policy of truth

Yes, I admit it, I watched American Idol last night, and while that may not be so embarrassing for a gay man to confess, I do have another, more potentially damning admission to make: I also watched Moment of Truth. And enjoyed the fuck out of it. Sure, I still don't entirely grasp many of the show's components - why lie when you'll end up with a "false" anyway and everyone will know you were, well, lying? why the ridiculous pregnant pauses on every fucking question? - but god damn if it isn't the pinnacle of all the lying, cheating and glorious schadenfreude that makes so much reality television so god damned compelling. Sure, I felt bad for the contestants, but only before realizing that they're the ones who sold out themselves, and the people they love, for what amounts to a rather pathetic amount of cash (especially considering the amount of divorce settlements that are surely to arise). And yet, as much as I love it, it saddens me that its inherent sickness will never trump that of the original, Colombian version, where, according to a pretty vitriolic review on the AV Club, "the winning jackpot went to a woman who admitted she'd put a hit out on her husband". That, my friends, is amazing fucking television. And two more things: One, Mark L. Wahlberg, I knew I recognized you from somewhere, which I guess was Temptation Island, but in my search for this knowledge I learned that you're apparently the host of Antiques Roadshow. Has it really been that long since I've watched? And what happened to Dan Elias? Was he devoured alive by the creepy-hot Keno twins? And two, as the title of this post suggests, I really wish the show was called Policy of Truth, 'cause that song is fucking awesome.