I have come to the conclusion that the world is divided into two groups of people, those who love tv reality shows and those who despise them. Actually no! Let's make that three groups: those who love reality shows, those who hate reality shows, and those who want to be IN a reality show. Think me treble-minded if you like, but I am in a fourth group, and you may become a member of my group if you like. We are members of the LOVE SOME HATE SOME TV REALITY SHOW WATCHERS!!
My personal hates include the Jerry Springer type brawl'n'curse'n'rip your opponent's hair out while the audience bays lustily for blood type of show. Included in this genre of voyeuristic exhibition of human degeneracy are those shows which "reveal" who slept with whom behind someone else's back, who is secretly engaging in nefarious activities, and who is about to undergo a gender transforming surgical procedure, often on camera. The fact that these shows have huge followings doesn't say much for the theory of evolution!
By contrast, and even though I know that the "reality" in these shows is a matter of selective editing, I confess an addiction to shows like Survivor. I am fully aware that the cast of sixteen characters is chosen to be exactly that, i.e. A CAST in a show, but this doesn't deter me. Some unfortunate blonde has been chosen to be the bimbo, especially if she has had the brains to make money from her considerable beauty, and become a professional model while still young enough to profit from her genetic windfall. She will have her utterances on the show edited so as to make every remark sound totally inane, even if this means cutting her answers in half. I can imagine it.
HIDDEN CAMERAMAN: "What do you think will happen if a storm blows up and you haven't built your shelter yet?"
BLONDE BIMBO: "At this stage of the game I imagine it would be every man or woman for himself or herself. I may try to find a cosy cave and see if I can find shelter there. It would be better than spending the night in the open, getting drenched, but I am sure the whole team will come up with a solution."
RESPONSE ON SHOW: "Every man find cosy shelter...." accompanied by a close-up of cleavage, and if possible, a smile in the direction of THE HUNK!
THE HUNK may or may not have a degree in chemical engineering, while in his spare time he trains for ironman competitions. He has very white teeth, a six-pack envied by every other male on the show, and considerable charm. He is also THE ALPHA MALE, and is therefore a threat to his entire tribe. Naturally, in this "reality show", these two are cast in predetermined roles, and like pawns on a chessboard, they are manoeuvred into playing them out for the viewing audience. My point in this is that a "reality show" is anything but!
Nevertheless I am an avid watcher of Survivor, The Amazing Race (with its own cast of pre-assigned characters), and all the talent search shows on offer. Along with millions of others, I watched reruns of the UK show BRITAIN'S GOT TALENT, when Susan Boyle stunned the judges, the audience, and the watching world with her rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" from "Les Miserables". I am not sure what gripped us more; the soaring, heavenly notes proceeding from the mouth of a frumpy, 47 year old Scottish woman whom everyone expected to embarrass herself, or the pained expressions of judges Simon Cowell or Piers Morgan giving way to open-mouthed astonishment, and then onto a standing ovation. The fact that she didn't emerge as the winner is not important. She has become a worldwide singing sensation, like Paul Potts before her. He was the shy and very unprepossessing salesman who startled the world with his beautiful operatic aria the previous year. Susan Boyle and Paul Potts have had their teeth and hair expensively fixed, and have been dressed by society's finest. Their outward appearance is now much more compatible with the sounds emanating from their extraordinary larynxes, and sows' ears now look a lot more like silk purses. But the true joy of reality shows is epitomized by these two precious people. No one expected to find anything worthwhile in those two vessels, but indeed the pearls were there in the oysters, waiting to be discovered.
But the prize of all shows is POP IDOLS. In South Africa we watch AMERICAN IDOL, and as if that were not enough to enthrall or horrify, we have our very own SOUTH AFRICAN IDOL to keep us entertained. And entertaining it is! I have friends who find it humanly impossible to watch the early rounds, because they are considerably more compassionate than I am. For the uninitiated, tens of thousands of hopefuls fill stadia in several cities, often spending nights in the open air, all in hope of getting past the audition stage, and into the top hundred or so singers invited to HOLLYWOOD WEEK if they are in America, and some other less iconic venue in South Africa. After a week of torture, as one by one they fall by the wayside, the final ten or twelve are selected by the judges to be paraded on tv as the possible NEXT AMERICAN/SOUTH AFRICAN IDOL. At this stage the viewing audience spend vast amounts of money voting each week to keep their favourite in the competition. My own view is that although it would make the sponsors a lot less money, it would be more fair to vote OFF the worst singer each week. As it stands, whoever has the widest or richest fan base wins the most number of votes. Eventually someone, and not always the best singer, emerges victorious, and a new star is born, only to be eclipsed by next year's instant celebrity.
The reason my compassionate friends cannot watch the early rounds is because to make the show interesting, the fiendish tv moguls parade before our eyes and ears the most deluded of all human beings. These are people who have no idea that they can not only NOT sing, they should be held criminally liable for even trying, let alone spending many hours waiting to audition, confident that they ARE, indeed, the NEXT IDOL. Sounds that defy my limited ability to describe, issue forth from a variety of human throats, and our response to these sounds is what separates us, the viewers, into one of the groups I alluded to in my first paragraph. The group that hate reality shows squirm with embarrassment and compassion. I, on the other hand, roll around with amusement, often pausing the tv in order to run off to find someone to share the moment with me. I am really sorry if that seems cruel to you. It isn't! Any person who confidently sings into a microphone on camera deserves whatever reaction they get. I am fully aware of what I sound like, so I speak with full authority when I say that! Added to this lunacy is the fact that many of these deceived individuals exhibit a confidence in their ability that defies reason. I have often wondered if their family and friends are deaf or equally deluded to allow them to enter at all. Many contestants, in their eagerness to stand out from the crowd, dress in outlandish get-ups that add to the freakshow carnival which is what the early round auditions comprise.
So I was thinking of my life, and how God sees me, as opposed to how I see myself, or how the world sees me. Or you! I live amazed that God would view me as any more than a very untalented and deluded Idols contestant, as I paraded my ignorance of truth confidently before the world, asserting that reincarnation and other lies were the answer to life's questions. The more deceived I was, the more vociferously I declared my own wisdom. I don't know what you did before you got to know Him. I just know that while the world watched and waited for us to make utter fools of ourselves, He turned to His Son and said, "Wait till you hear THIS voice come out of that unlikely looking creature, and you will know what you died to redeem!"
I am so glad He saved you and me and every other hopeful audionee, aren't you?
My personal hates include the Jerry Springer type brawl'n'curse'n'rip your opponent's hair out while the audience bays lustily for blood type of show. Included in this genre of voyeuristic exhibition of human degeneracy are those shows which "reveal" who slept with whom behind someone else's back, who is secretly engaging in nefarious activities, and who is about to undergo a gender transforming surgical procedure, often on camera. The fact that these shows have huge followings doesn't say much for the theory of evolution!
By contrast, and even though I know that the "reality" in these shows is a matter of selective editing, I confess an addiction to shows like Survivor. I am fully aware that the cast of sixteen characters is chosen to be exactly that, i.e. A CAST in a show, but this doesn't deter me. Some unfortunate blonde has been chosen to be the bimbo, especially if she has had the brains to make money from her considerable beauty, and become a professional model while still young enough to profit from her genetic windfall. She will have her utterances on the show edited so as to make every remark sound totally inane, even if this means cutting her answers in half. I can imagine it.
HIDDEN CAMERAMAN: "What do you think will happen if a storm blows up and you haven't built your shelter yet?"
BLONDE BIMBO: "At this stage of the game I imagine it would be every man or woman for himself or herself. I may try to find a cosy cave and see if I can find shelter there. It would be better than spending the night in the open, getting drenched, but I am sure the whole team will come up with a solution."
RESPONSE ON SHOW: "Every man find cosy shelter...." accompanied by a close-up of cleavage, and if possible, a smile in the direction of THE HUNK!
THE HUNK may or may not have a degree in chemical engineering, while in his spare time he trains for ironman competitions. He has very white teeth, a six-pack envied by every other male on the show, and considerable charm. He is also THE ALPHA MALE, and is therefore a threat to his entire tribe. Naturally, in this "reality show", these two are cast in predetermined roles, and like pawns on a chessboard, they are manoeuvred into playing them out for the viewing audience. My point in this is that a "reality show" is anything but!
Nevertheless I am an avid watcher of Survivor, The Amazing Race (with its own cast of pre-assigned characters), and all the talent search shows on offer. Along with millions of others, I watched reruns of the UK show BRITAIN'S GOT TALENT, when Susan Boyle stunned the judges, the audience, and the watching world with her rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" from "Les Miserables". I am not sure what gripped us more; the soaring, heavenly notes proceeding from the mouth of a frumpy, 47 year old Scottish woman whom everyone expected to embarrass herself, or the pained expressions of judges Simon Cowell or Piers Morgan giving way to open-mouthed astonishment, and then onto a standing ovation. The fact that she didn't emerge as the winner is not important. She has become a worldwide singing sensation, like Paul Potts before her. He was the shy and very unprepossessing salesman who startled the world with his beautiful operatic aria the previous year. Susan Boyle and Paul Potts have had their teeth and hair expensively fixed, and have been dressed by society's finest. Their outward appearance is now much more compatible with the sounds emanating from their extraordinary larynxes, and sows' ears now look a lot more like silk purses. But the true joy of reality shows is epitomized by these two precious people. No one expected to find anything worthwhile in those two vessels, but indeed the pearls were there in the oysters, waiting to be discovered.
But the prize of all shows is POP IDOLS. In South Africa we watch AMERICAN IDOL, and as if that were not enough to enthrall or horrify, we have our very own SOUTH AFRICAN IDOL to keep us entertained. And entertaining it is! I have friends who find it humanly impossible to watch the early rounds, because they are considerably more compassionate than I am. For the uninitiated, tens of thousands of hopefuls fill stadia in several cities, often spending nights in the open air, all in hope of getting past the audition stage, and into the top hundred or so singers invited to HOLLYWOOD WEEK if they are in America, and some other less iconic venue in South Africa. After a week of torture, as one by one they fall by the wayside, the final ten or twelve are selected by the judges to be paraded on tv as the possible NEXT AMERICAN/SOUTH AFRICAN IDOL. At this stage the viewing audience spend vast amounts of money voting each week to keep their favourite in the competition. My own view is that although it would make the sponsors a lot less money, it would be more fair to vote OFF the worst singer each week. As it stands, whoever has the widest or richest fan base wins the most number of votes. Eventually someone, and not always the best singer, emerges victorious, and a new star is born, only to be eclipsed by next year's instant celebrity.
The reason my compassionate friends cannot watch the early rounds is because to make the show interesting, the fiendish tv moguls parade before our eyes and ears the most deluded of all human beings. These are people who have no idea that they can not only NOT sing, they should be held criminally liable for even trying, let alone spending many hours waiting to audition, confident that they ARE, indeed, the NEXT IDOL. Sounds that defy my limited ability to describe, issue forth from a variety of human throats, and our response to these sounds is what separates us, the viewers, into one of the groups I alluded to in my first paragraph. The group that hate reality shows squirm with embarrassment and compassion. I, on the other hand, roll around with amusement, often pausing the tv in order to run off to find someone to share the moment with me. I am really sorry if that seems cruel to you. It isn't! Any person who confidently sings into a microphone on camera deserves whatever reaction they get. I am fully aware of what I sound like, so I speak with full authority when I say that! Added to this lunacy is the fact that many of these deceived individuals exhibit a confidence in their ability that defies reason. I have often wondered if their family and friends are deaf or equally deluded to allow them to enter at all. Many contestants, in their eagerness to stand out from the crowd, dress in outlandish get-ups that add to the freakshow carnival which is what the early round auditions comprise.
So I was thinking of my life, and how God sees me, as opposed to how I see myself, or how the world sees me. Or you! I live amazed that God would view me as any more than a very untalented and deluded Idols contestant, as I paraded my ignorance of truth confidently before the world, asserting that reincarnation and other lies were the answer to life's questions. The more deceived I was, the more vociferously I declared my own wisdom. I don't know what you did before you got to know Him. I just know that while the world watched and waited for us to make utter fools of ourselves, He turned to His Son and said, "Wait till you hear THIS voice come out of that unlikely looking creature, and you will know what you died to redeem!"
I am so glad He saved you and me and every other hopeful audionee, aren't you?
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