2007 An ornament of popular culture
Future historians may well note this date as the beginning of the end of Western Civilization. Keeping Up With the Kardashians, a “reality” television show of a particularly inane and sordid nature, aired for the first time on the E! Cable network.
At the end of the 20th century the name Kardashian meant very little in the public mind, except for those who remembered that one Robert Kardashian had been among the legal team that secured O.J. Simpson his acquittal for murder. It seems, however, that in 1978 Mr. Kardashian had married flight attendant Kris Houghton and spawned a number of daughters whose names began with the letter “K” — Kourtney (b. 1979), Kim (b. 1980), and Khloé (b. 1984) — and a son, Rob (b. 1987), for whom, apparently, no suitable “K” name could be found. The parents divorced in 1991 and a month later Kim married Olympic decathlete hero, Bruce Jenner. From his loins sprang two more “K” kids, Kendall (b. 1995) and Kylie (b. 1997) before he, through the miracle of surgery, transitioned to Caitlin Jenner, for some reason declining an opportunity to become “Kaitlyn”.
This blended family lived lives of little distinction: Kris opened a kids’ store; Kim was a stylist and personal shopper; she and her sisters ran a clothing store. Fortunately, Kim, in a moment of girlish innocence, had made a sex tape in 2007 with someone named Ray J and this tape (oops) was released to the public. Kim was now famous, or — even better — notorious. And she was rich, having made $5,000,000 from the tape’s distributor. All this whetted the public appetite for all things Kardashian and some genius decided that a television crew recording the family’s every move and utterance would prove to be gripping broadcast fare. And so it proved. Despite the sound of critics slashing their own wrists, Keeping Up With the Kardashians has become a staple of American popular culture making millionaires of its subjects. Of their failed marriages, breast enhancements, sex-changes, overdoses, spats, divorces, 325-page book of selfies, and all-encompassing family values, we shall say no more.