I don’t watch crap reality TV–is it redundant to say “crap reality TV,” when it all looks like heavily processed bullcrap?–but TalkLeft has been following the traiwreck of the Bachelor this season and linked to this hillarious review by Kristen Baldwin at Entertainment Weekly.  (BTW, Jason is “The Bachelor,” and Molly is one of his two putative bride finalists.  I can’t believe I just typed the phrase “putative bride finalists.”)  Get a load of Jason’s mother:

But can [Molly] convince Jason’s mom? Mama Mesnick, unlike her son, has a pretty inscrutable poker face. During her couch time with Molly, she’s not giving up anything other than a steely gaze — especially when Molly says she’s fine to move because ”I can still have my career in Seattle.” Later, when a weepy Jason asks her for help with his decision, mom defrosts a piece of advice that she’s been keeping in the family freezer since the 1950s: ”Here’s a young lady who says she loves you to pieces, and yet she has a career, and career’s important to her. But I think foremost for you, you want somebody who is family oriented, and who’s going to be there for Ty and you.” Yes, that’s right, Donna Reed: Never mind that your son is making his second (soon-to-be-failed) attempt to find a stepmom for Ty on a reality TV show — the real threat to his future happiness is that he may marry a woman who works outside the home.

Say goodnight, Dr.  Laura!  I find the people who go on these shows mostly loathsome, but I can almost forgive the cute 20-somethings who are desperate for love (and a modeling or endorsement contract) for giving them a whirl.  But, seriously:  who are these parents who appear on these shows and presume to judge the contestants and pretend like they’re such serious and superior judges of someone else’s character?  They’re old enough to know better, and they really ought to be ashamed of themselves.  If Historiann had a child who turned out to have judgment as stupendously bad as Jason’s, you can be damned sure that I wouldn’t be caught dead on camera.  I’d sit shivah for the little bastard–I’m not even Jewish, but I appreciate the ritual!