Quote of the Day

"In the future, when we are forced at laser point to point to a minute and fifteen seconds of footage to describe the state of pop culture in 2012, we should choose this. It says so much about who we are and how entertainment works."

-- Rich Juzwiak of Gawker on the unedited footage, aired last night on Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, of six-year-old "Honey Boo Boo" sneezing into her hand and playing with the snot

I almost had a Will McAvoy moment during my quick hit on HuffPost Live yesterday.

I had been asked on to talk about the Kate Middleton topless pictures but it turned out that the segment I was featured in was largely devoted to talking to The Insider's Kevin Frazier about the state of celebrity journalism and who he liked at the upcoming Emmys. At two points -- not one but two -- Frazier touted the fact that Kris Jenner had personally given him a direct line to her, saying, "You know, Kev, if you ever have a question about my family, just pick up the phone and call." Again, he mentioned this twice because it was apparently just that important.

The first possible response that popped into my head upon hearing this, which I would've said had I wanted to be a complete dick, was, "Really, Kev? Kris Jenner told a celebrity news reporter that she's available at any time to promote her family? That's totally unusual -- you must have some serious clout." (The second possible response, had I really wanted to be a dick, was, "Kris Jenner gave an attractive black man her phone number. Go figure.")

Either way, this is where we are at the beginning of the 21st century in America: We're a culture ruled by the dumb-shit antics of reality TV stars. We watch them. We care what they do and what say. We have them on speed-dial. Which is why we fucking suck.

Overnight Mutation

Today's column for the Daily Banter returns, unfortunately, to the subject of Honey Boo Boo -- only this time I'm looking at it from a pop cultural perspective.

Here's an excerpt:

"What I didn’t bother getting into — because I admit I was too busy just being fucking furious at how close we now are to the kind of 'Ow, My Balls TV' featured in the entirely prescient 'Idiocracy' — was how the Honey Boo Boo clan’s path to instant stardom, morbid fascination, violent backlash and ultimate pop culture flameout is sure to follow the time-tested media model that we’ve come to expect by now."

Read the Rest Here

American Exceptionalism, My Ass

Today's column for the Daily Banter tries to reconcile our belief that we're the greatest country in the world with the fact that we produce television like Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.

Here's a short excerpt:

"I’m not going to make my case by citing our life-expectancy, our infant mortality rate, our educational standing in comparison to the rest of the civilized world, our median household income, the number of our citizens who are behind bars, any of that — though it would be easy. I’m simply going to tell you to look at this..."

Read the Rest Here

Quote of the Day

"I am not saying that 'Real Housewives' killed Russell Armstrong, or that its intrusions had some bearing on whatever happened between him and Taylor behind closed doors. But there is no universe in which appearing on a show like this could have helped them. There’s no universe in which one can defend 'Real Housewives' for the way it has dealt with this tragedy. And there’s no universe in which one can simply brush off the series as a guilty pleasure — not after watching the cast members, the producers and the network continue to exploit this catastrophe week in and week out. And anyone who watches a series like this for pleasure and discusses it as frivolous entertainment — as if it were a cooking or travel show or even a 'Jackass'-style stunt compendium, or worse still, as if the 'characters' weren’t actual people who agreed to let themselves be exploited and distorted by television — is 'guilty,' indeed."

-- Salon's Matt Zoller Seitz in a scathing piece on the completely-without-merit cultural abomination that is The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and its decision to play the suicide of one of its cast-members for cheap drama

I've said before that, besides maybe E! or MTV, Bravo offers the most repugnant and shameful programming on network television -- making it the most repugnant and shameful network on television. I realize it's de riguer for anyone with even a shred of respectability and intelligence that he or she values to decry reality TV dog-shit like The Real Housewives, but I can't stress enough how all the indignation in the world from decent people won't stop the proliferation of this kind of sickening awfulness. And that's why I think it's time for some good, old-fashioned 2x4s to the faces of these vapid, horrid women and the vulturine producers who both prey on and elevate them. Consider it the nuclear option from Aliens: It's the only way to be sure.

Quote of the Day

Equally excellent, just for different reasons, is the following one from comic Rob Delaney -- who says he's going to sue Kim Kardashian, E! and Ryan Seacrest, the executive producer of the inescapable culture-bomb that is the Kardashian Reality TV empire. Here's how Delaney imagines the horseshit Kardashian "fairy tale" wedding was pitched:

"I know! We’ll have Kim get married! It’ll be a ratings bonanza! We’ll bludgeon the populace with billboards and commercials, build it up across our 14 execrable spinoffs, hire some psychologists to help Kim and Kompany approximate the appearance of human emotion as they navigate the wedding preparation, split the actual wedding over two interminable episodes—even accompany them on the honeymoon! And the best part is, it doesn’t even have to be real! We’ll have Kris (Humphries, not Kris Jenner, Kim’s mom (though having her marry her own mom once ratings start to slide IS a great idea!!!)) sign a pre-nup that is also a non-disclosure agreement AND a waiver stating that if he even talks in his sleep about the 'marriage’s' details, he’ll be beaten, drugged, and given a facelift from the same doctor who did Bruce Jenner, and then forced to walk the Earth terrifying children and animals for eternity.'"

When the guillotines are finally erected at the corner of Wall and Broad, I think the entire Kardashian family should be the inaugural event -- as a test run, opening act and simply because they really do represent the shameless and relentless pursuit of a profitable "brand" as well as everything that's detestable about the American privileged class at the start of the 21st century.

Again, Takei sums up the Kardashian family best:

Headline of the Week

The Huffington Post: Ted Haggard, Gary Busey On 'Celebrity Wife Swap'/9.22.11

Well, if you were wondering what the end of civilization would look like -- here it is.

Feet, FAIL Me Now

I consider it a point of extraordinary pride that I've never watched two seconds of Dancing with the Stars.

Apparently, people care that the cast of "celebrity" hoofers for the new season of this cultural abomination has just been announced; it includes Rob Kardashian, Kristin Cavalarri, David Arquette, Carson Kressley, Ricki Lake, Chaz Bono and -- Nancy Grace.

Just -- wow.

The only other place you can find this motley a collection of washed-up, shallow, brain-dead, grotesquely freakish and outright dangerous nobodies right now is on the GOP presidential campaign trail.

Bonus Quote of the Day

"No, not a big fan (of reality TV). Like, forgive me, I don’t know if you’re friends with her — but who the hell is Kim Kardashian? Like, who are these people and why are they famous and why are they advertising things and being asked their opinions about things? I just don’t understand what these people did to be in a position of having everyone ask their opinions about stuff. I mean, if there’s something about her personality or something that she’s accomplished or her philosophy on something — but beyond that I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s actually frightening."

-- Edie Falco in New York Magazine

(via The Superficial)

DXM History Repeats: Television

As we celebrate our big DXM Fifth Birthday Jubilee by looking back on some of the best pieces of the last five years having to do with television, we turn our attention to the cultural affliction known as reality TV. This amusing little bit still generates a pretty good amount of e-mail and I've actually used it during one or two of the public speaking engagements I've had over the last couple of years. By the way, Kate -- the offer's still open. Now more than ever, as a matter of fact. Jesus, if they awarded Distinguished Service Crosses for suffering through cruel women -- particularly ones who couldn't stay faithful if you wrapped their ankles together with duct tape -- I'd be the most decorated veteran in America. Come on, Kate, my darling -- we were made for each other.

The DXM Fifth Birthday Jubilee

Topic: Reality TV

Number of Posts: 63

"An Open Letter To Kate Gosselin" (Originally Published, 8.27.09)

Dear Kate,

You don't know me, but I felt like I just had to reach out to you after watching your appearance on Larry King Live a few nights ago. I know you've been through a lot over the past several months: the cruel tabloid headlines, the negative assumptions about you, the betrayal, the impending divorce, seeing your estranged husband cavorting with whores in Ed Hardy t-shirts, your kids' refusal to sit the hell down and shut up when Mommy tells them to, people making fun of your haircut -- I know it's all been eating you alive inside and turning your well-established sense of self upside down. It's hurt me for so long to watch you held up for public ridicule -- to see the once-vainglorious Kate Gosselin reduced to groveling for mercy in the face of those who would take joy in knocking you from the pedestal you so richly deserve to sit atop. But when you looked right into Larry King's lifeless eyes (an act of incredible bravery in itself) and told him, "I'm lonely," well, that was all I could take.

I know you're in pain, Kate.

I know you feel like no one understands.

But I need you to know something -- I do.

That's why, right here and now, I want to tell you that there's someone in this world who gets you completely, who loves you entirely -- and who wants to be with you forever.

Me.

Yes, me.

A little about myself: I'm a 39-year-old underemployed writer and journalist with over ten years experience -- on and off -- dealing with women like yourself, Kate. Women others would call, well, let's just say "difficult." (Only the crassest and most Philistine would refer to your kind by that other word.) And let me be clear: When I say that I know how to "deal" with you, that's in no way meant to imply that I have an intact spine and would be willing to make an effective stand against you should I feel that you were trampling me underfoot and crushing my fragile ego. On the contrary, you can consider me already very well housebroken -- an easily malleable lump of human wet clay that will never so much as raise his voice to you when you publicly emasculate him for not picking out the right paint color for the living room or maybe rubbing your feet clockwise instead of counter-clockwise at the end of the day.

Life with me would be the Kate Show all the way. My balls are well accustomed to that particularly cold area at the back of the refrigerator anyway; why break with tradition?

Speaking of shows, I have a couple of children of my own. Just think of the possibilities: Kate and WHO? + 8 + 2. It would be like The Brady Bunch for Generation Meth.

I even think you're really hot. No joke. You're a total babe. I don't even think it's important that you, for once, stand up straight.

Katie, my sweet, you don't have to be lonely anymore. I ask only that you please think about my offer. I honestly believe that if you give it a little serious consideration, you'll come to the only possible conclusion -- that I'm the man for you. I have the skill, the will, and, most importantly, the complete lack of self-respect in the face of a spiteful woman -- and I'm totally ready to be the next Mr. Kate Gosselin.

Hey, I used to produce for Ashleigh Banfield.

I Love You,

Chez : )

(For entertainment purposes only. Not meant to either A) endear myself to Kate Gosselin, or B) cast aspersion on anyone who's been in my life over the past decade or so -- except maybe Banfield.)

Food Fighter

I'm always willing to cop to my somewhat retrogressive knee-jerk reactions, so here goes.

Last night I happened to catch a few minutes of the season premiere of chef Jamie Oliver's ABC reality series, Food Revolution. The basic premise of the show is that Jamie travels across America doing essentially the same thing he's become both famous and notorious for in his native Britain: trying to educate people about the dangers of the processed foods they're eating and drag them, kicking and screaming if necessary, toward a more healthy diet, all in the name of combating the dreaded "obesity epidemic." It should surprise no one that Jamie concentrates a substantial portion of his effort on what kids eat -- specifically what schools feed to kids. Obviously at face value this is an inarguably noble cause.

It should be said that I'm actually a big fan of Jamie Oliver's. I used to watch his BBC show The Naked Chef semi-religiously; I bought several of his cookbooks and I always admired not only his technique as a chef but his philosophy of teaching people to cook rather than simply training them to adhere to recipes and mimic styles. In other words, I'm always more than willing to give Jamie the benefit of the doubt. But something about the tone of last night's show, and maybe the show in general, really irked the hell out of me.

You'd be a fool to deny that we have a very serious problem with obesity -- particularly childhood obesity -- in this country. While I've argued plenty of times before about the media's irrepressibly giddy lust for slapping the term "epidemic" on any and every problem that affects a large enough group, there are far too many obscenely overweight people across this great land of ours and if you think it's simply a personal decision that affects no one but them and the Wal-Mart scooters whose suspension systems they push to the point of collapse, think again; the fact is that you and I ultimately pay for the health issues all that weight brings with it, even if we're not the ones packing on the pounds (which statistics say we likely are at this point). We pay via higher health insurance premiums, higher prices from businesses forced to either accommodate the obese or work around the days off from work they're inevitably forced to take, and more strain on Medicare. According to one statistic, if the obesity rate in this country continues to climb, by 2018 it will cost America $344 billion annually. So, yeah, it's our collective best interest as a nation to slim the hell down.

So why did it bug me to watch Jamie Oliver condescendingly castigate the owner of an independent restaurant in Los Angeles for having the temerity to serve milkshakes that contain actual ice cream as opposed to, say, yogurt and fruit? That's exactly what happened at one point, with Jamie seeming exasperated at the notion that someone would want to serve a customer a milkshake if that's what he or she orders. "That's not a milkshake; that's a smoothie," the restaurant owner says. "But why does it have to be? It's a milkshake," Jamie responds. I get that Jamie Oliver is undertaking the herculean task of trying to get us to change the way we think about the food we eat on a level that's DNA-deep, but I couldn't help but think that the hapless guy trying to run the restaurant aimed at, oh I don't know, giving people what they ask for, was right and his inquisitor from across the pond was wrong. People should be encouraged to buy smoothies rather than milkshakes; each of us should know what one can do to our health versus the other. But if somebody wants a milkshake, that person should be able to get a freaking milkshake. Once again, while there's an argument to be made that I'll eventually pay for the ingestion of too many shakes one way or the other, I'm not sure I or anyone else should be denied something that's harmless in moderation just because somebody else can't control him or herself and treats fatty foods like cocaine.

Jamie Oliver's biggest push, though, is something he and his army of acolytes have been following up for the last 14 hours or so via the circulation of a petition on Twitter. Jamie's white whale of the night -- one which keeps jumping out of the water as the series progresses -- was of course school cafeterias, mostly because they've got a captive audience and have a monumental impact on how someone's diet develops throughout his or her life. So what do Jamie & Co. want? No "sugary milk" in school cafeterias. In other words, they want to see chocolate milk, strawberry milk, any milk besides just plain old milk banned. Again, I get the argument that little good comes from giving kids milk that pumps them full of sugar and empty calories, but is an outright ban on it really the way to go? What about the child who just likes chocolate milk and can actually handle drinking a carton of it without ballooning into a mocha-colored Violet Beauregarde? At what point do we draw the line? At what point do we decide to stop protecting some at the expense of the legitimate desires of others?

I'm all for healthier options at America's schools; that and food education are musts at this point in our evolution as a nation. But there's a difference between an option and a mandate. And while it makes sense for Jamie Oliver and his Food Revolutionaries to fire all guns at once with the understanding that it may be what's required to effect even a small amount of necessary change, there's still something decidedly draconian about pushing to reflexively relieve us of our freedom of choice when it comes to what we eat.

Now, who's up for an In-N-Out Double-Double?

Related: DXM: Feast of Burden/11.25.09

The Name We Do Not Speak: Update

When it comes to why I made the personal decision to do my part to deprive a certain reality TV star of the oxygen she needs to survive (attention/media impressions) I rest my case.

Click here.

Shhh, you'll wake the baby.

Quote of the Day

"But best of all may be that The Real Housewives Of Miami will forever erase the unfair image that television has created of Miami as a corrupt hellhole of narco-traffickers, serial killers and transvestite porpoises. At last we will get recognition for our unacknowledged but indisputable achievements: Our indolent trashiness. Our incandescent superficiality. Our establishment, beyond the shadow of a scientific doubt, of the inverse ratio of breast silicone content and IQ points."

-- Miami Herald TV Critic Glenn Garvin

It was only a matter of time before they brought Real Housewives to my hometown. Setting a season of this vapid abomination in Miami is as obvious as sending the crew of Intervention to an Indian reservation.

Assistant To the Quote of the Day

"If we have to pay the Kardashians a million bucks to get back online, how much will it take to keep them off? "

-- Mary Elizabeth Williams, summing up perfectly the irony of tomorrow's planned "Digital Life Sacrifice," in which several already overexposed celebrities will boycott their own Facebook and Twitter accounts, essentially going dark, until one million dollars is raised for charity

Quote of the Day

"You're running your mouth just to talk shit... Your such a faggot... Sorry that all you guys are jealous of my families success and you guys aren't goin to go anywhere with your lives."

-- 16-year-old Willow Palin via her mother's official press secretariat, Facebook, and continuing the Palin tradition of dignity, class and restraint

Willow apparently took offense to some of the taunts of her "friends" during the premiere episode of the Palins' new reality show on TLC earlier this week -- that would be the reality show not currently airing 24/7 in real reality (and if the Charlie Kaufman-esque meta-Mobius strip doesn't have you dizzy by now, you apparently own stock in Dramamine).

There's probably going to be a lot of talk about the supposed homophobic slurs being angrily volleyed by young Willow -- who, if you need a Palin clan refresher course isn't the chunky one on Dancing with the Stars and isn't the one with Down Syndrome -- but my favorite part of the above quote is actually the kid's defiantly condescending shot at everyone who didn't have the arbitrary good fortune of having a desperate septuagenarian cynically pick their mom out of obscurity and hand her a winning ticket in the pop culture Powerball. Oh yeah, and everyone who doesn't have a mother whose naked ambition and self-obsession is so all-consuming that she'll do just about anything to keep her and her Beverly Hillbilly brood in the spotlight.

By the way, and I know I'll catch hell for this but it was honestly the first thing that came to mind: Now that Willow's 16, and from the picture above a rather attractive 16 at that, how long before she follows in her family's reality TV evolutionary footsteps and winds up "accidentally" posting naked pictures -- or a sex tape -- of herself on the internet?

Quote of the Day

"I can't think of anyone more compelling than Sarah Palin to tell the story of Alaska. I'm thrilled to reunite with Discovery on this project, which brings together one of the most fascinating figures of our time with one of the most wondrous places on earth."

-- Reality TV Svengali Mark Burnett on getting the greenlight from TLC for eight episodes of Sarah Palin's Alaska

Oh, come on, like you didn't know from the beginning that this was her destiny. This dingbat's entire existence has been a bad reality show for years.

Now if we can just get the Octomom to run for president, the post-modern circle will meet at both ends and the portal to hell will open.

Spreading the Disease

I don't know, I'm pretty sure most of these countries can legitimately consider this a declaration of war.

The New York Times: MTV To Begin Marketing Jersey Shore to 30 Countries/3.22.10

I Heard the Balls on Christmas Day

Last year, I pleaded with parents and fans of decent music everywhere to take away the cellphones and computers of 'tweens in an effort to ensure that David Cook took the American Idol crown from willowy little frump David Archuleta.

The idea was twofold: to take a stand for decent music and at least relatively honest talent, and to put a steel-toed boot down on the neck of the 'tween hive-mind juggernaut that had basically taken the breadth of the pop culture landscape hostage.

I thought it was a pretty entertaining way to pass the time: casually crushing the dreams of a bunch of kids who were gonna eventually have to learn that life sucks anyway.

But my idea was amateur hour compared to the stroke of subversive genius a bunch of music fans just pulled in Britain.

The Huffington Post: Rage Against the Machine's Killing in the Name Takes Christmas #1 Spot in UK, Beating Reality TV Star's Cover of Miley Cyrus Song/12.21.09

If you've seen the movie Love, Actually, you get an idea how this works: Each year there's a battle for the top of the singles chart in Britain -- which is determined exclusively by the buying public -- to coincide with Christmas week. Almost every time, the winner is some manner of syrupy, inoffensive pop schlock like the Spice Girls or one of Simon Cowell's little creations that he spawned in a vat in the basement of his mansion. Well, this time around a couple of very clever Rage fans got on Facebook and started an organized campaign to use one of the most incendiary singles in modern rock history (come on, "Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me!" shouted over and over again?) to play a Project Mayhem-style prank on Christmas, Disney-approved pre-packaged pop and the eardrums of polite British society.

And it fucking worked.

Bravo, guys. I bow to you.

Now if you can just get Rage to play the song live from a boat on the Thames as it floats by during the Queen's Jubilee celebration, you'll be set.

Speaking of which, while I love every second of this, it doesn't change the fact that Rage Against the Machine -- a band that can admittedly be credited with recording some great stuff -- are basically still a bunch of pompous jackasses. Just read this hilariously over-the-top quote thanking their fans for making their big win on the British charts possible:

"This is a huge victory by and for fans of real music and we extend our heartfelt thanks to every fan and freedom fighter who helped make our anthem of defiance and rebellion the Anarchy Christmas Miracle of 2009."

Yup, that sounds like Rage. The people who got involved probably think of themselves as average folks who just got sick of hearing treacly crap at Christmas and spent a dollar or two to stick it to the Simon Cowell reality TV hit machine; to Zach and Company, they're Sandinistas coming out of the hills armed with AKs and wearing red armbands.

Sure, they could be kidding -- but when was the last time you heard Rage Against the Machine joke about anything?

Shit to Shore

I could watch this all day. Like, seriously, every minute of the day. I'm trying to get the GPS on my Blackberry to run this in a loop so that even while getting directions in my car I'll never miss a second of Snooki, the "Princess of Poughkeepsie," getting clocked in the face by some 'roid raged Guido who goes off on her like he was the Manchurian Candidate and there's a big Queen of Diamonds on her Ed Hardy hat.

As much as I hate reality TV, there's just no denying that MTV's Jersey Shore is special. It honest-to-God represents the final mile marker on the road to the end of Western civilization -- the nadir of the American empire and maybe the darkest hour of humanity itself. If this were Battlestar Galactica, the Cylons would nuke us all tomorrow morning just because of what Jersey Shore proves we've become: an irredeemably corrupt and immoral species that no longer deserves to live.

So, hey, kudos to you, MTV. You actually managed to somehow up the ante and find a group of people to build a show around even more subhumanly reprehensible than the cast of A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila.

Must the Show Go On?

You know, I swear to Christ, between Jon and Kate, the Octomom, those clowns the Heenes and their "Balloon Boy" and now these people -- a couple trying out for Bravo's The Real Housewives of D.C. who somehow managed to crash last week's White House state dinner -- just how much more is it going to take for America as a country to finally make the intelligent decision to ban reality TV altogether?

As cynical as I can be, I've always believed that if left to their own devices most people will generally -- though certainly not always -- do the right thing. And if they don't, there are usually enough of us around willing to either ostracize or kick the living crap out them until civilized society's demands are made crystal clear. But somehow reality television upset this delicate balance because watching the megalomaniacal human train wrecks eager to do anything -- seriously, anything -- for 15 minutes of fame is just too obsessively mesmerizing for anyone to stop what's become an ongoing, nonstop cycle of narcissistic self-expression and shameless self-indulgence.

So really, it might be time for some Benevolent Dictator at the top of the network or governmental totem pole to ban this vacuous horseshit outright -- before somebody shoots up a nursery school as a pitch for a potential new show on VH1 called The Flavor of Death.

Of course that would mean we'd likewise have to clamp down on the supposedly respectable news media that's also more than happy to create and perpetuate pseudo-celebrities. Things could get complicated.

Well, look -- if we are going to continue giving the thumbs-up to the cultural virus known as reality TV, might I at least suggest that on the next season of Survivor, we strand the White House Secret Service on an island somewhere?

Hot Air

If you're a half-intelligent viewer and you want a flawless example of how cable news organizations on the whole haven't just let you down, they've honest-to-Christ abandoned you, look no further than yesterday's wall-to-wall coverage of that patently ridiculous "balloon boy" story.

Much to her credit, Arianna Huffington hammered the hell out of MSNBC's Ed Schultz last night for his role in blowing a really stupid, thoroughly contrived reality TV-esque item way out of proportion.

The Huffington Post: A Funny Thing Happened On My Way To Talk About Afghanistan/10.15.09