On TV, celebrity trumps reality

Commentary by Patrick Keller

Reality TV may have run its course! It seemed only a matter of time before it was co-opted or, should I say, returned to its rightful owner. Witness Celebrity Apprentice. Donald Trump may not be pulling any punches when he calls it what it is, but by creating a culture of selling based entirely on celebrity status, reality TV has come full circle: reality, it seems, is what we are sold. In the hit TV show, victorious celebrity team members pat each other on the back. Their swollen rolodexes have guaranteed them one more week, free from the faux berating of the human hairpiece. But the Don, not strangely, is a little friendlier, a little less abrasive, to his Hollywood cohorts than he is to the everyday Joe. In fact, the show’s entertainment value lies in this sappy rapport: celebrities worship the Don’s business acumen! They can hardly believe that a man worth a billion dollars would wear a $20 hairpiece. For his part, Trump can’t wait to gush over celebrities past achievements. They are Hollywood’s beautiful people and he is a hard knock Big Apple tycoon. There is so much to learn from each other. Trump wonders aloud why a former Olympic gymnast couldn’t bring her competitive spirit to Central Park for the weeny hunt? Then, with a flourish, she is fired. But the gymnast was easy pickings for Trump. Athletes from the heartland are rarely ready for primetime. They get fired. The Don’s first litmus test of business savvy is always to sell hotdogs. Put some hapless wannabes in Times Square with steaming carts of pig meat, kick back and see who cuts the mustard. But in Celebrity Apprentice, dollar figures for the porcine product reach astronomical heights. When a Baldwin brother shills for Oscar Meyer, he can fetch $5,000 a frank! Yes, and woe to those whose celebrity status has dropped down to B-list; whose puny black book is not worth the relish spilled on it! For to return to Trump Towers without the last-minute hotdog sale is to show your true colors: you’re washed up, pal! You’re fired! Somewhere along the line the Don sired more business moguls. Or, he had them cloned. Daughter Ivanka Trump now sits on the board. The slow-eyed temptress brings to mind a Euro trash spy character. Her keen insights into the mysteries of selling hotdogs are like golden nuggets cast from above; free enterprise pearls. Ghostlike, she appears from the mist of a steaming hotdog cart. Cat-calls and whistles fade from earshot as she admonishes celebrities for their sales shortcomings. Then, she disappears again in a fog of expensive perfume and hairspray. When she returns to the castle, she’s going to tell her daddy. Someone’s getting fired! In the celebrity version of the popular show, all proceeds go to charity. This is all well and good, and they are rightly proud of the winning contributions. But here we would do good to call a spade a spade. The network show enjoys huge ratings; Trump may just exceed his real estate profits with those of the hit show. Celebrities also get a second lease on life, and no doubt a healthy stipend for their appearance. Do we really need to applaud millionaires for calling their millionaire friends and having them spend $5,000 on a hotdog? Couldn’t they just send a tax deductible cheque to the charity of their choice, sparing us the soap opera? Finally, isn’t it insulting when someone spends an obscene amount of money on a trivial item, just for the sake of helping a celebrity win a rigged contest? The message of Celebrity Apprentice is simple: Celebrities are just like you or I. All of us, save for the Trumps, confounded by the arcane mysteries of finance. The only real difference? They spend more on hotdogs.

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