Andy’s email:
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I know I exaggerate when it comes to things that I hate. I know that, more often than not, my minor distaste for things steamrolls into a bubbling cauldron of full-fledged hostility. But Rob, I kid you not, never before has a network broadcast a full hour of television specifically devoted to infuriating me. I don’t even know how they know who I am.

Hyperbole aside, the closest thing I can compare watching VH1′s “Tool Academy” to is lying on a tropical beach, minding my own business, then being captured by guerillas and waking up in a bathtub of ice with a kidney missing. That’s how bad. That’s how bad this is.

Essentially, nine complete tools go on a show in which they believe the winner will be crowned “Mr. Awesome,” but in reality it’s just nine sessions of intensive therapy to repair their relationships with their current loser girlfriends. And “tools” isn’t even a relative term; these people literally deserve the worst death imaginable. It’s like the Real World Road Rules Challenge times a thousand. It’s like an open casting call at the Jersey Shore.

But as gay as the guys are (and they’re all tremendously homosexual), their girlfriends are literally the most mindless bags of meat ever assembled. I guarantee you that my tightly coiled shit could perform better on a standardized test than any of these miserable troglodytes. Their self esteem is sow abysmally low, that instead of simply leaving the guys that openly (and regularly) cheat on them, they’re willing to be further exploited through nationally televised therapy. Awesome. Fucking kill yourself.

Simply describing this show to you is fucking with my blood pressure; it’s inhuman. I would rather teabag an active shark tank than watch this show, though I undoubtedly will (watch the show).