I ain't going to Rehab

Spinning absently through Digital Cable the other night, I came across yet more evidence of the decline and fall of whatever was left of American civilization.

It's a reality show called Rehab: Party at the Hard Rock Hotel and it's horrifying and oddly compelling and the douchebaggiest thing I've ever seen. In a word, it's awesome.

It seems that the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas has a daytime party in and around their pool area on Sundays called "Rehab" in which roided-out pinhead mooks with tribal armband tattoos and hoochie Girls Gone Wild congregate to engage in their bizarre mating rituals while drinking $1,000 bottles of champagne. Meanwhile, "TruTV" (which used to be CourTV but apparently decided that was too classy) documents the whole spectacle. It's like the Fall of Rome, as staged by guys who wear visors backwards and girls in dinner-plate-sized sunglasses and gold lame bikinis.

Been recently lobotomized? This might be fun then!

Masterpiece Theater, it's not. But like many other Entertainment Products I absorb, I can't explain its strange appeal. There's no real plot to speak of, just interconnected storylines like "The guys in Cabana 48 only tipped me $250 on their $1700 tab" and "Bring us some girls, but not Vegas girls" and "Somebody take this passed-out chick to the hospital, because her friend wants to stay and party."

I guess it's fascinating on some level to me because it concerns a world I've never been a part of. I guess it would be just as strange for the guy with the 36" pecs who shouted "NEW JERSEY!!!!!" at the camera to watch a reality show in which we went to Cafe du Nord to see a band no one's ever heard of and then went to Lucky 13 to talk about how shitty the crowd was.

P.S. I know the title of this post was totally obvious and lame, but I couldn't think of anything else.