New Show Nothing but Germ Porn
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.
The people at Lifetime for Women television have a new treat for all their viewers who have tired of the ” ‘I Do’ Diaries” and “The Golden Girls” reruns.
Their latest offering is a reality show called “How Clean is Your House?” and the network has been pushing it like crazy, plastering subway cars with promotional banners and blitzing the premiere episode no fewer than six times over the course of the past week.
The program’s schtick is that Kim and Aggie, two drag-queenish British ladies, visit messy houses and shriek in horror at the signs of filth they uncover. It’s gross-out television at its nastiest, with shots of rodents squiggling their way about the house and extreme close-ups of mildew colonies.
Since a close-up of a stain on the sofa runs the risk of not being sufficiently disgusting, we’re privy to all sensory details. One offending spot on a sofa gives Kim reason to elbow her partner out of the way and squeal “I get to smell this stain!” as she digs her nose into the sploodge while Aggie looks on in horror.
The money shot comes near the end. Suddenly donning lab coats, the ladies dare to swipe the side of the family boa constrictors tank with a cotton swab to the screechy “Psycho” theme song. Turns out the little beast is carrying salmonella – and don’t think they neglect to include a microscopic shot of salmonella particles wriggling around a Petri dish (the show counts a “science researcher” among its staff).
To be honest, the show not only isn’t very good, it’s very awful. Watching it, I got the sense that the cleaning supplies were the only major expense and the production values make your average reality program look like Fellini in comparison. But the real question is the idea of the show: When did the American public decide it wanted germ porn?
Its spiritual predecessors “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” and “What Not to Wear” preyed on our fear that we are not cool enough and need a good makeover. “How Clean Is Your House?” fiddles with a new neurosis: that we’re repulsively dirty and need a good scrubbing.
Mind you, this isn’t messiness of an unmade bed and wrinkled undershirts kind. We’re talking mystery blobs in the microwave and scum in the sink and hairballs that could pass as household pets. The show’s Web site smarmily boasts: “Finally a show that really stinks.” Hallelujah! The “sorta stinks” shows were getting a little old.
It’s easy to imagine the pitch meeting, where some entrepreneurial Hollywood type plumped it as “Fear Factor meets Martha Stewart.” We’ve had our fill of home-beautification magazines and house-swapping television shows. Now it’s time to stop being so nice, time to wage war in our homes, slashing and burning every potential germ and feeling disgusted with ourselves for not having done so sooner. You’ve seen the pas 136 1487 204 149956 1540 201 1552sengers on the subways using a Kleenex to hold onto the bar. Even Donald Trump is notorious for sitting behind his desk so he doesn’t have to shake his visitors’ hands, and Al Gore uses hand cleaner after public appearances where he has to shake masses of hands.
Filth is the new fat, and there’s a new industry sprouting up around germ phobia. While most vacuum cleaners cost around $150, the $400 Dyson model has gained a cult following mostly due to its see-through removable chamber that makes it easy for users to see all the schmutz and dirt that was lurking in the house. The anti-bacterial agent Triclosan can now be found in many soaps, toys, trash-bags, and even socks. Germ-wary iPod addicts can order Sony “earbud” headphones with anti-bacterial earpieces fromAmazon.com.
The cleaning aisles of drugstores and supermarkets are filling up with hard-core anti-germ, anti-bacterial products that blow Mr. Clean out of the water. Six months ago Albatross USA launched www.superkleendirect.com to bring its industrial-strength cleaners to regular homeowners. Vice president Paul Fields said he started the site because his company was getting so many calls from Dicks and Janes looking for products that were stronger than what’s available in stores. “We launched the new Web site in order to provide access to homeowners who are looking for extreme cleaning products. The orders just keep on coming in.”
Even beauty companies are getting in on the act. Bath and Bodyworks, known for its raspberry-scented lotions and shower gels, just came out with a whole line of anti-bacterial body products, while chichi company Fresh has a whole line called “Sugar” that relies on brown sugar’s antibacterial properties.
Meanwhile, a small but determined group of bacteria-phobes are promoting the disposal of toothbrushes every two weeks. For those not willing to toss away their toothbrush after only 28 usages, Aquafresh just introduced the fizzy Aquablast tablet that kills 99% of all bacteria on toothbrush. Or there’s Purebrush: a storage unit that uses UV light to dry and sanitize toothbrushes.
Most homeowners don’t know that anti-bacterial cleaning products need to be rubbed in for a good two minutes before their magical powers take effect. Bacteria are strong little guys; they can develop resistance to just about anything.
Furthermore, it’s viruses, not bacteria, that make people sick, so a lot of this is just homeowners’ hypochondria. “Ninety-nine percent of the bacteria out there is not harmful,” said Janet Nelson, spokesperson at the Maids Home Services, a Nebraska-based company with over 700 franchises across the country. “You’re not going to get sick unless you cut a piece of meat on the cutting board, leave it to sit there, and lick it a few days later.” Still, that didn’t stop the company from launching a fall advertising campaign that stresses the service’s ability to do away with the rogue dirt that even the most vigilant homeowners can’t detect.
If this keeps up, those of us who occasionally stick our paws in the peanut butter jar and don’t bother to use anti-bacterial gel afterwards aren’t going to be invited anywhere. We’ll have to throw our own insular gatherings, where we can hold hands and kiss one another and count on catching miserable colds.
I’m no enemy of the vacuum cleaner and mop, but when the soundtrack to a home is the “Psycho” theme song, there’s something seriously amiss. Germ phobia isn’t really about germs, after all. It’s just another strain of self-virtue, something we’ve all become so good at we don’t want to stop. We’ve picked our wardrobes and relationships and bodies to shreds, and rather than try looking outward, we’d rather play it safe and find a new aspect of our lives to obsess over in vain. And that’s where the industrial-strength carpet cleaner on the 4-by-4-foot living room rug comes in.
Call me dirty if you must, but tell me this: Why would they be called dust bunnies if they weren’t the slightest bit cute?