The Real World is filming it’s 21st season in Brooklyn, and it’s setting my tummy a rumbling. I’m not quite ready to see a place I called home for four years all gussied up on MTV. Despite the Bed Stuy welcome wagon that robbed me and punched me in the face not soon after moving in, Brooklyn is in my heart. It is sacred, and I love it, and I don’t think just anyone deserves to live there.

Take this current Real World season for example. We have a singing stripper who is cool as hell, but then a couple southern dummies and a not quite so dumb religious dummy who hate on her. As usual, the guys aren’t that bad, but I wouldn’t let any of them come within twenty miles of my favorite borough. I would probably let the stripper visit, but only because we have the same name.

When I think of Brooklyn, I think of people who had to work hard to get there. I know times are changing, and gentrification is taking over, but nothing about The Real World being in Brooklyn will result in goodness.  More people will be priced out of there apartments, and more mom and pop shops and bodegas will be replaced by Quiznos and Bank of Americas.

Not to sound like a pretentious b-i-t-c-h or anything, but this news really rubs me the wrong way. I know I will watch every episode of the season, however I don’t have to be happy about it.

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