Reality Sucks

Now, if you have come looking for a whiney self-piteous rant about how life sucks and so on, you have come to the right place. However, my dear friend, you have come at the wrong time. What I am talking about is reality tv. It’s the new form of popular entertainment that has given us The Apprentice and Surreal Life, filling our lives with the images of attention needy people like Donald Trump and Ice T. I had earlier given a description on how to create your own reality tv show. Now, I am going to focus on one or two specific shows.

I don’t know how many of you watch MTV. There is this show called Date My Mom (DMM).The basic structure of the show is as follows -

• 1 hot guy
• 3 girls and their moms
• The guy cannot talk directly to the girls. He speaks to the moms and decides which girl is likely to have got the best genetic material.
• Or 1 hot girl, 3 guys, 3 moms….you know.

It is exhibitionist, crass and has plenty of eye candy – so everyone watches it. It’s like drinking – continued intake might cause brain damage, but short doses do lead to instant gratification. Anyway, I was watching DMM the other day. There was something that I feel took their (lack of) creative process to a new high.

So, I saw this girly looking guy as the ‘hot catch’. 'Ok', I thought, 'Maybe he is one of those metropolitan or whatever type guys'. Then, I see his arms flailing all over the place, and his eyelashes started doing the batting thang. That got the alarm bells going bring bring. Then there was the final straw, the guy got all giggly and went ‘Ohhhh I luhveee Britney Spears. She is soo cool!!!’. As I suspected, the producers had decided that the only way they could attract viewer ship was by hooking gay guys up. Don’t get me wrong here. I am all for freedom, and believe its your personal right to decide upon whether you want to engage in intimate relations with guys / girls / donkeys / rabbits / cockroaches / eels / snakes / crows / frogs. I mean, if you aren't going to let your sex hold you back, why should your position on the tree of life? Think about it. Aren't we all the same? Aren't we all just bags of protein and DNA? If, you knock off some of my genes, won't I become a weird mutated creature? Aren't all our DNA subject transcription? Aren't all our RNA subject to translation? You get the picture. I am all for non-discrimination. However, a guy professing love for Britney Spears on a music channel is a strict no no.

There is another variation of this called ‘Check out all the trash in my room, and decide if you want to marry me’. I forget what its called. Yes, Room Raiders. Replace mom by rooms. Instead of checking out the mom, you check out the room and decide whether you should pledge your troth to the owner of the room. That got me thinking - where are things going from here? What would be the next big thing in reality dating? Eureka! It struck me! Like a flash of lightning! Like Date my Mom, why not, Date My Iguana. However, the thought made me feel guilty as Iguanas are classy animals, a little endangered, and would be quite averse to besmirching their reputation through such shameless displays. Also, PETA might complain. We would just have to settle for Date the Cockroach in My Sink. These are pretty decadent creatures anyway, hanging around the sink and all that. How can you judge if he/she is 'the one'? Simple! If the cockroach is emaciated you know that I have a clean sink and am worth marrying.