The problem is that, with Angelina gone, the house has lost its scapegoat. You could blame anything on her. Our letter-writing campaign blew up in our faces? Blame Angelina! We couldn’t bring home any chicks? Blame Angelina! I’m a roid-addled botox-slurping man-child who unironically wears my sunglasses at night? Blame Angelina! But the Great Nemesis is gone now, and that leaves our beloved housemates in an awkward position. They are left with nothing but one stark truth: They are all quite awful people, actually. They lack even the most basic communication skills. They are vain, selfish, materialistic, proudly uneducated. They drink like college freshmen and smush like horny mutant bunny rabbits. But their self-proclaimed leader is the worst of them all. As last night’s episode proved, The Situation is the secret villain of Jersey Shore.
You could tell things were bad when Sitch put on his vest before he went out to the club. “Sitch wearing a vest” is like “Spider-Man wearing the black costume”: you just know some weird Freudian evil is going to happen. Sure enough, Mr. Circumstance attacked ladies with his trademark panzer-tank charm. One girl charmingly screamed, “Help me!” Another girl flirtatiously pleaded, “I’m, like, begging you. I’m trying to have fun, but you’re, like, too much.” Rargh! Women refusing Situation! Situation angry! Situation become passive-aggressive! READ FULL STORY »
Angelina gave Jose a gift certificate for his birthday: “One Evening in the Community Smush Room, Smushing Optional.” I don’t want to sound like a prude, viewers, but why, why, WHY would you spend an entire night in that dystopian disease factory, that laboratory of biological perversion, without once smushing? Ronnie happily noted that the bed had developed a local population: “My children, Pauly’s children, Snooki juice.” (Since there hasn’t been an outbreak of the bubonic plague yet, we can deduce that the room functions on the 
