Reality is harsh. That's what somebody said to me once. Not sure why it stuck but it did. Sunday night that same old mantra was reinforced. Reality is certainly harsh. And the reality is television needs to stop getting real.

After the success of the original "Survivor," the writing on the wall was clear: Networks were going to beat this horse well past dead. Sure enough, some years later, they have beaten reality dead. Just look at "Survivor" now. It's the 202nd season and I think they're all locked in an Aldi grocery store:

Tonight on Survivor watch as Hutch and Melinda go for immunity as they race to clean up aisle three.

But even that's alright. Frankly, living in an Aldi is worse than eating bugs in Borneo. Sunday night was the straw that broke the camel's back. I sat and watched "Flavor of Love" – a reality dating show starring Flavor Flave – for a few hours on VH1.

I did it for two reasons: First, reality television is a barometer of how fast society sinks. Second, I wanted to feel better about the quality of my life. And I did. I felt much better.

Back to the barometer point. Ten years ago television executives would have laughed in a producer's face if "Flavor of Love" was pitched in a meeting. I can't even imagine the conversation.

Yet here we are, in 2006, watching 20 girls from the ghetto fight for the right to be Flav's main woman for a few weeks.

This buffoon, a washed up singer that wears a novelty clock on his chest and looks like he just got home from a 12-day bender, gets a reality dating show. At the end of the show does he get his girl a ring? Nope. A necklace? Try again. At the end of the show, Hoopz — the girl that "feels him" — gets a set of gold teeth. That's right. Flavor Flav got Hoopz a grill. Somewhere, Nelly weeps.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg. VH1, during the course of "Flavor of Love," ran ads for three more reality shows. One was "The Surreal Life," one was "Hogan Knows Best" and one was for some show with Tori Spelling. I don't remember the title. Why bother? It's going to be cancelled in the middle of the season premiere anyways.

There is something seriously wrong with our country when Flavor Flav, the Hulkster, several obscure, past-their-prime celebrities and that chick from 90210 make up the Sunday afternoon lineup on any channel. It's gone too far.

Actually, I'd like to grandfather in "Hogan Knows Best." There's something appealing about the Hulkster shopping, using the toilet, teaching his daughter life lessons and just living in general. Other than that, let's stop the madness.

No more "Bachelors," "Survivors," "Amazing Races," "Big Brothers," "Road Rules" or "Fear Factors." I don't want to meet your new mommy, trade races or baby sit with an English super nanny.

It's high time we stopped watching this garbage and started living back in the Real World.