I can't, in good consciousness, blame you for the choices you made over the past couple of decades. Sure we all appreciated the adult contemporary videos, but we were more than happy when you switched gears and filled the void of music history and pop-culture trivia nuggets your sibling, MTV, abandoned. But suddenly, you woke up one morning and realized trashy reality shows are ratings gold. Television executives need to eat, right? While I do not agree with your lifestyle change, I'll support it. But then you went too far.
Here's what I take strong umbrage with: You are pretending your line-up of "bimbo parades" are genuine human-interest stories. Need an example? Two words: CHARM SCHOOL. So what you have is a bevy of trashy women selected for their inability to curb their psychotic behavior. Oh and their resemblance to third-rate porn stars and willingness to openly engage in bizarre sex-acts you used to have to fly to Amsterdam to see doesn't hurt either. Okay, I'm with you so far. But then you shuttle in Ricki Lake (who needs a few words with her agent) and, with the straightest face I've ever seen, she purports to be turning these girls' lives around. No winks to the camera. No self-awareness. Just Ricki genuinely depressed and disappointed because she couldn't stop "Random Bim 371" from using her vagina as a public ashtray the previous night. And everyone thought Jerry Springer took his delusions of humanitarianism (pretend or otherwise) to the extreme...
Ricki thinks that, one day, these "women" will make a difference. Yeah, maybe in your STD test results.
Honestly VH1... Maybe these women need help but you and I both know that you're just exploiting them. Stop pretending otherwise. It's insulting to our intelligence. Give your audience some credit. An example from a recent episode: You act like you're doing New Orleans a humongous favor by sending your four remaining Charm School finalists down there to help with the reconstruction but then send them out drinking the night before. They already have FEMA for ineptitude, thank you anyway. Sure, a playground was rebuilt by the end, but I have the sneakiest suspicion there was some off-camera assistance from those who know the difference between a swing-set and a stripper pole. To top it off, Traci Turnblad begins crying because she's bummed-out that she has to send one "girl" home and thus will not be able to teach her not to do crazy, slutty things like forgetting to wear panties to a baptism. Sorry Ricki, but they're not giving away Noble Prizes for most creative public queefing anytime soon. Scale back your expectations a tiny bit.
Content: 90% Post-Consumer Recycled Goods; 10% "Love Stains"
Hey, don't judge me for judging them. This is how YOU present them to the viewers, you red-headed stepchild of Viacom.
To your credit VH1, you do occasionally re-run some programming from your so-called "Golden Age". Like last night, you had a marathon of the greatest one-hit wonders from the 80's. Maybe you still care. Or maybe your regular performers were all out getting treated for Chlamydia. I don't know and I won't look too deep into the occasional thrown bone.
I see you rolling your eyes at me, Hit Videos Uno. I'm not lecturing without love. Okay, I don't "love" you but I respect and recognize that, in this economy, sometimes you have to film floozies at a bar sticking shots into their body cavities to pay the bills. But you're 24 now and old enough to start owning up to your deceitfulness. Start realizing that you are presenting the abnormal underbelly of society. Stop painting them as everyday people. It's an important responsibility and you cannot take it lightly. Because God knows we don't need a generation of girls thinking that "alcoholic hooker" is a legitimate career choice.
P.S. - Off-topic but still important: Can we wait until 2011 before doing another "I Love the New Millennium"? The first series felt so incomplete. Okay, that's it. Now go take a shower. You reek of bodily fluids and José Cuervo.
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