The Miss America organization, claiming a "desire to create exciting television," and pretending to match current TV trends, says its final evening competition, Sept. 22, "has been providing viewers with high stakes reality television since its broadcast debut in 1954." The CEO, a man--there has never been a woman--says the contest is the end product of a year of competition that begins with 12,000 women and culminates with one previously unknown woman, who overnight, becomes an internationally renowned celebrity. That's real reality TV."

    It would be far too easy to satirize this new reality spin, dreamed up only because its TV ratings the past couple of years have dropped lower than Britney's hip huggers. For instance, there might be scenes, set just off Atlantic City's boardwalk, where the Miss America finalists would have to walk through low-income neighborhoods, their residents living in contrast to the fairy-tale glitz and glamour that TV and the casinos would like us to believe is the real Atlantic City. Perhaps we could have the contestants actually get their bathing suits wet, and swim 10 yards onto the beach, avoiding rubber sharks and bags of used syringes the producers place into the water to make it seem perilous. Yes, it'd be easy to satirize the "real" pageant. But, I won't.

    Among the major changes in this "scholarship pageant"--don't ever think of it as beauty contests warn the organizers--is the gala made-for-TV opening. Beginning this year, Miss America contestants will receive a faux-Oscar red-carpet treatment when they arrive at Boardwalk Hall by limo. It won't be a stretch to satirize this event by having a fawning press corps making inane observations, and for the contestants to smile sweetly, and pretend they're Julia Roberts, Julia Stiles, or even Jules Asner. Of course, none will see themselves as Academy-winner Kathy Bates. It would be so easy to satirize this, but I won't.

    For the first time, politics becomes even more obvious when state delegations "enthusiastically demonstrate their support of their state contestant" by bringing flags, banners, and posters. I could satirize this political pandering for ratings by having delegation strategists trade votes--"We'll support Miss Iowa if you vote for Miss Kentucky and against Miss Vermont, and we'll throw a Navy base into your state as a bonus." To raise ratings, the delegations could also show funny contrived home videos, challenge each other to eat sea snails, progress to hitting each other with their placards, escalating to the use of canons and bazookas. The delegation with most members not in Atlantic City Hospital picks the winner.

    The 8th Judge is new this year. The 41 non-finalists will now cast one unified vote as the eighth judge to vote off all but one of the final 10 whom they don't think meets their standards of "peer respect and leadership." To make sure our lustful voyeurism--honed by "Survivor," "Big Brother," "The Mole," "Temptation Island," "Fear Factor," and other TV shows which don't require actors or writers--is satiated, we'll be able to watch these losers arrive at their decision to pick the person they believe "best represents the values, motivations and expectations of young women, and who further inspires other to act on their own goals and inspirations." Of course, a contestant who truly represents the values and goals of most 20-year-olds, or who has opinions that differ from those of the prurient conservatives who run the organization, wouldn't be allowed into the contest. It would be easy to satirize the "oneness" of the contestant pool, but I won't.

    I could satirize the "poise, presence and family" category, defined as a way "to remind viewers that the contestants are real people, with real lives," and to make sure we know that each real person will be "escorted on stage by her father, brother, or a special male relative." None will be escorted by another female, apparently so the TV audience won't believe that mother and daughter are really a lesbian couple. I could satirize this, but I won't.

    The newly inaugurated Knowledge Quiz is designed to find the weakest link among the final five contestants. The reason for the quiz, states the Miss America organization, is to give "an opportunity for each contestant to distinguish herself as a woman who is sensitive to--and aware of--current events, U.S. history, and U.S. government." It should be easy for the interviewers to evoke the expected sappy answers, since most contestants seem to want to be actors or broadcast journalists, generally indistinguishable from bad actors. The questions asked of these beauties might include, "Which historically neutral country, home of the Swiss Alps, Swiss watches, and Swiss chocolate, is the only country in the world currently not at war?" Perhaps, they could be asked, "The capital of the United States was named for which American president?" But, I won't satirize Miss America with these vicious, even if probable, questions.

    The organization, apparently having been attacked and taken over by a horde of interpersonal communications consultants, has new categories. Swimsuits are part of the newly vamped "Lifestyle and Fitness" category emphasizing the "contestants maintaining a healthful, positive lifestyle [with] drive, energy and charisma" a part. Of course, they'll be wearing swimsuits to express that lifestyle.

    Eveningwear is downplayed as just a part of "presence and poise" category. The interviews are part of "presentation and community achievement," and talent is now "artistic expression." For a satirist, these are golden changes. So many opportunities, so little space.

    With biting wit and the pen of truth, it would be so easy to satirize even one part of the contest. But I won't. Besides, this year's pandering-for-profits TV contest is a satire unto itself.

Copyright 2001 Walter M. Brasch