In Defense of The Situation

Most of you have now seen, or at least heard about, how Mike "The Situation" Sorrentino bombed the Comedy Central Roast of Donald Trump harder the Muammar Qaddafi has been bombing his own people.  What my job today is to take up an indefensible position and defend Mr. Sorrentino's performance.

I won't sit here and tell you the performance was "good."  It wasn't.  It was fucking god-awful.  If you haven't seen the clip it's cringe worthy in only in a way that can take us back to that time when Michael Jackson's crazy ass dangled his genetically farmed offspring over that balcony. 

But here's what everyone's forgetting: Mr. Sorrentino is not a comedian.  He is not an actor.  He's essentially nothing.  He's famous for doing his laundry, tanning, going to the gym, and for a mediocre-at-best set of abdominal muscles he calls "The Situation."

He's not a bad guy, but no where near a good one, either.  In the spectrum of Total Assholes of the 21st Century, he's closer to your creepy unmarried uncle than George W. Bush.

His five minutes of roasting Donald Trump is hard to watch, yes, but if Mr. Sorrentino is guilty of anything, it's for his arrogance.  I suspect that Mr. Sorrentino wrote his own jokes, which bucked the trend where non-comedians usually have jokes written for them by some Comedy Central writers, and are simply told what time to show up and read from the teleprompter.  This is evident in any other Comedy Central Roast that's ever been televised.

But Mr. Sorrentino obviously sees himself as a trend-setter, if not a trend-bucker.  High on his own inflated sense of self-worth, and likely enough steroids to kill a Bull Mastiff, he likely arrived to the Roast with a few crumpled and sweaty pieces of computer printer paper, with a series of jokes he'd written on Microsoft Word a few days before.  This is how the conversation between him and a Comedy Central producer likely went during the rehearsal, a mere few hours before the taping:

Comedy Central Producer: Ok, Mr. Sorrentino, I-

Mr. Sorrentino: Hey, just call me "The Situation," or ... "Situation..." or.... "Sitch..."

CCP: Uh, ok, Mister... uh, Situation, um, here are the jokes we have for you to read, they'll be up on the teleprompter when you get to the podium, so -

Mr. Sorrentino: Nah, I wrote my own jokes... (and he stuffs the paper into the CCP's hands)

CCP:  ...Your ... own jokes....

So, really, if anyone's at fault here, it's Comedy Central, or at least one of it's producers, for not having the balls to put their foot down, and tell the overly entitled and demanding Reality TV star that, no, you can't do your own material.  It's terrible.  Just stick to the script.

But that never happened.  No, Mr. Sorrentino got up to the podium and unleashed such an ungodly, unentertaining, bowel movement of only what some could consider a handicapped attempt at playfully insulting other members of the dais and the guest of honor, that it became genuinely insulting to anyone within earshot of his microphone.

Watch the members of the dais; other comedians and actors.  They're faces betray every emotion from complete and utter shock (Whitney Cummings) mild amusement at Mr. Sorrentino's expense (Seth MacFarlane, Lisa Lampinelli) to shear embarrassment (Ice-T, Cocco) to boredom (Snoop Dog).  The crowd even begins to turn on Mr. Sorrentino about three and a half minutes into his set, bringing Jeffery Ross to try to aid the ... Situation.

Ross plaintively urges the crowd to "let the kid finish" which should have been enough of a hint to Mr. Sorrentino to get the fuck off the stage.  Instead, he decides to let loose a few painfully uninspired jokes at Mr. Trump.

But like I said, what exactly were you expecting, America?

Mike Sorrentino is a product of what YOU wanted.  Between seasons of Mtv glorifying teen pregnancy we get "Jersey Shore," a version of the network's long standing reality series "The Real World" literally on steroids. 

I've admittedly watched two episodes of the first season, and all of the second season, because it was on Netflix's "Instant Queue" and my wife and I felt like destroying some brain cells and couldn't reach our usually trusty meth dealer.  And even then, the second season, which took place in Miami, (as so the producers of the show could cash in on the surge of popularity of the show and it's cast without pesky mother nature getting involved) was hard to watch.  Everything from domestic violence to straight misogyny was ready at our Cheeto-stained finger tips.

What else you have to consider in Mr. Sorrentino's defense is that he's currently being dragged out to sea by the undercurrent of the anti-Jersey Shore tide that's come in recent months.  Snooki's appearance on the cover of a recent Rolling Stone was met with considerable backlash from the last bastions of people who actually read Rolling Stone for it's journalistic integrity. 

You created this monster, America.  You.  So, when you want to decry Mr. Sorrentino's lack of comedic guile, or attack the fact that he's a muscle-brained ignoramus that had no business telling jokes before a live and televised audience, remember this:

Mr. Sorrentino, to a young woman he had brought home, upon learning she doesn't "smoosh" on the first date:  

"That's ok, you can just blow me."

I rest my case.

Post Script 3/19:  I've been informed by a number of people that Sitch actually had jokes written for him by Comedy Central staff, but was allowed to "put his own spin" on those jokes.  Well, ok then.