Respect Authority

America’s Best Dance Crew 3 premiered last Thursday, and at this point MTV has already replayed it so many times that if you even thought about TV in the past four days you’ve probably seen it. I will concede that it is my one vice — aside from “chasing the dragon” from time to time and, of course, Cee-lo — and it sure is a doozy. ABDC3 is, largely, insane. Fuck, even just look at that acronym.

The rules of the contest are easily more complicated than any of the dance moves, and, in fact, after dedicating myself to two seasons already, I still don’t really understand how a given crew eventually wins. My enjoyment of this tacky diversion, presented by Randy “Dawg” Jackson and hosted by the infuriatingly closeted Mario Lopez, relies heavily on the sheer spectacle of it all.

The crews clearly spend more time picking their outfits each week than actually dancing, and one of the judges is a perpetually high Lil’ Mama, who I’m fairly certain is actually the stupidest person to have ever lived, except for possibly everyone else on the show. Nonetheless, the dancing is often quite impressive and like, whatever, so what if I look forward to it every week and might even have a poster of Randy Jackson hanging above my bed. I don’t have to defend myself to you.

The first group to dance were the Strikers All Stars, and for fuck’s sake, why do these people always have such terrible names? Their routine was pretty good, and Mario sure seemed entertained, saying their routine “make me wanna stomp right there,” which actually caused me to slap myself in the face, imagining I was him.

At the outset, Lil’ Mama seemed very composed, perhaps even not under the influence of marijuana, which, I know, seems unbelievable. The producers must have stepped in after last season.

The Beat Freaks were the second group to perform, and at this point I was just happy that their name wasn’t spelled “Freaxxx.” Mario described the group as “Ladies determined to go all the way,” a sentence I’m fairly certain was scientifically engineered for the sole purpose of making me cringe. Mario Lopez couldn’t carry an innuendo credibly even if he didn’t wear lip gloss and routinely coat his entire body with a sheen of cocoa butter.

First to be eliminated was Puerto Rico’s finest, G.O.P. Dance, probably just because they were wearing Yin Yang themed outfits, which seems more than fair to me. And I don’t know what the fuck G.O.P. stands for, but after witnessing their mediocre performances I imagine it can only mean “Garbage Heap Of Puerto Rico.”

Quest Crew, coming to a Honda dealer near you

Then there’s Quest Crew, the requisite all Asian group of superpowered dancing androids. Their fantastic routine was no doubt the result of countless hours spent with Dance Dance Revolution machines, which is, obviously, what breakdancing is all about. Nonetheless, their disgusting excuses for “hair” should disqualify them automatically.

Speaking of Asian androids, this episode featured guest judge Kid Rainen of the first season’s victorious crew, Jabbawockeez, presumably because K.C. of former N’Sync fame had a panic attack while trying to pick out which bow tie he was going to wear. Anyway, all of Rainen’s brainpower has clearly been exhausted thinking of retarded ways to spell already made-up words, as every time he opens his mouth he commits horrific crimes against grammar. This episode saw Rainen applauding the “most illest” crew and suggesting others be “more stronger” if they hope to make the cut, and if he was any “less smarter” it might actually make me put the pipe down out of sheer terror that it could potentially make me that spectacularly dumb.

This is a really long article, so I’m sorry guys, I realize that nobody should care about America’s Best Dance Crew this much.

You better pray those girls are over 18, Randy Jackson, once they get kicked off and those "private casting auditions" rumors start coming out

Moving onward, Fly Kicks might be the most objectively reprehensible group to appear on the show yet — even moreso than those assholes with the rollerskates from season one, who didn’t dance so much as they made Hugh Jackman’s hosting of the Tonys look masculine. If Fly Kicks were a bunch of dudes wearing hot shorts, I bet people might have been able to admit that they were really pretty fucking mediocre, unfortunately the crowd and the judges were all blinded by their cheerleader-esque bootyshaking. Sorry girls, but Sasha Fierce called, and she wants all of her ass muscles back. Nonetheless, I’m sure all the Fly Kicks will be fantastically underpaid, easily exploited back up dancers for a mediocre pop hopper in a few years and order will once again be restored to the universe.

My favorite group of the evening were the Ringmasters, a bunch of kids from the part of Brooklyn hipsters are scared of, who combine truly nauseating contortionism with popping and locking. Too bad they don’t have boobs, otherwise they might actually stand a chance against Fly Kicks. However, their moves did make Lil’ Mama break down and weep on national television. Choking back the tears, she told them, “You guys were very characteristic,” suggesting that, more than likely, she was stoned after all.

Dynamic Edition, just your average street performers from the ghetto

Of course, the group that’s going to get all the attention this season is Dynamic Edition, a group of clogging Mormon hillbillies from Napoleon Dynamite’s hometown that only made it on because MTV is the fucking King of All Gimmicks. The thing is though… they’re actually pretty fucking good, and thanks to me saying that, I can now look forward to the Testosterone Fairy sneaking in my room tonight and taking my testicles away from me forever.