Everyone has a guilty pleasure. Everyone. Some dudes like to drink Smirnoff Ices, others don’t want to admit that they love the ballet. Some chicks would never want to admit that they gorge on chocolate behind closed doors. Mine is the Jersey Shore.
These “people” if you can quantify them at that are disgusting, superficial, vermin. The men objectify women with such lovely titles for the beastly ones, as Grenades. Hence the constant striving for a Grenade Free Zone. And the women degrade themselves by valuing looks and brawn over brains and personality. Don’t get me wrong. I love to objectify women. It’s almost a hobby.But the fact that this show has swept the youth of our nation into a Jersey Shore frenzy, is beyond belief for me. This is the exaltation and popularization of this life style.
These “people” are plastic. They do the GTL, but can barely speak. They can’t exist in the real world, because the real world would force them to grow up and get a real haircut and a real job. They don’t come from the wealthiest backgrounds, but they spend as if they do and they put on the clothes.
It’s the old adage of, “You can dress them, but you can’t take them out.” They wouldn’t make it. They couldn’t last. They are jokes of human beings. I wasn’t even aware that this subspecies existed. And that is why I love them.
I am fascinated about everything that they do and how they are able to get away with it. They really are something to simultaneously loathe and marvel at. I may have another guilty pleasure or two, but right now those vile freakshows hold my attention. And I feel bad about it, because with my viewership, I am contributing to their “success.” Oh, woe to the world. Skål. Ezra
