Aaron Sheldon / Roundup
What happened to Tila Tequila’s first soul mate from season one of “A Shot At Love With Tila Tequila?” What about that of Bret Michaels from “Rock of Love?” And the unlucky bloke from “I Love New York?”
The sick portrayal of romance idolized by hundreds of thousands of teenagers is a twisted reflection of America’s values, which seem to be founded on an “entertainment first, integrity second” basis.
I have heard such reality TV shows described as “entertaining renditions of real-life situations.” If this is anything close to the truth, then I am embarrassed to even own a television.
Reality television isn’t an entirely flawed concept. While viewers may not be able to see what goes on behind the scenes of such competition shows as “Fear Factor” and “America’s Next Top Model”, the viewer undoubtedly takes something away – whether it be a disgusting and daring consumption of a repulsive insect, or a photo shoot that stimulates the viewer’s artistic side.
Even “American Idol” entertains viewers, because they are listening to a live product. Viewers listen to unadulterated music, whether or not the results are tampered with. Don’t ask me.
It’s the “storyline drama” shows that make my blood boil. Whether I hear people converse about them or stumble across feedback online, merely witnessing other people take these faux-romance shows seriously is, simply put, mentally degrading.
As long as success is determined by the viewership of easily dazzled teenagers and nosy, dramatic wannabe socialites, then this brain-numbing filth will only continue to develop into newer and more controversial avenues to corrupt the most sacred human values.
I commend the producers of these shows; they certainly know how to get their bills paid. However, I equate them to weapons dealers, caring more for the buck than for the result of the bang.