Antonio Sabato, Jr.: So impossibly handsome. So hopelessly dumb.
His new "reality" program, "My Antonio,"* is my latest guilty pleasure. I've always disdained those competition shows, but I decided to make an exception for him. I mean, look:
It was just as cheesy as I expected -- possibly more -- but I found myself sucking it down even though I knew I'd feel sick afterwards.
The himbo is presented with a baker's dozen of bimbos, and he's to winnow down the pack until he ends up with his best match. (Isn't that how you date? That's why it's called a reality show.) Unfortunately for Antonio, the women seem to have been picked for their artificiality, cunning, and ruthlessness. Fortunately for us, this makes for riveting entertainment: See the harpies fight for the pretty man's attention. See them nod sagely at his every vapid utterance. See them tremble in the presence of his fire-breathing mother. See them tear out each other's throat.
I'm ashamed of myself for watching, yet I'm powerless to stop. He is my Antonio.
*Willa Cather is rolling in her grave as surely as death came for the archbishop.