You know, I really do want to like this couple. There is nothing wrong with what they did in my opinion. It’s as old as civilization itself. Social climbing by hook or by crook. Fooling the snobs that you’re one of them. Wanting to belong. Not accepting your place. It’s when they start selling it as a reality show that proves to be the grit in my bathing trunks. Especially when you get that odd huge grain or two trapped in the folds of your genitals. That’s not social climbing at that point, you’re Ashton Kutchner, and you just punk’d Barry Obama, ‘cept you deserve to have your nads electrified by a car battery from a Ford F-350 and your skank wife waterboarded with a North Jersey shore chardonnay from an ’03 vintage, you might as well use the house vinaigrette at Perkins Pancake House, she’s just about as common as the house salad.