Tales From the Kitchen Floor Part III
Well, I am sitting here again folks, on my comfortable piece of slat, with a tear in my eye, and a lump in my throat.
Why? I hear you ask.
The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and John Ashcroft copped a jolly good walloping at the 9/11 hearings this week.
Well, since you asked, I am perched here typing, and at the same time, watching one of the last pieces of furniture being carted out of my apartment. This is not just 'any' piece of furniture, mind you. It is my treasured television set.
My TV and I have shared a very intimate and personal relationship over the past three years. I have cooed to it contentedly when the cable has actually worked, thus allowing me to finish watching "Robin Williams LIVE on Broadway." I have also, on the odd occasion, thrown many a shoe and uttered many an unchristian word in its general direction, when it has gone on the fritz, leaving me to suffer through the latest White House Press Conference on free-to-air.
So, as I watch it disappear out the door, I feel a certain, almost tangible sense of loss. (Contrary to popular belief, this little duck does have a heart, it's just that the microwave went out the door last week, before I had a chance to 'defrost' it.)
How will I now, be able to keep up with the news of the day, as it happens, minute by minute? (Or nanosecond by nanosecond, if you happen to stumble onto MSNBC.) What will I do without the 'History' channel, or the very informative 'Discovery' programs?
HOW WILL I KNOW WHO WINS 'THE APPRENTICE' TONIGHT? DAMMIT!
Pause
Gulp!
Did I just say that out loud?
Alright, alright, you've got me. I confess. I happen to like watching that donkey (albeit, that obscenely wealthy donkey), Donald Trump from time to time, and yes, I get a bit of a kinky thrill, when he turns to the camera and says, "You're Fired!"
Pause
Did I just say that out loud AGAIN?
I am, I will concede, a reluctant Reality TV junkie. I can't help myself. I need to turn on the tube every Thursday night to see who the "Don" will boot off next. I also watch each week in interest, nay, mind-numbing wonder, and ask myself why- when this guy has more money than several small European countries put together, he can't buy himself a better rug!
So there, it's out in the open. My deepest and darkest secret has been revealed to you all.
At least, I am not one of those people who say, "Oh, I never watch Reality TV, only the odd episode of "American Idol."
To me, that is akin to saying, "I never eat fatty foods. Did you bring those donuts in, Mavis? Well, alright, just one."
That's a rather convenient form of self-absolution isn't it?
But back to Reality TV…
Even if you say that you are a true non-watcher, (and can I see you breaking into a sweat over there) these programs are pretty hard to get away from these days. The growth of this television genre has flooded the networks, like a bad breakout of acne, over the past five years.
Oh, it started off innocuously enough, like most sinister and cultural "crazes."
In the beginning, there was "Survivor," which proved to be a huge success with the audience. Take sixteen people (make sure one of them is an obnoxious twit, or an arrogant, naked gay guy), plop them on an island with nothing but their over-inflated egos, and dangle a million dollars in front of their noses.
Let the fun and games begin!!
Most people thought that this fad would die out after awhile (or after a second season with Jeff Probst, at least), but no, this opened the door to a slew of hybrids, that have pretty much embedded themselves into our television culture ever since.
Now, since I have come out of the closet here, I have to say that some of these so-called 'hybrids', have tweaked my interest. (OK, OK! I'm glued to the screen, can't miss an episode, sending fan mail to NBC.)
To be fair though, I have used these programs to further my personal studies on social and cultural behavior.
"Big Brother" gave me helpful insights into how total strangers interact, when thrown into an isolated house for three months. It also supplied me with helpful hints on what to do, should I ever find myself covered in ketchup and mustard, pretending to be a hot dog.
"American Idol" was an imperceptive peek into the world of show business. It documented the ups and downs, the tears and the jubilation of 'wannabe' superstars. Ok, so it was also a showcase for Paula Abdul, who has been trying to revive her flagging career.
Give it up, Paula. It's NOT working.
"Anna Nicole Smith?"
I'm sorry, but if there is anything to be learned here, it is that you should NOT watch this. Ever.
So, you see? There is some educational value in these reality programs, and this is why I have come clean to you today.
What's that?
Oh, ALRIGHT then!
It appeals to my most basic animal instincts. I want to see the good guys beat the morons. I want to see catfights and bitchiness! I want to see if contestant A and B, really do have the guts to get hot and heavy on live television! I want to have dinner at the "Don's" house!! Waaaaahhhhhhh!
You know, it is probably a good thing that the trusty television is gone. There is a new tranquility in the apartment now. I can almost feel my inner child connecting with its immature adult counterpart.
I don't need Reality TV. Reality is tough enough, without having to watch it on the box.
Yes, this is much better.
Come on in; sit down on the bare boards with me. We can start meditating together with our newly found 'Zen'.
Breathe in, breathe out. I am serenity now, serenity now
Pause
What? Oh, yeah..serenity now, um..breathe, er..
Pause
Sorry, I have to go. Yeah, peace, zen..whatever. I can hear the "Money,money,money" theme cranking up next door!
Slam!
Kylie is a well travelled free-lance writer who has been published in several magazines in Australia and the United States including "Honestly Woman" and "Third Coast Marketing".
Come on in..sit down and enjoy...bring your prescription drugs if necessary.
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