We were flipping channels Sunday morning at the cottage and came across this abomination. Apparently, the entire cast on this show comes from other reality shows on VH1. Joan is an expert on the history and culture of VH1 reality shows, so she tried to explain the origins of these freaks. But aside from the reality show pedigree, it looked like the only thing these people had in common was silicone, steroids and an IQ of less than 85. In my post on Intervention, it may have come across as cruel that I was rooting for the addict to make the interventionist look bad. But ultimately this type of detached response to the gravity of the situation reflects the dirty truth about reality TV: Whether we're watching a legitimately tragic figure like Dillon, or brain-dead celebutantes named 12-Pack, Whiteboy or Toastee, the goal is entertainment. And as consumers of both types of media, it becomes difficult to differentiate our responses. How do we not mock the stupidity and foolishness of the drug addict and the interventionist, when that's the entire point of a show like I Love Money?
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