by Sarah Milstead

UHCLIDIAN STAFF

I watched an episode of "Joe Millionaire."

I realize my first words will immediately make me lose credibility with those of you who are proud of the fact that you have opposable thumbs and the ability to walk upright, but stay with me.

Every time a new reality TV show comes out, everyone groans and commiserates about society's downward spiral to a place where watching M.C. Hammer shop for groceries with Webster is considered entertainment. Of course, if there weren't profit to be had, producers wouldn't have the show on the air. Lots of people watch these shows, and will continue to do so.

Have we effectively raised low culture to new levels?

You bet; but instead of thinking back to the good ol' days when reality TV was an after-school special, I've come up with a solution that will indulge our voyeuristic need for mindless trash in only one night a week.

I call it, "We Know You'll Watch And God Help Us If The Rest Of The World Thinks We're All Really Like This."

So... this is the true story of 25 women picked to live on an island ‹ think "Lord of the Flies" with lipstick ‹ and compete for the affection of a dumb, handsome, fake millionaire to find out what happens when people stop being real and our collective intelligence goes down the toilet.

If you think I only covered two shows, you have seriously underestimated the amount of time I put into this.

One of the women is really a man trying to sabotage the whole show by ultimately trying to lure the finalists away from the alleged rich guy, who's really an ex-con who lives in his Geo outside a 7-Eleven. Each week, the bachelorettes try to prove that they're in it for love, not money, by eating slugs and trying to hunt down a wild boar ‹ not to be confused with the wild bore who's there to hoodwink a potential bride.

In lieu of contestants voting each other off the island (meow!), they advance based on how many live tarantulas they can eat and how close they get to that pig; again, I'm talking about the one with hooves.

Using this method to decide who advances and who gets the boot allows all the women to maintain that syrupy sweet demeanor that's important to every lying fake.

Of course, the entire time the contestants are competing, there would be a smarmy British guy joined by a host of other judges letting every woman know that she's a talentless loser who doesn't know the first thing about eating live slugs.

Which girl is really a guy? What does that loud-mouthed Brit know about eating slugs anyway? Will the pig ‹ you pick which one I mean this time ‹ get his own spin-off series?

Whatever the answers, you have to admit, that's just good TV.... Really.

Top of Page | Front Page