There’s been a momentary (hopefully temporary) wormhole situation over at my casa.  It involves all of my roommates and myself, poised uncomfortably on the edge of our couch, staring at a laptop that channels the best that Netflix has to offer- in this case, HOARDERS.  Hoarders has everything I like a TV show to offer:

1) Shocktasm (which is a work I just made up for that moment when your stomach doesn’t believe your eyes and there’s about a 71% chance that you could see that image in the moment just before you leave this world).  I’m talking about the moments when the cleaning up crew count 31 cat carcasses found amid piles of 1970s editions of penny novels, and travel guides to the USSR.


2) EW moments.  Everyone, no matter how educated, loves to drop a whole hearted “EW!” now and then.  This would be one of those moments:


and this:

3) Tears.  Every good show should employ the most obnoxious editing in order to create tears.  A truly exceptional show will invoke the tears of the victims, the oppressors (hopefully being all teary one with another), the audience and, just for good measure, the crew.


4) Psychoanalysis.  There’s nothing better than a certificate bearing expert who can deliver TRUTH so eloquently… and reprimand adults, and take away their toys.  My favourite psychoanalyzer is Dr. Zosia.  She waltzes in there with her acrylic nails and skunk stripe hair and intense but caring eyes.  I love her.  Here she is, trying to convince a hoarder that 99 pairs of Wal-Mart Mom-jeans is too many pairs of mom-jeans.


Anyway as hideous as this show is, it’s a keeper. I love the drama. The fights.  The reconciliation.  It’s just human love.  Most of all I like the feeling that I get at the end, when i realize that at least I’ve got that going for me: I don’t hoard and I’m not in denial about my surroundings.  Yay for Hoarders!





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