In the past decade, the softcore porn channel known as MTV has only produced one show that has peaked my interest in any way, shape or form.  That show is MTV Cribs.  Cribs is one my favorite shows of all time.  It is beautiful, voyeuristic materialism at its best, and, therefore, at its worst.  Cribs is the American Dream in broadcast format.

And we fucking love it.

We love the fact that Jermaine Dupri has a bottle of Dom sitting next to a stack of Lunchables and two boxes of Capri Suns.  We whole-heartedly agree that the polar bear rug really ties together the second foyer in Sebastian Bach’s guest house.  And, finally, what in this entire world can make us lust after the good life more than Missy Elliot’s bidet?

Our culture has voted these celebrities into this position with the dollar.  Does Chyna need two jacuzzis?  Absolutely. Does a thirteen-year-old Lil’ Romeo need a vintage impala?  Fuck yeah.  Does Hanson need a lifetime supply of Honey Combs?  They are growing boys.

Cribs is the measuring stick that celebrities hold each other up against.  And here’s the thing, as Cribs has gone on throughout the years, the houses have started to look more and more alike.  Corona’s and frozen pizza.  An all white living room that never gets used.  A pool with a custom built waterfall.  Friends hanging out, playing video games, waiting for the cameras to leave so they can light up that strawberry blunt that they hid underneath the leopard skin ottoman.

Cribs is a microcosm of our entire culture.  We worship celebrities.  We worship things.  Cribs allows us to worship celebrities’ things.   It allows celebrities to worship other celebrities’ things, so that they can eventually become a celebrity that is worshipped by other celebrities.  Spank me with a Burberry tote bag; this is out of control.

Wealth can be a self-perpetuating disease to people who grow up in a culture that champion the concept of “more”.

Almost every single person on the show was once poor.  Now, through their own talents and “hard work”, they are rich.  Isn’t this the American Dream; that through our own efforts we can will ourselves to success?

But what has this success gotten these celebrities?  They are famous, but they are all prisoners.  Cribs shows us their cell – a beautiful, comfortable, paid-for-in-cash cell.  Our celebrities belong to the world’s most elite penitentiary.  They cannot go to the gym.   They cannot take a quiet walk with their pet.  They cannot pick their nose at a stoplight, without seeing it on a magazine the next day at the grocery store.

So, is this the pinnacle of achievement in our culture?  Is this the realization of our country’s idea of success?  Is this our culture’s manifestation of the American Dream?  If so, then maybe it is time to wake up.

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