You have only to regularly tune in for The Soup to be hip to the fact that The Secret Life of The American Teenager is easily the worst scripted drama on basic cable, and arguably, in the entire network landscape. Overwrought, plastic, insipid, and reactionary, the series clumsily cobbles together every paralyzing phobia about sex, and is apparently written by a group of middle-aged Evangelical virgins who still cry while masturbating in the dark.
You see, sex in this jejune little corner of suburban hell is not a natural act that carries with it certain practical ramifications requiring it to adapt to a modern world wherein humans don’t have to be in constant states of reproduction because they’re no longer subject to the whims of weather, plague, and predators. Rather it’s a form of spiritual trespass that incurs dire consequences through all manner of corporal castigation — just like The Entity, minus the invisible rape and blue lightning!
So, pregnancy is God’s way of punishing you for being a whore by shackling you with a precious bundle of joy, and should you avoid baby stigma through the use of contraception or sheer chance, you will also receive retribution in the form of a dead parent whose demise is apparently directly attributable to your climax.
And that makes you a murdering tramp whose guilt cannot be alleviated! Ever!
Yes, repression only results in obsession, which would account for the word “sex” turning up in plots with numbing regularity, not to mention Bristol Palin — America’s most famous and positively-reinforced unwed teenage mother and abstinence shill — guest-starring as, apparently, V.I.C.I. from Small Wonder, her lobotomized line readings (“We’re all teen moms…”) sounding like veiled threats.
Three minutes will relay everything you need to know about this creative shitstorm of family entertainment full of straight-haired teenage tarts wearing tanker holds of lip gloss, weepy basket cases lamenting the loss of their hymens, high-haired douchebag boyfriends hurling their jizz around, parents who seem on the verge of vomiting, a mentally challenged horndog of a sibling, and Melrose Place alum Josie Bissett essaying the sole character with any discernible human intelligence, thus making her exempt from all my criticisms because she delivered this emotionally raw and realistic exchange taken straight from the pages of my family dynamic:
© 2010, Shawn Baker. All rights reserved. Nightcharm.com
Frankly I kind of liked Molly Ringwald’s character even if it was kind of a rehash of the characters she’d played in previous venues. The acting on the show does suck though and most of it seems like it’s been placed on auto pilot. What I don’t understand though is why are so many of these teen’s so stupid when it comes to sex. Utterly insipid that.
Funny, now that I think of it, I DID have sex the one time I was in Bologna.
Virtually the only watchable thing about any of these clips was Kathy Kinney, who was probably internally groaning because of the horrible lines she had to utter, but was just using the thought of a paycheck as her “motivation”.
Here’s the thing the guy in the baby blue V ee neck sweater. I would love to have mind blowing, daddy murdering (I’ll throw my mom in there too, and I love her), guilt ridden, teen warping sex with. I would do it in front of the whole town and after we blew huge loads all over each other (and of course licked it off our sweat drenched bodies), which would trigger some massive plauge from god, but it would be so worth it, right?
And you know what’s freakin’ worse???? BRISTOL PALIN… That’s right, Sarah “I can see Russia” Palin’s progeny will appear on this show to talk about her being a ‘single Mom’ getting preggers…
To quote Monty Python… “BRING ME A BUCKET!”
GAY FACE!!!!
SO MUCH GAYFACE!
Quite frankly, I wish I had had sex in high school. I know I would have been better adjusted and happier, if only about patricide– OH!, I mean, sex.