I ever left my nice cocoon of Martha’s Vineyard to tra…