Sometimes I have sort of a masochistic streak when it comes to TV. One time, for instance, I sat and watched an episode of Nanny 911 until I was just so disgusted with America, FOX, nannies, children, the suburbs, and myself that I could taste the bile rising in the back of my throat. I guess that is part of the appeal of shows like this, but I really can’t imagine watching something like this on a regular basis. Once in a while though, who doesn’t enjoy chugging a pint glass of gravy (so to speak)?
Tonight I’ve encountered the crack cocaine of crap TV. I kind of had a hunch about this before, but I needed to be sure. So yeah… That’s why I’m in the middle of watching A Dr. Phil Prime Time Special: Love Smart and I am love/hating every minute of it. The genius of Dr. Phil (and I don’t use this term lightly) is how expertly he walks the line between Oprahschmaltz and Springerscum. The sappy music, the soft focus and the sympathetic voice all lull his victims into a false sense of security right before he drops the “Kablammo! You are all fucking morons!” hammer. And in spite of how shallow and pretentious and mean-spirited I know this makes me sound, it is just so much more satisfying watching this particular hammer get dropped on metrosexual dudes and Sex-and-the-City-looking girls than it is seeing trailer trash tear into each other on Springer. Why? I think it has to do with their inability to just let it all out and just call each other bitches and fuckers, throw some furniture around and get it over with. They try *so* hard to keep their cool that you can almost hear them grinding their perfect teeth in outrage while Dr. Phil sits there grinning like a serial killer. Finally he eases up on the cavalcade of shame and embarassment and starts trying to “help” these people, but you might as well just change the channel at this point because solving problems is not really Dr. Phil’s strong point. Oh sure, by the end of the show everyone is crying and telling him how he’s changed their lives, but this is just window-dressing for viewers who can’t appreciate the whole spectacle as pure, uncut schaudenfrade-porn.
I know it’s been awhile since I’ve harped on how chillingly prophetic George W.S. Trow’s Within the Context of No Context (1980) is, but it’s worth recalling here (especially the excerpt in that linked post). Dr. Phil is “Matron” and we are all living in his (brave, new) world. Booyakasha!
I’m ashamed to admit I actually caught that program as well while flipping through, and was so intrigued with it I just couldn’t flip back to the Olympics.
I never realized Phil was such a jerk…not merely by bringing those women to tears for the sake of prime time ratings, but by brandishing an EGO along with it! Did you see when he was all “I’ll procede when I WANT to procede” to the player guy?
It was like Springer with an attitude.
At least the “real” Springer knows what his role is…and doesn’t pretend to be a life coach-psychiatrist as well.
Perhaps the funniest part was all Dr. Phil’s commericals for match.com that ran during the program. As if to say, “If you’d like to be personally abused by Dr. Phil, just come online and wait your turn!” Also the fact that he kept referencing some goofy term he made up (somehing like “MindBindFindRind”) in the commericials. LOL =)
WhinePineShrineDineSwine?
(charting the progress of getting over mr/s. x)
Sounds great! With a little bit of negotiation I think I can get you on “The Today Show” next week to talk about your system. Just let me know how flexible you are on the topic of selling all or part of your soul. Let’s do this!!