Kids! I don’t know what’s wrong with these kids today. They’re all about sex, hair product, nightclubs that only play techno, drugs that have intensely scientific names, and fashion that makes everyone look like a French hooker from some awful Broadway musical about why France is awesome. (This is all information I have gleaned from the nonstop advertisements for MTV’s Skins.) Friends, how have we so completely failed to instill in this oncoming generation an appreciation for the simple pleasures in life? The sound of a baby’s laughter. The smell of roses freshly in bloom. The taste of a tall Sazerac on a hot Kentucky evening. The inhuman sound of Arnold Schwarzenegger screaming. Or the simplest pleasure of all: the immortal sight of two attractive women in their pajamas fighting each other like a pair of Victorian-era street orphans who are thisclose to turning cannibal.
Listen, the fight was wonderful. Sammi pulled out some of JWoww’s hair. JWoww’s hair is supposed to be impervious to any harm, so we can assume that the Oompa-Loompas who work 18-hour days at JWoww’s personal hair-manufacturing factory will go without food for the next fortnight. But am I the only one who walked away feeling a little bit bad for Sammi? All she did was laugh at Deena because Deena was being all like, “Miiike! Bleeehhh! Me Deeeeenna! Bleeehhh!” Viewers, admit it. You laughed. I laughed. We all laughed. Why should Sammi suffer for our laughter? Also, having reviewed the fight footage several times, I can confirm JWoww actually threw the first punch. And didn’t Thomas Jefferson once say, “Let she who is without sin cast the first punch?” (Man, President Jefferson was awesome. And all we gave him was the freaking two-dollar bill.)
Also, Sammi…Oh, I can’t do it, viewers. Trying to defend Sammi and Ronnie is like trying to defend the even-numbered Indiana Jones movies: impossible, and sad. The morning after the fight, Uncle Sitch tried to ease the tensions in the house. “Wake up, everyone!” he yelled. “Wake up, you Kings of Maine, you Queens of New England!” But Sam and Ron weren’t having it. “Enough with the family s—, Mike!” said Ronnie. Later in the weekend, the rest of the house was shocked, appalled, and frankly just sad that Sam-Ron skipped Sunday Dinner. Sammi: “I don’t care about family dinner. I’m not great friends with these people at this point.”
I have a theory. Well, it’s more of a daydream, really. Or perhaps it’s a delusion brought on by all the tequila shots my bosses feed me every Thursday at 9:55 PM to make sure I’m in peak recapping form. Anyhow, I think part of the reason for this show’s ungodly success is political: At a certain base level, we can all recognize that the Jersey Shore house functions on exactly the same principle as the American Senate. Consider: Like the Senate, the Shore housemates are just as concerned with seeming authentic as they are with being authentic. Like the Senate, the Shore housemates try to do as little work as possible. Like the Senate, the Shore housemates have fantastic hair and absolutely no moral code.
Next: Okay, let’s try to defend Sammi