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Changing Hawaii
THERE'S always a silver lining, it's said, even in history's worst debacles. So if there's some socially redeeming value to Tuesday's "Who Wants To Marry A Multi-Millionaire?" special on the Fox Network -- by golly -- this open-minded feminist is determined to find it. Who wants to marry
a gold digger?Admittedly, the two-hour pageant was a boob-tube first: 50 single women vying for the "prize" of marrying an American bachelor as the world watched. His identity was masked until the final minutes, his only verifiable attribute being a big, fat and soon-to-be joint checking account.
At least it wasn't boring. The Las Vegas-based show whizzed by thanks to glib, tuxedoed host Jay Thomas. He repeatedly reminded the audience (and maybe himself) that "this was for real," as opposed to, say, a "Mad TV" skit.
First, the aspiring wives introduced themselves while wearing slinky cocktail dresses, thankfully not lingerie or babydoll nighties. The parade of pretties -- ranging in age from 19 to the mid-40s -- were then winnowed down to a select gaggle of 10.
Another plus: No talent competition. No painful arias or sleep-inducing piano concertos or stressful fire-baton-throwing routines to withstand between the too-short commercial breaks.
The semifinalists then moved into the "compatibility" segment, with the multi-millionaire's mom, sister and friends rating each contestant's hypothetical response to tough multiple-choice queries like:
"What is the meaning of life?"
A) To marry for money.
B) To snag a rich husband.
C) Internet stocks.
D) Umm, could you rephrase the question?
To determine the (ahem) health and fitness of those still in the hunt, they donned bathing suits and tried not to fantasize about the $100,000 in prizes the winner would score (including a new SUV and three-carat diamond ring), lest they appear too gold-diggerish.
Finally, the names of the five finalists were read and a few looked strickened. "Holy %*#&#)@," they were probably thinking. "I actually might win this %$&CENT#*@& thing."
They shimmied into their white designer bridal gowns, took one last sashay across the floor, then lined up for the groom-to-be to make his momentous decision.
THE rest of the night was a surrealistic blur. The multimillionaire -- Rick Rockwell, a San Diego real estate investor (oooo) and motivational speaker (egads) -- stepped forward to make his choice. He fell to his knees and proposed to Darva Conger, a statuesque blond who suddenly blanched.
She trembled through the brief wedding ceremony. He leered like he couldn't wait for the honeymoon. Then they stiffly danced to the Savage Garden ditty, "I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You." Awww.
And that's when enlightenment hit! There certainly was a socially redeeming facet to this prime-time spectacle after all.
Here was a woman who wanted to wed a stranger -- even if he was incompatible, mean, boorish or insipid -- simply because he was rich.
The same held true for the multi-millionaire, who was willing to marry someone who coveted his companionship primarily for his wealth.
You see, my friends, it all worked out splendidly in the end. Rick and Darva got exactly what they wanted.
Now lift your glasses and join me in a sincere toast to those crazy newlyweds. Cheers!
No two people deserve each other more.
Diane Yukihiro Chang's column runs Monday and Friday.
She can be reached by phone at 525-8607, via e-mail at
dchang@starbulletin.com, or by fax at 523-7863.