This weekend I saw TLC’s Extreme Couponing for the first time. It may be the worst show on TV. By that I mean, the worst for humanity. It is simultaneously the saddest and most infuriating thing I’ve ever seen. If you told me Werner Herzog directed this thing, I wouldn’t bat an eye.
I concede that other people may not feel the same vitriol when viewing Extreme Couponing that I do. Because when I heard the phrase “extreme couponing,” I thought of my mother and grandmother.
In my childhood, both of them obsessively clipped coupons and shared them on a daily basis. My mom did it because my dad drank himself into unemployment and money was scarce; if we did not have a coupon for something or it was not on sale, we did not buy it. My grandmother couponed because she had the prototypical Survivor of The Depression/World War II’s view of saving money, combined with the need to stretch every cent in retirement. She had two pantries in her house filled with non-perishables, each item bearing ballpoint notation of the retail cost, with careful subtraction of how much she saved. Mom and grandmom* both had little coupon boxes they would take to Shop-Rite, organized with alphabetic tabs, so an appropriate coupon could be located at a moment’s notice.
* We actually called her Nanny, but I thought that would appear precious when written down and would also cause the reader to confuse her with the faceless caretaker from Muppet Babies.
But it turns out my mom and grandmother were rank amateurs. They are put to shame by the people on Extreme Couponing. Actually, I think the Extreme Couponers put themselves to shame.
Here are the five worst things about this show, other than everything:
- There is virtually no such thing as a coupon for decent food. There are no coupons for “bananas” or “organic chicken” or “fresh vegatables”. These extreme couponers are stocking up almost exclusively on packaged or frozen food, loaded with preservatives, salt, hormones, and a billion other horrible things. It’s all Franken-food, the absolute worst shit imaginable. Not a lot of salad in these people’s shopping carts, but a whole lot of things stuffed with cheese and/or skewered on sticks.
- The goal for most of these people appears to be not feeding/supplying their families, but accumulating the most stuff for as little money as possible, then shoving those things into every corner of their house, then building more corners in their house into which things can be stuffed. The line between “extreme couponer” and “hoarder” is extremely thin–if such a line exists.
- Many of the people featured on the show credit God with giving them this extreme couponing “blessing” or “talent.” If you’re in a situation where extreme couponing is an economic necessity, thanking God for giving you this “gift” seems like thanking God for not burning down your house.
- The use of “rockin” incidental music that stands in sharp contrast the banality and sadness of the deeds actually performed. There are few things sadder than watching someone dump 60 jars of mayonnaise into a shopping cart, except when it is accompanied by some sweet guitar riffs.
- A disturbing number of people on this show pronounce coupon as “cyupon,” which goes through me like a knife.