Moment of Truth for Project America's Next Top Idol

Man do I miss football.

Yeah, yeah, I know: But J., it's spring training and the Mets signed Johan! (As in Johan Santana, the left-handed, former Minnesota Twins pitcher who deigned to sign a six-year $137.5 million dollar contract, whose first start with his new team yesterday, against the St. Louis Cardinals, was less than auspicious.)

Sorry bat boys and ball girls, but I just can't get excited about a bunch of overpaid, hormone- and/or steroid-injected, lying millionaires who just happen to be very good at swinging a bat and fielding a baseball. (The whole "Clemens Goes to Congress" made-for-TV movie, I mean, hearing, was beyond depressing, in its own right and for the sport of baseball.) Yes, I will probably wind up watching a game or two or two dozen, but regular season is still a month off, and I need something mindless to fill my time and soothe me after a day of pounding the keyboard.

Which brings me to today's topic: "reality" shows.

Whose reality, I have no idea. It's like those musicals from the 1930s and 1940s where people just spontaneously broke out into song -- and elaborately staged dance numbers. "Hey kids! Why don't we put on a show?!"

Now I LOVE old musicals, and shows like "The Love Boat," but not for a second do I believe their plots -- nor does (or did) anyone really expect me to. Yet now we have these highly contrived shows that feature people without a Screen Actors Guild card, which apprently makes them "real," and we are asked to suspend our disbelief. (I have a pretty good imagination, but not that good.)

I confess, I have watched more than a few episodes of some of these shows ("American Idol," "America's Next Top Model," and "Project Runway" -- never could get into "Survivor" or "Amazing Race"), but I don't for a minute consider any of them a slice of real life -- or anything close to what passes for reality in my world. (That reality show would be canceled before the end of the first episode as I'm guessing not a lot of advertisers would pay for a show about a middle-aged woman who sits in front of a computer all day typing, or else cleaning house, running errands, and cooking dinner, as fascinating as those activities are.) They are, rather, a form (albeit a highly contrived, surreal form) of entertainment. Which is fine. But please, Mr. and Ms. Big-Time Producer, stop calling these cloying confections "reality shows."

Btw, for the record, I have tremendous respect for and am in awe of the designers on "Project Runway," who have to crank out an elaborate outfit in less than 24 hours each week. And I understand the need for the sometimes over-the-top theatrical trappings (i.e., pedantic comments from Tim "Make-It-Work-People" Gunn and the not-so-comic stylings of judge-critics Michael Kors and Nina Garcia, at least the former of which actually knows of what he speaks, capped off by Heidi Klum's "Auf"ing of the weakest designer each week). Just watching people sew does not good TV make.

And I used to be quite addicted to "American Idol," though have never liked watching the audition rounds. (Really people, after six seasons, you should know what's going to impress and what's going to annoy the judges. And who are these parents who are setting up their tone-deaf, untalented, whacked-out progeny for failure and devastation? I love my kid, but she ain't going to be no pop star, and she knows it.) At least the final 24 (or so we are led to believe) have a talent, that is, the ability to sing -- and, as we have seen this season, even play an instrument.

I still don't know why I occasionally watch "America's Next Top Model." (Note to Tyra and the producers: Have ANY of the winners actually become a "top" model? I didn't think so.) Boredom? Fatigue? It's not that I enjoy a good cat fight. (I am very conflict adverse.) Nor ever had modeling aspirations. (I'm short and somewhat eccentric but not delusional.) Or find these girls fascinating. (More like frightening or pathetic.) Yet still I find myself watching, particularly when folding the laundry.

What truly disturbs me are the shows "real" people go on in hopes of winning lots of money fast, particularly the latest entry, "Moment of Truth" -- knowingly and willingly risking family, friends, everything for the slim hope of a $500,000 or $1,000,000 payday (before taxes, which greatly diminish the sum). Yes, yes. I hear some of you saying what do I know about not having enough and wanting to get rich quick? And I don't know, but I do work, and have for a long time, and I have yet to hear of a single get-rich-quick scheme where someone actually got rich quick and/or got rich and lived happily ever after. You want a fairy godmother? Go to a drag club.

As I hate ending on a cranky note, I wanted to share with you a very funny site a friend recently turned me onto called McSweeney's. The Open Letters section is particularly amusing. And I am sure that after a hard day of "reality," you could all use a good laugh.