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