In the company of wolves

Ok, well, this is my blog, so I guess I'm free to rant if I want to.
I'd like to know what the deal is with men feeling perfectly free and somehow justified in commenting on what TV I watch. I currently have 3 housemates, including Eran, both of which have, within the space of one week, felt that they have a right to criticize the fact that I'm following the two 'Survivor' series that are currently running on MNet (one is 'Survivor: South Africa' and the other is 'Survivor: Africa'). I was in the middle of marvelling to Eran at how 'Survivor: Africa' seems genuinely 'African' in that every single participant and also the presenter is a black African from all over the continent. This might sound like a fairly mundane and pointless observation, since last time I looked this was indeed Africa (!), if it wasn't for the fact that after a year and a half in Angola I'm quite familiar with MNet's programming, and the abundance of white-dominated programs in comparison with black alternatives had been notably overbalanced. In a year it seems things might be changing. Although, having said that, 'Survivor: South Africa' only has two black contestants left out of a possible six.
ANYWAY, I'm digressing from my rant! For as I was commenting on this to Eran the first of the other two housemates, Hal, came into the room requesting a channel change, and this was followed two days ago, by the other housemate, Gary, (in ignorance of the previous housemate's complaint) complaining how a perfectly good program on a Friday evening had been replaced by this 'complete and utter rubbish'. Never mind that I'd been sat there for half an hour avidly watching! Whether Survivor is anything close to quality TV is besides the point as far as I'm concerned. What pees me off is this, somehow - I don't know, - externally bestowed superiority assumed by some men, upon themselves, to advise and educate poor easily-led, and clearly vulnerable to the seductions of media garbage, little me, in the finer points of what makes good television. Not only do they congratulate themselves on what they believe to be their superior taste, but also on their media savviness at recognising a piece of television crap disguised as quality entertainment. It is therefore their god-given right - no - duty - to educate the women who cross their television-watching paths in the error of their ways. I think Reality TV and talent shows follow in the oft-mocked and undervalued craft of the soap-opera - another line of programming with a mainly female following. For the record, I'd like to add that the first housemate's favourite film is Broken Arrow, and the second housemate is currently sitting in front of the box transfixed by Bulletproof Monk. But if I was to walk in right now and make my opinions on purile violent films that cost billions to make and have nothing to offer known, will my contribution to the TV-quality debate be welcome, do you think?