The Real Housewives of Toronto continues its brutal campaign to portray women as shallow, superficial and stupid. They are depicted as having very little curiosity in anything other than malicious gossip and how "amazing" they think they all look.
|Learned women are ridiculed because they put to shame unlearned men ~ George Sand|
If it wasn't for Kara Alloway reciting poetry, introducing the work of new and upcoming artists and designers, or inviting us into her impressive home office where she gets down to business amongst some of the great writers of classical literature such as Melville, Tolstoy and Poe, all hope in the potential of woman would be lost.
|“The strongest of all warriors are these two — Time and Patience.” Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace|
This glimmer of hope, however, does not immediately shine until later in episode eight. First, we have to endure the sight of Roxy in a bubble bath barking orders at a terrified and subservient Elise, a flurry of hearsay and exaggerated claims revolving around Kara, ditzy women hooked up to a fat sculpting apparatus reminiscent of a scene from the Matrix, a booze cruise on a bus around Barcelona, and Jana and Grego meeting up with a matchmaker.
Lark Productions presented the same professional matchmaking scenario in The Real Housewives of Vancouver. The lack of novel ideas in the Toronto series only emphasizes the overall theme of stupidity threaded throughout the entire season.
If Brett Wilson comes sauntering in wearing a weird fucking shirt, covered in fluorescent dinosaurs bones and Neanderthal skulls, or some such shit, when Jana is finally set up on this matchmaker date, just like he did in Vancouver with Mary Zilba, I think I will puke. He's getting older, his dates are getting younger. Pretty soon it'll be child brides and play dates at the swing set in his backyard, which is fitting since he does exhibit the mentality of an obnoxious shithead kid you want to flick in the head to make him shut up.
The most perplexing piece of intel to come out of the whole matchmaking affair, though, is Jana confiding she has not been on a date in thirteen years. Um? The "Muskoka guy"? The "roster of men"? The "Mister Right Nows"? NONE of this carnival of penile delight has taken her on a date? It's all just straight booty call?
And here I had credited her with being a female predator, a cunning huntress. Shame. And I don't mean "shame" for being a slut, I mean shame for not playing a better game! What kind of challenge is that? All the disease exposure, none of the fun? Disappointing.
Hopefully she's at least managed to snag an orgasm or two out of all this debauchery and mindless promiscuity. Good god, Jana! You will never find the core of a man's "onion" this way. Besides, I hate to break it to you, but it is a rare male specimen that has anything meaningful below the murky surface, and it's a waste of emotion trying to "peel back the layers" to find it. There are no layers. Most men are even more shallow than plastic women. Wake up!
|Joga tricks and tips. Wink, wink.|
But of course it's silly to look for role models in a reality TV show and Jana has had ulterior motives from the outset. She is no more interested in finding "true love" or being a role model than I am, and the Real Housewives of Toronto is supposed to be entertaining, nothing more. Unfortunately, though, it's not really that entertaining either, which is why I'm forced into irrelevant, possibly insulting tangents when writing these blogs.
The Kara Alloway gossip, for example, is entertaining for maybe a minute before it gets old, yet the bulk of episode eight is dedicated to badmouthing her. Get over it. She never said anything that wasn't true, unlike Roxy who intentionally makes things sound way worse than they actually are. Spiteful, lazy woman. There is no reason for her to have an assistant! Do something for yourself – better yet, do something for something else! – you entitled waste of flesh.
But in episode eight the laziness is not simply relegated to Roxy's physical leisure and indulgences. There is also intellectual laziness in the form of incuriosity that has this blogger going fucking nuts. Joan went through a bomb scare at an airport?! Why was a bigger deal not made of this? Details, please! What the?
When Joan attempts to convey how scary it was to live through a bomb threat and basically face her mortality, Ann pretends to listen for half a second with that unsettling Joker grin plastered on her filler-injected face (why do they all have that creepy smile?) before interrupting Joan mid-sentence to tell her how "great" she looks even though she's gone through an ordeal.
|Ann has lost her mind to filler and fluff: Who cares about bomb threats! Joan! You look scrumptious! Come a little closer, my pretty.|
Joan is immediately flattered and distracted by the compliment, loses focus and redirects her attention to gossiping about Kara. My rekindled esteem for Joan from episode seven is effectively snuffed out. Stupid, vindictive woman.
|Joan: I know! I am a beautiful, perfect goddess!!! And I WILL NOT have anyone say otherwise!! "I can't have people going around slamming me behind my back. Like, I have to put my foot down". I think you mean cloven hoof, there trophy-giraffe.|
I'm further disgusted with Joan, the "goddess of high society", when in a later gossip session it comes to light that, as I suspected in an earlier blog (never underestimate the intuition of a patient woman who has been wronged), there are strings and vanities attached to Joan's philanthropy.
If Joan was truly concerned about the plight of children living in poverty, or any of the other miseries that befall many accursed soul chained to this wicked earth, it wouldn't matter to her that someone was talking behind her back. She would be able to shoulder the burden of humiliation knowing it's a small price to pay for her otherwise privileged existence, put her own feelings aside, and buck up the $25,000 for charity. Don't worry, Donald can afford it. Stingy son-of-a-bitch.
(As a sidenote, why are women always referred to as goddesses in these shows? They aren't goddesses, they are mannequins. Learn the difference and stop insulting real gods and goddesses).
Trophy-giraffe really missed out on some amusing weird ass shit, too. It would have been worth the 25 grand just to see Ann in that bizarre My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding gown she materialized in, dragging her dog behind her. Stephen might have even been imprisoned under the scads of tulle and ruffles, eating Joan's homegrown vegetables in some sort of sick S&M game Stevie dreamed up to keep his, what I'm beginning to think is mentally disturbed, wife satisfied.
Observing Dr. Munchkin with his Amazonian wife as they make their Cynosure presentation, as well as the Sculpsure fat-contouring demonstration they perform using the Real Housewives of Toronto as
|Stephen,under the ever watchful purview of his mildly deranged wife, informs the dummy models: "I'll walk you through the treatment, it'll be a comfortable way to annihilate some fat"|
I don't know about anyone else, but I was literally laughing out loud watching this. I guess it could just be me. I understand not everyone shares my sense of humor, but personally I relish any time Stevie is on the monitor. He doesn't even have to say anything. The mere sight of him sets me off into hysterics (even right now just thinking about him is making laugh).
How can any of these people take themselves so seriously?? Do they not see how utterly ridiculous they are?? I'm so confused. It's a curious thing, which reminds me: Why are these women so willing to just accept the claims of a medical technology company without any interest whatsoever in investigating the legitimacy of their products, as well as possible risks and complications? See? No curiosity.
Roxy's thrilled just lying there doing nothing other than brushing her hair, hooked up to "the machine" with its promise of effortless fat trimming. If this isn't blue-pill living, I don't know what is.
The always guaranteed to be bland, Joan, as well as twin dummies, Grego and Jana (Jana, who as we all know is already accustomed to spending a lot of time on her back) are also quite comfortable just lying there unquestioningly, Joan stating "it's a no-brainer". She has the no brain part right, anyway.
|Jana Webb: "You have to be in great shape if you want to climb to the top (but first you have to get on your knees, lie down or bend over)". Slave.|
To be fair, Jana does exhibit a brief spark of curiosity, wondering, "Will it leave a mark? You know, it's technology so there's room for error". However, this spark extinguishes almost as quickly as it appears, and without another thought she obediently submits to being hooked up to "the machine".
As a final sidenote: Actually, Jana, often technological "errors" have more to do with clumsy, haphazard human hands than the actual technology itself (if it's engineered properly by people not driven solely by capitalistic greed, that is). The real area to direct your skepticism at is marketing. That's where the true manipulation and deception takes place. But that's another issue. I will let this one go and spare you the tangent.
Until next week, then, ladies.
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 1: Dumb, Plastic and Sleazy
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 2: Boring Housewives and Ugly Husbands
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 3: The Polished Real Housewives of Toronto
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 4: The Slut Shame
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 5: Amazing Reality TV Stars
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 6: Infomercials and Friends in High Places
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 7: Social Suicide: Game of Thrones to the Rescue
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 8: Curious incuriosity
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 9: Denials, Dragons and Dummies
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 10, Season Finale: Final Absurdities