It was either the book of Revelation or a recent issue of “Entertainment Weekly” that warned this night would come.
It’s Wednesday, when the quartet of dim, dense, dimmer and denser rise from the four corners of the Earth and converge in four 30-minute blocks on what we can only hope are very few television screens across the country.
As if any one of these shows isn’t grand enough to stand alone, the third season of Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie’s “The Simple Life” kicks off with two episodes at 9 p.m. Wednesday on KCPQ.
It’s followed by the third-season premiere of “Newlyweds: Nick and Jessica” on MTV, and the night is capped with the second-season debut of “The Ashlee Simpson Show,” also on the channel formerly known as “Music Television.”
To help protect us here in Snohomish County, we’ve brought in Cher, who will be performing at the Everett Events Center when the unified assault on TV takes place.
In case that’s not enough, I’m raising the color-coded TV idiocy alert system to red.
Seal your doors and windows with duct tape and watch two hours of “Mythbusters” on The Discovery Channel. This week, they’re testing the theory of jumping in a falling elevator before it hits the ground, and what really happens when you put sugar in a gas tank?
If C&H and super unleaded doesn’t quite cut it, you might be tempted to opt for the eye candy that the fearsome foursome are presenting.
Hilton, 23, is a hotel empire heiress, and Richie, also 23, is her friend and daughter of pop singer Lionel Richie.
Jessica Simpson, 24, is a half-decent singer whose face wrinkles up like a pained donkey when she reaches for those high notes. Her sister Ashlee, remarkably, doesn’t appear to show any emotion or strain whatsoever when she’s singing.
It isn’t quite clear why any of the four are famous in the first place, much less why we’d want to watch their journeys through life.
To its credit, “The Simple Life” doesn’t pretend that Hilton and Richie’s real lives would actually be of any interest to us. Instead, it puts the pooch-toting princesses through a series of contrived odd jobs that are more appealing for the reactions they induce than for their own nonsense.
Such as Joyce Brower, the matriarch of their first temporary home in Bayonne, N.J., who co-opts Hilton’s trademark, “That’s hot.” And Larry, their first angry boss at an auto mechanic shop, who gets all soft on the two after getting a thank-you hug from Richie.
It’s a definite guilty pleasure.
The same can’t be said for “Newlyweds” or “The Ashlee Simpson Show.”
Gluttons for witnessing career implosions might be curious to see how Ashlee’s lip-syncing gaffe on “Saturday Night Live” gets played.
But the idea of watching as cameras follow either Simpson sister or Jessica’s husband, Nick Lachey, sounds less like entertainment and more like a interrogation device that could better be employed at Guantanamo Bay.
I can’t blame you if you choose to take part in “The Simple Life.” But for your own safety and the safety of those around you, avoid the Simpson sisters.
If we continue to support these types of activities, then those who would mount attacks on our intellect over television broadcasts will have won.
Columnist Victor Balta: 425-339-3455 or vbalta@heraldnet.com.
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