Guilty, Guilty, Guilty Pleasures

Oh, damn those striking writers. I know that they absolutely have to declare a work stoppage, because why shouldn't they get a cut of the online profits? I know, I know. And I support them, in the abstract. But in the absence of entertainment that is crafted and smart and worthwhile, VH1 and it's evil, evil programming has eaten my brain.

There is no earthly reason why anyone should be watching Celebrity Rehab. Or Scott Baio is 46 and Pregnant. I'm fully aware of this fact. And yet, I can't tear myself away. I should be out shopping for a much-needed immersion blender right now (because there will be no scrumptions cream of tomato soup for dinner without it), and yet I can't move off the couch until I see Daniel Baldwin bitch slap Jeff Conaway. [And for the record, who knew that Daniel Baldwin existed? I thought the world didn't even need a Steven or a Billy, let alone a Daniel!] And are we ever, ever, going to be able to see Grease again after this? Or Charles in Charge re-runs? God save nostalgia for bad 80's media! [And when was the last time anyone went to VH1 for music videos? And yet their home page leads with the phrase "top music videos." Bitch, please.]

Please, please, writers. For the love of God! How on earth are we suppose to have any brain cells left to appreciate your work when you come back, if this is what we're reduced to?