This show wore its fakeness on its sleeve to awesome effect. The premise: round up a gaggle of gold-digging biatches and make them believe they have a chance at landing a handsome oil heir. The twist being that the object of their affection isn’t rich at all. And he’s kind of a dillweed on top of it all. Cruel? Yes. Awesome to watch? Even more yes.
I don’t want to risk upsetting Juggalos but WWE wrestling is fake. The matches are staged and the drama is scripted. You’ve all been tricked into enjoying the dramatic arts. I also have something to reveal about the ICP but you’ve had enough bad news for today.
I’m sensing a presence. You have a family member who has passed. No? Umm, a friend. No? Oh, now I see. A woman who worked at your grocery store. No? A man? Yes. A man who worked at your grocery store and would talk to you. What? He was mute? Ah, now it’s clear. He wished he’d spoke to you. What? He hated your guts and passed you a note stating he’s glad he’s unable to speak with you? His name started with a ‘J’. T? Oh yes, I was going to say ‘T’.