Keeping it real, dawg (the swimsuit edition)

I was flipping through TV Tuesday night, and there were four so-called reality shows on at the same time: Richard Branson and his obsequious twentysomethings; annoying people from high school no one wants to see after 10 years; fat people who are now thin (for money); and people chasing around the globe for clues for money.

In honor of such quality entertainment, here is a letter I e-mailed to Sports Illustrated to commend the magazine on its fine entry into such programming.

Congratulations SI, on the launch of your so-called reality show, Swimsuit Model Search. How much more real can it get than to have bio-chem graduates splashing around in the surf for the opportunity to become masturbation material for minors while being judged by a panel of experts?

Not that there's anything wrong with your show or the moneymaking machine the swimsuit thing has become. What boy who is now over 40 didn't get his first look at semi-naked women with your winter-warming edition? DVD players, the Internet, even some TV are just today's equivalent of your Dad's sock-drawer magazine collection, and for that you should be applauded.

As for what your show says to women, maybe they can look anew at modeling as a sport, sort of like beach volleyball, but without all that grueling exercise. And one gal's objectification is another's empowerment, I guess.

I assume, though, that by entering the reality TV game, the magazine won't be criticizing the hypocrisy of money-grubbing college presidents who claim their athletes are students anymore. Ditto for picking on pampered jocks who seem to be going through the motions for the bucks, or, at the other end, who will do anything to win. At least without some us chuckling at the pot (or potbellied writer) calling the kettle black.

It just wouldn't be fair, would it?