Reality TV Roundup

Thursday is an interesting time in TV-Land these days (Yes, I just referred to TV-Land as an actual place--what of it, punk?). Thanks to that British piece of manmeat, Mark Burnett, this Thursday status is due largely to reality television. His formula, once unique, is now time tested and more predictably classic than a Dickens novel featuring a doppelganger. Once the show comes to an end, you KNOW that someone will be let go in some democratic fashion, whether it be directly (like Survivor) or indirectly (like The Apprentice). Either way, there is discussion (sometimes heated) and then a formal and routine departure.

Then along came P-Diddy.

We thought he had MADE reality television when he infamously made his potential "band" members walk to Brooklyn for Juniors Cheesecake (p.s., big deal, it's right over the bridge). But then, he took Burnett's time tested formula, ripped it up into little pieces, and then for emphasis drove over it with his Diet Pepsi truck.

We don't see Diddy sitting around a campfire with Making the Band Hopefuls. Instead, as they dance in front of them. He points and says goodbye. Sometimes he points, calls them fat and then says goodbye. Sometimes he points, accuses them of not really being black because they can't dance, and then says goodbye. Sometimes he points with his cane. A cane? Really, Did? What's next? A horse's head in their bed? I hope so...