Our dearest (drunkest) Snooki,

I’m not going to beat around the bush. I think I speak for everyone when I say we, as a society, are disappointed in you. When the nation awoke on Saturday to a picture of you being hauled off by police, we held our breath deep and immediately plunged in to page 3 of our newspapers, TMZ hot links, and RSS readers, respectively, with our worst fears being realized: You were in and out of jail in less than 2 hours.

I can only contain my rage so much, so I know I’ll come off harsh when I say: Where do you get off? If we’ve learned anything from your antics on the beaches of the Garden State, it’s that you’ve always exceeded expectations of debauchery and self-degradation. Yet here you are, a little buzzed and back out on the street before you can slur our “check out my rack!” before screeching out incoherent lyrics to a Bon Jovi song.

People have dedicated their lives to your shaolin monk-like teachings of obscenity. Sure, you managed to curse out a few cops, and yes you were thrown in jail wearing a pink and black striped shirt emblazoned with “SLUT” across the chest. Is that really front page material? Don’t we deserve a higher class of classlessness?

How many drinks does it take to get to the bottom of the barrel?

Tough love time – get your shit together. You need to think about Snooki the product in the long term, a gauntlet for today’s modern women trying to break downwards through that glass floor. Sure, you’ve got your Lindsay Lohans, but even she got out of jail in 2 weeks, and Dakota fanning seems like she’s ready for a pill popping spree. The truth is it’s hard living in a man’s world (it’s actually pretty sweet if you are, in fact, a man). Mike Tyson will always be sucker punching dudes. Mel Gibson will always go Mad Max every couple years. Charlie Sheen, our perennial batshit crazy celeb, will be that foundation of shame in which we build our gossip columns. You need to be as off the charts nuts if not more so to stay in the game.

You have friends. The community at large only wants the best (worst) for you. Put yourself on that pedestal and then take a nose dive right off the edge. Crotch shots? Celeb sex tape? Go on a drunken bender and hit a few lamp posts? Perfect. Mr. Daniels, Mr. Beam, and Senor Cuervo are always a hit-and-run away. Reach out to them, before you sober up and know what’s good for you.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010 at 9:11 am and is filed under headlines. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.