Arthro-Pilates and Lupus





Addicted To Reality

“There is no reality, only perception” If you believe this statement to be true then clearly you have not been watching television lately! The world of make believe, where sitcoms used to reign supreme, has now become the world of reality.  With one fast click of the remote, at any time of any day, you will be able to find shows like The Bachelor, The Surreal Life, The Newlyweds, and of course the mother of all so-called “reality TV”, Survivor.

Now normally I would just ignore this onslaught of mind numbing nonsense that has inundated our airwaves, but I must admit that over the last few years I myself have become addicted to one show in particular. “American Idol”! Every Tuesday at 8 p.m. there I sit, popcorn in hand, glued to the screen, waiting for this years chosen wannabes to do a little two step, sing a little song, and impress me with their vocal finesse. Judges, Randy Jackson, Paula Abdul, and the ever disagreeable Simon Cowell, have me poised on the edge of my seat waiting for their post performance comments.  Simon say’s “Don’t touch that dial”! And I never do.  Inevitably I end up calling my sister and discussing the current week’s line-up.  Two middle-aged women feverishly debating whether it’s Bo or Constantine who should win the coveted prize is utterly depressing as the words “Get a Life” ring through my television induced infantile brain.

I knew I had a serious problem two years ago. Clay Aiken and Ruben Studdard were the finalists in 2003. Earlier that same year I had signed up at my local high school for a continuing education course in public speaking, but at the time of registration I failed to note that the designated evening for study was Tuesday! Being the sensible woman that I am, I knew that this would not be a problem. Attending class was more important than watching a television show. Obviously not! That year, as I faithfully watched, Ruben won the prestigious title of American Idol and I couldn’t help but hope that his final song would be “What Kind Of Fool Am I”, in salute to me and in reverence to the fact that apparently, I can’t record on VHS. I am presently convinced, that even if, Prime Minister Martin, were to call me, in an effort to discuss the state of Canadian politics during the airing of “Idol” I would be forced to put him on hold.

After all, I am more interested in Paula’s comments than Paul’s. Besides, I already voted in all government elections, and I now must vote for my American Idol, “so please don’t tie up the phone line!” It seems that I’ve been Simonized! Let’s face it! We all love a good old-fashioned talent show! My fascination of the genre started in the 1960’s when CHCH-TV aired Tiny Talent Time. The host, “Uncle” Bill Lawrence was the forefather of today’s Ryan Seacrest minus the tinted blonde hair and as a child I was equally glued to the “telly”. In later years, it was “Ed MacMahon’s Star Search”, which produced, today’s uuba pop stars Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake.  Even then, I watched in excited anticipation to see who would be crowned “winner”.

Unfortunately with American Idol, results aren’t announced until the following night. Another evening gone! I suppose after all’s said and done, being addicted to one reality show, given the onslaught of similar viewing on today’s television, isn’t so bad. Although, I must admit that I have watched a little of “The Amazing Race” that immediately follows “Idol”. It’s a slippery slope!


©Lori Weisbrod


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