As part of my concerted attempt to forge a sophisticated New School persona, I name drop Derrida, pepper my speech with terms like “post-modernism,” and pretend I read Thomas Pynchon. Part of this incessant charade is concealing my undying love for reality TV, because nothing destroys your tenuous claim to coolness faster than admitting you watched a “Toddlers and Tiaras” marathon over the weekend.
I know enough to just nod enthusiastically whenever someone makes a reference to “Mad Men.” The shameful truth is that I’ve never seen an episode of “Mad Men,” or “30 Rock.” I have, however, seen every episode of “The Real Housewives of New York City” – twice.

Hardly a shocking admission, I know. Plenty of people relegate their love of reality TV to their cache of guilty pleasures, along with their un-ironic love for The Spice Girls and trove of Harry Potter fan fiction. But why does it incur so much guilt? What’s wrong with reality TV anyway? Why is it nobler to spend your time watching the umpteenth show about single girls and their problems (They live in New York! They’re quirky! So many awkward conversations!), or an hour of Sorkin-bots delivering overwrought sermons about the state of the world?

We like to think that what we watch on TV matters more than it actually does. It can’t just be entertainment; it has to be reflection of our values and personalities. It’s an identity. If we watch smart and witty shows, then we are smart and witty. If we watch Mob Wives and Hoarders, on the other hand, we’re not only insipid, but also partially responsible for some staggering societal decline that concerned critics everywhere are attuned to. Who knew a remote could wield so much power? Who knew mediocre television could incite such widespread malaise? Apparently, the latest harbinger of the cultural apocalypse is “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo,” a new show on TLC (the network that brought you such classics as “Extreme Couponing” and “My Strange Addiction”) about an outspoken pageant kid and her wacky Southern family. A review in the Hollywood Reporter lambasted the show, calling it “heinous”, “horrifying” and TLC’s latest string of “crimes against humanity.” According to the article, we have a moral imperative to not watch this show because it represents the “dehumanization and incremental tearing down of the social fabric.” Did you get that? Step away from the television, you rube, before you break society.

In the spirit of this kind of hyperbole, let me declare this: Honey Boo Boo will save the world. She, along with Snooki and The Kardashians, is going to repair our frayed social fabric, fine tune our moral barometer, and restore harmony to a world gone awry. Is it true? Of course not. But it’s not any more ridiculous than the claim that this gossamer social fabric is torn every time a Honey Boo Boo comes along. If we’re a broken society, it’s not because of what we watch on TV. If anything, reality TV gives us insight into the lives of people we’d never know otherwise – adult babies and balloon fetishists, Amish outlaws and Jersey meatheads. It’s a guided tour to all the weird and wonderful stories burrowed deep in the fringes of humanity. Even the most vulgar shows serve a purpose; we can cringe at the embarrassing exploits of our fellow human beings, and vow never to tread the same path. If all else fails, at least we’ll have a couple hours of mindless entertainment. So let’s curb the sanctimonious hand-wringing and take the guilt out of this guilty pleasure – even if it means admitting that The Situation is your spirit animal, not Don Draper. The quiet scorn of your classmates will eventually fade, but the relief will last forever.