DISCLAIMER: In writing the following, I am about to concede any shred of “journalistic credibility” that I once had. Unfortunately, temptation has gotten the better of me. If I start to sound like Perez Hilton, somebody please let me know. Enjoy.
You watched it. Maybe you DVR’d it, thinking you’d get around to watching it, but after all the chatter on Friday morning, you popped it on as soon as you got home. Everyone is talking about it, especially us New Jersey natives. It’s MTV’s Jersey Shore.
I stumbled onto watching the show, having no intentions to originally do so. I’m always the first person to cast judgement when it comes to “shitty TV.” “How are you going to waste your precious time on that garbage?” Maybe even a “This is what’s wrong with America.” Well, I’m not sure if this makes me a hypocrite, or maybe I’ve just seen the light, but I now know the appeal of devoting time to such a horrible, entertaining show.
The cast is comprised of four jacked guys and four thick girls. They take pride in their Guido and Guidette heritage, and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s good to be proud of where you come from. Like any MTV show, melodrama ensues, and everything degenerates into drunken nudity in the hot tub.
The characters are unbelievable, each having his or her own claim to fame. JWOWW exhibits her absurdly fake breasts, Angelina knows she’s the greatest cock-block around, and Ronnie is the only man the universe with the secret recipe for Ron-Ron Juice, an alcoholic beverage comprised of vodka, blackberries, vodka, fruit juice, and vodka. Its potency can be likened to The Situation’s sensitivity. Extreme. Tough on the outside (he knows when he needs his protein and has abs of steel), The Situation showed us a softer side in his chivalric quest for the heart of Sammie. And who could forget the lovable runt Shnorkel, or Schnookums? Maybe it was Snickers. Nobody really knows. Thinking about this excuse for a female human being is all I need for an instant laugh. Sorry, dear.
I could go on and on breaking down Thursday’s episode, but no black and white text could do these two hours justice. It’s for situations (no pun intended) like these that I reserve the classification “scum of the Earth.” But for some reason, we can’t help but get amped up for the next episode.
Why is it that we are drawn to this program like hair gel to Pauly D’s blow-out? Maybe after seeing this tragic looking crew, we can dub ourselves more moral, smarter, or better behaved (but certainly not as huge) than others. A bit of a social pat on the back. I believe that it’s the total audacity of the characters that draws us in. If nothing else, they’ve got nerve. The nerve to call themselves faithful to significant others at home, and then admire each other’s genital piercings the same night. The nerve to go out of one’s way to try to break up another’s inconsequential relationship. The nerve for the following quote, “So this guy at the bar looked at me. What was I to do,” delivered just before the first punch. These lunatics simply do the things that we do not. Whether they are oblivious, ‘roided up, idiots, or just don’t give a shit, it is genuinely exciting to watch humans break the social norms established by society, and have it delivered to us in a polished hour of highlights each week.
Now I don’t feel so bad about watching. To all those I’ve called out in the past, my sincerest apologies. Grab your sausage and peppers, Peroni’s on ice, and a tall glass of Ron-Ron Juice, and enjoy the show.
A final word to critics. Those from New Jersey who boycott the show and are mortified that these eight cats are “representing” New Jersey, ease up. It’s not a documentary on the history of the state and its people. It’s a trashy MTV show designed to attract viewers. Appreciate it for what it is, and don’t get overzealous in your pride for the motherland. And to Italian-heritage groups, offended by the “defamation” of your culture, get over it. These people exist, and there is a substantial number of them. Don’t hide from the truth, but don’t let a sample size of eight, chosen for their extreme attitude, behavior, and hair gel usage set the standard for your thousands of years of rich history. The rest of the world is smart enough not to pass such gross judgement, so you should be, too.
