You know what? I don't care. A month of episodes; 10 or so different girls - all coming down to a two-hour finale. Not to mention a shocking twist at the end. That twist being the realization that after all is said and done, I really could not care less who Joe Millionaire chose.
Yet, like a zombie, I sat motionless through the entire two hours as if the end would somehow offer me something of value. Regardless of the number of times Fox strayed from the plot or cut to timely commercial breaks, I could not find the strength to change the channel, or, God forbid, turn off the television altogether. As if the madness that is Michael Jackson's life or the tired quips that spew from the mouth of Simon Cowell interested me, I continued to stare at the gleaming picture in front of me awaiting another Joe Millionaire fix.
And up until the end, there was no need to feel guilt. This piece of mindless drivel was occupying our time. For two hours we could forget about the looming war with Iraq or our upcoming exams. Viewers could immerse themselves completely in the life of a simple man, whose decisions (hopefully) hold no war implications. That is, unless North Korea, like so many American males, has a thing for busty blonde women with a tendency toward kinky sex.
So maybe the Joe Millionaire phenomenon was a sign of the times we live in. The show gave us the illusion that we are part of a world where the only choice a dimwitted, semi-literate man has to make is which woman is worthy of his good looks and meager salary. Unlike another, more powerful media focus with less-than-spectacular verbal skill, we needed not fear that the results of his interactions would affect the fate of the free world.
As the episodes went on and the plot thickened, Joe Millionaire grabbed hold of America's subconscious and lulled us into a state of utter bliss. In the weeks that separated each installment, we had the option of either watching it for a second time on Thursday, or reading the media's take on the scandals behind the characters. Yes, Fox had convinced its viewers that both Joe Millionaire and the women fighting for his attention were indeed interesting and worth obsessing over.
What a great feeling it is to know that on Monday night we can drift into a world of reality that is not much like reality at all. What a perfect fairy tale ending, too. Weren't our hearts warmed when the announcement was made that the winner was the underdog, Zora? Reminiscent of Rocky IV, we watched her defeat the powerhouse that was Sarah, whose tenaciousness and pulverizing blows in earlier rounds assured us all that our American hero could not possibly come out the victor.
But Zora was a woman who loved Joe Millionaire for Joe Millionaire. Zora did not join the cast of a show entitled Joe Millionaire because she was interested in meeting a rich man. And this is why she came out the winner and why America got all warm and tingly inside.
Unfortunately, that feeling of serenity was short-lived. At approximately 10 p.m. on Feb. 17, America turned its head from the television, took a deep breath and realized, "I watched that whole thing." And what did we really get out of it? The events behind Joe Millionaire do not exactly make for the topic of a long-lasting conversation. So what if Zora won, or if MoJo - whose nickname surely made legendary blues musician Muddy Waters turn over in his grave - wore crazy hats? Using anecdotes that contain references to the bland, superficial characters of Joe Millionaire is not exactly going to help you to leave a positive impression on others.
Like waking up to the first sober memories of the night before, we tried to forget the past and go about our normal lives. After all, the garbage does need to be taken out, and it is about time that we start duct-taping our windows. But reality is such a difficult thing to return to after avoiding it. Don't worry. Television producers know we don't really want to worry about the problems of the real world, and Dr. Fox has the perfect prescription to get rid of them: more American Idol.
