I’m going to confess to something I’m not proud of.
I have watched, on multiple occasions, a number of episodes of Keeping Up With The Kardashians.
If you’re not familiar, pat yourself on the back. For the uninitiated, this “reality show” follows socialite and inexplicably-famous nightmare Kim Kardashian, and her bonkers, melodramatic family.
I do not watch this show on my own accord. My girlfriend watches the show and she herself can’t fully explain why. There is no reason for Kim Kardashian to be famous, but because she is, she possesses a bizarre aura of relevance.
I remember sitting in a university philosophy class with a professor I very much admired. She would effortlessly expound on the theories of Rene Decartes and Aristotle, and she even wrote a book (that made sense!) on Immanuel Kant.
Then, one day, she tried applying the philosophy of perception as to why Kim Kardashian was famous.
“We perceive her to be of influence, and so she becomes that,” she said, while scrolling through kimkardashian.com on the projector. “Look at these posts, and the way she presents herself.”
Shortly after, she stopped talking about philosophy and started commenting on Kim K’s various shoe and dress combinations – “I don’t understand what she’s doing with those flats.” Eventually, she caught herself and got back to the lesson plan – but not before we all caught a glazed stare behind the glow of her computer screen. Kim K, somehow, transfixes the best of us.
But it wouldn’t happen to me. The first time my girlfriend asked me to watch, I responded with revulsion. I was above what I considered to be mindless, asinine, trash television, with subjects that represented the worst of our modern society.
I remember watching the first episode. Kim was talking with elder sister, Kourtney (they all start their names with “K”. It’s their brand.)
“You told me you would come to the signing,” Kim said, with eyes flashing anger. “I was all alone. You really let me down.”
I rolled my eyes. Here were individuals born into wealth and status, and spent their entire lives complaining and fighting over such unimportant things. The cameras revolving around them and the huge audience tuning in did nothing but reinforce their bankrupt attitudes.
But something concerning started to happen after that. I started complaining less and started watching more. Here and there, things would make me laugh. The overwrought and phony drama did, once in a while, sort of, kind of, need some resolution.
I’m not saying I’m a fan. But I don’t complain like I used to. That in itself is very, very concerning. Soon, I will be sitting on the couch, drooling from the mouth, eyes locked on to whether or not Kim will confront her friend about the thing he said one time.
“You really let me down,” she’ll say.
Yes. I must keep up. She must be important because she’s famous, right?
