The first "reality television" experience started back in 1861.
Civilians and journalists alike from the north were pressuring newly- elected President Lincoln for a swift end to the Civil War, which had begun in April with the attack on Fort Sumter. As the north was comprised of his most supportive constituency- and purchased many goods from the south- Lincoln thought it prudent to prevent the country from splitting in two.
By July, troops were dispatched from Washington D.C. under the inexperienced command of Brigadier General Irvin McDowell. His troops were unseasoned, and often strayed from formation to gather berries and seek shade from the blazing sun while en route. Their intent was to cut off the supply of goods and information from the Confederate capitol of Richmond.
By the time the Union reached a small creek known as Bull Run, they were tired, and their supplies were near exhaustion. It wasn’t the greatest show of force in the first land battle of the Civil War.
The Confederate spy network had kept secessionists in the know; southern reinforcements, equally inexperienced, made the journey north of Richmond in an attempt to surprise the invading forces.
They came with a fresh supply of food and munitions. They came with motivation and full confidence of their victory. They came under the command of the unpopular- among- his- peers Brigadier General P.T. Beauregard.
Despite the chivalry often associated with the Civil War in movies and textbooks, Bull Run marked the beginning of the bloodiest war on American soil, made possible through industry; the army now had railroad and telegraph at its disposal, and armament had become more efficient than ever.
Small arms had evolved: flint muskets of the Revolution had been replaced with rifles, side arms and grenades which had a greater range and were more accurate.
Howitzer canons used something called a “grape shot”: small iron balls were wrapped in cloth or canvas and tied with string, making it look like a bunch of grapes. When fired, the wrap disintegrated, releasing a spray of iron, much like a sawed off shotgun would today.
The brand- new Gatling gun was the first rapid fire weapon- the grandfather of the modern machine gun- and was operated by a hand crank. It could fire 200 rounds per minute.
Stunning weaponry of the day, and so it was fitting that both sides of the battle had an audience; Bull Run was the first war in American history with a cheering section.
Historical accounts attribute nearly 500 excited spectators having drove carriages to watch the stand- off, having been much talked of by the media and in taverns, and it was presumed to be an easy and sweeping victory for northern forces.
With the audience, believe it or not, came vendors; earth- hardened families who pushed carts filled with apples and baked goods for purchase among the crowd.
The carriages ranged from the humble wagons of journalists, farmers and rope makers to grand stagecoaches owned by politicians, mayors and their opera- glass toting wives: all curious, all completely unprepared for what they witnessed that day.
Bull Run was the bloodiest war ever fought on American soil up to that time. Some 4,700 men lost their lives during the 5 hour battle, and nearly 3,000 others lost an arm, a foot or an eye to a little iron ball.
The crowd saw it all.
But that’s not what bothered the crowd the most.
That Union forces lost wasn’t the first outrage for many spectators, either. What bothered people more than anything else they say that day was how they lost.
They ran away.
Northern forces had been completely unprepared for a battle. Out of sheer panic, and due to poor leadership, the Union soldiers retreated with manic temperament. Many left pouches, weapons and clothing on the field.
Some even stole horses from carriages so they could escape. Several civilians were knocked over by evading troops, who were met with a flurry of boos and insults from the crowd.
They wanted more.
The south won that day, but that’s really not the point. Bull Run was that first car wreck we slowed down to gawk at in fascination.
We’d tasted blood. And we wanted more.
And then there was Cops.
Combining the humor we saw in the “gotcha!” candid camera shows of the 1950s and 60s with suspense of a police drama, this television show was born thanks to a Writer’s Guild strike in 1988. It left a watermark on society; our guiltiest voyeuristic pleasures had gone public and were becoming socially acceptable, and our culture completely redefined what it meant to go dumpster diving.
Nothing was private anymore: bathrooms, having evaded years of Soft Scrub use, would be harboring fugitives behind the bathroom curtain. Gay lovers were arrested after fighting over another man in a gas station. Naked drunks dancing in the street. Hookers hiding in dumpsters behind hotels.
All paving the way for even darker secrets to be exposed; once- shameful labels of “slob” and “bad parent” were now sources of entertainment. Instead of shaming the guilty, we embrace with understanding and gentle reconditioning.
Soon, femininity took over reality TV as well, shaking its finger at anyone who can’t control their children or wash their clothes. Admittedly out of sad necessity, Super Nanny schooled parents who really should have never had children in the first place.
While I’ll never understand why anyone would appear on this show willingly, or under their real names, it’s a perfect look at how poorly maintained the American family structure has become. The show revolves around a British nanny who dismounts her high horse for a few days to follow the movements of an American family with disrespectful, violent and snotty kids. Behavior is dissected and faults of the parents are broadcast and then corrected.
Of course, after one week, the children have been magically transformed into angels because the nanny comes from a country with a deep history of compassion.
The British.
The same people we fired 230 years ago.
And now we’re asking for their help.
Talk about tail between the legs.
Our maddening lack of shame has also driven up the ratings of other self- improvement reality shows like Wife Swap, Hoarders and Clean House. Because nothing in the world makes us feel better about ourselves than seeing the filth someone else lives in.
Even the once- snooty, high- cultured A&E channel jumped on the sewage bandwagon with shows like Intervention. This is a television show that videotapes addicts shooting up crack and smoking meth and winds up winning an Emmy award.
And it’s all under the guise of wanting to make people better.
Reality TV is only one example of how feminism is ruining our lives, but it is most candidly obvious by listening to some of our nation’s most popular women from throughout time:
“If we (women) mean to have heroes, statesmen and philosophers, we should have learned women.” ~Abigail Adams, wife of John.
“Remember; Ginger Rodgers did everything Fred Astaire did, only backwards and in high heels.” ~Linda Ellerbee, NBC journalist and Washington D.C. correspondent.
“Everybody loves you when they’re about to cum.” ~Madonna
“You can have sex with hundreds of people with a condom on and get nothing.” ~Lady Gaga
Since the Church of Rome is infallible and the Church of England is never wrong, shocking feminist remarks of today are protected under freedoms of expression, speech and art.
We’ve become a culture that celebrates immaturity and bitchiness.
We’ve become a culture insisting our demands are met immediately, no matter how ridiculous.
We’ve become a culture of waning social skills.
We’ve become a culture that has forgotten any understanding of the opposite sex: women want a man who’s both sensitive and a little dangerous.
Men want a woman who is part librarian, part hooker.
These characteristics have attracted us to one another for thousands of years. We’re breaking our own fingers trying to reinvent the wheel.
Meanwhile, men are left alone on their couches and in their bedrooms with the likes of Jenna Jamison, a bottle of hand lotion and a box of Kleenex.
I’m sorry- I mean facial tissues.
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