It is so bad, it doesn’t even deserve an “EVAR.” It is a single, befuddled squint, stretched out to 1584 words. It doesn’t pretend to examine what The Hills “really” is––it never even steps into the realm of criticism or analysis. It’s like it’s not even trying.
But because of all that, maybe it’s actually the ultimate story about The Hills? Maybe in its nothingness, it’s refusal of depth, it’s actually an episode of The Hills in New Yorker essay form.