Special Guest Columnist: Weasel, The Puppy Born Without Ears, Is Sick Of This Reality-Show Nonsense

From time to time, Idolator solicits commentaries from the general public. And once again, we’re briefly turning the site over to Weasel, the puppy born without ears. Weasel has some interesting things to say, and we hope you’ll make him feel right at home.

Hello, I am Weasel, the puppy born without ears.

I have no ears.

And because of my not-having-ears lifestyle, I do not subscribe to many magazines. Why would I want to see print advertisements featuring pictures of young, happy, hearing-equipped dogs? Seeing them only reminds me of the scar-like lines at the top of my forehead, the flaps of skin that, if nature had ruled in my favor, eventually would have sprouted ears.

Sigh.

That said, I never miss my monthlies, and I was very excited by the new issue of the Atlantic, especially the article in defense of reality-TV shows, because it was written by VH1’s Michael Hirschorn. How nice that must be, to have a national forum in which to plug your own shows! I mean, I am only a newborn puppy–one who relies on visual cues and flashes of light for my communication–and even I knew that was sort of iffy!

Anyhoo, here are some of the main points of the article:

– Reality shows have the “visceral impact of documentary reportage without the self-importance and general lugubriousness.” – They also “[present] some of the most vital political debate in America, particularly about class and race.” – Oh, and people who don’t like reality TV have succumbed to “snobbery, usually of the generational variety. People under 30, in my experience, tend to embrace this programming; they’re happy to be entertained, never mind the purity of conception.”

There are several ways to respond to this article, which is the most delusional piece of unchecked egomania since Apples the Cat wrote about his infamous “Me, Ow” essay in Cat Fancy. For example, I could point out that for all the “documentary reportage” Hirschorn brags about, his Dice Undisputed show is so pre-packaged and pre-planned, it’s borderline fraudulent. Or I could ask what kind of “class and race issues” were discussed in My Fair Brady or Surreal Life: Fame Games. Or I could point out that maybe people who criticize the genre aren’t necessarily snobs, but just people who find a lot of the programs to be shoddily produced and L.C.D.-dwelling–especially when those shows are foisted upon us by fauxbrow TV execs.

But instead I will just say this: Flavor Flav pooped on the rug.

I realize, of course, that it wasn’t actually Flavor Flav who pooped on the rug during the second season of Flavor Of Love, a show Hirschorn produced. But the wording just flows better. And so I ask that when you read the article, every time Hirschorn makes the case that his programs are secretly smart, just add this little aside: “I produced the show where Flavor Flav pooped on the rug.” It adds about another 300 words or so to the story, but it’s a zangy 300 words, and you will not grow as crazy as I did while reading it, wishing only that I possessed long, wraparound ears–the kind you see on cartoon beagles–with which to cover my eyes.

Woof!

WTPBWE

The Case for Reality TV [The Atlantic]