I confess, one of my guilty pleasures is watching The Housewives, a reality series on Bravo. Not all of them, there are not enough hours in the day, and watching all of them could severely impair my sanity - but I find myself hopelessly drawn to those babes from Beverly Hills and New York.
For pure naked conspicuous consumption, you can't beat Beverly Hills. (I'll save New York for another day.) I am not sure how to describe the daily activities of this cluster of whack jobs. Money can't buy you class, it also doesn't guarantee any integrity or just plain common sense. Their entire existence is so over the top that the viewer doesn't know whether to be left with a sense of horror or hysterics.
Putting aside the fact that so much money could help hundreds, if not thousands of needy people, you have to marvel at the sheer audacity of their homes, clothes and jewels, not to mention their plastic surgeon's bills. One housewife, Adrienne, has her own spa upstairs, the skin rejuvenating machine alone cost $30,000. Another, Taylor, has lips the size of oars.
But this is just the tip of the iceberg. Not content to sit at home, they fly from one vacation spot to another, one party to another. Each stretch limo is longer than the last. While en route to the their next social engagement, they primp in front of the mirror in the limo, bracing themselves for the next cat fight. Like a prize fighter in training, they prepare for the evening's bloodsport . They hate each other one minute, drool over lunch together the next.
Boxing is cleaner, these housewives attack each other with innuendos, snide, cruel remarks and a viciousness the the likes of which I have never seen. What are we to make of this? Clearly these shows make money or Bravo would not continue to produce them. I watch, but the thought of these airheads ever being role models for my granddaughters is truly terrifying.
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