The Bachelorette: “I have never done this much thinking in my life.”
Grrrr. Two freakin’ hours to bear out what the gossipmongers had already blared from every possible supermarket tabloid and gossip website in the world. Who do I hate most, the spoilers for spoiling the surprise, the TV show for dragging the whole thing out for as long as they did, or myself for bothering in the first place? Let’s give this some consideration…
I don’t think it’s the gossips that I hate the most. Our society’s fixation with celebrities is an unhealthy one, to say the very least, but as long as the obsession exists, we can pretty much expect someone to exploit it in exchange for money. The tabloid market is definitely an unsavoury subspecies of this kind of scumbaggery, but my personal solution is to pay them zero dollars and as little of my attention as possible. While some bloggers and the like will go to extreme lengths to not spoil a show’s ending, that these types go to the exact opposite extreme should earn them scorn and derision, but it’s just not worth it to hate them for it. Not the most, anyway.
As for the TV show, I’m just not sure I can hate them the most, either. The episodes have been two hours long from the get-go, which makes way more sense when there’s ten or twenty or twenty-five eager candidates vying for the Bach’s affections. But, when the primary purpose of any given television show is to sell ad space in between all the mooning and juning and smooching and lovey-dovey shit, is it realistic to expect them to trim the episodes down to a more appropriate length once they reach the point where there’s only a couple of fellows left? Reasonable, yes. Realistic, no.
And so, we get a smidgen of family-meeting*, a little bit more of dating, a little bit more still of people talking to themselves as they prepare to make or receive a marriage proposal**, and a hair-pulling, forehead vein-bulging amount of recap after recap, preview upon preview, until Ali finally gets around to send Chris packing, the day before he would otherwise have proposed to her, to no avail***.
Lucy, er, Ali, loves Desi, er, Roberto, more or less. It smacks a little of Jake and Vienna to me, to be honest****. Will it last? Have they already split up? Has he really been living a secret double life? Go ask a tabloid; I have no idea.
Which brings us to the end of this blogging of the Bachelorette, and the answer to the question posed at the very beginning of this entry, to which you probably already knew the answer and for which I made you read all the way to the end. Who do I hate the most? Why, myself, of course.
*Q:”May I ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, sir?” A:”We’re on TV and the producers have arranged it this way, so ‘yes’, but seriously dude, what century do you live in, anyway?”
**”As you are merely one of an array of pre-selected dopes from which she will eventually choose, it only makes sense for me to offer you this pre-selected array of engagement rings to choose to present to her.”
***Which is one of the more decent and caring things I’ve seen happen on this show.
****Albeit with two more likable characters, but still.