To arms, brothers and sisters! A new threat faces us today, a force that is trying to change our values and our way of life. This isn’t al-Qaida, or some threat from afar. This threat comes from within our own borders. I am talking about the same few obnoxious adolescents as everyone else seems to be talking about. I am talking about “Jersey Shore.”

For those blissfully ignorant among you, “Jersey Shore” is a truly mentally stimulating and engaging reality show about some lovely Italian-American youth from, you guessed it, New Jersey. It airs on MTV, and follows the trials and tribulations of these young men and women and their hair.

Sporting such clever nicknames as “Snooki,” “The Situation” and “JWoww” (pronounced J-wow — the extra “W” is, apparently, silent), these vivacious young ruffians guide and influence each other to a fulfilling life of sex, alcohol and more sex. It’s truly fascinating and not at all boring or repetitive. And it definitely doesn’t make my brain hurt and beg for mercy.

Yes, the tanning-bed baked, hair-gelled lives of these kids are most definitely deserving of our attention. These are most certainly the celebrities that, most of all, deserve our undying love, affection and obsessive following.

And they’ve got it. The cast of “Jersey Shore” has made appearances on “Lopez Tonight,” the VMAs and have even had bobbleheads made in their likenesses — the true measure of success. We all know someone who watches the show regularly, even religiously, and for some reason the media loses its mind when Snooki gets arrested for disorderly conduct. JWoww has even been offered an obscene amount of money to pose for Playboy magazine.

And “Jersey Shore” is just the latest in a growing trend. America is fascinated with the young fake-bakers with their hair gel and large muscles. VH1’s hit show “Tool Academy” is a much-needed rehabilitation program to help some poor, lost souls reintegrate into functional and sane society at large. Godspeed.

So why do we do this? Why do we obsess over the trials and tribulations of a group of friends whose summed IQ is approximately equal to that of a large, wet hairball? It’s a mystery to me. Nothing about it makes sense. I find Ed Hardy clothes to be not only classless, but also pretty much revolting. Tanning beds hold about as much appeal to me as skin cancer and give a pretty unnatural, orange “healthy glow” to skin. It’s especially disturbing in the winter.

And that’s not to mention the abomination of sound that passes for English in these certain circles. Just YouTube “My New Haircut.” You’ll see what I mean.

I recently published a column arguing the merits of swearing, to which I’d like to add a caveat; the “F-word,” while admittedly diverse, should not ever, in any situation, be used to replace all of the adjectives in a given sentence. A full paragraph’s worth of speech is just sad.

So cast off this curse. I say let’s be free of this unnatural obsession with the radioactive-skinned, deep-voiced, fake-breasted youth of America. They’re quite simply not worth our time. Yes, a five-minute reenactment of “Inglorious Basterds” by a collection of 20-somethings who think it’s the Civil War because they’re wearing “old clothes” may be entertaining. But the cost is just too great. Think of all the brain cells you will lose forever just knowing of their existence. It’s just not fair.

So let’s end this here and now. Pay them no heed, and don’t feed this hydra, or it will turn on us. Ask yourself — is that how we want the world to be? Do you want to walk down the street and see nothing but V-necks and popped collars?

Besides, the Oompa-Loompas are beginning to wonder where Snooki went.