Another week, another confession from Uncle Bob: I'm having the worst time telling these guys apart. I mean, some of the guys look somewhat unique -- like Grant, for instance, who looks like a Q-Tip with glasses. But the rest of them all look like acne-scarred marines to me. So if I get a name wrong or am reduced to saying "Someone says 'Blah, blah, blah,'" then cut me some slack. You have no idea how hard it is for me to recap a show where women make up about 0.1% of the cast. If I wanted to spend thirty minutes looking at a bunch of frat boys and frat boy wannabes, I'd go down to my gym and hide behind a weight machine and stroke myself like that creepy guy who always watches me in the locker room does.
We kick off the début episode with some wise young sage uttering the line, "Fraternity life is a mystery." Immediately, these crazy bastards at MTV are trying to get me to spew my Diet A&W all over my television. Okay. I'll bite. Why is fraternity life a mystery, MTV? Because young men learn all the facts about them in high school and when they finally get to college, they still want to be involved with them? Is that the big mystery, MTV? Huh?! Talk to me, MTV. I will not be ignored, Mr. Music Television.
Sorry. I'm a bit on edge today. My apologies. It's just that I don't particularly care for cable networks that produce shows that are an insult to my intelligence unless they include the words The Anna Nicole Show somewhere in the title. (What can I say? I'm a huge Bobby Trendy mark.) And MTV has overstepped its boundaries by producing a reality show about a bunch of frat boys that has me jabbing my eyes with my thumbs.
We get a bunch of scenes from various parties the guys have thrown, including one party where a guy was dressed like a giant dildo. My bad -- that's no party scene, that's a close-up of Brad the Bleeding Anal Wart. I'm not the best at conveying my emotions, so I'll just blurt it out: I'm not a big fan of Brad. "We're an Animal House-type of atmosphere, but we still have our shit together," says Brad. He's right. Every time I see someone lob a sofa out of a second-story window onto the ground for kicks, I think "You know, that is truly a young man who most definitely has his shit together." Somebody remarks that being a fraternity brother means loyalty, honesty, and trying to cultivate brotherhood. They keep talking about brotherhood like it's a carrot patch and they're always out there, shooing rabbits away and cultivating the shit. Basically, we're being fed the same typical horseshit that verbally stabs you in the face every time you step into a frat house during pledge week. George says that being in a frat is the best feeling in the world! Gosh golly darn, why, I'll just bet that son of a gun is right! I can't think of anything better than being in a frat! It's better than puppies in spring, hot oatmeal on a frosty winter's morn, and goin' fishin' with Pa down at the watering hole! Why, it's even better than a date with a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model! Yes sir, being in a fraternity rules! Seriously, these are some wildly misguided lame fucks we've got on our hands. "Being in a frat is the best feeling in the world." Sheeee-it. You've obviously never had a high-heeled shoe shoved up your ass while you humped a Vietnamese massage therapist in a musty and dimly lit storage room, you fucking simpleton.