Reality TV, the dre-way

I am still toiling away at my next-to-last overdue essay, but that doesn't mean I don't have time for over-the-top daytime television. Well actually it does, but a girl's gotta procrastinate, right?

For some reason, I cannot bring myself to watch any of those glittery high-energy, cliffhanger-type reality shows such as Great American Race or American Next Top Singer or Sex Object or whatever (I chalk it up to fear of commitment--its true). I am, however, able to sit through hours of compellingly-narrated programs such as "American Justice" or pretty much anything on either TLC or A&E, save for the makeover shows.

I am amused, mostly, by these shows' ability to showcase (for no one but myself) the relative ease with which I am persuaded. (I could never sit on a jury). "American Justice", for example, seems to follow the following formula when presenting a case:

a) in which shocking murder is outlined
b) in which police begin to investigate he or she who made initial call to authorities
c) in which it is almost certain that the mother/fiancee/husband did it
d) in which new evidence emerges to show that we may have been too hasty in our desperate need to assign blame to someone
e) in which, naw, they were just trying to stretch what little content they actually had to create an entire hour of programming.

So, I've seen a handful of these episodes (now apparently consciously aware that I know "whodunnit" before the first advertisment), and yet I can't pry myself away from the television after said advertisement. This is not simply because I am sent on the same rollercoaster of oscillating loyalty (Is the prosecution neglecting key evidence? Was that video a fair representation of the accused's state of mind?) each episode, but because of a more disturbing realisation...

After no less than two of these shows have made my eyes well up with tears, I realised that I didn't want to believe, at all that the accused had commited such heinous crimes. They were pretty. They were well-educated. They had nice homes and good jobs. They looked like anyone I might meet in the future. They looked and talked like some people I already know. (Da da daaauun).

So, like, I am totally caring now about television now. Its just that I'm more apt to think about the Texas mother on death row and whether or not she was served justice, when really I should be thinking about my undergraduate thesis, or at the very least, America's Next First Racing Apprentice. Or whatever. My brain is fried from essay'in.