The Sanctity of Speidi

So I began this post yesterday as a diatribe on the female cast members of the CW's 90210, and their distractingly protruding clavicles, but I couldn't even get through it. Don't take that to mean I won't return to the subject in a subsequent rant. But I simply didn't have the energy last night to count and chronicle the multitude of visible ribs on display when Naomi and Annie spontaneously switched shirts (which makes me question whether it was 90210 I was watching or a soft-core Cinemax feature).

To be slightly more timely, I'll instead focus my energy on America's favorite "newlyweds," Spencer and Heidi. A short history lesson for those less emotionally invested in lowbrow entertainment: Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montague (who, in this document, will henceforth be referred to by their proper name of "Speidi") is the couple everyone loves to hate on the show everyone hates to love, The Hills. While the reality element of this reality series is at best questionable (at worst, nonexistent), it's essentially crack to MTV addicts worldwide, and exhibits many of the same addictive properties as nicotine, methamphetamine, heroin, ketamine, and household inhalants. The details of their onscreen drama and offscreen fame-whoring aren't really important, but it's good to keep in mind that this is a pair so universally loathed and ridiculed, nations could cease fire and unite over their collective Speidi revulsion.

This Monday's episode found the nauseating duo in Mexico for no reason other than the producers handing them plane tickets charged to MTV's corporate account. Once cozy and settled on the beach, Speidi proceeded to...get plastered. Or at least they got TV-plastered, which entailed pounding shot after shot after shot of Patron, rattling off basic Spanish phrases in various, indeterminate accents, and repeatedly enacting the drunken Caucasian dance move of eyes closed, hands waving, swaying side to side. In any case, the seemingly sloshed twosome decided it would be a genius idea to go get hitched. Granted, this was made-for-TV hitched, which meant a ceremony with no legal implications, south of the border, or otherwise.

Here's the kicker (and I won't mention how upset it makes me that Perez Hilton was the one to point it out to me: http://perezhilton.com/2008-12-17-heidi-and-spencer-still-fake-no-surprise-there). Remember that little ol' proposition we Californians voted on back in November? Prop 8? The one that completely redefined the state constitution and eliminated the right of same-sex couples to marry? The one that many argued somehow protected the "sanctity" of marriage, even though the sanctity of marriage seemed to be doing just fine under the original constitution, and no heterosexuals to date were ever harmed by the legal union of two homosexuals? The one that passed with an alarming number of votes, and wiped out an entire chunk of the population's basic human right to marry? Yeah, that one? Well, in light of the Speidi nuptials, I'd like to just thank all inebriated idiots from The Hills and beyond for reminding us how sacred and holy marriage truly is. While two loving, committed individuals of the same sex cannot be allowed to enter into such a time-honored tradition, two drunken idiots on vacation should absolutely be encouraged to take full advantage of their hetero privileges. Thanks, Speidi, for really driving the point home. May you go on to reproduce your stellar genes and raise your brood in the conventional, all-American, (HETERO!) institution of married bliss.

If only I had that bottle of Patron nearby.