Big Brother: Last Call

The Big Brother backlash has already begun at home. My dad calls me yesterday, he of the conservative values, complaining there wasn’t enough “diversity” on the show. Huh? I didn’t even know he knew that word. He was speaking in an ageist manner, but he’s right. With the exception of a few of them, they’re all white, straight, stupid, people. Also, no one is over 30, except for Sheila, 46, who I already picked on yesterday. What happened to the stereotypes we’ve all come to know and love? The avuncular old man, with some sort of southern drawl, like Chicken George? The funny black girl (Monica or Jameka)? Instead, they all look like Friday night at some masshole bar in Boston (Purple Shamrock, anyone?) The hubby thinks the name of the show should be changed to Big Brother: Last Call, since they all look like what happened when the lights come on at 2 AM. Everyone pairs off and you go home, to share sleeping bags on the floor, while being photographed through night vision cameras. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!