Where’s My Reality Show?

What motivates you through your days? It seems to me that if we were to measure our lives by the popularity of our “reality” shows, there is much about ourselves to be revealed. Our ability to manufacture celebrities is astounding. As an artist, my own dreams are modest. I don’t imagine I’ll ever be presented with an opportunity to “sell out,” because I think you probably first have to attain some level of success to even be tempted by anything that could be defined as selling out. And among all of my personal heroes, really, nobody knows who they are. What does that mean? How come I am forced to participate in discussions involving the latest American Idol, the latest Celebrity Apprentice, the latest True Beauty, the latest Biggest Loser. Why must I subject myself to these programs just so I can have conversations with other people? And how come second-place losers can still achieve platinum-selling careers while creating the most vapid, useless music? And at what personal cost? And why? One of the dopes on True Beauty said that he really hoped he would win because he said it was about time that the world heard what it was that he had to say. That the world needed to know who he was because he had so much to say. And, while saying this, he actually said nothing at all and I wondered who the fuck does that guy think he is and what the fuck could he possibly have to say that would be of any importance or interest to anyone? But Donald Trump makes me laugh. That guy is a comedian. The witticisms he offers week after week: “I hate people that drive under the influence.” “I hate people that smell.” Brilliant.