COLUMN: Love Island

Sometimes it's easy to believe the world is beyond saving.

After all, the evidence in support of a society beyond redemption is staggering. Half of us hate the other half for entirely asinine reasons. Social media was supposed to unite the world, but it just gives us new and exciting ways to argue with strangers. Taxes are rising. Businesses are closing. Racism. Sexism. Homophobia. Tom Cruise. The future looks grim. There are some who say we're done for.

Not me. I'm an optimist. This morning, I watched a man nearly trip over himself to hold a door for an elderly lady. On my lunch hour, a car backed up an entire lane of bridge traffic just to let me make a left turn. At the gas station, a stranger complimented another stranger on her shoes. We as a people are innately good, and goodness is always worth saving. Humanity is strong and intelligent and one day, we -- or at least our children's children's children -- are going to live in world of positivity, equality, intellect, and hope. This is what I believe.

Then I turned on the TV and watched "Love Island" and I take it all back. Society has failed. We're doomed.

I have no patience for schlocky reality dating shows, but I needed to check out "Love Island." The British version has been a ratings juggernaut and the talk around every UK water cooler. When CBS announced the risky commitment of launching the American version five nights a week all summer long, I had to see what the fuss was all about. It must be great fun, no?

No, indeed.

I've now watched three episodes of "Love Island," and I'm honestly not even sure WHAT I've been watching, other than I definitely feel icky for doing it. It is a reality show? A dating game? Or has CBS just finally figured out how to air family-friendly pornography in primetime? I dunno what it is, other than gross.

Today's young people have advantages we never did. They've been raised in a tech-savvy world of limitless potential, walking around with instant access to all the knowledge of the world right in their pockets. Surely this new generation must be the smartest, most worldly, woke creatures ever raised on this planet, right? Just imagine the important discourse, soul-sharing, and refined conversations a modern dating show would contain.

Then chuck it all out the window, because here's how "Love Island" starts:

"Hi, I'm Caro! I'm 21, I'm a marketing student. I recently just started loving my hair, so I'm, like, really trying to own it, and so that would be my number one best quality!"

Within minutes, "Love Island" has already set us back as a society by about a kajillion years. Caro was quickly followed by Alana.

"I think my personality is a good quality," she announced to the camera. "Well, and I've got a nice butt! I really do! I'm just gonna let Jesus take the wheel!" I'm hoping if Jesus took the wheel, he'd immediately pop a U-turn and drive as far away from Love Island as he could.

In a post #metoo world, how could something this insipid, shallow, and sexist ever get green-lighted? Then I rapidly discovered it's not just the girls who are an embarassment. No, thankfully "Love Island" is an equal opportunity flaming dumpster pile.

Ladies, meet Michael. "Being this good looking is a gift and a curse," he philosophizes. "People make assumptions and judge, like I'm this dude who's way into myself. That's just not me. I also love animals." Clearly Michael's a catch, or possibly someone you could catch something from.

The plot of "Love Island" is simple. Painfully simple. Five impossibly attractive women are instantly paired with five gym-raised dudes and forced to live together in a tacky villa in Fiji. Remember that 80s music video that ruined the career of Billy Squier? The one full of bad decisions where he pranced around a neon set that looked thrown together by the decorators of "Miami Vice" during a bad cocaine binge? 

"Love Island" is like being stuck in that video forever, except Billy at least had the decency to don a pink t-shirt. On "Love Island," shirts and pants are clearly optional, and most residents opt out. The rest of the show is just skeevy makeout sessions, muscle flexing, catfights, and camera crews with itchy trigger fingers on the zoom button. In the end, somebody wins $100,000 but I still have no idea how. If this is what modern love's all about, then consider me perfectly cool with being eternally unlucky in love.

Maybe one day someone will green-light "Nerd Island," where human beings with actual personalities sit around watching anime, playing video games, and judging others not by the niceness of their butts but by truly important standards, such as the contents of their record collections. I'd watch that show. Heck, I'd go ON that show.

If "Love Island" becomes a hit over here, I'm officially pronouncing society beyond redemption. PLEASE tell me you have better things to do with your summer than sit around and watch vapid hot people be vapid and hot. Don't worry, I'll tell you everything you missed later. I mean, SOMEONE has to keep tabs on this show for the survival of mankind. These are the sacrifices I make for you, for journalism, and for the common good. Now if you'll excuse me, its almost 7 p.m., gotta go. Caro's going on a private date with Cormac. SQUEEEEEAL!