Everyone seems to be talking about the revival of an American institution: 90210. The primetime soap opera (yes, it IS a soap opera) that ruled the tube during the 90s is back – and this time – Brandon Walsh is black.

Will the show fail or succeed? Well I don’t know, I don’t care and it really doesn’t matter. What does matter is the show’s formulistic approach to high school, as it laid the groundwork to the next century of teeny-bopper TV.

You ARE one of the characters. You have to be. The question is, which one?

Anal retentive, goodie two-shoes Brandon? Sideburned rebel without a clue Dylan? Group weak link Donna Martin? The perceived object of every boys’ desire, Kelly Taylor? The chameleon who fights to fit in at all costs, David Silver? The hopeless geek, who even sans glasses is a homely girl from the wrong side of the tracks?

Or maybe, you’re just the old pervert who enjoys peach fuzz more than the Peach Pit?

You might fit into one of these neat, little stereotypes in high school, but as you get older, there’s a good chance you’ll play each one before you graduate from this thing called life.

90210 might not be the most relevant show on TV, but it ain’t The Hills, and for that, I’m grateful. They’ve flip-flopped some religions and races on the new version and drenched the lead parent in some serious sex appeal. But once the opening credits roll, the story will remain the same.

Now move on, before I get all Ray Pruitt on your ass.

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