I may have been all huffy about teen/tween trends, but now I am a changed woman (sort of) and my sarcasm has washed away (sort of!) As it turns out, we don’t all have to live a lonely, awkwardly clueless life on planet Miley Cyrus — not when there’s this season of Dancing With the Stars. I realize the show’s been around for a while, but this is the first season that’s really hit home for me, and it’s practically life-affirming in the face of shit like Tokio Hotel.
It didn’t dawn on me to tune in until I realized that the generational misunderstandings go both ways: it’s not just that I’m clued out on the tween hotness, it’s that they don’t get me either. These days when I reminisce on my favorite childhood shows of yore, young kids have no idea what I’m talking about and I’m left twitching in frustration until I have an inevitable, explosive outburst, in which I violently sprout fifteen extra hands and speed-slap them all like I’m reading them a 3D flipbook about feeling pain. I’ve had many a conversation with youngsters that have gone like this: “You mean to tell me you’ve never heard of Blossom? But it’s Blossom, noob child! BLOSSOM! slllllapslapslapslapslapslap Ugh, where’s my pipe?”
All it takes is one interaction with children to reveal how little entertainment content you have in common — and that right there is the first hint that you might love Dancing With the Stars. It boils down to this: the longer you’ve lived, the more TV you’ve watched. The more TV you’ve watched, the more celebrity boom-and-busts and downward fame trajectories you’ve witnessed, and naturally, the higher the likelihood that you’ll recognize and fall back in love with one of the aged leftover sitcom/boy band/pro-sports/talk show downfallen that are so often spray tanned and packed into flamenco leotards for shows like this one.
And who would I want to see in a flamenco leotard more than Steve Wozniak? When the opening credits roll, I get the same tingly, ecstatic rush as when I arrive at Au Bon Pain just as they’re tossing the day’s ever-hardening muffins into clear plastic trash bags. It’s like, cha-ching, relative jackpot! I could just wait in the alley until the bags have all been brought out and do a snow angel right here in these very muffins! We’ve all been there. Just look at this cast:
David Alan Grier
*not racist because his show is called Chocolate News. That was close!
STEEEEEVE WOZNIAAAAAAAAK (That’s the WWE announcer voice)
…aaaaand a few others I’m still too young to appreciate! All riiiiiight!
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