“Muslim” turns the reality spotlight on five families who encompass a broad spectrum of the Arab-American experience.

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At times, the show feels like an extended public relations video for hardworking Muslims to show their fellow citizens they have nothing to fear. But “All-American Muslim” is honest enough about some less flattering components of the Islamic faith to keep our respect. And watching an Irish-Catholic family merge peacefully with a Muslim clan reminds us our differences truly can make us stronger – no more how treacly that might sound.

What’s more, “Muslim” makes the case that American culture can have a positive effect on a religion which has festered in some repressive societies. The families of “All-American Muslim” have incorporated the best of their own religion with their American roots.

“Muslim” shrewdly centers on Dearborn, Mich., home of one of the largest Muslim populations in the country. We meet Aoude, a mother-to-be who hears the hijab but has a husband, Nader, who promises to be a more hands-on father than most Muslim men.

Nina Bazzy hardly fits the description of a stereotypical Muslim female. She’s blond, aggressive and eager to make her way in the business world no matter what cultural norms say.

“I may turn a few heads, but I do what I need to do to make it in this world,” she says, the only time the series comes within the same zip code as those “Real Housewives” shows.

‘Bordertown: Laredo,’ a 10-episode series, debuting at 10 p.m. EST Oct. 13 on A&E, does exactly that. But the show isn’t as explosive, or topical, as one might expect. It really is another variation on ‘Cops,’ one with a politically correct cast and a dearth of badly needed context.

The reality series follows five Mexican-Americans working for the Laredo P.D. Narcotics Unit. They know they’re outgunned and outmanned, and even on days when they capture a tractor trailer full of dope there’s always another convoy a few miles behind it.

The show’s premiere night features back-to-back episodes, but neither delivers the kind of gut-wrenching content guaranteed to instill viewer loyalty.

We’re told that Laredo, the largest inland port on the U.S.-Mexican border, is a ground zero for the country’s War on Drugs. The camera lingers on a massive warehouse filled with confiscated drugs and weaponry. But the show’s first bust involves a stoner growing pot in plain sight. It’s pretty tame stuff, but the arrest gives officers enough information to track down a larger target.

That’s often how the bigger busts happen – a minor tip or arrest leads to a major score.

‘Bordertown: Laredo’ gives some insight into how the drug cartels operate. And those tense home invasions are levied by scenes in which the officers manually haul bag after bag of marijuana off a massive trailer. But given the explosive subject matter, and the current headlines over the blossoming “Fast and Furious” scandal, the latest reality series plays it shockingly safe.

What could have elevated ‘Bordertown: Lardedo’ above its cop show trappings is context. Just what kind of impact are these drug runners having on the fine folk of Laredo, Texas? Rather than showing us regular Joes and Janes grappling with the drug running fallout, we spend nearly all our time with the well-intentioned – but rather drab – officers.

They all appear brave and dedicated to their mission – putting a dent in the wave of narcotics flooding into the U.S. It’s refreshing to see the officers refusing to play to the cameras, but stoicism doesn’t make for arresting television. We do see a few court-certified break-ins, but nothing happens beyond a few scared souls giving up the goods or spinning some ludicrous explanation for their handiwork.

‘Bordertown:Laredo’ hits small screens at a time when the nation’s attention is turning toward the border. But the series doesn’t take advantage of the incendiary material or an audience eager for answers.

And you’d be wrong.  From Newsweek:

The 58-year-old comedian is launching a 16-episode reality series, Roseanne’s Nuts, on Lifetime on Wednesday. It shows her new life on a macadamia nut farm on the Big Island of Hawaii, which she bought in 2007 and moved to fulltime last year. She lives with her boyfriend of eight years, Johnny Argent, and teenaged Buck, with her adult children and grandchildren around, too. They’re all on the show, which Barr said is like “Larry David meets reality.” Meaning, it’s not exactly reality? “It’s based in reality,” she said. “But it’s funny. It’s not the Kardashians.”

It’s long been said that reality is stranger than fiction, but reality television might be stranger still.  Big Hollywood readers probably would agree that Roseanne is just about the last person they would want watch star in a reality show, but if those nauseating “Real Housewives” are any indication, the crazier you are, the better chance you have at pulling in an audience.

There’s nothing in the Newsweek piece–needless to say–to suggest the magazine or Lifetime had any issues with a recent photo shoot of Roseanne’s where she dressed as Hitler and ate burnt “Jew cookies,” but Newsweek did make sure to get Roseanne’s take on Michele Bachmann:

It’s a more balanced life. One in which her Cassandra-like predictions about the erasure of the middle class (“We’re going to go like Mexico—the rich people and the poor people.”); Michele Bachmann (“She makes Sarah Palin look sane. Doesn’t she?”); her sustained Twitter meltdown after the not guilty verdict in the Casey Anthony trial; and the disappearance of the sort of class mobility that allowed her to go from being a poor Jewish kid in Salt Lake City to a ridiculously rich-and-famous comedian (“It’s not going to happen for anyone ever again.”) can be tempered by happier thoughts. For instance, she appreciates the rise of female comedians on television, such as Chelsea Handler, Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and the upcoming season’s star Whitney Cummings. “I just like that all these women are coming to TV and they’ll have their say,” Barr said. “I think that’ll be cool.”

Once again, the irony of Roseanne Barr evaluating other people’s sanity is palpable.

Newsweek also tells of Barr’s daring escape from Hollywood to… El Segundo, a beach community about 15 miles away:

After that calamity, the therapized—and Kabbalah-influenced (since she had become close to the much-followed, controversial Rav Philip Berg of the Kabbalah Centre)—Barr decided to escape. Her hide-in-plain-sight refuge was El Segundo, a middle-class California suburb of L.A. near LAX and the beach that’s named after Chevron’s second (or “segundo”) oil refinery. “I thought I could solve my isolation by just not being isolated,” Barr said. “I was like, ‘I don’t give a fuck. I’m going to move to a regular neighborhood. I’m going to drive a regular car. I’m going to shop. I’m going to go to Ralphs.’” And that’s what she did while Buck started going to the local public school.

Yet, there is one genuinely intriguing element that might make “Roseanne’s Nuts” worth tracking: Lifetime boasts that it’s the “most trusted” and “most empowering” television network for women, so we know the joke won’t be on Roseanne.  In other words, in order to honor it’s commitment to “empowering” women, Lifetime has undertaken the unenviable task of making Roseanne Barr look good.

And that may well be the nuttiest thing of all.

The Washington Post recently reported on the Bravo poll that gave the Salahis the spotlight once again. The article noted that Bravo ”decided to poll viewers for their thoughts on Michaele and Tareq Salahi. This included asking whether you’d think less of Bravo if it gave the Salahis their own reality series.” The Post article noted that “the poll, which was being conducted by Research Results — a company that says it’s affiliated with NBC Universal” asked repondents if  “it would be in poor taste to give them [the Salahis] their own reality show. ” The answer to that question seems obvious.  The Salahis got publicity for breaking into a White House party. If that activity helps to earn them a reality show, that will only lead to future White House incursions by publicity-hungry celebrity wannabes.

Sadly, the Salahis are no stranger to either Bravo or the reality show universe. According to a New York Times article from November, the Salahis were already being filmed because they might be added to another reality show.  According to that article, Bravo had ”confirmed that Michaele Salahi was being seriously considered for the coming series ‘The Real Housewives of D.C.’”  However, the recent Bravo poll suggests to some that the Salahis are being considered for more than just a supporting role on a reality program.  As an article from the New York Post noted, one of the questions in the poll, that attempts to gauge people’s thoughts about the network if they gave the couple their own show, “suggests that somewhere within the NBCU wheelhouse, someone is contemplating giving the fame-seeking duo a shot at their own TV show.”

The reasons not to include the Salahis on their schedule should be obvious to Bravo and it seems like it may have been evident to some of the folks behind the poll. The Post article noted that the poll was “yanked since word of it got out to the press Wednesday morning.” Someone at Bravo or working on the poll must have realized the amount of bad publicity that the network could get for conducting a survey about whether White House party crashers should get their own show.

The Salahis are famous for the wrong reasons – not for what they did right or the careers that they took time building.  They are famous for what they did wrong: crashing a White House party, and that should not get them more air time. Plus, the Salahis already have a guest appearence scheduled that should get them a lot of media coverage. The Post article stated that the infamous couple “are already the stars of a federal investigation and a Congressional committee wants to meet them too, voting to subpoena them for a Jan. 20 hearing, although, sadly, their reps have said they’ll take the Fifth at that bash.” How ironic. The one time they actually get invitations to appear and they don’t want to say anything. (Unless of course, Vice President Joe Biden shows up and then the Salahis would probably want to take a picture with him.)

I hope that in pulling the plug on the poll, Bravo also decided against giving this couple any more publicity by not puttting them on their own reality show. I am also hoping the network realizes that the actions of the Salahis should not give them a career boost.  If the network decides against putting the Salahis on their own show and rejecting them from “Housewives,”  I would say ”bravo.”

Actually, this rant isn’t so much about the fact that overweight people are the new target for reality dating shows, but that reality shows in general are less about reality than exploiting people desperate for stardom and/or money. Would you want to watch a show about the true reality of everyday lives? Watching someone mop the floors, go to the grocery store, pick up the kids from school, realize  at dinnertime that there’s no spaghetti sauce in the cupboard and having to run out to the store for the third time that day? Watching paint dry might be more exciting.

A few reality show stars manage to parlay their reality stint into something bigger and longer lasting. Elisabeth Hasselbeck is a prime example – but who really envies her having to argue with her liberal harpy co-hosts each day? Still, most “reality stars” slide back into the obscurity from whence they came, having nothing more to show for the humiliation they endured for the entertainment of millions than a little bit of cash and maybe an autographed photo of the show’s host. Sometimes they even go to jail for failing to pay taxes on their winnings. Maybe Richard Hatch should have applied for a position in the Obama administration – he might have been spared a jail sentence.

Okay, I’m exaggerating. A little. But think about the reality shows you may have seen: what exactly do they bring to the American cultural table? We have shows like Wife Swap, where men like Stephen Fowler humiliate women like Gayla Long, saying things like “your two languages seem to be bad English and redneck” and making negative comments about her weight. Not only was Gayla put through the misery of dealing with the lovely Stephen for two weeks, but after the show aired, Stephen’s world came crashing down upon him. He not only allegedly received death threats but also ended up stepping down from the boards of two non-profits on which he served. Stephen claims the producers encouraged his over-the-top rudeness, but one wonders how much encouragement he really needed. No one will ever know. But the damage – to both families – is done.

Not all reality shows are horrible. I admit to being a fan of the SciFi series Ghost Hunters. Call me a geek if you will. In the beginning, the show focused not just on the search for ghosts but also on the infighting amongst the TAPS members, which I found annoying. However, it’s morphed nicely into a show that’s all about “the hunt” – and has even spawned a sister series called Ghost Hunters International. The only ones being exploited here are the ghosts – that is, on the episodes where they bother to make an appearance.

In our celebrity-obsessed culture, there are many people who would do just about anything for their so-called 15 minutes of fame (thank you, Andy Warhol). Sadly, that includes signing up to be on programs that bring out the worst in human nature. Many of today’s reality shows seem to have evolved from yesterday’s talk shows like Jerry Springer, Ricki Lake, Maury Povich and Jenny Jones.

Americans were shocked a decade ago when Jonathan Schmitz murdered Scott Amedure after the two appeared on a “secret crush” episode of Jenny Jones and it was revealed that Amedure’s crush was on Schmitz. Would we have been just as shocked if one of the death threats against Wife Swap’s Stephen Fowler had come true? Or would we have shrugged and said he got what he deserved for being such a putz? (I hope it would be the former.)

The problem is, of course, that shows like More to Love and Wife Swap and – dare I say it – I Want to Be Paris Hilton’s BFF will continue to thrive as long as there is an audience for them. Shows like Desperate Housewives may be sleazy, but at least they’re about fictional characters. As long as we allow ourselves to be titillated by orchestrated outbursts of anger, angst, sex and people making fools of themselves, the entertainment establishment will continue to pump the swill.

Until we begin to expect more for our entertainment dollar, we’ll continue to get less.

 1) The contestants were lame:

This season’s contestants generally fell into two categories: Utterly forgettable (Remember Jill?  Me neither!) and cartoonish caricatures of real people. Precious few competitors combined true cooking proficiency with compelling personality.  Most were one-dimensional: Stefan was an excellent chef who, despite being typecast as the villain, never moved me to the point of unadulterated loathing like Lisa did last year.  Pretty boy Jeff cooked creative and interesting food, but could not have been less interesting.  One got the sense that Jeff could literally burst into flames, and it wouldn’t evoke more than a shrug from him.  Fan favorite Fabio (you born, you be rais-ed, and you die) was extremely charming and funny, but he hardly won any challenges and was frequently on the chopping block. His Italian accent alone punched his ticket to the final four.  Even finalist Carla, who I was rooting for, frequently pushed the bounds of my patience with her food “love” philosophy and her over-the-top reactions to pretty much everything. 
 
2) The Judges:

Tom is easily the best judge because he oozes credibility.  I don’t have much of a beef with him.  The legs Padma is proficient at feigning sympathy when instructing the latest loser to “pack your knives and go,” as well as plugging the heck out of the Glad family of products.  The real problem this year was the departure of one judge, and the addition of another.  I am a big fan of Gail Simmons.  Come to think of it, am I the only one who finds her more appealing than Padma?  Anyone with me?  No?  Fine.  Anyway, when Gail took leave from the show to get married, I suspected that any replacement would be a step down.   British food critic Toby Young turned out to be a giant leap down.  Toby thought he was funny, but he wasn’t.  His permanent scowl came across as a forced shtick.  He also never appeared to really enjoy a single dish, which is remarkable considering the talent assembled in the “Top Chef” kitchen.  His “bad soup=the missing WMDs” line was groan-worthy.  Please, producers, banish him to “Hell’s Kitchen” or some other second-rate show.
 
3) Wasting New York City:

Aside from drawing on a series of impressive guest judges who happen to work in New York, this season could have been set anywhere in the country.  Last season, the show really adopted a Chicago flavor.  The chefs cooked for the Chicago Police Department, they catered a tailgate prior to a Bears game, they filmed an episode at the Lincoln Park Zoo, and an entire challenge was inspired by the famed ‘Second City’ comedy troupe.  This season was extremely sterile by comparison.  New York City, and the innumerable opportunities it could have afforded, went to waste.  If memory serves, there was one challenge involving the city’s ethnic neighborhoods in the very early going.  Beyond that, nada.  The show could have been taped on a studio lot.  What a disappointment.
 
4)  Hosea and Leah’s “romance”:

There’s a reason why I don’t watch any other shows on Bravo.  The endless promos for “Manly Millionaire Matchmaker” and “Real Housewives from Hell” continue to haunt my dreams.  My perception of reality television involves a lot of stupid, phony drama swirling in the personal lives of people I don’t care about.  The insufferable “romance” between Hosea and Leah crossed the line into TV wasteland territory.  The producers clearly thought, perhaps correctly, that many viewers might be intrigued that these two non-single contestants (Hosea: “I have a girlfriend.  I can’t do this.  Leah and I are just friends.”) were flirting so heavily.  I also suspect that one of my early favorites, Ariane, faced a premature elimination because producers wanted to keep both lovebirds in the mix.  The infamous “kiss” episode was especially heinous, complete with hidden cameras, drunk whispering, and 1970s porn music.  I began actively rooting for at least one of them to get the boot just to put an end to the uninteresting, ludicrously over-hyped sideshow. During the reunion show, a viewer’s email demanded to know if the two had hooked up post-production.  I’m pretty sure that my whole building could heard me bellow, “Who cares?!”
 
5.  The final result:

Don’t get me wrong, both episodes in New Orleans were really good.  The setting, challenges, and food were all tantalizing.  This was the “Top Chef” I had grown to know and love.  Sadly, though, the competition ended badly.   Most everyone seemed to be pulling for the eccentric, muppetish Carla, who’d come on strong during the show’s home stretch–and who seemed to be a genuinely nice person.  A similar consensus developed that Stefan, no matter how unlikeable he was, deserved the title of Top Chef.  He consistently put out the best food all season long.  No one else was close.  Hosea meanwhile had managed to slide through to the finals without really distinguishing himself over the course of the season.  He’d won a few challenges, but he’d also narrowly avoided the axe a few times.  The only things we really knew about Hosea were that he HAD A GIRLFRIEND, and that he really, really hated Stefan.  When all was said and done, maybe he cooked a slightly better meal than his nemesis in the final round.  (By the way, Carla, why the hootie-hell did you allow a past season loser to hijack your meal-planning process?)  Still, he seemed to be the least deserving of the three finalists to take home the grand prize. I’d gladly wager that his finale sous-chef, Richard from last season, could out-cook him 9 times out of 10.

Hosea is our Top Chef?  Really?  Season five, please pack your knives and go.