You know how spinster aunts love to lounge around on or about the TempurPedic eating Cool Whip and watching TV. Today I saw a series of programs on the E! channel. The E! channel, for those blamers who obstinately decline to monitor world misogyny via American television, consists, even more transparently than most other channels, entirely of antifeminist celebrity idolatry/hatred. Whose dress is ugly, who drove her celebrity man into the arms of another celebrity woman, that mouthy slut Amy Winehouse in rehab, etc.
This morning there was a show called “Soup” where a smirking motherfucker cuts famous people down to size by screening embarrassing video clips of them attacking their fans or being fat.
This was followed by a show starring a young hottt woman named Denise Richards. In this show, a camera crew follows Denise Richards around while she goes about the grueling business of being hottt. What? You’ve never heard of Denise Richards either? I looked her up, and here’s the summary: she was married to and divorced from a couple of other famous people, and appears to be made almost entirely of flowing hair. In today’s episode, Denise explains to her 13-year-old nephew why she did a spread in Playboy and starred in some patriarchy-affirming pornographical films. She did not do it for the money, apparently. No. She did it to prove that a hottt young woman who was married to and divorced from a couple of famous people can still be sexy, dammit. Any 13-year-old boy ought to be able to respect that.
Then there was a show where a camera crew follows Lindsay Lohan’s mother and teen sister around while they go about the grueling business of being related to a famous person with a drug problem. The sister is 14 and is recording a CD in Las Vegas. The skin crawls when the words “Vegas! All right!” squirt like Astroglide from the teenager’s mouth as she plops into a limo. Her entourage tells her what a genius she is and how she’s going to be the next big thing. She has a lot of eyeliner on.
I need not describe the stomach-churning details of the show entitled “The Girls Next Door,” where a camera crew follows around a few of Hugh Hefner’s interchangable 19-year-old blonde bikini “girlfriends” as they go about the grueling business of being prostituted in a brothel built to glorify a famous septuagenarian perv’s exceptional sexploitational success.
What all this programming has in common is the combined fascination/abhorrence that afflicts all modern media characterizations of women. Particularly of women who have bought into the patriarchal myth to the extent that it has rewarded them with the only thing that counts in this world: attention from men with money. It blows the Twisty mind that the subjects of these “reality” shows never seem to get that the whole point is to make them look like morons so their insatiable public can more devoutly despise them. Why this obvious truth universally fails to expose Hollywood as ground-zero for American misogyny I cannot say, but watching Hef protrude his grotesque liverlips at his teenage girls certainly seems to generate a lot of ad revenue from cosmetics corporations who have convinced a nation that female skin can and should “glow.”