In their desperate endeavor to fill the hopeless crater left by Jersey Shore in their programming and our lives, MTV aired another hour of Buckwild last night. And it became even more clear. These people will never replace the magic of smushing, fist-pumping gorillas and meatballs, and it makes me want to cry. The confessionals are bland recountings of things we just saw, rather than twisted, un self-aware, but somehow witty commentary. The height of the show’s quippiness came from Salwa, as she addressed a sad drunk creature named Jessie B–“he’s Patrick Shwasted right now.” And would you really want to be the ass-hat to put that on a t-shirt? There is more odd word art thrown into the landscapes, and it’s awkward. They do some annoying, Jackass-lite style stunts, such as off-roading, riding a trash can lid attached to a quad, and playing yet again in the mud. BORING! Like, can someone trap a squirrel or make some moonshine or something? I need caricatures in my television. But whether or not this “episode” felt like more nothing, I think some things still happened.
Not to use the “p” word in relation to this festival of meandering actions and events, but what plot happened on last night’s episode revolved around Shea’s inevitable break-up with her boyfriend Jesse J. The pop star. Nah, just kidding. He’s just a miscellaneously brawny dude who loves cargo shorts, But, we’ll let it slide, because fashion is apparently 7 years behind in this area of West Virginia. Up to this point, all of Shea’s friends have tried to relay to her the philandering and reverse cuckoldry that Jessie J is pulling on her, but she will have none of it. Eventually, she breaks it off with him and shows up to their mobile home to pick up all of her stuff. That’s right. She knocked him down just like a domino.
Mmmmmm… what else went down? Shain continues to sound more and more like Billy Bob Thornton in Sling Blade, and remains the redneck-stereotyped saving grace of the show. I think he tells a story about finding dirty magazines in a cooler, but his babbling is even difficult for his friends understand. While it all seems terribly scripted and staged, at least I can believe that he’s the kind of guy to wear old t-shirts with the sides cut out of them. Not to mention, he inspires Joey and Tyler to get jobs. Here’s where we see their industrious sides. They take up lawnmowing because they’ve “run out of money for gas and beer.” However, they quit after a day because they don’t like it, and they can’t figure out how to mow around lawn decorations.
The girls get matching tattoos of “NPS” which stands for “No Plotlines, Sorry.” And we’re introduced to a new character—Jesse B, who has the pale complexion of a methhead shut-in, a penchant for airbrushed shirts, and a love of sexual harassment. There’s even a brawl, between Jesse B and Tyler. Actually, its more of Tyler beating Jesse’s face to a hemmoraging geyser of blood. Then he lies on the ground in pain while everyone stands around, not calling 911. But we’re not supposed to like Jesse B anyway, so its whatever.
Finally, the gang all assembles for Joey’s birthday party, where the main activity is shooting a potato cannon. Shea, being a single sally, is open for business and ready to expel some of that pent-up sluttiness that lay dormant in her through her relationship. Joey’s into her, and she’s into him. It’s hard to pinpoint the moment it dawns on her, but maybe it’s when he sticks his face into the hollow end of the potato cannon. Or maybe it was when she was licking butter off his lower abdomen. Young country love is enough to make a sap outta you. Actually, more like it burns disturbing images into your brain that you need to fight to erase. Like this one.
Apple Butter, cookie butter, nutella, ambrosia spread. I’m sure nothing could cover up the taste of salty garbage that probably covers that gross, skinny-boy beer belly skin. File under things I’ll never do.
(Images from MTV.com)