Infinitely Retarded: The Irreparable Retardation of MTV's Jersey Shore New Years Special

Somewhere, some d-bag was spending his New Years packing his shit and cleaning out his desk: the picture of his wife and kids, the mesmerizing kinetic desk toy he got for Christmas, and frankly not much else. All that was left was the fake Formica potted plant in the corner, which had collected dust in that very spot for fifteen years. Fifteen years. And now because of this whole MTV New Year's Bash 2011 featuring the cast of the Jersey Shore idea, he was out on the street without so much as a Happy New Year. Down and out and without a job.

Welcome to the masses Mr. Massey.

He should of known it was too ambitious of a project. A New Years show? On MTV? Even Dick Clark's New Years Eve Special was better, despite the presence of Ryan Seacret there with the inspirational Dick Clark to even the balance. There was no way one could defy tradition, even if tradition was fading already under the passing of far too many New Years vastly becoming the Old Years. Even worse was the thought that Whitney Cummings would have made a suitable host. It down right made him sick. He couldn't help but dry heave. He had finagled a deal that allowed the nobody comedian to come aboard only under the condition that before the show she be provided with plenty of alcohol. This was no problem, as the Jersey Shore cast had already signed on and they had such similar conditions. In fact, they were useless without the devil water.

But that's of course how it was for Mr. Massey.

For Whitney Cummings it was like this:

2 hours to go. 2 hours till show time. These mimosas will do. These four mimosas will do. Yes, a fine nectar for a fine lass. But then there were all those other shots, and sips of straight champagne. Time passed, but faster than she had assumed--had any time passed?--and it was already time for the show. She staggered out onto the stage and there were people there: mostly teenagers who had taken a break from the cold outside for a chance at some warmth and an up close look at the cast of the Jersey Shore. It was certainly something for Facebook. Something brag worthy.

She wasn't afraid. She wasn't worried at all. All she had to do was read the words, and the words were already written. But she couldn't stop seeing double. Things congealed, words ran amuck on her and the stage at times to her resembled quick sand. And she was sinking: but too drunk to assume it would do her any harm. Too drunk to assume that perhaps this could be the one big thing to ruin a career that most people didn't really know about anyway. But she felt she made all her best decisions drunk; tis why she is, after all, Whitney Cummings.

Who cared anyway: she could just wing it and use the talent that lead her to where she was now as an elected orator for a show so vile it ended a man's job and sent him into a bout of alcoholism so fierce all the well constructed pillars of his life had been destroyed, split as easily as celery stalks. No more wife. No more kids.

Welcome to the masses, Mr. Massey.

She could just wing it, and guess what? She kinda did. CUE: failed jokes and crotch shots--funny because she's a chick?

But that's of course how it was for Whitney Cummings.

For anyone watching it went like this:

Whitney Cummings came on drunk, wearing a blue dress and a smug smile resulting from an overzealous appreciation of the upcoming New Year with the help of a bottle. Oh yeah this chick. That random chick who showed up at some random Shit Central Roast and 'tore the place up.' Or so some people said. She was another one of these chick comedians: a hybrid of Sarah Silverman and Chelsea Lately; a lass who says crude things deemed funny I suppose, because she's in possession of a vagina. . . One which coincidentally she couldn't help but try to expose throughout the entire special, sprinkled throughout jokes so horrible no one was laughing, except a rather drunk Ronnie.

To the boys, this use of sexual innuendo and outcries of PENIS and VAGINA was an open invitation to fuck. This was no mere joke, not a tactic used by an unfunny snot to gain attention: it was an invitation for sexual harassment: and Vinny and The Situation were more than willing to oblige. In fact both of them seemed to fight over her attention and in turn the chance to fuck her, which was silly really, she was gonna fuck them both. It was apparent that for the Jersey Shore boys the first thing on the lineup card for the New Year was gonna be a Whitney Cummings gang bang. Family Style.

Because a family that doesn't share STD's is a family in turmoil.

The Situation even went so far as trying to make out with her, and I'm sure if the cameras weren't there, she would have. She certainly was intoxicated enough, which is precisely how The Situation likes them. His well trained snout can just sniff em out, like a hog to a trash heap.

But it wasn't just all copulations and bullshit by Vinny and The Situation. The rest of the cast was there. They all looked like they didn't want to be there like jaded celebrities paid to make an appearance at a shit party--money is money--content to mingle off in a corner of their own getting drunk on MTV's dime. JWoww was looking particularly classy for the event: she seemed to have taken a string and Bedazzled it with fake jewels and worked it all into a sort of net which she draped over her plastic boobs. Her nipples were covered by strips of what looked like purple tape. Snookie was in all of her usually Snookie glory, looking a little more orange than usual, not doubt a result of a bit of booze. Ronnie was as big as ever, drinking, and Sammie still stood by his side, but with this sort of sad smile on her face and a glazed drunk look in her eyes. DJ Pauly D DJed the whole shindig, which was nice, as we often didn't have to hear from him.

They even revealed the new room mate for the third season, a tiny thing that looks like if Snookie fucked Angelina, and atop that gelatinus ball of retardation was place a nose not unlike Barbra Streisand's schnozola.

All of them had one thing in common though. All of them were drinking, and at one point even Whitney Cummings was seen with a glass of some conspicuous liquid.

There were other antics too to fill the time between the inevitable Snookie Ball Drop (yes, they were going to encase Snookie in a plastic ball and drop her at Midnight, down at the New Jersey Shore.) like a horrendously retarded attempt at setting a World Record for Number of People Continuously Fist Pumping for One Minute. It effectively proved that you can't get a bunch of people to fist pump. Its just not going to happen, huh-uh. Because its fucking stupid. It also proved what a bang up job all those other shows do on New Years Eve, in that they have hosts that are actually capable of starting a countdown on cue, and not getting stinking drunk before the show has EVEN STARTED. You know real professional and whatnot. . . And all the while the crowd kept thinning.

Not only was the show horrible, but it was now abundantly clear that the people there were there for the warmth. Many of them had left for the real show on 35th Avenue. Not that it really mattered anyway, its not like anyone was laughing at any of Whitney's jokes anyway, it wasn't like anyone was going to notice a sudden drop in laughs; there were none to begin with. The crowd kept thinning and thinning, so much so that towards the end of the show, before the Snookie Drop, there were not more than 15 to 20 people there in that gutted out studio that once held throngs of screaming idiots during the TRL years. It was so bad the camera guy had to start doing tight shots to make it look like the place wasn't so damn empty.

They Snookie drop to say the least, was disappointing. It had gained steam when MTV foolishly thought it would be ok to do the ball drop in Times Square. Huh uh. There's only one big boy around here. And we don't like Jersey. Besides, no one cares--want to scare off all the tourists or something? Want them to think NY condones the idea of putting orange smurfs in giant hamster balls?

New Jersey on the other hand, had absolutely no problems with it. Why would they? She was a hometown native.

It went like this:

Yeah unfortunately this is the only version of the Snookie Ball drop currently up, as even MTV is embarrassed by the whole thing.

And so that was the big hurrah, the shriveled rotten cherry on top of a giant shit sundae.

And everyone had made sure Mr. Massey ate every bit of it up. They had rubbed his face in it real good, and because of it, it would be his last New Years, his last day on Earth all together.

Thanks a lot Ms. Cummings.

There are several factors that make this whole fiasco irreparably retarded.

For one, the very idea that MTV thought dropping Snookie in a ball in Times Square would fly. What a silly notion. Or that they could even compete. Its lucky that they didn't, as Snookie's Ball setup was so lame I was surprised she didn't have a Spinal Tap moment and get stuck in it, or that it even dropped at all. Being next to the one on 35th avenue would have only made it look even more shameful. . . And with that said, New Jersey was a perfect setting, a fitting mediocre ceremony for a mediocre place.

Secondly, the drunkenness. I'm all for drunkenness, especially on New Year's Eve, especially when the Jersey Shore cast is involved: as they are boring with out it. But when it came to Whitney, it just set her face in a sort of sloshed grin, and made her outlandish humor even more wicked. Not to mention all that awkward flirty between her and Vinny and The Situation. It just came off as tacky, but I suppose it was foolish of me to assume anything different. I guess I was surprised by Whitney, she lowered herself down to their level and became a drunken promoter on a shameful hour long Jersey Shore Season 3 promotion poorly disguised as a New Years Eve 'bash.'

And thirdly, it wasn't even funny. . . well not as it was intended to be.

It is for these reasons that iR declares MTV and its New Years Special irreparably retarded.