Phil of Sh*t

Being home during the day exposes you to some pretty horrific television programming. Not having cable makes it downright toxic.

Take Dr. Phil, for example. Apparently, today is the start of his new season – 6th? really? who let that happen? – and he’s ANSWERING THE CALL OF THE PEOPLE. You’ve emailed. You’ve asked for it. You want Dr. Phil on the scene. You want Dr. Phil tackling the big stories of the day as they happen. You want Dr. Phil to tell you how to talk to your kids. You want Dr. Phil to explain what’s really going on in the world. That may be what you want. What you need are friends and a hobby.

He’s calling this fluff (philler?) Dr. Phil Now – with a logo that looks a heck of a lot like the “Now That’s What I Call Music” franchise. He’s got producers in the field (in the studio next door) and a big shiny second set where he will go to be all newsy-like if there’s a veryimportantstory he must tackle at a moment’s notice. I can’t wait.

Now, I wouldn’t dare pretend to get all high and mighty when it comes to the crap I opt to watch in my downtime because anyone who knows me knows I consume a fair share of reality programming. And we all know The Hills and Rock of Love aren’t expanding my horizons. They’re empty calories. But you know what makes them better than Dr. Phil in my mind? They are exactly what they say they are. Entertainment. Mindless vacant turn-your-brain-off-and-let-it-float-a-little entertainment. Bret Michaels isn’t saving anyone. I don’t need Heidi and Spencer’s take on the world. Dr. Phil is alright if his affected, self-important, state-the-obvious, pseudo analysis fills that void for you. If he’s your guilty pleasure, fine by me.

It’s just when Dr. Phil pretends to be the foremost expert on all things ever, claiming he’s expanding his reach because you need him to tell you how to think, feel, breathe, and interpret your life, the world, the news that my skin starts to crawl.

Now, that’s what I call bullsh*t.

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