Listen, I'm not the sveltest son of a bitch in the land, all right, so I don't feel one ounce of guilt making fun of these ridiculous fatties. I'm a huge advocate of shame, in fact, I don't see enough of it these days and it concerns me. People like the contestants featured above shouldn't be signing up to parade themselves half-naked and rhythmically challenged for all the world (or at least the couple thousand people who actually watch the Oxygen network) to see. They should join their neighborhood gym. Or try Weight Watchers (I'm living, no-longer-heavy-breathing proof that the WW system works). Maybe you think this is your only chance at weight loss, guys. Maybe a steady diet of The Biggest Loser and Extreme Makeover has somehow damaged your bacon-wrapped brains and led you to the incorrect conclusion that the only way to get control of your weight problem is to humiliate yourself on national TV. Trust me, that's the cheese fries talking.
I'm not going to lie: I can't wait to watch this train wreck. If there is a fat guy in a bandanna and a leather jacket dancing to "You're The One That I Want" with a young woman he could literally snap in half like a dry twig with one false step on a cable channel somewhere, you can expect me front row center. I will totally be watching Dance Your Ass Off. Stay tuned for updates/condolences to the families of those contestants who die of massive heart attacks on Jitterbug Night.
