After a few years of heading up the wildly successful (in my mind, at least) Saved by the Bell Blog, I've decided to bring my award-winning (in my mind, at least) sarcastic commentary to another much-beloved facet of early '90s pop culture: Beverly Hills, 90210. Unlike SBTB, this blog doesn't come with its own time-tested Preservation/Appreciation Society (though I'm not ruling out the formation of such an organization); rather, it's just me working my way through the old seasons on DVD, mocking what desperately needs to be mocked. Like Dylan's overalls, M.C. Hammer pants and super-gelled hair.

Before we get too far, though, there are a few things you should know about me, vis a vis 90210:

1. In the matter of Brenda vs. Kelly, I choose Kelly. From where I sit, Brenda isn't a cunning bitch; she's a whiny baby. I mean, Kelly weathered an absentee father, an alcoholic mother, an alcoholic boyfriend, a fire that almost killed her, a cult brainwashing, a brush with lesbianism, a cocaine addiction, a Single White Female-esque stalker, not to mention living with Donna for several years, and she did it all without whining half as much as Brenda did during the first two episodes.

2. In the matter of Brandon vs. Dylan, I choose Dylan. Sure, he comes across as a bit of a poser (how many bad-asses do you know who wear overalls with one strap roguishly undone?), but he's a hell of a lot more interesting than the self-righteous Brandon. So I pretty much hate all of the Walshes. Well, Cindy's not that bad.

3. That said, I still have a soft spot in my heart for Jason Priestley, he being one of the few celebrities I've actually met. (My friends and I waited outside the stage door after seeing him in a play in London. Some other girls waiting with us yelled "Donna Martin graduates!" when Jason appeared. I hope those girls don't read this blog.)

4. As far as I'm concerned, the only redeeming quality about Steve Sanders is his I8A 4RE license plate.

5. I secretly think David Silver is kind of cute, in spite of (or maybe even because of) his dorkiness. Don't tell anyone. But that doesn't mean I can ever forgive him for cheating on Donna with that record-label scout in the back of a limo. Or for assaulting all of our ears multiple times with that God-awful "You're So Precious to Me" nonsense.

I think that's pretty much it. Go West Beverly!