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I’ve been watching American Idol lately. Before you judge me too harshly, let me assure you that I am as disgusted with myself as you are.

I could say that American Idol used to really be about something terribly meaningful, but we all know that’s not true. It’s always been about two things: ripping on people and shittier-than-shitty music.

It seems to me, though, that the vitriol being spouted from the judges to contestants – and from viewers to their TVs – has become excessive. I say this with the understanding that Americans are already the fucking lords of excess. We like our tits big, our meals supersized, our wars shocking and awesome, and our abuse heavy-handed, spirit-crushing and completely indiscriminate.

Vitriol is often bred of contempt, and we could fill the fucking oceans with all the contempt we harbor. It’s contempt for the world around us, everything and everyone in it that does not subscribe to our worldview, each other, and ourselves.

And once you get used to a certain way of living, feeling or thinking, it’s just more comfortable to remain rooted in it, however unhealthy it might be, than to force yourself to grow out of it. Hence, we look forward to watching Idol each week. Why?

Because we can have contempt for everyone on that show. If you assume that the average viewer is just that – average, and in every conceivable way – we have both the inferior (Faulknerian retards who are either delusional or desperate for human contact or attention) to hold in contempt, and the superior (any combination of gorgeous, thin, young, talented, perky, surgically altered, and/or bold) as well.

So if the endgame isn’t really making abominable music, then what is it? It’s socially sanctioned, culturally approved hate. We just watch the show so we can hate on motherfuckers, plain and simple.

The American television machine has been trimming the fat in recent years, hence the rise in reality television shows. The ratings are just as good as they are for your garden-variety sitcom (and often better, in fact), but the script writers are cheaper and the so-called “talent” is practically free. Why pay six “Friends” a $1 million an episode when you can fly in a dozen fifteen-microseconds-of-fame seeking whores and let them duke it out for $100,000?

I am nothing if not a) full of hate, and b) cheap. So, I have devised a more efficient television program to meet the growing hate needs of my countrymen. Its efficiency stems from two key items. First, it allows us greater capacity to hate. Second, it costs less to make.

I call it American Pariah. Here’s the format.

Becoming a contestant: There are no tryouts to be a contestant on the program. No flocks of niggling dumbfucks descending upon the convention centers and hotels of America. No comical representation of diversity seated behind a wobbly banquet table. All you have to do is fill out a psychological profile (online, presumably) and answer a series of biographical questions, most of which deal with the ages at which you first kissed a boy/girl, first felt a boob, moved out of your parent’s house (if ever), where you work and what you do there, if you’ve ever written any fan fiction, etc. Contestants are chosen on the extent of their wretchedness.

The “judges”: Similarly, there are no judges. The “Paula Randy Simon” formula presents an needless expense. Instead, people are just admitted to the studio audience, no questions asked. No questions are necessary, really, because all Americans are inherently full of righteous judgment and brutish acrimony. And no need to pay ‘em. They just want to take their shot. Each member of the studio audience is provided with in-depth biographical information on the contestant.

The show itself: Contestants do nothing other than walk on to a stage and take abuse. Each contestant confers with the show’s producers in advance and clearly spells out how much abuse they are willing to take. To make it worthwhile to potential contestants, a sliding pay scale is utilized, resulting in higher compensation for greater amounts of abuse. If a contestant vies for the top prize (see below) they are agreeing to that level of abuse and all the levels below it. Contestants may not turn away from the audience or otherwise hide their face, and they may not hurl invective back to the audience. They just have to stand there and take it.

For $1,000, the contestant must listen to comments (read: bear insults) from the audience. Those who cry receive a bonus $500.

For $1,500, friends, family, co-workers and ex-boyfriends/girlfriends/husbands/wives/life partners are telephoned and asked to join the fray.

For $2,000, the contestant must dance earnestly to a predetermined chart-topping pop song alongside a professional dance troop. The purpose of the troop is to draw greater attention to the contestant’s poor dancing.

For $3,000, members of the audience are allowed to throw rotten tomatoes or eggs at the contestant.

This goes on and on, caps out at $10,000, and includes the Get Spit On Round, the Strip Naked and Have People Point At Your Naughty Bits Round, the Nightstick In Your Ass Round, and many more.

Anyone who knows a thing about American culture knows this would work. I will point out before the deluge of hate mail begins to pour in that I am an American, so I know of which I speak. This is just who we are.

A bully doesn’t turn a lunch money interception into a Broadway production. He just takes it. No need for the smoke and mirrors.

Catch American Pariah, Mondays 9 p.m. Eastern, right after all new episodes of Are You Tougher Than a Russian Salt Miner?, right here on FOX!