I love a good documentary. In order to be good it has to be heartfelt propaganda or utterly objective, and since most are some mish mash between those two criteria, I’m usually disappointed and end up watching reality TV.Reality TV doesn’t have to be good. At its best it’s like a documentary before the edit and overdubbed narration: raw footage of someone’s ordinary or extraordinary life. So, some thoughts:
How the hell did Annie Duke lose to that crazy biatch Joan Rivers?
I want to poke Coach’s eyeballs out with two sharp sticks.
According to the tabloids Jon of Jon & Kate Plus 8 is having an affair. If it’s true he’ll end up regretting it just because of the ensuing press harassment, but at the same time I understand. Kate’s just a wee bit too critical, dontcha think? And actually, the press harassment will go unchecked whether Jon did anything unusual or not.
The Kardashians don’t amount to much and they know it.
To all the guys out there I advise you to NOT date Kelly, the divorcee from The Real Housewives of New York City. You’ll regret it.
My current faves are The Girls Next Door on E and the MTV skateboarding samaritan that lets a tiny horse live in his LA condo.
So, you ask, what does this have to do with the image I posted? It’s part of the package that housed my cat Poofer’s stocking stuffer, the A-DOOR-able catnip toy. I hang it on the door and she goes bat, bat, bat. A-DOOR-able, huh?
The cat on that package is just like the reality TV celebs. It’s nothing like my real cat Poofer or the loud-talking, know-it-all next door neighbor. I have to deal with them, and as such they elicit a series of complex emotions from me.
The A-DOOR-able toy package and Reality TV are the same: pure Baudrillard-esque seduction, utter fascination, a flat one-way transmission, disposable.
Rest in peace Anna Nicole. Tags: Baudrillard, documentary film, Reality TV, satire
Entries (RSS)