Small minds discuss people. Average minds discuss events. Great minds discuss ideas.
– Eleanor Roosevelt
The explosion of mindless ‘reality’ television has talking heads decrying the state of culture and intellectualism in the United States. They point to shows that glorify the objectification of women like The Girls Next Door; shows that exploit the fat, the addicted, or the vain like Biggest Loser, Celebrity Rehab, America’s Next Top Model, or, to hit the trifecta, The Real World; shows that some claim denigrate entire cultures like The Jersey Shore. Television personalities tell us how disgusting these shows are, how its amazing that anyone could watch such drivel, right after they finish updating us on what Lindsay Lohan’s up to.
Defenders of such entertainment celebrate the escapism and the mindlessness: it’s an easy way to unwind after a long days work, they say. Besides, no one is getting hurt here: those willing to degrade themselves on national television know what they’re in for, and may be paid handsomely if their train wreck is horrific enough for people to stop and gawk at. In return, we get to point and laugh and feel superior about ourselves for 21 minutes at a time. That is, after all, why we tune in. “Hey, I may not have earned $100 million as a young, hot, music sensation, but at least I’m not flashing my crotch at the paparazzi, shaving my head, and losing custody of my kids, right? So what if I’m a 40 year old video clerk living in a studio apartment? I’m looking a whole lot better than that…”
These shows have become so pervasive, so ingrained in our culture, we now have shows dedicated entirely to catching you up on everything you’ve missed out on during the week. If you didn’t have time to watch 21 minutes worth of losers being losers, worry not: The Soup will not only fill you in on what’s happened, so you have something to talk to your friends about. It will also make fun of those shows, in case you’ve become so accustomed to train wrecks that you forgot why we used to stop and look. That’s right, there’s a legion of shows dedicated to making fun of what exists solely to be made fun of. It’s like Cliff Notes for a Dr. Suess book. Mindlessness squared.
And this, more than anything, serves as the final mile-marker on our generation’s, our country’s, perhaps, road to Gossipville. Shows like the Soup exist because people want them: millions of Americans are content to put their minds in neutral, watch season after season of losers being losers, of morons doing moronic things, of bad people behaving badly. They want to make fun, to feel better about themselves, and to bond with their friends over their opinions of losers, morons, and degenerates. Spoken as words of etiquette and inspiration, never have Mrs. Roosevelt’s words been more of an indictment.
Ironically, it’s etiquette, in part, that engenders these shows to society. It’s far easier to bond with so-called friends over your disdain for Britney Spears. After all, no one has a different opinion about the woman. Talented? Eh. Showman? Sure. Nutcase? Yep. You’ll never have a blowout with your girlfriend, or your neighbors, or your extended family while discussing the sanity, or even morals, of Hollywood’s newest starlet. It’s the ultimate icebreaker, the can’t-miss topic that, thanks to The Soup and its brethren, everybody knows about and everyone feels the same about.
Sure such instant commonality is comforting, and even useful. But when it becomes as pervasive as it has, it’s poisonous. In many cases, friends have become, to borrow a phrase from Chuck Palahniuk, single serving. We may meet them more than once, but what we share may go no deeper than what we would share with the guy in the window seat on our next flight. We were taught to never discuss money, religion, or politics at dinner, but now we rarely discuss more than people at any time, with anyone.
During the last season of survivor I was inundated with commercials about “The Most Evil Player in Survivor History!” “Can he manipulate his way to $1,000,000?” “Watch him stab these dumb blonds in the back!” You know it’s bad when someone with Tivo can’t even escape the onslaught. At a dinner party during that season, Survivor, inevitably, came up during conversation. Russell, the most evil player in Survivor History quickly became the topic of conversation. Instead of talking about what an asshole Russell was, or how he manipulated blond girl #2, the conversation quickly moved to the concept of Survivor itself, an event, and then on to reality television, as an idea. More discussion about related, and unrelated, ideas followed, some of which will certainly make people at that table money, all of which made people at that table think.
By getting off people, and onto ideas, the conversation was not only livelier and deeper, it was uninterrupted. There were no awkward pauses: I don’t know shit about Russell or Survivor, so when that conversation ended, somebody would have to introduce a new topic. But, everyone can talk about an idea, or how this idea fits with that idea. Ideas are all-inclusive.
Plus, you’ll likely learn something about your friends you didn’t know before. Including whether you’re actually friends.
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