Real Stupid

That's it. I'm officially done with "reality" television. Just finished watching the season finale of Top Chef. And yes, I have a crush on the "cheftestant" Stefan that borders on unseemly. But really, he was far and away the best chef in what certainly was a lackluster season.

And yet he didn't win. With his gloriously kissable smooth pate and delicious continental cuisine.

Ridiculous.

It strikes me as even more ridiculous that we as a viewing public allow reality programming as a genre to continue. It's not only dreck. It's dreck that's been manipulated for maximum crapitude.

Yes, I wrote crapitude and I'm sticking with it.

Even my dog is disgusted. And the cat hasn't come down to watch since week five.

The funniest thing about the whole situation, to me, is that I've made it my life's work to avoid reality. That's my raison d'etre. It's what makes a Spinstermiss a true Spinstermiss. Reality has nothing to do with my world, happily free from the carpool, the hubby's business dinner, and all of the other things that people drone on about while pouring coffee at work. (Marrieds: what you say sounds like this to us: Blah, blah, blah. whah wha whingie blah blah. We're really just looking at your jewelry. Good job with that!)

KMA reality.

Marrying for Money

So I'm all in favor of Obama's efforts to improve our economy. As someone who has enjoyed two economic collapses in the publishing industry in the past 2 decades, the president can count me in for an effort to reinvigorate the nation. With this kind of positivity projecting from my every pore, I can't help but wonder why the president has to go on ahead and give married people a significantly higher tax break just because they're married.

Harumph.

Don't married people already get enough breaks? They get cheaper car insurance. The get death benefits. And they almost always have people to go with to weddings, christenings, and birthday parties. In theory, they also deeply benefit from the division of labor inherent in living communally. 

A single person has to bring home the bacon, fry it up and in the pan, and never ever let themselves regret that they didn't get themselves a man.

Oooh, that was chee-zee! I used to love that commercial when I was a kid. Think it was for a hair product. But I still get a total urge to put on a cocktail dress every time I make a BLT.