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Wednesday, Nov 25, 2009
There's no accounting for taste, people, so cast your vote for those violent perverts of "Rome," "Survivor" host Jeff Probst or the manic mutants of "Drawn Together."
Nov 13, 2005 | The genealogy of poor taste
We don't know ourselves, we tasteless people -- we are personally ignorant about how much or how little taste we have. And there's good reason for that. We never try to find out whether we have any taste or not. Instead we define the things we like as "tasteful" and the things we don't like as "tasteless." Britney Spears, for example, has always been a deeply trashy trollop, but not long ago she was widely embraced and admired in spite of her propensity for writhing around half-dressed, moaning about how much she enjoys being our dirty little slave girl. Then Britney fell out of favor and suddenly we noticed that she wore T-shirts with slogans on them and ate Doritos straight out of the bag for breakfast while tongue-kissing her chain-smoking thug of a husband.
Under what conditions did men invent for themselves these value judgments "tasteful" and "tasteless"? And when did the women step in, chuckling at their foolish choices, and set them straight? What inherent value do such judgments have? Just because "South Park" makes tasteless look, well, tasteful, does that mean "American Dad" and "Drawn Together" should try to follow suit? Is "Rome" tasteful in spite of its violent and perverse content because it's loosely based on historical events and everyone speaks with a lovely British accent? Is it tasteful or tasteless for the Weaver family of "The Amazing Race" to point out that the other families lack "class," and do the Weaver girls' unsavory short-shorts undercut their argument at all? Do the French have taste simply because they sound like they do, and because they'll make fun of our shoes if we disagree?
Surviving Probst
Before we make up answers to these big questions (and more), let's ponder everyone's favorite style icon, "Survivor" host Jeff Probst. After all, who knows more about what's tasteful and what isn't than Probst, who set the fashion world ablaze by popularizing the Urban Safari look worldwide?
As the years go by and "Survivor" (8 p.m. Thursdays on CBS) solidifies its status as the gold standard of reality fare, one thing remains clear: Jeff Probst is the puppetmaster, and the "Survivor" contestants are merely puppets, as helpless to his demands and tribal council prodding as, well, helpless little puppets. When Probst asks if the tribe cares, say, about the value of one or another tribe member's contribution around camp, you can see the confusion on their faces. Do they care? Should they care? If Probst thinks they should care, maybe they should. Worlds hinge on the wrinkle of Probst's brow.
Remember last year when Probst suggested that it was unfair to get rid of Stephenie, the most competitive yet most defeated "Survivor" contestant ever? Remember how everyone listened to him and didn't vote her off, even though they were obviously planning to do so? And who do you think was responsible for bringing her back this fall? I'm betting Mark Burnett is so busy appeasing The Donald and The Martha that he signs off on pretty much anything Probst wants.
See, that's the way it works with the tastemakers of the world: They can do whatever they like. Tom Ford, Sofia Coppola, David LaChapelle, Donatella Versace, Spike Jonze, the French ... They all get to prance around and thumb their noses at convention, while the rest of us slog around the malls trying to parse the trickle-down detritus of their every whim. Tastemakers get to signal to the rest of the world who's worthy and who's not, who's fascinating and who's utterly over, who's exquisitely special, and who's just big and dumb and sad.
Speaking of big and dumb and sad, how big and dumb and sad is Judd? Has there ever been a bigger buffoon on "Survivor"? After getting drunk and vomiting in the shelter, Judd finds out the immunity idol is probably in the trees somewhere. Then he lies and tells everyone it's on the ground. Then he goes off and looks for it in the trees. Gary the former second-string NFL quarterback is crafty enough to follow him and sees him looking in the trees. Gary quickly finds the idol, thereby saving himself from certain elimination. Probst asks Judd about lying. Has he lied yet? Judd's eyes get really big and dumb and sad, and he says, "No, sir. Not yet. You know, it might happen, but as of this point in the game, no, I haven't lied about anything yet." He's like a kid caught with his entire head in the cookie jar.
Probst wants to remind everyone that Judd is a moron and a liar. This is true because Probst takes it very personally when it looks like the wrong guy might win. He gets all disapproving and after tribal council is over, he says stuff like, "One thing is clear. You guys can't trust each other, and at least three of you are total morons with no self-respect who deserve to be hung up by your toes and flogged."
Ultimately, Probst's taste and preferences are just as significant to "Survivor" as The Donald's are to "The Apprentice." And remember, chickens, it's the dictator who pretends to be part of a democratic system that we should fear the most. If you doubt me, just ask Probst's main squeeze, Julie Berry from "Survivor: Vanuatu." Hmm, let's see. The first time they met, Probst mercilessly interrogated Julie, doubted her sincerity, and she left in tears? Sounds like a match made in puppeteering heaven to me!
