You know what gets on my nerves?
Talent shows. Not the kind of talent shows where we find the next dog that can bark the word “strawberries” in a French accent, whilst wearing a tutu. No. I mean those pompous “lets find the next pop star” kind of shows.
You know the type. The formula is pretty simple. Take three or four judges of various dubious talents themselves and stick them on a panel, to pick away at the dreams of a demented farmer from Limpopo who queued overnight in Polokwane, or some Hairdresser with dreams over and above cutting fringes for the next thirty years.
Yes, there have been instances where talented individuals have come forward and shown the world that they are amazing and deserve our money and focus. But really. When did the public become involved with breaking the next new artist. When did becoming the “next big thing” be all about queuing up for hours to get a few minutes to show the judges that you are the boss?
I remember when the first of these shows came out. Suddenly there was two. Then three, then thirty. Syndicated world wide, with hours and hours and hours of schmaltz to deal with. But what gets me….is how they make the money on these shows.
Right. Here is contestant A from “Where-ever-ville” If she doesn’t get through to the second round. Her mother may have a heart attack. FOLKS.. It is up to you now to vote for them via SMS. Oh at a cheeky couple of rand each. So not only do we tell the management who we like the most. We pay the money that gets the artist through to the next round, AND at the same time, making the producers of these shows who are already rich, so much richer that it actually starts to break society.
Oh I just don’t get it. We need to #StopTheNonsense