I was never a fan of reality T.V., but the other day that all changed. It happened when I was watching some daytime television, which basically consists of terrible yet entertaining soap operas, the anti-Christ Glenn Beck, and 37 different versions of Law and Order playing simultaneously on 37 channels (the one with Ice-T is awesome though). Then there is reality T.V., which has crept its way onto literally every channel out there, even Animal Planet. Seriously, they have a show called Animal cops. So as I flipped past Animal cops and Jerry Springer, and my Super, I’m a terrible person sweet sixteen, I was starting to get fed up with all this reality T.V. But then I came across T.V. gold, in the form of VH1’S Rock of Love. This show was so bad, for both society and your brain, that it was good. Let me brake down how this show works.
Rock of Love consists of one man looking for love, in this case Brett Michaels, who you might remember for being a member of the 80’s band Poison or for fucking Pamela Anderson in a low-budget, amateur porn video. Bret gets to choose the love of his life out of 20 female contestants who are all half his age. These contests must go through mentally and physically rigorous challenges to win Bret over, challenges consisting of mud-wrestling in outfits that emphasize their giant, yet very fake tits, fist-fighting with each other for no reason in particular, and drinking so much that it sounds like they were just shot with a tranquilizer dart. Each week, after Bret sleeps with all the contestants off camera, he eliminates them one by one, until he finds “The One”. It’s as simple as that. Television at it’s finest hour.
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