The only reason to dislike Myrtle Beach is if you yearn for a refined, cosmopolitan
Yankee lifestyle, working at a
dot com and going to
Europe on your vacations. If, on the other hand, your ideal lifestyle involves
golf, the
ocean, big-name
concerts every other week, a different
nightclub every night, and/or the best fried
seafood on the planet, then the
Grand Strand is where you oughta be.
Everyone from the South knows about Myrtle Beach. If you graduate from a high school anywhere between Jacksonville, Florida and Washington, DC, you're more or less expected to spend a week getting drunk, high, and/or laid on the Strip. No matter who you are, you can find a party in this town. One club, The Attic, is exclusively for people under 21. If you're actually of legal age, then your options for getting blissfully wasted and throwing up in front of the Gay Dolphin (a famous gift shop unrelated to homosexual water mammals) are practically infinite.
Then there's the golfing, for the more mature crowd. Even if you hate golf, you will quickly discover that Myrtle Beach has golf like Australia has sheep, ranging from spectacular pro courses to night-lit par 3's to intricate miniature golf courses (Mayday Golf being the coolest).
The beach itself is nice. Unlike my native sunning ground, South Florida, Myrtle's beach has been carefully protected from high-rise development and the accompanying erosion, so it's wide enough to land a space shuttle on, assuming you can scare all the rednecks and belles away first. Of course, like any popular beach, there's oil and tar and feces in the water, but you won't care about this when you see the gorgeously-ratioed half-naked males and females on every side of you.
There's good entertainment in the Beach, too. This summer, you could see Snoop Dogg, Weird Al Yankovic, the Chairmen of the Board, Travis Tritt, or Audioslave at the House of Blues, depending on when you visited. There are also a gazillion stage shows to see, including a Riverdance knockoff called Spirit of the Dance, and Dolly Parton's Smoky Mountain-inspired Dixie Stampede (aka "eat to the smell of manure").
You have to be in a certain state of mind to enjoy all this, and that state of mind can be easily achieved with a little bit of beer or poontang. Of course, if you have neither, you might produce a writeup like the one above. Selah.