As our world swirls down a drain of grave darkness and uncertainty, I feel fully empowered to do a drive-by on the crap America is trying to sell us.

Have you seen @thehomeedit on Instagram? It spurred Get Organized with The Home Edit, a Netflix series featuring Joanna and Clea: two Golden Goose shod, middle-aged moms, making a difference by sorting rich people’s loot into ROYGBIV order.

As a homemaker, I couldn’t wait to snuggle down with this series so I could update my spaces with their bright and fresh ideas. But two minutes into the first episode, my heart sank. I could not even comprehend what I was watching.

This series has taken reality television as far as it can possibly go without crossing into full-out satire. I found myself laughing out loud as if I were watching some kind of long-form SNL, but it isn’t comedy.  Its basic premise: these two women rush in, feign shock and dismay, then apply emergency aid to various affluence dilemmas.

Oh my word. Are they saying that color-coordinating our food and clutter into glass containers is making our world a better place? I have an announcement. Sorting items into color categories is the first learning objective for 2-year-olds in daycare.

I don’t even know what to do with this “content.” What are these women, and by extension, Netflix, thinking? Are they thinking that moms all over America pine away to see cringy women giggle their way through Reese Witherspoon’s closet?

If executives think this programming enriches motherhood or womanhood, I am beyond insulted! But, I am also thrilled! Because if this is what society considers a professional skill, then I don’t need to go back to school for anything, ever. I’m officially a fricken genius.

The no-duh factor in this show is staggering. Read below for actual dialogue that made the final edit for broadcast:

• “When a household has kids, the likelihood of a pantry getting messed up again is, high. Mmmhmmm…I would say that is right.”
• “Isn’t it so funny that no one ever wants to save a pretzel.”
• “Because the containers are clear, you can easily see the quantity you have left.”
• “The reason we organize a fridge because it’s the space that’s often forgotten.”
• “What are your goals and categories for your snacks? What are your priorities for their snacks?”
• “I am ashamed of my freezer.”
• “Anybody can make a space look pretty. No, not anybody.”
• “Scrolling thru photos of beautifully color-coordinated pantries is how I center myself.”

Riveting.  

The rising action in one episode occurred when Clea bemoaned the positioning of 3 organic milk cartons in Jordana Brewster’s bespoke refrigerator. And I quote, “Guys we have a problem! It’s driving me insane. This is a show-stopper. The milk must be placed in the center of the fridge. If it’s right-justified, I can’t put something here. I can’t right-justify the milk cartons and have the doors close.”

After this spellbinding fridge dilemma, Clea comes around. She coaches the viewers by reminding us that “we don’t always get what we want.”

**This is the most trivial content ever broadcast in the history of mankind.** I can’t bear to watch it, and I cannot think of which demographic finds this helpful or entertaining.

What would be entertaining to a mom, you ask? Good question. Perhaps they could reveal an innovative method to get kids to open a box of cereal the right way. That alone would be jaw-dropping. Or maybe they could show us how to rainbow coordinate the skid marks in kids’ underwear. I’d watch that.

I don’t even want to know what these celebrities pay Joanna and Clea to come in and “transform” their afflicted homes. Think of how this content comes across to a family with authentic needs. The cringe factor couldn’t be higher; I would hate to know what outsiders think of America when they come across stuff like this.

Please. Cancel this.

But before I close, the show has one redeeming value. Let it be known that I am not above rifling through people’s belongings. In fact, I am a big fan of it. It is so hard for me to go into someone’s bathroom and not take a look behind a cabinet or two, you know, just to orient myself.  Thank goodness I live in an era with cameras hidden in every nook and cranny, lest this become a more pervasive problem for me. 

What if the premise of the show was Joanna and Clea convincing A-list celebrities to have their valuables rainbow-coordinated and displayed in glass…but when cameras get inside, they zoom in to reveal raw, unedited content of our celebrities’ dressers, closets, and medicine cabinets.

That would be juicy viewing—and I’d allow it.

P.S. You will now notice Wal-Marts everywhere loaded down with their merch.