Posts Tagged ‘reality television’
I’m sorry, but I’m not lolz-ing.
The Oxford University Press announced the latest inclusions to Oxford Dictionaries Online this week, some of which defy logic.
I used to enjoy perusing the quarterly updates of “current English” but now, the three-monthly read leaves me with a numbness in my special place and a strong desire to stick my head into an oven.
How the hell does formally acknowledging nonsensical words – or in the case of “mwahahaha”, a stupidity-inducing sound – as part of our lexicon make us a more evolved society?
If anything, recognising words like “douche” and “photobomb” demonstrates humanity is now officially catering to the lowest common denominator.
It’s almost as if we’ve waved the white flag and submitted to an army of faceless, iPod-toting, monosyllabic overlords who communicate with grunts , fist bumps and group hugs.
In a nutshell, it’s fucking ridic.
If an alien race was to attack the earth tomorrow – which would be a pretty douchey thing to do – the first laser-wielding ET wannabes to hear us communicate could be forgiven for assuming the zombies had already eaten our brains.
When I discussed the list of latest inclusions with a friend, they played the “our language is dynamic and ever-evolving” card.
Until they reached the word on the list that pays homage to genitals that resemble rhinestone-emblazoned disco jackets.
Ladies and gentlemen, could you please stand and put your hands together for “vajazzle”.
Mankind has not only conquered space, it has also made room in Oxford Dictionaries Online for a verb that means to “adorn the pubic area (of a woman) with crystals, glitter, or other decoration”.
I feel like I’ve woken up after sleeping for 20 years to find out Kim Kardashian is the president of the world.
Despite my friend being more than 1000 kilometres away and on the end of a scratchy mobile phone connection, I could pinpoint the exact moment when their eyes locked onto the word that describes genital crystals.
If you ever want to pull out a lay-down misere on somebody’s argument about how the current evolution of our language is a good thing, show them an Oxford University Press reference to pussy glitter.
While the vodka-loving boozehound in me approves of “dirty martini” getting recognition, the inclusion of “vote” – as in a specific reference to reality television – saddens me and reinforces my belief that humanity has pushed boldly past the point of being astronomically fucked.
It can’t be long now until Skynet becomes self-aware and the living dead commence their attack.
The moment you see “ROFLMAO” in a dictionary is the very instant you should descend into your Judgement Day bunker and wait for the language-destroying hoi polloi to succumb to our zombie masters.
For all those Twitter users who have a yearning to become one of my tweeps, clicking the button below will unleash the 140-character lunacy.
When I first clicked on Emma Ashton’s piece today on The Punch entitled “Top tips for becoming a reality TV star”, I was under the illusion that I was about to read a satirical article that poked fun at the ludicrous phenomenon that is reality television. How wrong I was. In hindsight, I should have never expected that someone who describes themselves as a “reality TV consultant” would make a mockery of the very thing that apparently funds their lifestyle, especially when they run a blog devoted to reality television and profess to helping people “make their reality TV dream come true”. I think I may have just died a little bit inside. When we reach the point of having dedicated reality television consultants, it’s a fair indication that society is well and truly fucked.
Why are so many individuals under the misconception that they deserve to be famous? At what stage did the collective group vote and decide that everyone was entitled to their fifteen minutes of notoriety? Lamentably, most people are as boring as hell and, whether they’d like to admit it or not, would continue to make reality television about as enjoyable as having a tooth removed with fencing pliers, should they be given the opportunity to let their star shine. Let’s face it: if “I’m so glad it’s Friday!” is the most riveting Facebook status update you can manage, it’s unlikely that you are going to set the reality television world alight with your wit and personality; no one wants to watch a show starring someone who’s as entertaining as a brick in a freezer.
I’m not entirely sure what the trend away from amusing, quality television in favour of televised stupidity means for humanity, but I’m going to go out on a limb and assume it’s not a good thing. If reality television is the future, bring on 21 December and the zombie Apocalypse.
Seeing as the scourge on society that is reality television doesn’t look like vanishing in the foreseeable future, The Dissemination of Thought is pleased to provide its own useful, real tips on becoming a reality TV star; just bring a smile, and leave your talent at the door.
Tip 1: Have no discernible talent whatsoever
In this day and age you don’t need talent to be famous and, based on results from the Australian and American Idol franchises, you definitely don’t need to be able to hold a tune to release a record. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have ability, as long as you have sad eyes, a heartwarming story about overcoming adversity and/or human triumph, and an androgynous sexuality that appeals to both teenagers and their wallet-wielding parents. For the guys, maintaining a rugged growth of stubble will ensure that you are signed to a five-album deal and win two Grammys in your first eighteen months as a recording artist.
Tip 2: Be dumb and hate everything
If you’re a bigoted moron with an IQ similar to a telephone booth, don’t even worry about auditioning: you’re in. Should you be trying to develop a persona to convince producers and casting staff that you’re a narrow-minded twit, you need to hate everyone that’s different to you and despise everything you don’t understand, which, given that you are pretending to be an idiot, is most stuff. Immigrants? Can’t stand them. Any food that isn’t a pie or steak and chips? Foreign crap that gives you the shits. People with accents? Terrorists. For added impact, you should bleach your hair blonde and get yourself a Southern Cross tattoo. In the event that you are asked a question about politics or something intellectual during the audition, your standard answer should be “I dunno ‘bout that, but I can skol tequila and put my whole fist in my mouth.”
Tip 3: It’s all about the orange and the oil
If your aim is to be a reality star in a show that has anything to do with the beach, you’re going to need a tan and lots of oil; we’re talking about committing yourself to the point where you resemble a giant Oompla-Loompa who has bathed in baby oil. It doesn’t matter that you’re stupid and sound like Rocky after fighting twelve rounds with a mouth full of marshmallows: if you have a perpetual sheen not dissimilar to that of a roasting chicken, the reality TV world is your oyster.
A few more tips for those aspiring to be on the seventeenth season of Jersey Shore:
For guys: you’ll need to be ridiculously buffed, adorn yourself with stupid amounts of bling and buy a baseball cap with a stiff, unbent peak. To improve your chances of making the cut, get yourself a cool nickname like “Pauly D” or “Puffy P” and refer to yourself in the third person. A lot.
For girls: you’re going to need 74 bikinis that (unfortunately) leave nothing to the imagination, faux breasts that could double as floatation devices in the event your party boat sinks and a love of flashing the aforementioned floaties every time you see someone holding a camera, even if that someone is just your reflection in the mirror.