A&E's Intervention: That's Not Me, Is It? Naw, That's Not Me.
Becks is fairly addicted to A&E's Intervention, the compelling/depressing/sometimes uplifting/always arguably exploitative reality series in which real people suffering real holy-God-wow levels of addiction hit bottom for the cameras before getting blindsided with a treatment-or-shunnage ultimatum by their family and friends.
(I don't mean to be harsh - that's pretty much the definition of an intervention in the first place.)
For me, watching the show is always a surprisingly uncomfortable experience. It's like being on stage at your high school graduation, and the kid three names in front of you goes into a full-blown epileptic seizure right when the diploma hits the hand.
It also inspires this weird inner vacillation between wondering about my own drinking, and feeling totally fine about it because, you know, I don't see myself throwing up blood while sobbing (on camera!) shortly after threatening my mother with a broken bottle during a "discussion" about how infrequently I clean the part of the laundry room where I sleep (again, on camera!) anytime soon. Then again, I have thrown up on camera, and ruined the odd shitty job or casual friendship due to hangover or weakened brain-face filter.
What Intervention needs is a watch-along checklist, a rundown of the show's most commonly recurring indicators that those of us viewing the program at home might've progressed beyond the realm of "occasionally problematic lifestyle" and into "we went ahead and ordered the tombstone with this year's date on it." And here it is, after the jump:
(I don't mean to be harsh - that's pretty much the definition of an intervention in the first place.)
For me, watching the show is always a surprisingly uncomfortable experience. It's like being on stage at your high school graduation, and the kid three names in front of you goes into a full-blown epileptic seizure right when the diploma hits the hand.
It also inspires this weird inner vacillation between wondering about my own drinking, and feeling totally fine about it because, you know, I don't see myself throwing up blood while sobbing (on camera!) shortly after threatening my mother with a broken bottle during a "discussion" about how infrequently I clean the part of the laundry room where I sleep (again, on camera!) anytime soon. Then again, I have thrown up on camera, and ruined the odd shitty job or casual friendship due to hangover or weakened brain-face filter.
What Intervention needs is a watch-along checklist, a rundown of the show's most commonly recurring indicators that those of us viewing the program at home might've progressed beyond the realm of "occasionally problematic lifestyle" and into "we went ahead and ordered the tombstone with this year's date on it." And here it is, after the jump:
1. Do you live with someone who is basically supporting you?
2. Have you and the person with whom you live had the exact same argument about, well, anything on more than 86 separate occasions?
3. Have you ever asked a friend or family member for money to support your habit, letting them know that's what it's for and that you'll definitely resort to stealing if they don't come through?
4. Does your family have many, many photos of a smiling, younger-looking you engaging in wholesome group activities such as team athletics, whitewater rafting or religious youth-group retreats?
5. Do you vaguely remember the phrases "so much potential" and "light up the room" being ascribed to you in the past?
6. Do you feel the need to indulge your habit immediately upon waking, or before undertaking most menial tasks, such as going to the post office, picking your children up from day care or visiting your probation officer?
7. Do you think that sleep is for pussies?
8. Do you have friends or family members that always love to party crazy with you, but that you suspect wouldn't have a problem talking about how sad your life has become on cable television?
9. Have you invented a drinking game that revolves around watching A&E's Intervention?
10. Has A&E contacted you about participating in a documentary about addiction?
If you answered "yes" to three or fewer of Questions One through Nine, you should probably get away from your scene for a long weekend of serious contemplation. If you answered "yes" to four or more of Questions One through Nine, it might not be long before you can answer "yes" to Question Ten; when that happens, sign the papers, pretend to be surprised when you walk into the room with all the couches, and thank God somebody else is footing the bill for your treatment.
2. Have you and the person with whom you live had the exact same argument about, well, anything on more than 86 separate occasions?
3. Have you ever asked a friend or family member for money to support your habit, letting them know that's what it's for and that you'll definitely resort to stealing if they don't come through?
4. Does your family have many, many photos of a smiling, younger-looking you engaging in wholesome group activities such as team athletics, whitewater rafting or religious youth-group retreats?
5. Do you vaguely remember the phrases "so much potential" and "light up the room" being ascribed to you in the past?
6. Do you feel the need to indulge your habit immediately upon waking, or before undertaking most menial tasks, such as going to the post office, picking your children up from day care or visiting your probation officer?
7. Do you think that sleep is for pussies?
8. Do you have friends or family members that always love to party crazy with you, but that you suspect wouldn't have a problem talking about how sad your life has become on cable television?
9. Have you invented a drinking game that revolves around watching A&E's Intervention?
10. Has A&E contacted you about participating in a documentary about addiction?
If you answered "yes" to three or fewer of Questions One through Nine, you should probably get away from your scene for a long weekend of serious contemplation. If you answered "yes" to four or more of Questions One through Nine, it might not be long before you can answer "yes" to Question Ten; when that happens, sign the papers, pretend to be surprised when you walk into the room with all the couches, and thank God somebody else is footing the bill for your treatment.
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Crap, I got four.
Good lord people, just fucking detox and get over it. Does anyone care that you didn't get enough trophies as a kid or a few less hugs? Maybe, just possibly, you're a fucking drunk who needs to get your head out of your ass.
I feel the same way about You Are What You Eat! on BBC America that you do about Intervention.
While watching I continually ask myself, "Am I eating enough vegetables?"