Take 1-part Twin Peaks, 2-parts Wisteria Lane, a dash of Gossip Girl, and garnish with a bit of Disney charm, and you’ve got this summer’s most trash-tastic guilt ride, ABC Family’s Pretty Little Liars. Don’t get me wrong, the show, which was pitched as “Desperate Housewives for tweens”, is no slice of television gold; in fact, it brings nothing new to the table. And this is exactly where it succeeds- borrowing the old, repackaging it, and delivering material that instills the same kind of guilt one gets from dressing their pet up in a tiny sweater. At the end of the day, however, it’s doing something right- the premiere episode was ABC Family’s highest ranking series debut, with a rapidly growing audience of 2.5 million viewers a week.

Official promo material. Curiosity piqued?

I’ll spare any twists and turns and get right to the point- a group of five friends is shaken when their ringleader, Alison, goes missing. All is fine and well until mysterious messages are left for the remaining four by an unidentified “A” (Take, for example, “I’m still here, bitches, and I know everything. -A”). And when Alison’s body is found, well, absurdity ensues. There’s no denying a bit of David Lynch and Marc Cherry firmly grounded in this show’s roots- the premiere even featured shots so similar to the pilot of Desperate Housewives, one couldn’t help but chuckle. But that is where it succeeds: it’s a mockery of melodrama, an often comedic depiction of all things wrong with being a teenager in America. I mean, let’s be real, you can’t help but burst out into laughter when a flask is passed down the first row of a church pew at Alison’s funeral.

To put it simply, Pretty Little Liars has no soul. Despite this, however, it is a piece of pop culture collage that is worth noting. And with the first season picked up for 12 more episodes, I certainly recommend a passing glance for those of us who consider ourselves TV educated. Like much of the content out there today, it requires little thinking and can best be enjoyed with a strong glass of skepticism and wit. But from the moment you meet the deviant blind girl, Jenna, who’s rattling cane sends shivers down our protagonists’ spines, it’s hard to look away. And, like many tweens, I’ll be awaiting to see if and when the mystery is wrapped up. No harm, no foul.

A suggestion for producers, however: take a note from Peaks and keep this a secret for as long as possible. One false move, and you’ll be television history.