Turn back the clock to the most unironic ironies, to halcyon days: a distant landscape populated with plaid and Dr. Martens-donning teens and tweens. Blockbuster stores are thriving, proudly located on Main Street.
During a drive to Ann Arbor with three other people in my car, I asked each of my companions to queue two songs on Spotify for us to listen to along the way. Two were quick to add their songs, but one of my friends was hesitant to add something to the queue.
Imagine a reality television show devoid of sin. Oh, it’s already been cancelled. Now, imagine watching a reality television show, but this time, the disgustingly great feeling of schadenfreude is missing from your viewing experience. Not nearly as fun, right?
The experience of devoting nearly two hours of one’s life to watching an episode of “The Bachelor” is not only transformatory, it is blissfully sinful. On both sides of the screen, people are being as unabashedly awful as they please.
“Once upon a time, not long ago, I was a hoe,” sang rapper/singer/Internet meme Mariahlynn through our phone speaker, my two best friends and I singing along as we hurtled across Europe in a rickety passenger train.