Guilty Pleasure

I've admitted it before, and I'll admit it again: I love MTV's reality shows. Real World, Road Rules, Real World/Road Rules Challenge, Fraternity Life, Sorority Life, True Life, The Osbournes, Newlyweds. They're all masterpieces, Shakespearean in their comedy, tragedy and poetry. But Making the Band 2 tops them all.

Here's a summary of every episode's plot: one of the group's members -- Babs, Ness, Chopper, Fred, Sara or Dylan -- fucks up the money. P. Diddy calls the group together, along with comic relief/road manager Farnsworth Bentley, and tells them that they're fucking up the money. Makes fun of Fred for sucking his thumb. Talks about how hard he had it when he was coming up. Leaves. Everyone gets in a fight about who, exactly, is fucking up the money. Meet with Puffy again. Realize who fucked up the money. That person changes his or her fucking-up-the-money ways. Everyone goes into the studio, drops some hot shit. The money is safe.

Sure, there's nowhere near the sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll contained in the Vegas season of Real World, but that's not the point. The beauty of the whole thing is its lyrical simplicity. Granted, Da Band will almost certainly never record another album, but they've given us so much already. Thanks, guys.

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