Each time I think society can slip no further, I am sadly never disappointed. My lady had a girls’ night function, so I fought the instinct to burrow away like a rodent and got instead the present of watching a cavalcade of reality dance shows. The first one was So You Think You Saved the Last Dance? Nope, You Got Served or something. The last was Dance Moms. I knew I hated the show instantly when the sassy lady did the double head shake with the shoulder shrug.
The show is basically a horrible witch who needs a penis like a smack addict needs a needle. She berates children until they cry. Then a gaggle of harpies known as the dance moms curse in front of said children, complaining alternately about each other and/or how their pampered low talent offspring is treated by a woman who is clearly too fat to dance. Throw in a poodle haired “rival” dance teacher (who was probably created for the show) who is equally as unlikeable and you have the show. Someone please take their kids away. I realized if they make a show called Dance Moms Death Match, it would be my favorite show ever, barring one called “The Kardashians Headbutt Moving Traffic.” I will drive the first vehicle.