We love this sexist, ageist, retrograde, epically unattractive sewer of arrogance poached, halibut-like, in insecurity and resting on a bed of braised self-loathing, whom we have dubbed, if only temporarily, the Asshole of New Jersey. Why? Because he provides the powerful opiate of immediate, visceral, justified hatred (which we sorely needed after the kind of Wednesday we had, and we suspect we aren’t alone in that). In so doing, possums, he performs a valuable service for society. In a more metaphorical sphere, he would one day die for our television sins.