Whatever happened to predictability? The milkman, the paperboy, evening TV? I’ll tell you what happened? “Full House” happened. And the world hasn’t been the same since.

If you grew up in the ’90s or are partial to the endless cycle of reruns on TV Land, you already know the deal: “Full House” is the quintessential family sitcom.

Beginning its run in 1987, the show was simultaneously pandered by critics and, for reasons only God knows, loved by audiences.

And herein our problem lies. Why, in all of our Starter-jacket sporting, MC Hammer-listening, fanny-pack-carrying glory did young people like this show so much? Was it the soothing rockabilly of Jesse and the Rippers? Was it the obsessive crush that 99 percent of male viewers under the age of 18 and a handful of creepy old men had on Michelle? Was it Kimmy Gibbler?

I mean, I know it wasn’t Kimmy Gibler, so what gives?

What really frosts my ass is the fact that every cast member ended up being some sort of social delinquent after the show’s unprecedented eight-year run. Arrests, drug addictions and straight-to-video VHS tapes have plagued this seemingly All-American family.

And don’t even begin to tell me these things don’t add up: Michelle’s refusal to eat mashed potatoes on the show was clearly a precursor to Mary Kate’s real-life eating disorder. The signs are all there. You just gotta find them.

At this point I would like to present a list of five of the series’s main characters and the disquieting futures that each of them have faced.

Exhibit A: Danny (Bob Saget)

Prognosis: As the OCD-burdened talk show host, Danny Tanner was a role model for overly feminine single fathers everywhere, but little did we know about some of the grimy stuff that this guy got into behind the scenes that would become his stand-up comedy act. Take a look at the opening credits and notice that Saget is mouthing the words “Suck my balls” as the excessively optimistic lyrics play in the background.

Exhibit B: Stephanie (Jodie Sweetin)

Prognosis: As a recovering crystal meth addict, Jodie’s seen her fair share of rough times, but none worse than her brief stint as a host for “Pants-Off Dance-Off.” Note to Jodie: If you’re going to become addicted to drugs, at least pick one that other people in Hollywood do. Only single moms living in trailer parks do meth.

Exhibit C: Michelle (The Olsen Twins)

Prognosis: What a damn shame it was to see two of America’s most beloved young actresses turn into attention-starved, coke-addled socialites. If I ever saw one of them in the streets, I would curse them for spoiling my innocent adolescent fantasies.

Exhibit D: Uncle Jesse (John Stamos)

Prognosis: You were married to Rebecca Romijin, and you blew it. What the hell is wrong with you, man!?

Exhibit E: Joey (Dave Coulier)

Prognosis: After getting a sex change, Coulier legally changed her name to Donna and began turning tricks on the Vegas strip before brutally murdering three newborn babies with a homemade shank. And he’s a Communist, too.

So there you have it: the twisted fate of the Tanner family. D.J. was lucky to escape, but I always knew she had it together anyway.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Why did this dude just spend an entire article carefully analyzing the cast members of a forgettable American sitcom?

While that’s a valid question, I argue that in overanalyzing one-third of the Miller-Boyett trifecta (I’m working on my thesis for “Step By Step” as we speak), I may have cracked the code on America’s dissent from reality.

We listened to all the lessons. We laughed, we cried and we laughed some more (mostly because the laugh track told us to). We saw the Tanner children grow from wide-eyed cherubs to fully blossomed babes. We even kind of missed Kimmy Gibbler when we found out we wouldn’t be seeing her wild neighborly antics on a weekly basis anymore.

And then you tricked us. You duped us. You led us astray. All the lessons about manners and relationships and family and not driving the car through the garage were turned to dust.

We trusted you, “Full House,” and you bastards turned our hopes into misery by becoming a bunch of drug-peddling, foul-mouthed divorcees, and we haven’t been the same since.

Screw you, “Full House,” for crushing our souls and turning this country into the celebrity-obsessed, self-indulgent, faithless travesty it has become.

To all those who have been similarly affected by the PTFHSD (Post Traumatic Full House Stress Disorder), I offer you these parting words of wisdom: When you’re lost out there and you’re all alone, a life is waiting to carry you home? everywhere you look (da-da-dum).

Milbrand is a member of the class of 2008.

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