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.
2 comments:
Dearest, you are entitled to a bit of cheese in your life. Enjoy every bite.
I'm eating the Cheese too... Loving it because it's so bad. The "student" who just kept crying for no reason was my choice for first to be eliminated...sadly she packed her own bag and left.
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