On a semi-break from reality TV during the holidays, but I couldn't help watching most of the "Survivor" finale. The good-girl factor again kept a player from winning the money. Had Lill, the wrinkled scoutmaster, taken Jon the Liar to the final two, she'd be a millionaire now. By choosing Sandra instead, Lill spelled her own doom. Oh, well. There'll be another 16 wet, dirty, hungry players to watch in January.

Still can't watch "Simple Life." Only girls as scrawny and rude as Nicole and Paris could make the state of Arkansas look good in comparison. I am, however, mildly fanatical about "Rich Girls." Poor Ally Hilfiger. Making a burrito sends her into psycho-drama. She can't navigate a grocery store. She doesn't know the ingredients of Mexican food. And she bursts into hysterical tears when she can't find an art store open on Sundays! Somebody call Amnesty International! No one should have to live like this!

More later, after the New Year.

About five minutes into "The Simple Life" on Fox, I had to look away, look away, Dixieland. Paris Hilton and Nicole ("I AM black!") Richie trying to navigate backroad Arkansas in a squeaky pickup truck... the sweet Leder family swigging their pollypop from plastic cups... the cows wondering whose French manicure is caressing their udders. Something about this reality show was just too, too embarrassing. Watching it, I was embarrassed for the rich girls, for the host family, for the cows, horses, fireflies -- all creatures great and small being exploited in the name of entertainment. Paris and Nicole, in their teetery 2,000-dollar shoes and butt-skimming jeans, looked like freaks from a planet far, far away from real American life. The Leders, a normal heartland family working hard to hustle fresh milk to the masses, are in the position of having their everyday-ness held in contrast to the ridiculous, materialistic fluff that Paris Hilton and her little friend call existence. And who wouljd we rather have as next-door neighbors? The Leders? Or Paris and her film crew? She's a symbol of all that is terribly, horribly wrong with American society in 2003. She reps all the wrong values, all the vacuousness that the young folk seem to revere. And now that I feel like a sad old fart, I'll sign off and go watch "The Andy Griffith Show."

DUFF. Thanks to "Average Joe" I now know that stands for Designated Ugly Fat Friend. Zach, the mule-faced "Joe" who hoped to win Malena's heart, said every pretty girl has a DUFF. A guy has to win over the DUFF to guarantee that the beauty will grant him the seal of approval. On the show, the DUFF in question was actually size 2 Malena wearing a size 24 Mrs. Doubtfire fat suit, pretending to be her own DUFF cousin, Danielle. In the fake fat, she met all four remaining guys -- two of the duds and two of the newly arrived cute dudes -- and then watched hidden camera footage of how the men dished the DUFF when they thought nobody was listening. Big mistake. Zach blew it with his ugly comments about the ugly girl and he was given a one-way ticket back to Palookaville. Malena, meanwhile, locked lips with one of the cuties (again, who can remember their names?) out on a sailboat. Look for her to sail into the sunset with him as her winning choice. The Mrs. Doubtfire twist, by the way, was genius.

The WB was kind enough to send me review tapes of the new season of "High School Reunion." This time it's the class of '93 from Round Rock, Texas. (Round Rock is just a few miles north of Austin.) Same format as before, about 20 classmates -- not all of them grads from '93 -- are flown to a luxurious resort in Hawaii, where they spend a couple of weeks drinking, fussing and fooling around. In episodes 1 and 2, the spotlight is on pathetic little Denise, a tiny titan of terrible problems who married her high school sweetie, bore two of his children, and then found herself at age 28 dumped, divorced and dispirited. The ex is at the reunion, too, and little Denise hopes to win him back (helped by the producers, who arrange to have these two in romantic settings whenever possible). Complicating Denise's plans are three bimbos from high school days who also, it turns out, were boinking Denise's boyfriend (why can't I remember his name? Dan? Dave?) at the same time he was wooing Denise. They're back to throw their tatas in his face and to remind us all why we hated certain bouncy blondes in high school. Then there's the quiet jock, back to flirt with the girl he left behind. There's the "gossip," the "nerd" (who badly needs a visit from the Fab Five on "Queer Eye"), the professor and Mary Ann. Or whatever. Yeah, I'll watch this show. It's several steps up from "Big Brother," not as great as "Survivor," but it fills the need for new reality programming this month.

Meanwhile, that lying cretin Jon on "Survivor." Feed him to the sharks! Now!