The self-aware ranting of comedian Ryan Hill

Ryan Hillby Ryan Hill


Do I binge and purge? Or beat up hookers and take their panties? Or maybe collect creepy dolls with those dead eyes?  No, my problem is far worse.  Hello my name is Ryan and I am a reality TV junkie.

The 1st Step is admitting you have a problem, which clearly I have, hence the title.  The 2nd Step is…..Oh crap I gotta go Real Housewives of Atlanta is on……

            It may seem strange in a culture so thoroughly inundated with a vast array of reality fare, but a few short years ago I remember sitting around a table with other entertainment professionals lamenting how Reality TV was destroying the “biz”.  I threw in my two cents too, although it was always comical to me when actors would say “they are taking all the jobs” when they’d never booked anything.  That’s real convenient, sure you’ve been auditioning for 15 years, but just when you were about to get your big break SNOOKI ate it, but I digress.   Now it seems like it has always been there, what would I do if I couldn’t watch Denise Richard fabricate a normal life by owning a pig, as if to say; see I wasn’t married to coke fiend, whore loving, bad actor, I have a pig.  It’s like we the viewing public has Stockholm syndrome and has begun to identify with our captors, the big-assed Kardashians, who I am “keeping up with” as we speak.


            I have tried to figure out why we care.  People say that we relate to them because they are real or that we see ourselves in them.  WRONG.  We watch because the shiz in reality TV is so much more insane and unrealistic then scripted TV.  Incredibly rich women flaunting there lifestyles and lamenting an absent nanny, 1 of the 4.(for two kids by the way).  I mean, there is a show on now about people who bid on abandoned storage spaces and people actually WATCH IT.  Then of course there is the most outrageous one of them all HOARDERS,  I’m sorry but in reality no one has 7 inches of cat feces stacking up in their house, nor is it normal to find a chicken’s skeleton crushed under all your crap.  The best part is when the toothless obese hoarders says “It T’ain’t juunnnk these are my Pusesssions.  I’m a collector.”  Collector of what exactly Hepatitis A?


 The fact is, it is easier for me to believe that a group of aliens will land on this earth pretending to be our savior’s, while plotting our doom, then it is for me to believe that drunken jersey girls, banging every roided out, douche bag with access to hair gel, and Bowflex, as the biggest TV stars of the year. And yet I watch the Jersey shore.  Every agonizing, drunken, reading at a fourth grade level, moment of that steaming pile of…let’s go with show,  I feel like I should be cutting myself when I watch it, and yet there I be, watching it.

So after all of this inner struggle I realized why it works so well.  We call it “reality” so they are real, like us.  So we can come home and say to ourselves: “hey I may drink too much but at least I don’t shoot heroin between my toes”. Then, polish off that bottle of vodka, rub one out to free internet porn, and fall into blissful superior slumber knowing at least there are few people out there more fucked up than we are. .