The Real Deal

Reality is what we make it. It’s another way of saying you’re life is in your own hands, you get what you give, etc. Creators of reality television take this statement literally. As literally as they possibly can. They take it so literally, that they cut, and tuck, and switch, and emphasize, and erase so much of what is recorded, that they make what used to be reality into something that more resembles a fictional story. Personally, I have no problem with this. I don’t intend on applying to be on a reality television show of any sort, no matter how much I croon over America’s Next Top Model, and I get to innocently sit at home with a bowl of popcorn and laugh my ass off at those who follow through with it. What baffles me is the number of reality shows out there today and the number of contestants who flood to be on them. Have we seen the three seasons of Flavor of Love, the spin-offs like I Love Money and Charm School? And by naming those few, it doesn’t even coat the potato chip with all the juicy reality show dip that’s out there. With each show that I sit down to watch, however, my mounting disgust with humanity is becoming overwhelming. Not only do these contestants do ridiculous things that they know are going to be aired on television, but they know very well that the reality of it is going to be altered, and they’re going to be made out to be some sort of lunatic, cry baby, or stalker—and get mad about it afterwards. Use your brain, people. You may be auditioning for a reality show, but most of them are very far from real. And if you star in one and get angry about how you’re portrayed, I have no pity for you.