Even More Unsolicited Musings From JG2′s TV Viewing Journal: Reality Junk Food Edition

“House Hunters”: The title of this program is in no way ambiguous. It’s literally a show where people tour various real estate properties and try to figure out which kitchen is big/pretty enough to accommodate their boring lifestyle. Usually the subjects are young married couples, but the most recent episode I caught featured a single mother and her ten year old son. All the kid cared about was having a pool, so his input was useless. He didn’t seem too upset when Mom chose the house with nothing but dust in the backyard. Maybe he was in denial. Maybe this “House Hunters” ep will be ground zero for his nervous breakdown at nineteen. Keep your eyes on the crime blotter, Arizona residents.

“The Bachelorette”: Twenty-some odd men compete for holy matrimony with one woman via a series of brief one-on-one encounters and various feats of strength (they had a sailboat race in the last episode). Somewhere along the line I stopped paying attention to Emily the Bachelorette’s rose-based reward system so I could zero in on which guys were gay and just there for the free vacation. You gotta figure at least two of ’em, right? If not I feel even more ashamed to be a straight male.

“Undercover Boss”: Strangely captivating for formulaic crap. Every episode is the same. CEO of some company is excited to “pull a fast one” on his/her lowly underlings by wearing a fake mustache and working the fryulator; CEO gets down in the trenches and realizes it’s been too long since they’ve ventured beyond the driveway of their McMansion; CEO bonds with a few lowly underlings, decides to give them each at least $50k to live their dream of going to college or seeing a Giants game from the Skybox. Hey Arby’s Boss, I burned my hand on one of your ovens in 1998 because I was a dumb college kid who never got to live his dream of being the first person from Connecticut to skydive over Moldavia on Christmas morning to spread a message of peace and love. Give me fifty grand.

“Shark Tank”: A panel of rich jerks summon struggling inventors into an ornate Bond villain-esque layer and gives them each approximately fifteen minutes to explain why their best idea is worth a sizable investment. This show is must-see TV if you enjoy watching average Americans sweat. Sure, your interchangeable neon bikini concept seemed like a surefire win when you were drunk around the dinner table in Wichita a month ago, but now you’ve got Marc Cuban’s pumpkin face staring you down, incredulous that you haven’t actually sold swimsuit one despite having invested your kid’s entire college fund into this phantom clothing line. How spontaneous combustion isn’t a regular issue on this program I’ll never know.