Skip to main content

Manipulated

Do you watch The Biggest Loser?

For that matter, do you watch any reality show?

I feel completely manipulated. I react the way the show's editors and producers want me to react. By playing up certain scenes, by leaving out other important information, by changing up the background music or camera angles, they lead me to believe one thing happened. But really something else entirely is going on.

Manipulated. Tricked. Teased and toyed with.

I'm such a puppet.

The fact that "reality" shows are anything but reality isn't really news to me. I just had a moment last night, watching a DVR'd episode of TBL, when it all came together in a nice little package with a big, shiny bow.

Is that what makes these shows compelling? I think the stories would speak for themselves, without all the overly produced touches. Maybe, in TBL case, they could cut down the artificially inflated drama at the weigh-in and have more time to let the stories play out on their own rather than being forced along and awkwardly enhanced.

I also wonder how much like puppets TBL contestants feel. At one point during the episode, a trainer got all up in someone's face and pushed him harder than everyone else in an attempt to break that person down and have him face his emotions. Would the trainer really do that? Or is there a director taking the trainer aside and saying, "You know what would be really dramatic? Be so pushy and obnoxious and ruthless, you make him cry!"

Anything for ratings.

And yes. I, the puppet, keep watching.

Pull my strings.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Holy Separated-At-Birth, Batman!

Gary Oldman...meet Uncle Knit-Knots from Imagination Movers.

So, I Changed My Mind

More than four years ago, the blog and I parted ways. I needed a change. A whole lot happened in my world since then. I switched jobs a couple times. My kid went from an elementary school tween to a teenage high schooler. We built a new house and moved. Both my parents and my sister have passed. The world around me changed as well. Mass shootings, racism, the #metoo movement, a misogynistic bigoted narcissist in the White House ... go ahead, add to the list. Toss your woes into this dumpster fire we call 2019.  I appreciate my previous sentiment, that I was no longer wandering. But let's be honest, we're all trying to find our way through this mess. I decided to reboot the blog to give myself a creative outlet, a way to sort through the confusion and frustration and attempt to make sense of it all. I have a voice, and I'm not keen to silence it anymore. Guess what? I'm back, bitches.

In memoriam...

I remember the first time I heard the name "Les Anderson." A bunch of Wichita State University communication majors were sitting around on campus, talking about classes they planned to take. Several people warned me: watch out for Les Anderson. He was tough. He had a murderous grading scale. It was nearly impossible to get an A. They weren't kidding. But he wasn't tough just to be a tyrant. From his teaching sprang a fleet of incredible, successful journalists, writers, editors, broadcasters, public relations experts, advertisers, non-profit professionals...I could go on and on. Most importantly, he created a legion of people who wanted to make a difference in the world. The greatest gift Les gave to them all? He believed in them, cared about them for their own personal stories as well as the stories they told for class assignments or in the pages of his hometown newspaper. Les was my teacher. My boss. My mentor. My conscience. My champion. My friend. When I started c...