You touched on one my secret fears- prison.

I stay on the straight and narrow because I don't ever want to have to share a cell with a really big guy everyone refers to as 'Peaches.'

Do that Yoga, stay on the straight and narrow.

Sig:

I'm with you.

Have you been reading my Prison Series? Granted, it's a women's prison, but believe me it's beyond the worst of your imagination.

I also spent time lots of time in Sing-Sing doing research for my short-lived ABC series "Mariah."

Nobody there was doing Yoga—believe you me.

I can't even bring myself to write about that experience.

Thank G-d for prisons.

I'm glad that Karen can unwind with her yoga sessions. True, it's not for everyone.
My oldest brother was doing yoga YEARS & YEARS ago, and tried to convince me to do it and/or learn to meditate. I, who can't even relax during an hour-long massage therapy session, was supposed to learn how to do yoga?!
For me, relaxation comes with mellow music and with writing from the heart. Aaahh....

Pearl:

Try watching America's Next Top Model. Total relaxion as your brain cells melt away at a truly alarming rate.

c'mon! can't you play along?
how hard is it to try some yoga?
btw - i can't watch that show - it's too painful

r - You're such a gentleman - why don't you just play the "paganism" card??? eg: "I WOULD engage in yoga, but my high level spiritual Torah understanding prevents me from actualizing avodah zarah (idolotrous) energies by shaping my body like supposed dieties".

Mata Hari:

I did play along, for 45 long seconds. Yoga: it's just too stressful.

Real Name:

You are a genius. A talmid chacham. Avodah Zarah! Why didn't I think of that?

Perfect.

Oh wait, Karen's gonna remind me that I'm the one who rips through the Shmoneh Esrei like a formula one racer.

Hmm. I know: Instant Baal T'shuvah!

Yeah, that'll fly :)

Trashy TV was never so much fun...until now!

Shabbat Shalom to the entire family.

Tnspr569:

Trash, gee, and I thought Tyra & Co. are just such a class act :)

Have a lovely and meaningful Shabbos.

Oh my gosh, Robert, it would be SO FUN to watch trashy TV with you! My favorite of late has been The Real Housewives of the O.C. Believe me, we'd be throwing things at the TV together. (You can download it on iTunes, and I am soooo tempted to buy myself a season pass for it. Sigh.)

Other recent faves were Top Chef (which you'd probably not like, as you're not into food) and Top Design (which I think you would appreciate - some of the décor is truly hideous). All Bravo shows. Oh, and Bad Girls' Club, where Oxygen got all these, er, 'bad girls' under one roof together, added plenty of alcohol and the occasional man to fight over, and let the fur fly.

I have a feeling you'll think less of me after reading this comment...

Jackie:

Hmm. A few well considered thoughts about the current state of electronic media.

There are no housewives on The Real Housewives of the O.C. I mean, only one of them is married, and that marriage is just hanging by a thread, and every one else is either shacking up, or just sleeping around.

And what does Slade do for a living? He's stupid as a stone yet he drives a Humvee that costs $65 K, lives in a million dollar home, and has the emotional maturity of a lizard. Where does this slug get his money? He must deal crack!

Ans what's with Jo's so-called music? The cat next door screeches better than she warbles. Is this show telling me that legit producers are gonna record this no-talent dim-wit?

And shall I start in on the hair styles? Helloooo, Farah Fawcett anyone?

The jewelry?

My tantes in Brooklyn have better taste.

Breasts. Are these women insane? They have installed shelves, flotation devices. Not attractive. Not sexy. Hideous, and in some cases the women come close to looking like drag queens.

Can anyone say alcoholics? These women never stop drinking. This show should be: The Real Alcoholics of the O.C.

Final Thoughts: Trash TV. Never watch it. I'm way too sophisticated :)

Lest anyone be misled, the whole point of the the Yoga minyan - the custom designed private yoga class, is that it is not Avodah Zorah. The closest the instructor, Elana Rogel, gets to any indoctrination is her soothing reassurance that we are "doing yoga practice, not yoga perfect." There is no mention of any "deity" and we are merely stretching and breathing in ancient poses.

I caught an episode of "Germany's Next Top Model" on a TV in a hotel room last year. The great thing about unscripted television formats is that they can be reproduced in multiple languages without much effort, or sometimes it seems without any actual human intervention. I was somewhere ridiculously non-German when I watched this, too. China?. (It was probably either that or Al Jazeera). This was exactly as you describe except it was all in German, except for the fact that the phrase "Germany's Next Top Model" was uttered in ridiculously over the top American announcer speak in English just before and after cutting to commercials.

Somehow, I think trash television works much better in German, in a qualitatively similar but quantitatively entirely different way to that in which all Hollywood film trailers are improved by being dubbed into French. I am sure that these effects are completely ruined by actually understanding either language.

Yoga and America's Next Top Model- sounds like you have the outline for a new script.

Michael:

Germany's Top Models? Oh man, sounds like heaven! I've seen the Australian Top Models and it's even better than the American version because:

1. Can barely understand the Australian lingo, so it makes no diff what the ladies say. This is a huge relief.
2. The girls work very hard at acting like crazed crack-heads—even more so than their American counterparts.
3. The Aussie gay men work harder at being gay than the American gay men. Literally: a drag race.
4. They always shtup in some angry/depressed/isolated Aborigene woman who somberly goes on and on about being there for her people. Love the Martin Luther King angle.

Jack:

Yup, me on the floor, hurling insults at a bunch of IQ-challenged anorexics; sounds like a ratings smash. I'm on it :)

The Aussie gay men work harder at being gay than the American gay men.

Oh, Australian gay men definitely do work harder at being gay than any other gay men in the world. This is probably a reaction to the fact that other homophobic Australian men work harder at being homophobic than any other homphobic men in the world.

And Australia's relationship with its indigenous people is rather complex, as I am sure you realise. It's both entirely unique and exactly the same as the American situations you are familiar with.

Michael:

Yes, I have connected the dots regarding the Aussie gay men, and the indigenous people.

What I don't get is why the Aussie models seem to be far crazier than the American girls.

But now that I think about it I realize it's all in the casting. They look for the loons, shtup them in a house together, a petri dish of instability, stock the fridge with lots of booze, and let the fur fly.

Did you see the episode where a bunch of the Aussie girls got blind drunk and then had one-night stands with a bunch of studs?

Stunning.

Even the American show would not push the girls into such levels of promiscuity and decadence.

Robert, I totally agree with ALL your points re "Real Housewives".

Slade worked at a title company, but I believe he has left and is trying to launch a career in acting (he's already done a lot of modelling and some small stage work). I learned this from some online messageboard (oh gosh, I'm pathetic). Thing is, if you observe Slade and bear in mind his goal of an acting career, it becomes SO obvious that he sees this show as his perpetual audition. It's cringeworthy. If I have to hear one more time about how Jo is his "best friend," I'll puke.

Also, apparently the part of Coto that Slade's house is in is the 'downmarket' part.

Agree re the drinking...and the astrology stupidity was just hard to watch.

What really makes me angry are the kids on that show. The best one (Kara) is still an entitled brat.

Jackie:

I'll bet the tile company belonged to Slade's father.

I hate that guy. With his Miami Vice stubble. Sheesh, he's so over.

Best friends with Jo. Uh-huh. Helloooo, Suitcase Pimp!

The astrology! I was screaming my lungs out. It became an excuse for rotten and stupid behavior.

The Kids, Part I: what kind of mother allows her child to shack up with a guy who wears a baseball cap sideways and breeds killer dogs?

The Kids, Part II: doomed. Every single one of them.

The upside: The show makes me feel soooo good about myself!

Which, I suppose, is the whole idea.

Wait until I blog about "The Girls Next Door."

Oy.

But now that I think about it I realize it's all in the casting.

Actually, I think it is more that you don't know the eastern suburbs of Sydney. This is the bitchiest part of the bitchiest city I know.

Michael:

You mean they only cast in one neighborhood? That's weird.

No, I am sure they cast from all over. (All over defined as people from each of the five major television markets of Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Perth, and Adelaide, plus probably somebody from Tasmania and a few people from "rural and regional Australia". However, they have put them in a house in Darling Point in Sydney, which is probably the bitchiest neighbourhood in the country, as a place that people who want to be a "top model" see living in as the height of all human achievement. That kind of success is a Sydney thing and an eastern suburbs thing far more than something that comes from any other Australian city.

Michael:

"Darling Point."

Oh my Gosh.

That should be the name of a series!

I'm not kidding. It's soooo obvious. The scripts write themselves.

I'm calling my manager.