I love the ’90s.

While the decade may be the butt of all jokes for young 20-somethings, I love reminiscing about childhood entertainment. While music might have been in a shifty, weird, growing-into-itself stage, TV was certainly at its trashy best.

“Beverly Hills, 90210” pops up first in my mind. Sexually charged and oh-so-dramatic, the Aaron Spelling creation is still constantly referred to in modern pop culture.

So why do we need to go all the way and revive it?

Why couldn’t we have kept the beautiful image of Dylan McKay alive in our heads, and appreciated the show for all 10 of its seasons? Even ER finally took the hint and is calling it quits.

Instead, we get a fresh crop of plastic-looking Britney Spears clones shoved down our throats, in hopes the franchise will rear its soap-opera head once again.

I was already embarrassed to admit that I gush over its reruns. I don’t like being confronted with the fact that the CW is forcing me to publicly defend the original series.

Even the sales girl at Barnes and Noble had to ask me when the new season comes out as I sheepishly pushed Season Five over the counter to pay for it.

“I have no idea,” I answered in my best Daria impression, hoping my deadpan would scare her off. Nope. Apparently I’m alone in my dread for the impending new season.

Check it out tomorrow night if you’re curious as to why you should agree with me. If not, join me in boycott.

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