By Mike D’Virgilio I’m not a big fan of reality TV, unless of course it’s “Sarah Palin’s Alaska.” Can’t get enough of that (that’s to tweak you lefty Palin haters and you righty elitist Palin haters). But my daughter seems to have a thing for “The Bachelor,” and since she’s home from college on break it’s being recorded on the DVR. Really annoys me. She offered, being the well raised-kid she is, to turn it off as I fixed dinner last night, knowing it annoys me. But I let her keep it on so I could revel in my annoyedness and implicit superiority to the ditzy broads and handsome vacuous guy on the show. But something struck me. Here are a bunch of attractive women doing whatever they can to lasso the attractive guy, and get hitched. I guess how it works is that they spend the show interacting in some way—I just saw them talking on a bench—and at the end the guy gives roses to the ones he will let stay and the others are out. Finally at the end just one gets the rose and Mr. And Mrs. Right get married. But I had thought marriage was









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