The term "best reality TV" could be considered an oxymoron.

But even determined anti-reality viewers like myself get sucked in sometimes. Sometimes, we actually like what we're watching. And sometimes the shows serve as a sort of catharsis: Nobody could be poorer, uglier, meaner, dumber than these people.

I suspect the reason most viewers watch, though, is for the utter satisfaction of seeing these people become richer, prettier, nicer, smarter.

If it could happen to them, it could happen to us.

"Extreme Makeover: Home Edition," 7 or 8 p.m. Sundays on ABC

In its fifth season, the mother of all home-improvement shows - typically a house is razed and rebuilt, McMansion-style, in a week - owes much of its success to its high-energy host, the breathless Ty Pennington.

Yes, he needs to ditch the retro soul patch, not to mention that obnoxious megaphone. But thanks to Pennington, his core group of designers, hundreds of community volunteers and lots of free stuff from charitable businesses, a ton of deserving American families are finding their American dream: high-def plasma in every room and a killer jacuzzi in the master bath.

Seriously, try to watch it without getting teary-eyed. Sure, it's formulaic. But it's also that good.

"Supernanny," 9 p.m. Wednesdays on ABC

You would think a show about bratty kids would appeal most to parents whose last nerve is shot.

That's probably true. But you don't have to be a parent to get a kick out of seeing this ?ber-Mary Poppins in action. Jo Frost, a London-based child-rearing expert, is every bleary-eyed mother's dream: a no-nonsense disciplinarian with a heart of pure gold and a DVD player that tells no lies.

Parents can't help but cringe during those DVD postmortems when the cameras have caught them screaming at the kids or forgetting to use the "naughty step." But once they acknowledge the wisdom of Frost's ways, happiness reigns and hope springs eternal.

"Survivor," 8 p.m. Thursdays on CBS

Now this here is the grandpa of all American reality shows. "Survivor: Micronesia," wearing contestants to a nub on a TV near you, is the 16th season of the show that made Mark Burnett a household name.

What keeps viewers coming back? It must be the half-naked players scarfing inedible objects, the relentless backstabbing or the 24/7 strategy sessions. Or . . . the exotic locales?

It couldn't be the changes the show has made in the name of mixing it up. Casting teams by race in 2006, for example, was a move akin to the New Coke debacle. This season's gimmick, pitting fans of the show vs. "favorites" from past shows, is only slightly better.

Maybe the attraction is "Survivor" host Jeff Probst, whose diminishing physique has come to mirror the starving contestants. And who else could make "The tribe has spoken" still sound so . . . sincere?

"Dancing With the Stars," 8 p.m. Mondays and 9 p.m. Tuesdays on ABC

Sixth season? Amazing.

You know how it goes: Twelve celebrities are paired off with 12 professional ballroom dancers. The celebs, a mixed bag of B-stars, former athletes and People Who Know People, drop a ton of weight and learn to rumba (or not) during the next several months.

My favorite part: the backstage sessions where they find out how hard it is.

Truth be told, I prefer "So You Think You Can Dance" (quick plug: season premiere at 8 p.m. May 22 on Fox). "SYTYCD" features 20 serious dancers, culled from the streets - literally, sometimes - who just really want to hoof it for a living. The joy and pain are palpable, the choreography and dancing are remarkable.

"Wife Swap," 8 p.m. Wednesdays on ABC

Like many reality shows, this one got its start in the United Kingdom. Two families exchange their moms for two weeks.

Like most reality shows, "Swap" adheres to a rigid formula: Each mom visits her new home with the family in absentia and reads what the other mom has to say. The two are polar opposites: A Christian is paired with a Wiccan, a tightwad is matched with a spendthrift, a beauty queen is up against a makeup-free plain Jane.

The family shows up, and then the real fun ensues.

Like all such reality shows, all goes as expected: Wife meets new family, family loves wife, family hates wife, wife beats family into submission (usually by bullying or killing with kindness), the husbands yell at each other for the humiliation their wives suffered, both families learn a valuable lesson.

We never said it was art.
Contact Cynthia McMullen at (804) 6496361 or cmcmullen@timesdispatch.com.

You want to know why Joel McHale, the sardonic and perceptive host of E!'s "The Soup" will always have a job? One word: "Celebcadabra!"

That gem of a reality show, new to VH1, has seven "stars" (good to see you, C. Thomas Howell), vying to become the "ultimate celebrity magician."

Thankfully, we have McHale and his little dog, Lou, to skewer this nonsense every week, when "The Soup" mercilessly dissects the goofiest TV clips of the week.

No surprise that 80 percent of them come from reality shows. The other 20 percent? Usually from "The View" and "The Tyra Banks Show."

But here are just a handful of the most egregious reality offenders.

"Viva Hollywood," 10 p.m. Sundays on VH1

What is more ludicrous than a telenovela?

Making people prove themselves worthy of starring in one.

But these dozen bilingual hardbodies have agreed to humiliate themselves by mastering the 7 Deadly Sins of Telenovelas: passion, lust, charisma, drama, fire, seduction and scandal.

Then they act in skits that demonstrate the trait.

During lust week, the lesson started by making the wannabes participate in a naked yoga session - because that has a lot to do with acting.

Then toss in flamboyant Puerto Rican horoscope guru Walter Mercado, whose Liberacelike head appears in a mirror (a la "Snow White") to tell the crew the day's assignment; the contestants using the death card of a Tarot deck to vote which competitor should go; and Maria Conchita Alonso as the head judge proclaiming which contestant is "muerto" each week (that would be dead, as in, gone).

Some things are guilty pleasures. Others are brain rot. Guess the category for this one.

"The Real Housewives of New York City," various days and times on Bravo

The ultra-snobby, unbelievably self-centered quintet of rich yentas just wrapped their first season, but Bravo has already signed it up for a second round.

That means even more vapidity (favorite line from the Most Grating Of Them All, Bethenny Frankel, after meeting up with an old girlfriend in Miami: "I think she just celebrated her 12th or 14th wedding anniversary. She's been married a really long time."); whining about possessive Chihuahuas ; and precocious children (the 13-year-old daughter of the yappy Ramona Singer and the kid's contingent of friends are eerily mature).

Think of the MTV show "My Super Sweet 16," but with adults who should know better.

"Miss Rap Supreme," 10 p.m. Mondays on VH1

You might remember the show's co-host Michael "MC Serch" Berrin from last year's "The (White) Rapper Show" (also on VH1).

Now, he and his creepy smoking jacket are back to discover a new female rapper.

To its credit, the show usually makes the girls do something productive, such as write rhymes. But then it also holds a hip-hop fashion show.

Dopey idea, but it was worth the reaction of plus-sized contestant Lady Twist when she thought there was a swimsuit competition.

Most of the time, though, the show is a screeching carnival of bleeped profanities that culminates with the eliminated contestant being ordered by Serch to "STEP OFF!" in a booming, cheesy, effects-laden voice.

Can we? Please?

"Farmer Wants a Wife," 9 p.m. Wednesdays on CW

What is this, "The Bachelor" with a hoe?

A Missouri farmer known only as Matt (interests: archery, deer hunting and boating) wants a female companion. So what better candidates than 10 city chicks who don't know a soybean from L.L. Bean?

Matt will apparently take any chance he can to display his tanned triceps, which is enough for Chicagoan Ashley, who dates frat boys and whose only interest is "shoe shopping."

So the girls will be given muddy "country" jobs such as corralling pigs and milking goats.

Didn't those former BFF's Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie already do this on "The Simple Life"?

"Farmer" is another one of those It's Been Huge In Europe For Years! Shows, which apparently is the only criteria American execs need to fill air time.

"Can You Duet," 8 p.m. Fridays on CMT

In theory, it's a harmless talent show.

Country singing hopefuls line up to croon the best of Carrie Underwood and Tim McGraw in front of a trio of judges: veteran singer Naomi Judd, vocal coach Brett Manning and songwriter Aimee Mayo.

But here's where the ick factor comes in.

During its audition rounds, contestants were shuttled into a room to stand in front of a backdrop and face the judges, seated behind a folding table.

Those who make the cut will perform in front of a "live" (CMT's quotes, not ours) audience at the Nashville Wildhorse Saloon.

Sound familiar?

Well, yeah, since the producers of "American Idol" are behind this shameless copycat.

But the minor difference in shows is that here, each contestant will work with a partner each week, which is sure to accelerate the drama once egos begin to clash. And of course that's the entire point (besides ostensibly finding a new Underwood).

People love to watch other people bicker, which explains why the show's debut three weeks ago was the highest in CMT's history (about 1.4 million).

But it doesn't explain why we need another rote singing show.
Contact Melissa Ruggieri at (804) 649-6120 or mruggieri@timesdispatch.com.