I suck at socializing. I can’t help but ask people too soon about their faith, their politics and, especially of late, their favorite reality TV show.
That last question might not sound as weighty as the first two party-downers, but consider the subtle nosiness of the question. What you’re really asking: What speaks to your inner angels (or demons)?
The answers can be fascinating. My oldest buddy admits he loves reality shows about renovating dilapidated pubs and bars. Another loves dating reality shows. Another, who has about as much culinary expertise as I (Pop-Tart, anyone?), loves reality cooking shows. My mom never misses Judge Judy. 
There have to be deeper psychological layers to the shows’ appeal. Are they wish fulfillment? A satiation for fairy tale or just endings? A peek at a career path not taken?
Sure, there are risks in the ask — namely the douchebag who likes to brag he doesn’t own a television. Beware anyone who boasts of cultural fasting.
And I’ll concede: I’m a little worried about my own guilty pleasure TV: Battlebots. Does it mean I have a thing for headlessness?
I wonder because that’s what introduced me to the show, a gladiatorial-style battle to the death between remote-control robots.
These aren’t Rock Em Sock Em robots. They have flippers, flame throwers and firepower. These things weigh 200 pounds, feature lawnmower saws, and boast blades that spin as fast as a helicopter’s. One shoots a five-pound lead cartridge 300 mph at its opponent, like a Campbell’s Soup can in a howitzer.
My favorite bot, though, is Ice Wave, which has a 54-inch spinning wheel with a firefighter’s saw that rotates at 250 mph. I was channel flipping when I happened upon Ice Wave’s upcoming match, a fight with a stubby spin bot that looked like a fire hydrant with rabies. 
When the bell rang, the hydrant charged toward Ice Wave, which simply began firing up its spinner. Fearless and fast, stubby hurled toward the blades, hoping to defeat Ice Wave by knocking it on its side.
Instead, Ice Wave decapitated stubby with one rotation. In a subsequent battle, Ice Wave was tipped on its side — only to slash its opponent vertically in two. That’s how legends are born, folks (Alas, it lost in the playoffs for the most anti-climactic of reasons: A battery short left it immobilized).
But this reality show, too, suggests something deeper about human nature: Our bloodlust. And given our increasing understanding of that lust, it just may be carving the future of sport.
Consider: Football, from the NFL to Pop Warner, is seeing declining revenues, ratings and participation.. The UFC and mixed martial arts are a niche sport at best. And boxing — once the most popular sport in America — essentially retired as a legitimate competition when Ali did. 
All three share a macabre plotline: the primate desire for violence. High school districts nationwide have already banned head-butting soccer balls out of concussion concerns, and more than 15% are considering measures banning children’s tackle football outright. And if moms pull their kids out of school football, it’s Friday Night Lights out.
So let the bots battle. Teams gain no advantage through misogyny or racism. Women kick mens’ asses all the time on Battlebots. Parent-child teams are common. It’s kinda like Star Wars chess. And come on: who doesn’t want a game piece that can eat an opponent? 
One suggestion to Battlebots producers, though: You may want to put a self-destruct button on every copy of your matches for the near future. Because if our Artificial Intelligence overlords ever see what we made them do, we may face the wrath of Ice Wave.
May I suggest this instead?
