Reality TV Is A Sinister Enterprise

Douchebag Jon Gosselin is wanted for contributing to the delinquency of America.

In the late 1990s and early 2000s, “reality” television started to take off. Of course, the name for these kinds of shows was a total misnomer. Indeed, what’s so “realistic” about a scenario where a bunch of strangers are purposely plopped down in some remote area of the world where they suddenly have to figure out how to hunt, make fire, and conspire against each other to win $1 million via a series of votes? The success of Survivor and other shows appeared to be thanks to their unusual premises and situations, which seemed to put the contestants under immense strain. My own dislike of all “reality” television notwithstanding, these shows seemed to make interesting TV for millions of Americans.

But then something strange happened. Almost counterintuitively, reality television did not get more far-fetched and outrageous. Instead, it got more real, more banal and everyday. And then something even stranger happened. These shows were also popular, and their “stars” became instant celebrities. Whereas shows such as Survivor and The Amazing Race still sell with their unusual plot lines, there are an increasing number of shows whose success defies explanation.

Take Jon and Kate Plus 8, whose premise was simply, “We have a lot of kids.” Producers were able to squeeze out 112 episodes about the couple’s daily struggle to raise these children. One hundred twelve shows. That’s sixty-six hours of “coverage” of a wife and husband whose only claim to fame is, to repeat, “We have a lot of kids.” One would think that the audience might tire of this after thirty, sixty, or ninety minutes, because it really doesn’t take long to realize that if a couple has eight kids, their lives are pretty much fucked. As Thoreau once queried about the gossip-mongers of his time, “If you are acquainted with the principle, what do you care for a myriad instances and applications?” Indeed, we get it. Having eight kids sucks. Now move on.

Or how about any of the Real Housewives of… series? Those shows basically consist of rich, scheming, bitchy gold-diggers who are some of the shallowest human beings who have ever walked the Earth. Most of them have no depth whatsoever, and yet for millions of perhaps equally shallow Americans, these vixens make for riveting television.

Perhaps even more disturbing than the runaway popularity of these shows, is the viability of two other shows which particularly stand out for their portrayal of people with social stigmas. The first is TLC’s Little People, Big World, which according to Wikipedia, “follows the six-member Roloff family farm near Portland, Oregon. Many of the episodes focus on the parents, Matt and Amy, and one of their sons, Zach, who all have dwarfism.” The second, is NBC’s The Biggest Loser, which “centers around overweight contestants attempting to lose weight to fight for a cash prize.”

Do these two shows remind anyone else of P.T. Barnum’s nineteenth century “sideshows?” Recall that Barnum’s circuses would often feature dwarves and extremely obese individuals who were put on exhibition for the curious masses who would pay to see these “wonders”—these poor bastards with obvious and handicapping stigmas which made it all but impossible for them to lead “normal” lives, and so many of them ended up selling their dignity for the pennies that Barnum tossed their way.

That grotesque principle is exactly what is at work in these shows. All of them. Not just the ones about dwarves and fatties. Notice that the documentary-style reality television shows almost always feature people who have some deficiency or problem that distinguishes them from “normal” people. With Jon and Kate, it was all those kids. Be glad you don’t have eight children. With Real Housewives, it’s all the conniving amongst so-called friends. Be glad you don’t have friends that stab you in the back like that. With Little People, Big World, it’s the disabling lack of height. Be glad you’re not that short. And with The Biggest Loser, it’s all that extra weight. Be glad you’re not that fat.

Taken all together, reality television is trying to tell us something sinister: Be content. Watch these shows and thank the heavens that you’re probably not like any of these people. Don’t complain. It could be worse. Watch and feel better about yourself. Fill that void you so clearly have in your life with this vacuous nonsense. It feels good. It’s a little holiday from all of your troubles and all of your cares. Be content! And don’t forget to buy the shit advertised in the commercials.

It’s no wonder we’re fucked as a nation.

- Max