Jessica Simpson is plotting her return to reality television. It was her Newlyweds MTV show with then husband Nick Lachey that turned her from junior pop star into an A-list celebrity. People love a dumb blond with big tits. It’s the white whale for feminists.
Fifteen years and a billion dollars in Simpson’s line of shit sold at Target later, she’s nailed a reality show pitch. It’s her, her husband, her pop music little sister, and her divorced parents. Doing shit. How can that not work? Her dad did her the favor of coming out of the ministerial closet and hot tubbing with young European men. Not exactly Caitlyn Jenner level gay commitment, but it’s sizzle real material. Along with those hulking big tits, how can the word “Kardashians” not be tossed around the development rooms in Hollywood?
The conundrum of approving or disapproving reality shows is that there is simply no standard. What if Blaine Gabbert quarterbacked the next six Super Bowl winners? Everybody in scouting has to be fired. This is more a question of how low can you go. Will you fake anal sex arguments with your husband? Will mom be willing to call dad a “two timing faggot” on national television? You don’t have to mean it, you have to say it. Ashlee dies from a disease in the news end of Season 1, that’s a given. Maybelline’s in for an initial five million. Why is Jessica Simpson doing this again?
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