Signs of the Coming Apocalypse
FOX, the official network of the apocalypse, has begun airing a new reality TV program called, somewhat cumbersomely, "Trading Spouses: Meet Your New Mommy." As the title suggests, the conceit of the show is that two families exchange one spouse, in this case the mother. Mom imposes her will on her new family, even if that imposition is sometimes clearly prompted by the producers ("Today you're supposed to do everything I say"). The exchange lasts for a week - well, a TV week, actually, which turns out to be 5 days - and at the end of that time each family receives $50,000. The cash is the carrot that keeps the family from running roughshod over the new parental unit. The twist - "twist" being the current keyword for reality programming - is that the "new mommy" decides how her substitute family gets to spend their $50,000. No one has yet committed that amount to anger management and family therapy, but I imagine it's right around the corner.
From what I've seen, the show takes most of its cues from City Mouse and Country Mouse. The first swap involved a middle class (or what used to be considered middle class but now might be lower middle class) black family and a wealthy mixed race (Japanese/Blonde) family in Texas. Despite initial misgivings, Almela Biggins fit in almost immediately with her new family, and bonded especially with Nana, the grandmother of the clan, who is equal parts respected ancestor and live-in help. Tammy Nakamura (I'm not making these names up), on the other hand, was horrified to learn that she was expected to get out of bed before noon and perform such onerous tasks as making dinner ("Can't ch'all just go out to eat?"). The show is an equal opportunity Mouse basher, however, so in the second swap, the lower class mom was the boor and the upper class was helpful. Next week, two families trade dads.
"Trading Spouses" is the slowest show on broadcast television, next to "Big Brother." Like that program, it believes in the mantra of public speaking: Tell them what you're going to say, Say it, and then Tell them what you said. The director not only recaps what happened last week, he frequently recaps what happened before the commercial break. It runs two hour-long episodes for each swap, and the total amount of new material accounts for maybe 20 minutes. The show is based on/stolen from "Wife Swap," a British show scheduled to air in an American incarnation on ABC this fall. The biggest disappointment is that it is not a true wife swap, in the fullest meaning of the word. This is not a televised key party; no one's making whoopee with another man's wife. It's like hosting a really pushy guest who could leave you a tidy sum of money; the equivalent of putting up your in-laws, perhaps.
Not to be outdone, Bravo - which is becoming the new FOX - is presenting its own spousal abuse show, "Things I Hate About You." In this program, the two members of a couple compete to prove that their spouse is more annoying than they are. If the best you can say for yourself is that you're not as hateful as the person you're married to, best of luck. In order to prove how hateful their spouse is, each half presents "evidence," consisting of video clips of their other half at their worst. Sometimes the clips come naturally: My husband cleans up after the cleaning lady, and here he is doing it. In most cases, though, the evidence is staged: one spouse will set up a situation designed to make the other go crazy. The evidence is gathered by providing each spouse with a camcorder, in addition to rigging their home with audio-visual equipment and apparently having a cameraman follow them around for a week. Each piece of evidence is judged and scored on a scale of 1 to 10 by a panel composed of a failed actor, a failed comic and a failed therapist.
What I hate most about the show is its host, Mo Rocca. Rocca, despite the spelling of the first name, is a man. He first crossed my radar as a regular on VH1's "I Love the ..." (70s, 80s, 90s) series. [Dave Navarro, of Jane's Addiction and "Celebrity Poker Showdown," observed of a young female popster featured on "I Love the 90s," "Hasn't she only been around for about 5 years?" Nostalgia indeed is not what it used to be.] Rocca comes across as a baritone Andy Rooney, if Rooney had a sibilant speech disorder, with all the attendant wit and perception. He offered floor commentary during CNN's coverage of the Democratic National Convention, and the worst thing I can say about him is Larry King thinks he's a stitch. He honed his somewhat indistinguishable political chops on the "Daily Show," apparently during a period when I wasn't watching. That, or he was the reason I stopped watching. Compared to the current lineup of Steve Carell, Stephen Colbert and Rob Corddry, Rocca is a bush leaguer, one of those comics whose desire to be loved is much greater than his desire to be funny. In my home, he is neither funny nor loved.
In other reality news, I have all but abandoned "Big Brother." This will come as a shock to those who know that BB has always been my reality cup of tea. My complaints with the show have become legion, from its glacial pace to its needy personality. It airs three nights a week, and for most of that time nothing happens. The best way to watch the show is to tape it, so you can fast-forward through the boring and annoying parts (i.e. most of the show). This season is particularly dreadful because they've stocked the house with alpha males, like some corporate trout pond. These aggressive, entitled straight white men keep talking about making "good TV," by which they mean, "me me me." It's not surprising that the producers of the show chose these guys, because they haven't learned what the rest of us know: alpha males are boring. Not just these alpha males; all alpha males. Their sense of humor has not progressed beyond the 6th grade; their sense of fun does not go beyond organized sports and perhaps alcoholism; their sense of reality does not extend beyond whatever ideas they've clung to since high school. Most of the time I don't mind them running corporations and politics, in the same way I don't envy sanitation and hospice workers - I'm happy not to have the responsibility. But that doesn't mean I want to socialize with them, or worse, watch them on television.
By the time you read this, the two primary alpha males will probably have been jettisoned by the other housemates. In both cases, they will experience ejection as a complete surprise. And having been driven out of the house myself, I see no reason to return. There are only two characters left who I care to spend any time with, and no one worth watching three hours per week.
This season's "twist" on "Big Brother" is called Project DNA. Two of the hamsters, unknown to them, shared a common father. They figured it out within the first week (wow, the two stump-jumpin' westerners are related!), and since then it's had no impact. Three of the houseguests have twins, and one pair of twins was playing the game simultaneously, unknown to the other roomies. This was a bit more interesting, but not worth staying home for. If BB returns next summer, as I imagine it will, they should take a hint from "Trading Spouses" and "Things I Hate," and wall up 6 couples instead of 12 individuals. Nobody hates you more than the person you're closest to, a lesson learned from "The Amazing Race," so locking up a handful of marrieds should produce some real bloodshed.
*****
You've already missed auditions for "American Idol" in Cleveland and St. Louis, two cities known for their burgeoning pop music scenes. The audition tour opened in Ohio August 4, with some 15,000 hopefuls showing up, and continued on to Missouri August 8, for another 10,000. Police in St. Louis complimented the crowd on both their talent and their good behavior. I hear you get time off for that. AI hopefuls auditioned for judges not much more qualified than the cops: a passel of associate producers and production assistants. Those who pass the first screening - either because they are good enough or, more likely, because they are so bad - go on to meet the "celebrity" judges a week or so later.
The tour picks up in Washington, DC, on Wednesday, but the age limit is 28, so John Ashcroft is ineligible to compete. It continues on to such resort spots as Orlando, Las Vegas and ... Anchorage, at the end of September. There's a joke here about hell freezing over, but I'm not sure what it is.
*****
Immigrant rights groups have their knickers in a twist about "Gana la Verde" ("Win the Green"), a "Fear Factor" style reality show aimed at Spanish immigrants. (Well, actually Mexican, though I imagine there may be some Central Americans in the mix.) Contestants dodge 18 wheelers, fend off attack dogs and swallow tequila worms in pursuit of a green card. Were they not on TV, the suggestion is that the contestants would engage on such activities on their own time. Winners receive a year's worth of legal counsel in pursuit of a green card.
Immigrant advocates complain that the show doesn't actually guarantee anyone a green card, though anyone who's ever worked with an immigration lawyer could have told them that. No one seems particularly upset that the contestants are being humiliated and exploited, as that is expected from reality programming. Or, indeed, whatever job their green card could land them. There is some concern, though, that the show is doing the INS's work for them, since agents merely need to turn on their television sets to have illegals identified for them by name and address.
Is anyone surprised to learn that this show is the second highest-rated Spanish language program in Southern California and Texas?
From what I've seen, the show takes most of its cues from City Mouse and Country Mouse. The first swap involved a middle class (or what used to be considered middle class but now might be lower middle class) black family and a wealthy mixed race (Japanese/Blonde) family in Texas. Despite initial misgivings, Almela Biggins fit in almost immediately with her new family, and bonded especially with Nana, the grandmother of the clan, who is equal parts respected ancestor and live-in help. Tammy Nakamura (I'm not making these names up), on the other hand, was horrified to learn that she was expected to get out of bed before noon and perform such onerous tasks as making dinner ("Can't ch'all just go out to eat?"). The show is an equal opportunity Mouse basher, however, so in the second swap, the lower class mom was the boor and the upper class was helpful. Next week, two families trade dads.
"Trading Spouses" is the slowest show on broadcast television, next to "Big Brother." Like that program, it believes in the mantra of public speaking: Tell them what you're going to say, Say it, and then Tell them what you said. The director not only recaps what happened last week, he frequently recaps what happened before the commercial break. It runs two hour-long episodes for each swap, and the total amount of new material accounts for maybe 20 minutes. The show is based on/stolen from "Wife Swap," a British show scheduled to air in an American incarnation on ABC this fall. The biggest disappointment is that it is not a true wife swap, in the fullest meaning of the word. This is not a televised key party; no one's making whoopee with another man's wife. It's like hosting a really pushy guest who could leave you a tidy sum of money; the equivalent of putting up your in-laws, perhaps.
Not to be outdone, Bravo - which is becoming the new FOX - is presenting its own spousal abuse show, "Things I Hate About You." In this program, the two members of a couple compete to prove that their spouse is more annoying than they are. If the best you can say for yourself is that you're not as hateful as the person you're married to, best of luck. In order to prove how hateful their spouse is, each half presents "evidence," consisting of video clips of their other half at their worst. Sometimes the clips come naturally: My husband cleans up after the cleaning lady, and here he is doing it. In most cases, though, the evidence is staged: one spouse will set up a situation designed to make the other go crazy. The evidence is gathered by providing each spouse with a camcorder, in addition to rigging their home with audio-visual equipment and apparently having a cameraman follow them around for a week. Each piece of evidence is judged and scored on a scale of 1 to 10 by a panel composed of a failed actor, a failed comic and a failed therapist.
What I hate most about the show is its host, Mo Rocca. Rocca, despite the spelling of the first name, is a man. He first crossed my radar as a regular on VH1's "I Love the ..." (70s, 80s, 90s) series. [Dave Navarro, of Jane's Addiction and "Celebrity Poker Showdown," observed of a young female popster featured on "I Love the 90s," "Hasn't she only been around for about 5 years?" Nostalgia indeed is not what it used to be.] Rocca comes across as a baritone Andy Rooney, if Rooney had a sibilant speech disorder, with all the attendant wit and perception. He offered floor commentary during CNN's coverage of the Democratic National Convention, and the worst thing I can say about him is Larry King thinks he's a stitch. He honed his somewhat indistinguishable political chops on the "Daily Show," apparently during a period when I wasn't watching. That, or he was the reason I stopped watching. Compared to the current lineup of Steve Carell, Stephen Colbert and Rob Corddry, Rocca is a bush leaguer, one of those comics whose desire to be loved is much greater than his desire to be funny. In my home, he is neither funny nor loved.
In other reality news, I have all but abandoned "Big Brother." This will come as a shock to those who know that BB has always been my reality cup of tea. My complaints with the show have become legion, from its glacial pace to its needy personality. It airs three nights a week, and for most of that time nothing happens. The best way to watch the show is to tape it, so you can fast-forward through the boring and annoying parts (i.e. most of the show). This season is particularly dreadful because they've stocked the house with alpha males, like some corporate trout pond. These aggressive, entitled straight white men keep talking about making "good TV," by which they mean, "me me me." It's not surprising that the producers of the show chose these guys, because they haven't learned what the rest of us know: alpha males are boring. Not just these alpha males; all alpha males. Their sense of humor has not progressed beyond the 6th grade; their sense of fun does not go beyond organized sports and perhaps alcoholism; their sense of reality does not extend beyond whatever ideas they've clung to since high school. Most of the time I don't mind them running corporations and politics, in the same way I don't envy sanitation and hospice workers - I'm happy not to have the responsibility. But that doesn't mean I want to socialize with them, or worse, watch them on television.
By the time you read this, the two primary alpha males will probably have been jettisoned by the other housemates. In both cases, they will experience ejection as a complete surprise. And having been driven out of the house myself, I see no reason to return. There are only two characters left who I care to spend any time with, and no one worth watching three hours per week.
This season's "twist" on "Big Brother" is called Project DNA. Two of the hamsters, unknown to them, shared a common father. They figured it out within the first week (wow, the two stump-jumpin' westerners are related!), and since then it's had no impact. Three of the houseguests have twins, and one pair of twins was playing the game simultaneously, unknown to the other roomies. This was a bit more interesting, but not worth staying home for. If BB returns next summer, as I imagine it will, they should take a hint from "Trading Spouses" and "Things I Hate," and wall up 6 couples instead of 12 individuals. Nobody hates you more than the person you're closest to, a lesson learned from "The Amazing Race," so locking up a handful of marrieds should produce some real bloodshed.
*****
You've already missed auditions for "American Idol" in Cleveland and St. Louis, two cities known for their burgeoning pop music scenes. The audition tour opened in Ohio August 4, with some 15,000 hopefuls showing up, and continued on to Missouri August 8, for another 10,000. Police in St. Louis complimented the crowd on both their talent and their good behavior. I hear you get time off for that. AI hopefuls auditioned for judges not much more qualified than the cops: a passel of associate producers and production assistants. Those who pass the first screening - either because they are good enough or, more likely, because they are so bad - go on to meet the "celebrity" judges a week or so later.
The tour picks up in Washington, DC, on Wednesday, but the age limit is 28, so John Ashcroft is ineligible to compete. It continues on to such resort spots as Orlando, Las Vegas and ... Anchorage, at the end of September. There's a joke here about hell freezing over, but I'm not sure what it is.
*****
Immigrant rights groups have their knickers in a twist about "Gana la Verde" ("Win the Green"), a "Fear Factor" style reality show aimed at Spanish immigrants. (Well, actually Mexican, though I imagine there may be some Central Americans in the mix.) Contestants dodge 18 wheelers, fend off attack dogs and swallow tequila worms in pursuit of a green card. Were they not on TV, the suggestion is that the contestants would engage on such activities on their own time. Winners receive a year's worth of legal counsel in pursuit of a green card.
Immigrant advocates complain that the show doesn't actually guarantee anyone a green card, though anyone who's ever worked with an immigration lawyer could have told them that. No one seems particularly upset that the contestants are being humiliated and exploited, as that is expected from reality programming. Or, indeed, whatever job their green card could land them. There is some concern, though, that the show is doing the INS's work for them, since agents merely need to turn on their television sets to have illegals identified for them by name and address.
Is anyone surprised to learn that this show is the second highest-rated Spanish language program in Southern California and Texas?
posted by John Bliss at
10:09 AM
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