Big Brother has been a summertime guilty pleasure for me for years. I’ve skipped some seasons (three episodes a week for nearly three months is not always a commitment I am capable of making), but I couldn’t tell you which ones without consulting Wikipedia. The seasons fade from my memory or blur into fuzzy recollections of other seasons minutes after host Julie Chen announces the results of the final vote and the “Houseguests” wave goodbye to the cameras that spied on their every whisper, argument, cuddle, swim, smoke, flirt, folly and fart for three months. I remember the rogues best — the characters we love to hate. The smug, showmancy puppet masters of Chilltown....
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