I somehow got sucked into the car accident they call "The Surreal Life" season two. I could not avert my eyes no matter how I tried. I laughed, I cried, I realized my path to hell was paved by the producers of this show. I WILL NOT watch it again, no matter how you try to convince me. I don't care if Peter Brady hooks up with America's Top Model. I don't care if Mini-Me is going to get naked and pee in the corner again. I am not a better person for having watched that show. Brent put it best, "There's one hour of our lives we won't get back."
Since then, I've been channel surfing between "Wickedly Perfect" (I'm actually enjoying this) and some religious channel featuring a show "Making Healthy Choices." The three on this show are handing out medical advice to callers with some pretty serious problems. They are peddling vitamins and minerals and books. One caller has blood clots and wants to get pregnant. The answer? Minerals and some joint remedy. Another woman has a very ill son, the answer? The big variety pack ($400) and prayer.
I am scared. Scared for these poor callers taking this advice and handing over this kind of money. I'm also a little scared that there are people out there who would be facing such problems and turn to TV hosts for sage advice. If they are real, these callers must be so desperate to be calling this show. What's more, the woman (who is the author of such titles as "The Diet Bible") looks very much like she and Joan Rivers share the same plastic surgeon. For someone who is promoting natural remedies, the face lift looks rather suspect (unless she can credit it to minerals, then sign me up -- not!).
Yup, it's true, TV rots the brain.
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