One of our wisest philosophers (Homer Simpson) described television as “teacher, mother, secret lover.” Reality television belongs to that final classification, a mistress we can’t quite quit yet also will never introduce to our parents. It is ubiquitous as dirt and as dirty as, well, dirt. Critics have mostly treated it like dirt, too.

Recommended Stories

The deeper meaning of Love Island USA’s runaway success for our era of TV

Good vibes, murder, and a monkey make for a satisfying Carl Hiaasen adaptation

Alec Baldwin’s brooding era