Oh, Big Brother. Sigh.
This is honestly one of the absolute worst shows on television, and yet every summer (And now winter! Why must they poison the entire year?) I tune in and suffer through the entire season, struggling to find a contestant to root for who isn’t a stagnant, squelching, ass swamp.
The contestants typically range from guys who think they are hotter and more charming than they actually are,
to guys who think their personalities are better, wackier, or funnier than they are,
to really dumb, really slutty girls with really big, really fake boobs.
As generally horrible as all of these people are, at least I can say with some degree of confidence that none of them is as awful as the soi-disant “Evel Dick” of last season, about whom the only positive thing I can say is that at least he did not murder any families. That we SAW.
This season, while there isn’t anyone so utterly repugnant in the cast, there also isn’t anyone remotely likable, really, and in spite of that I still manage to catch ALL THREE episodes per week. Why? I suppose a small part of me must hate myself. On the other hand, I can sleep in all day, neglect my scholarly projects, eat nothing but junk food and drink nothing but whiskey, steal the Social Security checks out of an elderly neighbor’s mailbox, and build a collection of dead babies in my refrigerator, and STILL have a whole new cast of people to feel superior to every season! WIN!