“I liked them before they were famous.” The phrase is at once a badge and memorial for early adopters. They are proud of their foresight, but then, tragically, when the rest of the world has caught up, that same pride forces the early adopter to abandon his discovery. He cannot bear to share his discovery with so many people and so he must shun that which he once loved. He will become bitter, he will say that they have “sold out,” and he will shoot the messenger.
So let me shun that which I once loved. Let me shoot the messenger and say, Damn you, Jersey Shore.
I liked making fun of Guidos before they were famous.
I consider myself a scholar of the Guido. I have lived among them. I have studied their ways and mannerisms for years now, observing closely, but trying not to become involved. And here is what angers me about The Jersey Shore and the Guido becoming the nation’s new punchline: you —you who come from outside the Tri-State— you do not understand them well enough to make fun of them yet. And even more, you do not have the necessary respect for the Guido, something he holds in high regard.
When you watch The Jersey Shore you see a crew of juiced up hedonists with outrageously tacky style and ridiculous dance moves, right? You watch each week as these classless Italians fight each other as if you’re the Emperor of Rome watching gladiators at the colosseum, don’t you? And you laugh at them. You laugh at their music, the clothing they wear, the enormous Map of New Jersey painted like the Italian flag that hangs in their house and the way they tawk. But do you stop to ask yourself why they listen to that music? Or why they wear those clothes? Perhaps you’d like to learn.





