I'm A Supermodel Apologist

When did "reality" TV get so unavoidable? I remember the good old days ... I was free to heap scorn upon The Real World and other shows of its ilk for being meaningless drivel that only the most vapid of teenage girls could be induced to watch. And while I hated the programming itself, I loved how elitist I felt by not watching. It was a win-win.

Take The Real World, turn up the attractiveness a notch and make all the challenges about walking around in your underwear, and you've got Make Me A Supermodel ... and I'll eat it with a spoon.

Yummy.

It helps that they're up front about it. I mean, episode one had the models wearing swimsuits (and for two lucky contestants, thongs) down the catwalk.

You can't tell, but his butt cheeks are hanging out.

The third episode had them doing boudoir shots.

Afterwards ... *uncomfortable silence*
"How about those girls? Pretty hot."
"So hot. I love tits."

If anyone is taking this show seriously at this point, I despair for the future of humanity. Sure, it's nominally a competition. But the audience votes on who in the bottom three gets eliminated ... via TEXT MESSAGING. When I heard that, something broke inside my brain and I found myself genuinely intrigued by Make Me A Supermodel.

My #1 pick: Jacki. Of course, I like ears that stick out a little bit.

Maybe that's the key to enjoying reality TV - giving up. Giving up on meaning and going full-force for entertainment. Realizing that reality TV has nothing to do with reality, and everything to do with ratings. What healthy red-blooded individual wouldn't want to see extremely hot people crawling all over each other? And what lazy, thick-headed TV blogger wouldn't want an excuse to spam you with pictures of attractive models?

Now that's a win-win.