Have you been watching the boob tube much lately? What? You don’t know what a boob tube is? The fact that I do dates me as probably part of the Baby Boomer Generation or even older. As a matter of fact, I am—I am one of the relatively few surviving members of the Silent Generation, that cohort of people born before the end of World War II.
But, I digress. Boob tube, for those who don’t know, is what we used to call the television, which became a popular fixture in many American households during the 1950s.
In 1959, people started calling it a boob tube, from ‘boob’, meaning stupid person, and ‘tube ‘ because the sets of the time had vacuum tubes in them, and referred to the fact that people were starting to prefer sitting in front of the flickering tube to reading or other intellectual pursuits. The entertainment offered at the time was considered lowbrow by many.
The truth is, it probably was, but it was so dramatically different from sitting around listening to disembodied voices on the radio that it was irresistible. And, compared to what some people watch these days, Lawrence Welk, Ed Sullivan, The Price is Right, and the other drivel would be considered quite highbrow.
I refer to the plethora of so-called reality TV that infects the airwaves, cable, and streaming services these days. Those supposedly unscripted shows in which people spend thirty minutes to an hour exposing their foibles, vices, and stupidity for a mass audience to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ over.
Reality TV got its start in 1948, when Allen Funt aired Candid Camera, a hidden-camera show in which people were put in amusing or uncomfortable situations while being filmed. I remember watching a couple of episodes as a child and being so embarrassed that I tuned out. Captain Kangaroo or the Mickey Mouse Club were preferable to my pre-teen sensibilities.
In the early 1990s, TV producers upped the ante with shows like The Real World, and in the early 2000s, they launched Survivor and Big Brother, garnering huge audiences. I once tried watching an episode of Big Brother, and actually endured ten minutes of the drivel and cringeworthy action before turning my set off and taking a mind-cleansing walk. Now, my only exposure to the universe of reality TV is when I do watch TV —mostly streaming services —there are trailers and promotional clips for shows, and even these brief clips make me nauseous.
A naturally curious person, I’ve often wondered why so many people are drawn to reality TV. I’ve read that it’s because it reflects societal values, trends, and issues, and is a form of social interaction among viewers, who like the drama and authenticity, and who use it as a chance to escape from the boredom of their daily lives.
Maybe, but to me, it’s like the tendency people have of slowing down and gawking at automobile accidents, on the off chance they’ll see a body. It’s voyeurism, pure and simple. Reality TV turns its audiences into legally allowed peeping Toms, with their eyes to the keyholes of other people, without fear of being arrested for it.
My response to that is, ‘thanks, but no thanks.’ I’m perfectly content to let what goes on behind closed doors stay behind those doors. I’d prefer living my own life over peeping at the lives of others. | NWI
