Death, Media, Nostalgia

Jersey, Sure.

When I was little I wanted there to be an alien race very badly, but I was skeptic early on because I was never an idiot. In 4th grade I realized that the era of the explorer was over and I became unnecessarily angry at Magellan and James Cook and ChrisCo because they got to go around and discover new peoples.

God, I love The Jersey Shore. My computer is my Niña, Pinta and my Santa Maria and Jersey Shore is my Galapagos Islands and my blog is my vehicle for mixing explorations. I love Rock of Love Bus, I love Flavor of Love. These are my anthropological studies. And now that we got planes and the internet it’s harder and harder to have true new world experience outside of VH1 shit reality shows.

The reason I need to see these people that grew up so different and turned out so different than the gender confused, math comedian that I became is because I need to know that this world isn’t fully explored. We may not get more Magellans but there are still people that I haven’t met. There are still people whose decisions, morals, and reasons necessary to punch people will still surprise me. I need to know that I’m not as brilliant as I think I am – that I can’t predict what everybody is going to do all the time. If I’m never able to be surprised again than I would just sit in my room all day maintaining a destructive routine. Luckily Jersey Shore has an off season so I can’t get into a routine year long.

Also, it’s interesting that they are intense Future-Pastians. They live their lives for the stories they get to tell. Just their stories are self-aggrandizing, whereas mine involve my parents in wetsuits, and my dick in my hand.


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