Last week, in their "World's 100 Most Influential People" list, Time Magazine celebrated five sassy women as one collective entity. No, I'm not talking about Tyra Banks and the voices in her head.

I'm talking about the women of ABC's morning hit, "The View," who ranked among today's most powerful and most prevalent earth-shakers and pioneers. The list also included Michelle Obama, the guys who brought us "Grand Theft Auto," Penelope Cruz, Tiger Woods and Captain Sully (who is not a cartoon cereal spokesman as I originally thought but actually the pilot who safely landed the plane on the Hudson).

So Barbara Walters, Joy Behar, Elisabeth Hasselbeck, Whoopi Goldberg and Sherri Shepherd must be pretty influential, right? (Insert awkward silence here). They may discuss important topics, but they're better known for how they choose to chat than what they actually chat about. One woman will begin to speak-the other will interject mid-syllable-then another will scream over her speaking co-anchor. It's a shouting contest.

It's no secret that the media, among many industries, rely on the concept of "survival of the fittest." And, yet, in shows like "The View," this odd competition for attention seems to eliminate any scrap of purpose or enlightenment. Maybe Hasselbeck is reverting to her past "Survivor: Australia" experience, but this isn't the outback. It's "The View." Is competition always the best way to conduct our business? Has the competition to speak and get their voices heard completely destroyed the original feminist platform of "The View?"

New York City's mayor, Michael Bloomberg, who wrote the blurb about the appeal of "The View" ladies (I'm sure NYC citizens just love to hear their mayor spends his time writing odes to Whoopi Goldberg), described them as a lovable "opinionated family that keeps interrupting one another." This description couldn't be more appropriate. One sitting of "The View" can surely induce migraines and seizures with the bickering those women spit out.

Barbara Walters muscled her way into the male-dominated media, being the first woman co-anchor of evening news. For what? Witnessing Rosie O'Donnell get Elisabeth Hasselbeck's Republican panties in a twist? Watching Joy Behar and Whoopi Goldberg yap over each other like chihuahuas? Waiting for Sherri Shepherd to finally scream her way to the forefront only to say she wasn't aware the world wasn't flat? (True story.)

At the end of the hour, nothing has changed-no one's views, no one's argument and most definitely not the society that they have been savagely debating for the last 60 minutes. Perhaps only their throats are a bit scratchier after all that screaming. It's come to the point where the appeal of watching "The View" is the same as the appeal of watching Flavor Flav's "Flavor of Love"-a guilty pleasure of watching women shriek.

Alfie Kohn, in his book "No Contest: The Case Against Competition," struggles with the thought that only the most competitive will survive. He suggests that in both nature and society, cooperation is key to success (think about water-holes and migration). We are introduced to competition. It isn't natural, and it's not always right.

Cooperation could yield as much success as competition. This is a lesson the women of "The View" have yet to learn. Though they needn't agree on every little issue (which is impossible anyway with Joy Behar on the far-left, Elisabeth Hasselbeck on the far-right and Sherri Shepherd on her own planet), less competition for the limelight could produce an intelligent show-or at least one not most notable for its catfights and high decibels.