It hasn’t been proven yet, but it feels like cancer. Tonight I watched a show called “I Know My Kid’s a Star” on VH1, and while I admit I’m a novice at Reality TV, surely this is one of the most egregious yet.
A bunch of kids and their horrible mothers have to live together in a house and compete for a chance to be humiliated by Danny Bonaduce and some mean woman named Marki. With an i.
The kids are tormented by their crazy mothers, who should all be shot. A better name for this show would be “Who Do You Want To Kill?” My husband and I agreed that the most kill-worthy was Rocky, a coke-whore type who wears a cowboy hat and looks like she’d let you molest her daughter for a hit of blow. Maybe this woman was carefully selected to freak out the jaded viewers, who knows. A close second was a crazy blonde whose name I’ve already forgotten, who badgers her kid into tears and clearly feels entitled to do whatever is necessary to break the kid’s will.
Why has the world come to this? Are we all on too much medication, or not enough?