I love sinning as much as the next guy, but when it 
comes to literature and writing, there is one cardinal 
sin that truly irks me. The eighth deadly sin, more 
insidious than its seven predecessors, is the non sequitur 
(a conclusion or statement that does not logically follow 
from the previous argument or statement), the tangent, 
the digression. It’s funny and bizarre at first, but when it 
drags on for too long, it becomes grating. There is media, 
literary or otherwise, that is able to pull off going on 
tangents well, and then there is media that is not able to. 
But before delving into some of these sinful works, it’ll 
help to trace back the etymology of these words with the 
assistance of the Oxford English Dictionary, one of my 
favorite sites. My other most visited sites are isitchristmas.
com (by the way, it’s not Christmas today. Christmas 
celebrates the birth of the religious figure Jesus Christ, 
though the actual date of the historical Jesus’s birth was 
likely not Dec. 25. There are many theories as to why 
Dec. 25 was chosen as the day to celebrate this event, but 
it remains uncertain) and michigandaily.com ;). 
The usage of ‘non sequitur,’ for example, dates back 
to 1450, as used in Melbourne’s “Pilgramage Lyffe 
Manhode” to indicate some sort of article of clothing. It’s 
unclear how our current usage relates to this definition, 
but the OED indicates that a play on words may link 
the two. This, however, is uncertain. Philology and 
etymology can inspire deep appreciation for the beauty 
of our language, like why knight is pronounced “nite” 
instead of “kuh-nee-ght” (spoiler alert: we can thank the 
Normans for that. You may have heard of the Norman 
Conquest of England — not to be confused with the 
Lana Del Rey album titled Norman F*cking Rockwell. 
The title song of this album and the album itself were 
actually nominated for Grammys. Unfortunately, the 
song got snubbed, not unlike “Cats” got snubbed this 
year at the Oscars. And James Corden’s costumed 
appearance at the awards ceremony did nothing to 
assuage the pain I felt over “Cats” not being nominated 
for its phenomenal visual effects. In all honesty, the only 
comfort that could have soothed me was if every speaker 
who followed was dressed as an anthropomorphic cat, 
but, knowing the snobbery of the Academy Awards, this 
was unlikely. Nevertheless, other parts of the night did 

excite me. “Joker” winning awards for being too edgy 
was so exhilarating, and it should have won more. I will 
always believe “Joker” got snubbed for Best Picture, 
Best Director, Best Supporting Actress, Best Production 
Design, Best International Feature Film, Best Adapted 
Screenplay, Best Original Screenplay, Best Short Film, 
etc. because it was too deep and philosophical for the 
Academy to understand. At least Joaquin Phoenix stood 
up for what he believed in when he won his Oscar and 
talked about how angry he was that cow orphans exist. 
The Joker himself philosophizing on how we live in a 
society was inspiring. The world is so dark and twisted 
these days that it is so enlightening to have a voice of 
reason in these times of madness. His life really is a 
comedy… Much like the first half of the winner of the 
Best Picture category, “Parasite.” “Parasite” might have 
been shallow and meaningless compared to “Joker,” but 
I’ll accept it as the winner that “Joker” was supposed to 
be. But I digress… — which was the successful campaign 
to invade England marked by a decisive Norman victory 
at Hastings in 1066. The resulting influence of Norman-
French in this period permanently changed the English 
language), or why ‘yeet’ is a word. 
Words can undergo much more radical changes than 
the mere loss of syllables, of course. For example, did you 
know that the word ‘nice’ originally was meant to denote 
stupidity? I think a lot of things are “nice” in the sense 
that we use it today, but one of the nicest things on this 
planet is food. I’m not talking about bland white-people 
food, like casseroles or unseasoned chicken breasts, 
I’m talking about the good stuff, like Kraft Mac and 
Cheese, and that purple ketchup from the ‘90s. One way 
to really spice up your Kraft is to add some seasoning, 
some extra cheese, or some bacon bits. Personally, I 
love peppering my Kraft with cilantro, from the herb 
coriander. Apparently, it’s possible to blend cilantro into a 
dipping sauce and even a cocktail. I can’t imagine dipping 
my fries into cilantro sauce, but to each their own. I can 
appreciate the variety of preferences some can have. 
What I don’t appreciate is the lack of variety in 
a few of the University’s dining halls. South Quad 
in particular draws my ire. I love fruit, yet all that 
MDining can scrounge together is a limited selection 
of melons, pineapple, bananas, and apples. Where is 
the watermelon, the dragon fruit, the blueberries, the 
strawberries, the raspberries, the durian, the loquat, 
the cherimoya, the kumquat, the apricot, the coconut, 

the jujube, the cloudberry, the European blueberry, the 
damson, the gooseberry, the boysenberry and, most 
importantly, the kiwi? Where are my brown fuzzy little 
ovoids filled with green goodness? 
Speaking of kiwis, which are one of my favorite fruits, 
the Apteryx mantelli (the bird kiwi) is one of my favorite 
animals, and not just because these birds look like the 
fruit in question. I like the kiwi bird due to its association 

with the beautiful island country of New Zealand 
(Speaking of the Oscars, Taika Waititi, director of the 
Oscar-winning “Funny Heartwarming nazu Film” and 
the upcoming “Romeo and Juliet” adaptation, “Thor: 
Love and Thunder,” just so happens to be from New 
Zealand. Much like the kiwi bird, Waititi is emblematic 
of much of what New Zealand represents: beauty 
incarnate.); New Zealanders are even often called kiwis. 
Assigning names to groups or individuals is often an 

endeavor loaded with meaning, and oftentimes the name 
assigned holds cultural or personal significance. 

For fear of going off into a tangent, I won’t discuss 
the historical significance of names and titles, so I’ll list 
ten names and their etymological roots instead. The 
name ‘Julianna’ comes from the name ‘Julian,’ which 
traces its way back to the name ‘Julius,’ which denoted 
‘youth’; ‘One Directioner’ derives from the hit boy band 
‘One Direction,’ and is used to talk about fans of said 
band; Christ comes from the Greek Khristos, deriving 
from khriein, meaning ‘to anoint’; the Jewish/German 
name ‘Schlissel’ comes from an occupational title for a 
“maker of dishes”; ‘Reggie’ is a nickname for the longer 
name ‘Reginald,’ which comes from Old German and 
literally translates to ‘ruling with power’; ‘Belieber’ is a 
combination of the pop idol Justin ‘Bieber’ and the word 
‘believer,’ used to discuss fans of Justin Bieber— many 
artists have fans with humorous names, and even the fan 
bases of these artists often have names. One example is 
Beyonce’s fan base, dubbed the ‘Beyhive.’ 
Beyonce’s transcendence as a music artist is hardly 
done justice by this name, but it seems that this higher 
plane of talent runs in the family: I have recently 
discovered that Beyonce has a sister, Solange. Her latest 
album, When I Get Home, is a beautiful discussion of 
race and femininity. This duo of sisters is not novel in 
their familial talent, for they are preceded by the 19th 
century authors Charlotte and Emily Bronte. And, of 
course, the Brontes follow a literary period of satire, 
during which Laurence Sterne’s novel “The Life and 
Opinions of Tristram Shandy” was published, which is a 
perfect example of a piece of media built around the idea 
of tangents and non sequiturs. A more modern example 
of media that plays with non sequiturs is “Monty Python 
and Holy Grail”

Giving up heaven to find the 
eighth deadly sin: tangents

TATE LAFRENIER
Daily Arts Writer

B-SIDE: BOOKS NOTEBOOK

The eighth deadly sin, 
more insidious than its 
seven predecessors, is the 
non sequitur (a conclusion 
or statement that does 
not logically follow from 
the previous argument or 
statement), the tangent

B-SIDE: TV NOTEBOOK
The Real Housewives as the seven deadly sins

Imagine a reality television show devoid of sin. Oh, 
it’s already been cancelled. Now, imagine watching a 
reality television show, but this time, the disgustingly 
great feeling of schadenfreude is missing from your 
viewing experience. Not nearly as fun, right? Since the 
dawn of the genre, reality television and the idea of 
sin have been intrinsically intertwined. It’s easy to see 
why: Few reality shows have ever touched on subject 
matter extending outside of the realm of petty social 
in-fighting, sex and the fallout from having it, beach 
vacations and other exploitative pursuits. So depraved 
is the reputation of reality television and its viewers that 
it’s almost become a sin to admit to being a fan. 
But how could you not consider it to be a vice? 
The industry is comprised of channel after channel, 
program after program built upon the foundation of 
miserable people gathering together weekly (in person 
or on Twitter) to watch other people’s lives in some 
state of disarray. What ground do we, the fans, have to 
stand on? 
What I have found in my near-lifelong addiction 
to reality television is that, contrary to popular belief, 
what lies beneath most people’s fascination with reality 
television isn’t a superiority complex, but rather a level 
of underlying self-identification with the caricatured 
people on our screens. This is particularly true of the 
network providing some of the most nuanced and 
individualized depictions of American superficiality, 
Bravo. 
The seven deadly sins, or capital vices, are essentially 
our own natural tendencies in overdrive. We are all born 
with the ability to feel jealous or angry or like you’d fuck 
the shit out of Harry Styles. However, the sins provide 
a sort of exaggerated, cautionary framework to indicate 
when you have experienced too much of a good, bad 
thing. I see a striking parallel between this notion and 
how we view the stars of reality television in relation 
to ourselves. I almost see them as the contemporary 
versions of stock characters used in early theatre to 
espouse morals. In viewing the sensationalized versions 
of vulnerabilities we most likely already recognize 
within ourselves, in a sense, we are better able to reflect 
on and ground our own anxieties. 
No one likes to admit to their own sins, but we are 
self-aware enough to look for it in other people. Is 
this healthy? 100% no. Is this better than having no 
awareness of the origins of your feelings of inadequacy? 
That’s up to you to decide. But, until Bernie gives me 
free healthcare or CAPS finally remembers that I’ve 
already filled out that form before, I’ll continue to self-
medicate with the icky comfort Bravo provides. 
A close reading of something as seemingly trivial as 
reality television, specifically something as notorious as 
the “Real Housewives” franchise, may be off-putting 
— I’m keenly aware of how this could be viewed. But, 
you’ve already made it this far, why not stick around for 
some armchair psychoanalysis? 
Here are the Real Housewives as the seven deadly 
sins. 

PRIDE: A tie — LuAnn de Lesseps (“The Real 
Housewives of New York”) and Karen Huger (“The 
Real Housewives of Potomac”) 

There are many ways to define pride. Webster’s 
defines it as a “high or inordinate opinion of one’s own 
dignity, importance, merit or superiority,” but it could 
also be pretty well summed up through the act of brow-
beating everyone in your life to refer to you as “Countess.” 
Unironically. To be fair, once LuAnn de Lesseps of “The 
Real Housewives of New York” was divorced from her 
now ex-husband, Count Alexandre de Lesseps, she did 
stop using her courtesy title. After she was forced to do 
so. Seven years after the divorce papers were signed. 
While LuAnn serves as a reminder of a bygone era 
of early reality television pridefulness — when stars 
actually believed that they could dupe audiences into 
looking past the very apparent shortcomings of their 
lives via performative haughtiness — Karen Huger, the 
self-proclaimed “Grand Dame of Potomac,” represents 
the future trajectory of this cautionary tale.
The more I mull over the topic, the more I believe 
that the act of forcing others to call you by a fabricated 
title of nobility might just be the best metric to gauge 
one’s pridefulness, as well as his or her grasp on reality. 
Huger prides herself on two things: her marriage to 
the “Black Bill Gates” and her wigs. Ironically, both of 
these things have been weaponized against her to poke 
holes in her delusions of grandeur. Her husband, Ray 
Huger, more Papa Smurf than Bill Gates, was outed 
for “personally [owing] nearly $1.5 million in back-due 
federal taxes, and his software company owes more 
than 3 million.” As for her wigs, please do me a favor and 
Google the video of her wig falling off mid-argument, 
and see her attempt to act as though it is not happening. 
You won’t regret it. 
Karen refuses to make substantial comment on 
either of these matters, choosing instead to pick fights 
about her fragrance line (that is still missing from 
department store shelves). Unlike during the early 
years of the “Housewives” franchise, now, everyone 
can see through the illusion of elitism propped up by the 
Bravo network’s checkbook. But, the beauty of the pride 
archetype is the hilarity that comes out of their efforts 
to convince us otherwise.

WRATH: 
Lisa 
Vanderpump 
(“The 
Real 
Housewives of Beverly Hills”) 

Unlike pride, wrath is an easier sin to unknowingly 
fall prey to. Anger is a slippery slope, but wrath only 
comes when you prolong the effects of the initial burn 
and then weaponize it to hurt the person who hurt you 
instead of acknowledging the feeling in the moment. 
Using her British origins as a crutch for her passive 
aggression, Lisa Vanderpump of “The Real Housewives 
of Beverly Hills” has made an art form of grudge-
holding. Lisa was likened to chess master Bobby Fischer 
one time for her careful manipulation of others. Eight 
years later, we are still talking about it. No comment on 
whether or not she sees the irony of accusing others of 
being “real” chess masters for scapegoating her as the 
chess master. Though I am admittedly a fan of both a 
good grudge and Vanderpump, she has never been able 
to hold down a considerable friendship on the show for 
more than two consecutive seasons. Maybe she’s better 
off taking a note from other “Housewives” franchises 
and just escalating to physical fighting. 

GREED: Another tie — Teresa Guidice (“The 
Real Housewives of New Jersey”) and Phaedra 

Parks (“The Real Housewives of Atlanta”) 

Easily the most recognizable of the “Housewives” 
couples, you’ve probably seen Teresa and Joe Guidice 
on the cover of a magazine when the line at the grocery 
store is taking too long. Whether the story is covering 
rumors about Joe, Teresa’s infidelity or Teresa’s rise 
to the top of the bodybuilding world, they can’t seem 
to stay out of the news. You may think I’m going to be 
making the argument that they represent the downside 
of when one is too greedy for the spotlight — but you’d 
be wrong. The Guidices represent greed because of 
their 39-count conviction for charges of wire, bank and 
bankruptcy fraud. 
It would be inaccurate to include a section on greed 
and not memorialize the first couple in franchise 
history to do hard time while still signed onto the show, 
however, I have a conscience and know that Teresa and 
her four daughters are going through an even harder 
time right now dealing with Joe’s deportation back to 
Italy. The number one rule of the Housewives is that 
“you don’t bring family into this,” so like my televised 
icons, I will also choose to situationally invoke this 
principle and give her a break. 
After all, at least Teresa copped to her charges — 
unlike Phaedra Parks from “The Real Housewives 
of Atlanta.” Who can forget that one time Phaedra’s 
husband, Apollo, was convicted on charges of 
producing and cashing fraudulent insurance checks 
and Phaedra apparently “knew nothing” about it? 
And can you believe the timing — just when they were 
almost finished building their extravagant new home? 
The interesting thing about these twin displays of greed 
is that both the Guidice and Parks families began their 
tenure on their respective shows espousing the traits 
associated with pride, and only turned to crime when 
it became clear that they could no longer keep up with 
Joneses — or their castmates with more money. 

LUST: Ramona Singer (“The Real Housewives of 
New York”) 

Bravo fans (who I keep addressing, but know aren’t 
actually reading this), I know there are plenty of other 
options in the Housewives arsenal who probably would 
have been simpler picks: Brandi Glanville, Claudia 
Jordan, even Ramona’s blonde-in-crime, Sonja Morgan. 
But the thing about lust is that the sin of it lies more in the 
excessive and obsessive act of desiring*, not necessarily 
the catharsis that comes in the follow through. 
*The Catholic Church gets final say, though.
The other women have demonstrated the follow 
through, so consequently, the housewife who serves 
as the cautionary tale of this sin is the one who would 
never cop to the charge, Ramona Singer. For context, in 
earlier seasons, Ramona was a staunch traditionalist. 
She was the woman who, because she was married, 
demonized the single women in the friend group and 
self-indulgently used her own marriage to support the 
archaic idea that if you can keep your man happy, he 
will stay. Then Ramona’s husband Mario publicly left 
her for a woman 30 years her junior. Go figure. 
While this karmic retribution could have provided a 
learning experience for Ramona, she ultimately did not 
take this route. Maybe it’s because she’s insecure about 
reaching her 60s. Maybe it’s because her daughter 
doesn’t visit enough. Maybe old habits die hard and after 

you’ve internalized misogyny for over 50 years, you just 
can’t break the habit. Either way, Ramona embodies 
lust in its most exaggerated form, not only because of 
her continued undying need to prioritize the pursuit of 
a significant other above all else, but because she also 
has developed a cringe-worthy pattern of hitting on, 
sending drinks to and publicly making out with men 
who have already been claimed by her close friends. 

GLUTTONY: 
Kandi 
Buruss 
(“The 
Real 
Housewives of Atlanta”) 

To me, gluttony isn’t that big of a deal. Yeah, I do ask 
for double rice at Chipotle — you wanna fight about it? 
Honestly, I don’t think many people retain the nuance 
to be able to delve into what connotes gluttony without 
veering fully into the territory of fatphobia, so to save 
us all the headache, this categorization will not be a 
condemnation. 
Kandi Burruss is a cut to the chase kind of woman. 
As she said prophetically in her season seven tagline, 
“I’m not about the drama. Don’t start none, won’t be 
none.” She’s earned a reputation for being one of the 
most prolific songwriters in R&B (penning TLC’s 
“No Scrubs” amongst many others), and being the one 
Housewife to always locate the food or snacks when the 
cast is away on a girls’ trip. And for that, I give her props. 

ENVY: LeAnn Locken (“The Real Housewives of 
Dallas”) 

Yes, there really is a LeAnn and a LuAnn within the 
“Housewives” franchise. And what about it? Envy, like 
greed and lust, is characterized by an uncontrollable 
desire for something that other people have. And 
though she’s open — very open — about her humble 
upbringing as a carnie, you’d think she’d be a bit more 
transparent about her feelings of inadequacy toward 
her castmates. 
Instead of outwardly expressing a desire for more, 
LeAnn claims she’s “happy” with what she has while 
simultaneously planning a wedding she can’t afford 
and blackmailing (on camera) an upscale wedding 
dress designer to give her a gown for free. However, 
the sin isn’t inherent in the striving for a better life. Her 
sin isn’t even marrying a cop who wears a permanent 
eye patch. Like Watergate, the true sin comes in the 
cover-up. Rather than honesty, LeAnn opts for reactive 
(and misplaced) ridicule of friends’ things as being 
low quality — like castmate Kary Brittingham’s seven-
bedroom, waterfront beach villa in Careyes, Mexico 
that she claimed was “too small” and had “too many 
stairs.” As a comparison, LeAnn did not provide food at 
her wedding. 

SLOTH: Any of the one-season wonders that 
gave zero effort to produce drama

Last, but definitely not least, sloth is characterized 
by “an excessive laziness or the failure to act and utilize 
one’s talents.” You can see where I’m going with this. 
Who feels self-important enough to sign on for a reality 
show and then proceed to act as though they are above 
the genre by providing viewers with absolutely no 
drama, no effort and no vulnerability? I won’t name 
names, because I honestly can’t remember most of 
them.

COURTESY OF SHERRY CHEN

ALLY OWENS
Senior Arts Editor

3B —Thursday, February 13, 2020
b-side
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

