You know, I swear to Christ, between Jon and Kate, the Octomom, those clowns the Heenes and their "Balloon Boy" and now these people -- a couple trying out for Bravo's The Real Housewives of D.C. who somehow managed to crash last week's White House state dinner -- just how much more is it going to take for America as a country to finally make the intelligent decision to ban reality TV altogether?
As cynical as I can be, I've always believed that if left to their own devices most people will generally -- though certainly not always -- do the right thing. And if they don't, there are usually enough of us around willing to either ostracize or kick the living crap out them until civilized society's demands are made crystal clear. But somehow reality television upset this delicate balance because watching the megalomaniacal human train wrecks eager to do anything -- seriously, anything -- for 15 minutes of fame is just too obsessively mesmerizing for anyone to stop what's become an ongoing, nonstop cycle of narcissistic self-expression and shameless self-indulgence.
So really, it might be time for some Benevolent Dictator at the top of the network or governmental totem pole to ban this vacuous horseshit outright -- before somebody shoots up a nursery school as a pitch for a potential new show on VH1 called The Flavor of Death.
Of course that would mean we'd likewise have to clamp down on the supposedly respectable news media that's also more than happy to create and perpetuate pseudo-celebrities. Things could get complicated.
Well, look -- if we are going to continue giving the thumbs-up to the cultural virus known as reality TV, might I at least suggest that on the next season of Survivor, we strand the White House Secret Service on an island somewhere?