The format of this dreadfully dull show is identical to other persons of the Kardashian empire: interminable situations of people sitting in kitchens not devouring cheese plates

Is there a less qualified reality appearance whiz than Rob Kardashian? If you lined up 10 parties from the throwing document of A& Es Intervention and Rob Kardashian and had to choose one to base an ongoing tv series around, would you ever pick him unless you knew his last name? Isnt this a tragedy? Shouldnt we all be more disturbed?

Sunday nighttimes premiere of the new E! line Rob& Chyna distinguishes the yield of the black sheep Kardashian to the public eye. Hes expended years of their own lives unwilling to leave his room, which caused him to increase( his texts) a traction of weight. He looks little comfy inducing seeing contact with other human beings than the little orphan girl Newt from the movie Aliens. A Los Angeles Dodgers hat covers whats left of the poor people thin, matted mane. His wardrobe consists of T-shirts , nondescript jeans and sneakers. In other words, when I watch this astoundingly depressing curriculum, I hear myself and what I might become( minus the millions of dollars ).

The first few minutes of Rob& Chyna intend to manufacture us sympathize with Rob and his pregnant fiancee Blac Chyna. As an aside, isnt it a bit ghoulish that Blac Chyna departs almost entirely by the name Chyna in the first occurrence now that the original Chyna the former WWE wrestler has died? Its like rummaging through someones jewelry after a funeral.

Regardless of what you call her, Blac Chyna is the actual idol of this present, even if her figure is second on the pavilion. She came up from the world-famous piece sororities of Atlanta and grew something of an entrepreneur, at least in accordance with the rules that we define that word in 2016. She took the Kardashian template of monetizing tabloid villainy through a cult of temperament social media ubiquity, labelled concoctions, and now, the final piece of the baffle, an E! actuality dealership. Shes become a major supporting player in the ongoing Kardashian meta-narrative having a baby with the rapper Tyga, who then leaves her for Kylie Jenner, which leads to Chyna unite thrusts with Rob. Whether or not her relationship with Rob is genuine or a calculated effort to increase her earning potential is not for me to decide (* cough its bullshit cough *) but what is is whether or not this Tv show is good. Its not.

Rob
Rob& Chyna: gone with high winds. Image: E!

If your litmus test for persisting with a programme designed is answering the issues to does someone fart within the first 10 hours with a yes, then Rob& Chyna is for you. Spoiler alert, Chyna farts in the car. If you prefer a little bit of drama, then maybe flip over to another channel. Or shed your cable box or streaming design into the nearest open body of water and stroll into the town square. Either one is fine with me.

The format of this painfully monotonous show is identical to the other outposts of the Kardashian empire: interminable vistums of people driving luxury cars on featureless roadways, be standing kitchens not feeing cheese plates, or folding clothes for a business expedition that may or may not ever happen. During these stages, mush-mouthed pod parties debate some ill-defined conflict. Someone needs to go to rehab for a ambiguous difficulty. Someone needs to text someone back about a happen that happened off camera. Person tones disrespected. A party invite is lost in the mail. Watching these displays is like reading “the worlds largest” banal email thread at 3am. Plug sad-eyed agoraphobe Rob Kardashian into this format and you have a antidote for insomnia so potent, the Food and Drug Administration should regulate it.

The ostensible scheme of this escapade is organized around Rob alleging Chyna of texting people behind his back. He testifies this to be the case because he discovers that Chyna has changed the passcode on her iPhone. He even insinuates that shes fixing up with her ex, Tyga. All of this takes target with Rob spread out comfortably on a couch. Chyna repudiates any evil, then alleges Rob of contacting girls behind her back. He apparently admits it, which I vaguely remember before my eyelids glued closed for the night. It must be the case, because the very next vistum is Chyna in another expensive automobile screaming at Rob to stop texting bitches.

These are the moments one watches reality TV for hostility, incoherent yelling and curse. This is why I prefer the Andy Cohen Bravo model for reality over the ponderous Ryan Seacrest/ Kris Jenner indulgence gabfests. Contrast Rob& Chyna with Bravos Below Deck, currently on its fourth season and with one spinoff under its belt. Below Decks premise is simple: give a cluster of attractive deckhands on a mega-yacht, ply them with booze, and be fostered to melt down every episode. Would you instead watch that or a demo starring people extremely far-famed to make proper chumps of themselves for your amusement? The explanation is, neither, Im a grownup who is too busy adding value to the culture to debase myself with such playthings, but dont worry, I picked the show about yachties drunkenly hooking up too.

I said here today that the producers of Rob& Chyna( which include the titular Rob and Chyna among their ranks) do try to spice occasions up. Scott Disick appears in the role of Robs only friend in the entire world and his chauffeur, schlepping him around Los Angeles like a pasty lily-white Morgan Freeman from Driving Miss Daisy. Theres a memorable incident where Rob walks into Chynas home in full Eeyore mode, carrying heydays to apologize for texting bitches. Chyna isnt having it, grabs the flowers, chucks them in a puddle, then kicks Rob out of her live. This is the turning point of the suspect story, as the remainder of the escapade commits Chyna trying to get Rob to text her back, as she has apparently be pointed out that she called at him to leave her alone while pissing all over his romantic gesture. Im sure Rob Kardashian, AKA Calabasas Morrissey, certainly took that well.

Finally, Kris Jenner, matriarch of the expansive Kardashian family and former nemesis of Blac Chyna, appears to counsel Chyna on how to deal with Rob. Jenner is shown to be so shrewd that I half expected her to have grown a beard, picked up a large sprig, and thrown on a pointy hat off-screen. Much has been made of how Blac Chyna is so cunning and took down the Kardashians by getting engaged to Rob. Thats a neat little underdog narrative, but if you think that Kris Jenner isnt clever enough to use this to her advantage and will be the eventual win of this dim-witted tournament, then you arent paying attention to the appearance. Thats fine, since it probably saw you pass out from apathy, but the facts of the case remains that one of the last faces you see in this first chapter is Kris Jenner. The whole stupid enterprise is hers and hers alone. Chyna can have a piece, as long as she pays her taxes to her feudal lord.

And they are Rob. At last, they found a style to monetize his mopey look and wrinkled robes. Instead of a Shrek-like individual they stop locked away in a basement, he has his own display, which only furthers the attainment of the objectives of his family. In exchange, this being who probably has real clinical depression has to pretend to be a TV starring. By collision, E! has stumbled upon the saddest depict on television, so fitted with existential despair that youd premise it was drummed up by a government-funded writer in some soggy Scandinavian country over a bottle of cheap scotch. If “youre watching” more than one of these chapters, youll perhaps find yourself not leaving the house for years, just like Rob Kardashian.

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