Man, how I love America's Next Top Model. Love it! I watch these gaggle of girls who don't have a brain synapse to rub together amongst them, and I am reminded of the prophecy of Judge Judy: beauty fades; dumb is forever.
Do you watch it? These young women who are supposed to be adults invariably bawl to the camera about how much they miss home. Like not one of them has ever even attended a sleepover before in their obviously sheltered lives. Then they call their moms at the end of the day to whine that the other girls in the house have been mean to them. Not that the modelling tasks are difficult. Not that they're sick or they're tired -- that other girls are being mean to them. What do they expect their moms to do? Call the other girls' moms and say "Your 19 year old daughter made my 22 year old daughter cry. Make your daughter be nice to mine."
And this season, all the communication from Tyra comes via an electronic scroll-screen, so these girls stand in front of it and read it outloud like kindergarteners learning to sound out See Dick and Jane, without a whiff of self-awareness. For all we know, some of these girls may only have learned to read last month in order to fill out their application for the show, so they need the group recitation in order to bring them up to speed as to what the flashing letters spell out.
But the kicker is the screaming. On tonight's episode, Tyra told the girls to go upstairs and get dressed. These girls screeched like they'd just been told that Johnny Depp is nude and in the hot tub waiting for them. Introduce the girls to a photographer - they'll screech. Give the girls a new assignment - they'll screech. Look generally in their direction - they'll screech like the Pavlovian rats incapable of independent thought that they are.
I love it. I sit in my pajama bottoms with the centre seam busted wide open, eating Reeses Pieces Cereal by the handful out of the box, wearing fuzzy purple socks on my feet that I haven't washed in I can't admit to you how long, knowing with undisputed certainty that even in my current state I am less of a waste of oxygen than these vacuous bobble-heads who don't know enough to avoid allowing cameras to not only save for posterity their DNA-deep stupidity, but distribute it across international borders. Just love this show!
Do you watch it? These young women who are supposed to be adults invariably bawl to the camera about how much they miss home. Like not one of them has ever even attended a sleepover before in their obviously sheltered lives. Then they call their moms at the end of the day to whine that the other girls in the house have been mean to them. Not that the modelling tasks are difficult. Not that they're sick or they're tired -- that other girls are being mean to them. What do they expect their moms to do? Call the other girls' moms and say "Your 19 year old daughter made my 22 year old daughter cry. Make your daughter be nice to mine."
And this season, all the communication from Tyra comes via an electronic scroll-screen, so these girls stand in front of it and read it outloud like kindergarteners learning to sound out See Dick and Jane, without a whiff of self-awareness. For all we know, some of these girls may only have learned to read last month in order to fill out their application for the show, so they need the group recitation in order to bring them up to speed as to what the flashing letters spell out.
But the kicker is the screaming. On tonight's episode, Tyra told the girls to go upstairs and get dressed. These girls screeched like they'd just been told that Johnny Depp is nude and in the hot tub waiting for them. Introduce the girls to a photographer - they'll screech. Give the girls a new assignment - they'll screech. Look generally in their direction - they'll screech like the Pavlovian rats incapable of independent thought that they are.
I love it. I sit in my pajama bottoms with the centre seam busted wide open, eating Reeses Pieces Cereal by the handful out of the box, wearing fuzzy purple socks on my feet that I haven't washed in I can't admit to you how long, knowing with undisputed certainty that even in my current state I am less of a waste of oxygen than these vacuous bobble-heads who don't know enough to avoid allowing cameras to not only save for posterity their DNA-deep stupidity, but distribute it across international borders. Just love this show!
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