two-twenty

simply over

Where to begin. The Simple Life ‘Reunion Special’ was so horrifically awful that two-twenty needed a Silkwood shower and a Lady Macbeth hand-washing session afterwards in order to feel even remotely cleansed. We are still handling raw meat with plastic gloves for fear of spontaneously infecting it with e. coli or possibly even mad cow disease. There is no doubt in our mind, what’s left of it anyway, that this show must somehow be involved in any- and every-thing relating to degenerative brain disorders.

First: Leeza Gibbons must be shot. Her soulless, shilling, simultaneously grossly sucking-up and grossly patronizing performance defies any explanation or deconstructive reasoning other than the obvious: cash money. Any “journalist” worth their salt should have had one and only one question for Miss Hilton: Where is the Simon Rex – Nicole Lenz threesome video and may I please have a copy? Seriously, Leeza's disconcerting effort to make everything MORE than it was – the Altusians more hicklike but also more genuine and wholesome; PH and NR both more fabulous and more trashy (granted, impossible); the audience more exultantly self-debasing – all of this relentless knee-high-boot-wearing hype just left us with a really bad taste in our mouths. Or maybe that was the sherry cooking wine we’ve been reduced to drinking since it’s too cold to venture outdoors and none of our “friends” will deliver us a case of Ketel One.

Although much of the blame must fall on Leeza, two-twenty admits that an interviewer could hardly be presented with a collection of less talkative subjects through which to ply her trade. The sad truth of the matter here is that assembling a not particularly intelligent (though possibly well-meaning) Arkansan family, two not particularly intelligent (and clearly contract-fulfilling) no-talent fashion-victim celebutantes, and one not particularly intelligent (and hopefully on the slippery downward slope of her career trajectory) hostess on a stage does not make for compelling television. Throw in an audience full of people who should be ashamed of themselves for participating in this sham, and a shiny new Dodge Durango, and you have an unmitigated, embarrassing disaster. Granted, that Braxton was disarming, but following the recent resurgence of 'talent show' programming the last thing we need is another kid (and attendant parent) looking to cash in his or her calculated cuteness for a small piece of the fifteen-minute pie. And please, Fox, we know this was filmed in Arkansas but do they not have set designers there? Two-twenty has seen better production values at preschool Christmas pageants.

Much better than Fox’s ‘special’ was the E! expose on Nicole Richie (which two-twenty reminded you to TiView. Ooh, look, a new word!). Within the first thirty seconds we had already learned that Nicole is in fact not the daughter of Lionel and his first wife, but rather is the product of the boundless and un-wedlocked love inspired by nightly exposure to Lionel Richie’s soulful tunes. In layman’s terms, Nicole is the bastard daughter of Lionel’s then-drummer and an unnamed stage dancer. Now that, friends, is quality television. Other tidbits we learned: the heroin Nicole had in her possession when busted while driving with a revoked license (only days before she was due in rehab) was so totally not hers. Also, the cluelessly maniacal laugh she breaks into any time she is asked an embarrassing or potentially damaging question is not a defensive mechanism, it’s just her vibrant personality.

If you have some sick desire to expose yourself to more harrowing outtakes from The Simple Life, you can pre-order your collector's edition dvd here:

DVD: The Simple Life (2003) | Amazon.com