Every once in awhile, I’ll flip the television dial (or remote, for you folks living in the present) to something I would normally loathe. Items like Family Guy and anything on MTV or VH1’s Celebreality stable of reality television often do the trick.
Reasons for this are many, whether it is to see what other people like or relate to, try to fathom the popularity of tripe, or to remind myself that I do indeed have human-like feelings — particularly anger and sadness.
Anyway, two particular things stuck out in the midst of watching the television equivalent of a failure pile in a sadness bowl:
Puff Daddy is a Horrible Human Being
Diddy/P. Diddy/Puff Daddy/Pizzle Dizzle is either the most brilliant or the most pathetic human to grace entertainment, let alone the planet currently known as Earth. Starting out as a music producer, the enigmatic man built a record company into an empire (Bad Boy), a popular line of clothing, got into acting, has produced several television shows.
Admirable things out of the way, Dizzle is also a deplorable person and an egomaniac. He loves the attention, going as far as creating it himself — check YouTube or his website for his various videos on such things as his bathroom habits or why he no longer flies on his private plane. He has babies from several different mamas, which I shouldn’t judge (hell, this blog is an exercise in judgment) but damn, condoms are available in most drug stores and Wal-Mart’s. And let’s not get into his various run-ins with the law. (That could be a blog in itself.) He is an enigma and a potential money bank for a therapist.
His TV shows are reasons for him to exercise his control on camera and parade his C-list recording stars around while ripping into them. Oh, and I Want to Work For Diddy is a goofy-ass knockoff of The Apprentice — both funnier than they have any right to be. (All of them have the fake drama and dramatic music that makes normal situations — like eating cereal — into the most theatrical moments of human history.)
But I shouldn’t hate. Dude is successful at making money and making a name for himself and the talent he finds and nurtures. Still, I’m not a fan, and his MTV shows are just another example why I can’t fathom any positivity connected with the man known as Diddy Shabadoo-shabop.
Hulk Hogan is a Creepy Man
Former wrestler Terry “Hulk” Hogan loves his daughter, Brooke — star of VH1’s latest Celebreality exercise in eye-gouging, Brooke Knows Best. No, he REALLY loves his daughter. Try watching an episode and guess whether he’s either extremely overprotective or subconsciously wants his daughter for something that I would not describe in a blog.
I wonder who this woman looks like…
In a given episode — I’ve watched two, which was two too many — Hulkamania rears its ugly, bleached-blond head via numerous phone calls to Brooke, checking up on her to see which boys/men she is prancing around with. NUMEROUS. He also seems concerned about his daughter having a homosexual roommate (Oh my god, he’s a GAY!) — asking him on a scale of 10 to rate how gay he is. Mmm… you can taste the homophobia.
Even more disturbing, in the first episode, when Brooke is moving into her own place in Miami, Hulk — reeling from his divorce from Brooke’s mother — brings up the idea of living there with Brooke in his own room. Only when he’s in town, of course.
Now, I don’t want to call Hulk Hogan a creepy old man and a homophobe, so I’ll let my similar-looking, acting and writing personality named Trevor say it for me:
“Hulk Hogan is a creepy old man and a homophobe. He also sucks on womens feet.” – ‘Trevor’
My Super Sweet 16 is Sad
A MTV phenomenon, My Super Sweet 16 shows 16-year-old girls and boys having lavish parties thrown by their rich parents. These kids also show why they are the worst human beings of an up-and-coming generation of whining, selfish and moronic people — throwing tantrums if they get a Pepto Bismol Land Rover LR3 instead of a Pepto Bismol Land Rover Range Rover, if they don’t get the exact dress they want for their party, or if there are 15 white doves from Ecuador released during their grand party entrance instead of 16.
THIS is why you get her the powder blue Escalade with matching Prada bag! How dare you, irresponsible parents!
And equally as bad — if not worse — are the kids who want to be at these parties. They mug for the camera, pretend to be the hostess’s/host’s friends to be seen, lie about being friends and liking the person and even trying to crash the party. Cripes.
Oh, and the worst aspect of this crap would be the parents themselves. Letting your bratty child cry, scream and tantrum their way into getting what they want shows the limited and horrible range of their parenting, as well as shows the world the offspring you’ve unleashed. Great job; your kids are fuck-ups, and we’ll all suffer as a result.
(As an aside, I wonder if parent corporation Viacom and MTV are brilliantly casting a sadistic light on these terrible excuses for human beings, or if they are merely giving the people what they want. For our sanity, I hope it is the former and not the latter.)
For those that find escapist entertainment in reality television, I can understand why: you can tune in and tune out, not having to know any back-story, character development or even know what’s going on as long as humans acts all goofy and stuff. But in doing so, television studios and networks are being encouraged to shovel more of this crap down our throats. For me, it’s like going on a safari, peering into the wilderness of what passes for entertainment. But like the sad, injured lion that limps while grimacing, it is not an enjoyable experience.