Stage-plays also carried me away, full of images of my miseries, and of fuel to my fire. Why is it, that man desires to be made sad, beholding doleful and tragical things, which yet himself would no means suffer? yet he desires as a spectator to feel sorrow at them, this very sorrow is his pleasure. What is this but a miserable madness?
- The Confessions of Saint Augustine
Vanderpump Rules is one of my only truly guilty pleasures when it comes to media.
Reality TV’s many detractors argue that it’s “not actually real” - that the “reality” it sells at the cost of its production quality is just as staged as any overtly fictional show, leaving it with no redeeming qualities at all. Now, the conversations and confrontations are highly choreographed, but the weddings, divorces, births, and deaths are all happening to real human beings, and unlike the aforementioned detractors, my guilt when it comes to reality TV is just that. Trashiness I can handle, voyeurism makes me feel guilty. Not guilty enough to stop watching it, though.