Sex, Lies, and Attitude

Previously on Wharton Fears a Coup: Donald Trump welcomed sixteen obnoxious suck-ups who were determined to impress him with their wits, skills, and, in some cases, boobs. Their first task involved selling crappy lemonade on the streets of Manhattan, according to the old rule of business, "Nothing hauls in the simoleans like an overpriced product no one needs." The women's team sold less lemonade for more money than the men's team, which made them the winners of the contest, and also gave them an opportunity to enjoy up close the splendor and opulence of Donald Trump's hair under the lighting of his almost unfathomably ugly apartment. It also sent the men to the Boardroom, where someone would be evicted. Er, Philiminated. Er, voted off. Wait, no -- fired. (Sorry, sorry. It all runs together.) Sam had annoyed the men, in part by spending twenty minutes trying to get someone to buy lemonade for a thousand dollars, but also by existing and breathing and doing other really pushy things. David had also annoyed the men by being arrogant, accosting prospective lemonade buyers like a common criminal, and undoubtedly talking too much about what it feels like to hold a liver in your hand and know its precise monetary value. In the Boardroom, "project manager" Troy thus took David and Sam with him to the final elimination round. Trump believed that although Sam was frankly insane, David was an equally bad businessman, and also boring and unmotivated. And if there are two things Sam isn't, they are "boring" and "unmotivated." Thus did Trump make poor David the first contestant to be fired from a reality show for something other than throwing chairs or posing for naked pictures.

Credits. I have to stop and let the credits play, even watching it on TiVo, just so I hear the song and see the first shot of Donald walking away from his limo. It kicks ass, people. Say what you will about Burnett and his flashy-trash shows, but as usual, they know what they're doing, production-wise.

We open on a shot of Manhattan at night, illuminated by approximately 200 billion individual lights, not counting open refrigerator doors. We make our way into Trump Tower and up to Suite 4, where the guys who didn't have to hang around for the final booting ceremony are giving the post-Boardroom rundown to the women. Omarosa "Assorama" Manigault-Stallworth asks whether the guys were in the Boardroom "this entire time." So apparently, the Boardroom is rather like tribal council, in that it takes a lot longer than it looks like it takes on television. Nick and Bill nod. All are aware that Troy, Sam, and David are still in the meeting -- Ereka interviews that they were "missing," but fortunately, the rest of the Trumpettes have the sense not to call the police and report it. I do believe Nick is talking about Sam when he talks about the meeting, saying, "We're talking this type of stuff," and then pounds the table and puts on a furious look. "Holy shit," Heidi says, and turns away. You know, if they outlaw table-pounding, only outlaws will pound tables.

Just then, we see Sam and Troy returning, coming down the hall outside the suite rolling their little rolly-cases. They reenter the suite, Troy saying, "By golly, oh golly." You know, it's hard to pull off "by golly, oh golly" -- Idaho hillbilly is not for amateurs, people -- but Troy can almost do it. Everyone greets the two happily, and Sam tries not to gloat any more than he can help as he tells Kristi and Amy that, indeed, Dr. David, Oddly Twitchy Non-Treater Of Patients has bitten the dust. Amy gives Sam a hug. Sam says that hug will be a thousand dollars. No, not really. Kristi explains in an interview that when David didn't come back, that made it "hit home" that people who are fired really, genuinely do not return. They may be dead, actually. Or no longer on television, which is almost the same thing. By the way, not to be hideously shallow or anything, but I love Kristi's caf au lait sweater in this interview. I can't wear that shade because I have the wrong coloring and look therefore like a grocery bag in it. This, among other things, bothers me.

In one of the bedrooms, Troy takes off his shirt as Kwame complains that "it's been a long, hard day, my friend." They manage to get the camera about two inches from the back of Troy's very nice naked shoulder. Sop to the recapper! Wooo! Oh, come on, please. Like I would ever be so easily led. I've only fallen genuinely in love with a naked shoulder, oh...once or twice in my entire recapping career. Anyway, Jason and an equally shirtless (but not quite as impressive) Nick lie in bed and say how glad they are that the firing is over with. Sam interviews that if the men don't win the task, they're "as good as dead." Again, the show returns to its motif of comparing the experience of being sent away from the cameras to -- yes -- your mortality. The non-famous are food for worms, you know. Sam claims that Trump -- sorry, that's "Mr. Trump" -- doesn't have any respect for the men's team right now, and if they lose again, he will have zero respect for them, and there will be no recovering. What I love is that Sam's shortness contributes to these weird camera angles where, when he tries to talk, his face is sort of halfway dropping off the bottom of the screen. It's like the camera guy couldn't be bothered to bend at the knees.

Over in the world of Protg, Assorama works at the computer, looking at an awkward-looking Protg logo that I'm hoping is still under construction. It features a stylized figure that looks like an uncoordinated woman with an undefined waistline trying to do jumping jacks in a skirt. I think I saw that woman on an episode of Inspiring Silhouette Makeovers. Assorama interviews that the reality is that each week, someone will be eliminated at the board meeting. Good one. She, like Kristi, is picking up all the hints. She is also using this interview, by the way, to comply with the legal requirement that the women show their belly buttons at least five times per week. Belly button, belly button!

The women meet around the kitchen table and talk about how they'll pick the project manager for the task. It's a real fiesta of diplomacy, as you can imagine. Assorama says that the most fair way to pick project managers would be at random. Yeah. The way I figure it, the first person to come out in favor of picking out of a hat is probably the first person who knows she's going to be screwed by any attempt to reach consensus. Ereka predictably hates the idea of random selection -- after all, she didn't come up with it -- and thinks they should just vote. Ereka's got the aggressive head-waggle going as she says, "I think we know who the people are in our group at this point that motivate, that encourage..." Assorama starts to talk, and Ereka asks if she can finish her thought first. "Woooow," Assorama says patronizingly, as if she has just watched a three-year-old draw a potato with a crayon, "did you see how you get towards me?" Ereka interviews that Assorama has a problem with "power" and with the rest of the team "not accepting her ideas." "It's either her way, or it's no way," Ereka says. Ereka, on the other hand, is undoubtedly all kinds of flexible. If contestants were kitchen implements, she would be the bendy straw. Assorama, meanwhile, explains in an interview that she made suggestions for helping the team, and the rest of the team's reaction was "let's shut up Omarosa." Okay, look, first of all, never refer to yourself in the third person. Never ever. Second of all, the fact that people don't accept your ideas does not mean they're trying to shut you up. Not that they wouldn't have cause. She really needs to learn the difference between having someone disagree with her and having her voice mercilessly stolen out of her throat like she's the heroine of The Little Mermaid. Sometimes people respect you, think you have a right to speak your mind, and still think you're entirely wrong. I'm not saying Ereka is capable of this kind of multilayered thinking, but it's possible in theory.

The project manager discussion turns into a little Assorama-tweaking lovefest as the rest of the women agree that they think that Amy is just swell, and they want her to be their project manager. Eeeeeeee, Amy! Jessie, by the way, can be seen in the background of this shot, so she is still on the show, even though you never see her and she doesn't speak. Amy, upon her appointment, spreads her arms in such a way that you can see she's got some seriously muscled-up guns there. I predict that Amy is no stranger to Pilates. Amy's first act as project manager, you would think, would be to take those guns and pound some people who shall remain nameless, but instead, she tries a different tactic, saying that Assorama and Ereka are both "above this bickering." Assorama contends that talking to Ereka is "always personal," and Ereka responds that she's shaking all over just trying to talk about the way Assorama treats her, and "it's always been this way." Yeah, ever since Ereka was a child. Or, I guess, ever since like three days ago, when they met. Ereka claims that Assorama is "after [her] for whatever reason," and Assorama insists that she isn't. Ereka smiles in this bitchface, snotty-ass way, and says, "Darling, sweetie-pie, you have said so many things, you have no idea..." "Don't call me sweetie-pie, that is so condescending," Assorama says. She's completely right about how condescending that was, but it's not much less condescending the way Assorama reaches out and touches Ereka on the arm as she complains about it. They both suck. I mean, seriously, decoding the arguments between these women is a lot easier if you just try hard to keep in mind that each of them irredeemably, irreversibly, unquestionably sucks and has the maturity level of a baby carrot. Kristi voices over that Assorama loves to "stir things up," and Ereka, um, "is Italian," so the two of them create what Kristi calls "fire and water." I don't think "fire and water" is what she's looking for, quite. Fire and water, after all, doesn't create any particular problems, except hissing and steam. "We need to do something to stop [the fighting], or it's going to hurt the team," Kristi opines in a voice-over as we see her negotiating with Assorama in front of the refrigerator and Heidi trying to calm Ereka down in the bathroom. The fighting is spreading through S4! , the bedrooms will be infected! Feh, I know I would not want to be in any group setting with those two particular irritating women sniping at each other all day. Drama, yuck.

Night shots! Time-lapse! Morning shots! Manhattan is all about trick photography, you know. Time to get up and get into the rat race again, dear little rats. You've already proved how much you love cheese. Donald, of course, has long been awake inhaling the scent of his marble walls and playing in his fountains, and now he's in his limo, telling Robin on the phone to call the candidates and tell them he'll meet them in one hour at the Deutsch Agency, where some of the world's greatest obnoxious advertising originates. Now you should take a moment here and appreciate the fact that "Deutsch" starts with a nice "doy" sound, and it's a little bit of a funny word. Deutsch, Deutsch, Deutsch. Dramatically, Donald hangs up. The phone rings at S4, and Troy picks up. As Katrina's comically hyper-plucked eyebrows look on, Troy takes down the information about where they're going. Interestingly, they now seem to have a silver phone instead of last week's red phone, although it kind of looks like last week's red phone either painted silver or, frankly, covered in aluminum foil. Someone unwrapped a lasagna, I think, and then got all carried away with the Reynolds Wrap. Sam interviews that it's "a big day." It's "round two." It's "another chance to act like a damn crazy person." (The last one is silent.)

VersaCorp has a meeting in which they talk project managers. Imagine that, picking your project manager after you have some clue of what the task is. Those crazy boys. Kwame points out that he knows something about advertising, so if it's an advertising thing, he might be a good choice. They ascertain, though, that Jason has actually worked in advertising a little, and when he hears that, Kwame readily rolls over and encourages the group to give the task to Jason. Jason accepts. "I guess I gotta step up to the plate and take charge." I implied it last week, and I'll say it now -- this is, in fact, one of my favorite things about groups of guys, and hanging around with groups of guys. The stereotype that they're a little lower on the drama and emotional bullshit when it comes to making group decisions is not entirely unfounded. There's not as much need to check everyone for adverse feelings before you do anything, there's not as much need to see all developments as personal...it's kind of refreshing. If you've ever ordered pizza using actual official feminist process (oh, yes, there is such a thing), you know what I'm talking about.

More nice Manhattan shots, and then we move to the Deutsch offices. There, the group files in and waits, and before long, Trump arrives. He's wearing a pale-pink tie, which just does not work at all. He badly needs a visit from Queer Eye For The Unhinged Tycoon Guy. Donald introduces the group to Donny Deutsch, whom Donald calls "the best there is." I hate Donny instantly, to the point where I physically recoil in the privacy of my apartment. Everything about him screams "weasel." Donny the Weasel tells the group that they're going to "learn a little bit about advertising." He leads them through the offices, and just as he tells Donald that the place is "really free and open," a guy whizzes by on a scooter. Gee, what a coincidence. I bet they play Nerf basketball in the hallways, too. That whole freewheeling-office thing sure is an interesting brand-new trend here in this year of 1995. Everyone files into a large conference room. Donald starts by delivering a lecture that includes the scintillating tidbit that "advertising is an amazing thing." Ereka, by the way, is wearing a pink-purple-black scarf tied around her head. Not to mention an off-the-shoulder top. It's all very businesslike, providing that your business is fortune-telling and your workplace is a carnival. And Heidi's eyebrows are still far too curvy and thin. Donald says that last week's lemonade task was very "basic," but this week's task is something a little different. It involves corporate jets. Oooooh. They will be developing a campaign for the Marquis Jet Card, which is kind of like a Starbucks card, only instead of being able to cash it in for lattes, you can cash it in for hours of private jet service. The reward for the winning team will be a trip via private jet to Boston tomorrow night. And also, of course, avoidance of the Boardroom and impending firing. Kristi's outfit is off-the-shoulder also, by the way. Necklines with actual neck-sized holes in them are so last season.

Donny (bleh) goes over the Jet Card concept again after Trump is gone. The assignment is to create a thirty-second television commercial, and a magazine ad. They're going to have access to all the creative resources at Deutsch -- including photographers. Remember that one for later. I also want to say at this point that Donny's nipples are extremely distracting in the very tight T-shirt he's wearing. That is not impressive, Donny. You are not hot. Prominent nipples do not make you hot. Just a little note, from me to you. In fact, tape those suckers down if you have to. By the way, as he is talking, Jessie takes notes in a reporter's notebook, so she is still alive as of this moment also. Donny explains that the aim here is "big ideas." He wants them to do it -- you guessed it -- "out of the box." I'm surprised no one ever says, "I want you to think inside the box. Just your average basic good job, that's what I'm looking for." I mean, honestly, there are advantages to the box. How do you think it got to be the box? He also tells them to "swing for the fences." I think it's fair to say the word the women take most seriously from that phrase is "swing." Oh, hey, Amy's top is also off-the-shoulder, at least when she yanks it down, as she has here. I am hopelessly out of touch, which you can tell because I am almost always fully clothed at business meetings. And while we're on fashion, Sam is wearing a blue long-sleeved knit shirt with a very large white collar. It is extremely ugly. It is distractingly ugly. Just saying. If Charlie Brown hadn't had that yellow shirt with the black zigzag, he would have worn the shirt Sam is wearing.

Back from commercials, we get a black screen with the white words, "Don't Negotiate With Underlings." Dude, that's my philosophy, too. That's why I make sure that when I buy a book from Amazon.com, Jeff Bezos handles the fulfillment side personally. In fact, I demand that he include a personal note. Donald tells us in an interview that he learned early that "you have to deal with the boss." Manhattan shots follow. We see a bunch of people walking, and then a pigeon walking, and it's a very, very funny visual, though you kind of have to see it to appreciate the implication that the people and the pigeons have a lot in common. Although as compared to the candidates, the pigeons do have a little more originality. Clouds fly in time-lapse over a tall building. This show? Porn for architects.

The Protg Corporation (snerk) takes off to get started on their assignment. By the way, in case I haven't made it clear enough yet, these women dress less professionally than you can really imagine if you didn't see them. In addition to Ereka (off-the-shoulder), Amy (off-the-shoulder), and Kristi (off-the-shoulder), we have Katrina (off-the-shoulder and white pleated kilt), Heidi (startling cleavage), and Jessie (sleeveless, but not bad compared to the others). Only Assorama and Tammy are remotely appropriately dressed in what I would call "business casual," as opposed to "business trampy." In an interview in which Ereka is wearing yet another tube top (earning her the distinction of being the show's official Ms. Tube Top, the official Tube Top spokesperson of 2004), she retells the details of the assignment.

Protg. Amy and Ereka are seemingly running late, because they're jogging down the sidewalk toward their meeting. Not that I would put it past a show like this to make them run just to get a little bit of the Baywatch running-is-pretty effect. When they get up to the Marquis offices, they meet with the CEO and the vice president of marketing. One of the guys tells them that he wants the campaign to "wow" him, and the ladies say "nothing is off-limits," and he agrees. I have to say, they showed very, very little of that meeting and almost none of what the guys actually said. But it does tend to support the notion that had the guys taken a meeting with the clients, they might have learned something that might have been helpful.

The Airport. Jessie, Tammy, Assorama, Katrina, and Heidi have arrived. Assorama is holding a big mock-up of a Marquis Jet card. You know, you don't see too many humorously oversized props anymore. I kind of miss humorously oversized props. Amy calls in and gets on the phone with Tammy, who seems to be calling the creative shots at the airport. Amy interviews that she passed along to Tammy what they got from the meeting with the client. Tammy explains in an interview that her idea was to present the plane as a phallic symbol. It's not a terrible idea, in a lot of ways. It's at least potentially interesting. Outside, though, what we see is a photographer taking a picture of Katrina sitting on the wing of a plane while some stiff (no pun intended) stands there with the big stupid-looking mockup of the Marquis Jet card. The hell? Tammy is telling the photographer that this will make the campaign really sexy. "That's what it's gonna be," she says, "it's gonna be that." The photographer is making this incredibly dubious face that, in retrospect, is one of the funniest things in the episode. I would translate that face as, "Based on what I've seen on Joe Millionaire, I expected the reality show contestants I encountered to be smarter than this." Assorama interviews that she found Tammy's approach "disgusting." She tries to say something to Tammy outside as Tammy continues directing the shoot of Katrina on the wing, but Tammy blows her off.

VersaCorp. ["I'd just like to interject here that MS Word spell-check's suggestion for the correct spelling of 'VersaCorp' is 'Versace.' Heh." -- Sars] Bill and Sam get on the phone -- Bill's in a limo on the go, Sam's back at the office. Sam says he's going to "give [Bill] an image." Sam says that Warren Buffett, who owns NetJets, lives in Omaha. Is that an image? I mean, I guess you can't say on the phone, "I'm going to give you a meaningless factoid," but still. "Sam, I know this," Bill says impatiently. Bill asks for "the Cliff Notes version" of whatever it is Sam is trying to tell him. Jason is trying to get Sam back on some computer task that he wants him to do, although it's not clear what the hell the task actually is. Bill listens with frustration over the Space Communicator as Jason yells at Sam. Sam complains in an interview that Jason can't "motivate," and he hates that. "He says nonononononononononononono. No. And he was the project manager!" Sam goes on to complain about Jason's failure to "cheer [the team] on." He says, "Mr. Trump's been our cheerleader, Donny's been our cheerleader, Jason hasn't been our cheerleader." Visions of Jason in saddle shoes dance through my head, and I have to tell you, they're not entirely unpleasant. But then they are followed by analogous visions of Trump, and then I have to go and do a little drinking.

Bill and Nick, meanwhile, are arriving at the airport just as Bill hangs up from the call with Sam. "You ask Sam what time it is," he says to Nick, "he tells you how to build a clock." That's a line I've heard many times before, but Bill is absolutely right about it and has used it correctly, which is more than I can say for many reality show participants and their clich usage. Nick chuckles. They pull into the airport and get to work on their commercial. Nick is showing Bill actual sketches of what he wants the commercial to look like, which seems to be a lot more than Tammy was doing. Bowie looks at the drawings, too, and declares it "a phenomenal idea." The plane is rolled out of the hangar to be set up for the shot, and we see Bill actually demonstrating parts of the shots. Bill interviews that they did the print photos that they were going to use at the same time as the commercial, so this made for "good teamwork." The guys smile and seem rather gratified as they see their commercial roll to life. In the ad, a black limo pulls up to the plane, and a guy gets out and goes up the steps onto the plane. Bill interviews that he thinks they're delivering the message "in a tactful, classy way." Oh. Well, you can see where they went horribly wrong.

"Victory," Nick says confidently. "Victory for the men." On the plane, Bill says that he's looking forward to winning and snagging the ride to Boston. Bill is hot. Not necessarily rip-your-shirt-off-right-now hot, just kind of...let's-argue-about-politics hot. Totally different, but equally potent. The sun sets.

It is night in Manhattan. It is morning in Manhattan.

The women stroll into Deutsch, and Tammy holds up a large print ad mock-up. In a line I was absolutely positive I misheard the first time it went by, Assorama says, "Tammy's testicle ad may compromise our ability to win this task." I did not mishear it. Meanwhile, Amy holds up a picture and, giggling, says, "I have to say, Omarosa, this is sexy." The picture shows, I think, the tail of the plane, and it's shot in such a way that it looks very, very much like two legs spread with a very, very pointy appendage sticking down between them. First thought: "Sheesh." Second thought: "Ow." At any rate, I would maintain that Amy perhaps doesn't know the difference between "attention-getting" and "sexy," because I certainly don't find that picture sexy. Striking, but not sexy. It's much too obvious to be sexy. What's worse is that Amy now goes through a completely unnecessary giggling explanation of the visual: "These look like legs, and you figure out what the middle is!" Yes, Amy. We get it. It's a penis. We're not confused. It's not subtle. It's blunt imagery. It's Billy Budd, Sailor kind of blunt. She interviews that they decided to stay with Tammy's theory of using "shock" when putting together the ads. The women laugh, as Assorama, wearing a "Marquis Jet" baseball cap (dork), sits looking miserable. Assorama interviews that Trump is "looking at everything [they] do," as are Carolyn and George, and Assorama can tell that Carolyn and George are grossed out. We don't see George, but we do see Carolyn as Tammy introduces another picture that she calls "the testicle ad," and I agree that Carolyn looks mortified.

VersaCorp "home base." Sam has been assigned some task involving listening to a boom box, and it appears to be boring him silly. Jason voices over that "Sam was the biggest problem" as they worked on the ad campaign. As Jason and Bowie work at the computer, Sam's eyes start to droop, and finally, he puts his head down on the desk. Jason looks over at Sam, and then taps Bowie. The two of them look over in time to see Sam actually lie down on the floor for a nap. Jason gives a little interview about how he believes in "sticking to a principle," which he says means that in his apartments, if you're late on your rent, he'll evict you. Nice. That would be the principle of keeping the ice frozen solid in your veins, I suppose. He relates this to Sam's falling asleep, saying that in a real business situation, he would have fired Sam on the spot for snoozing. "I don't want somebody like that on my team." You can tell just by looking at him that Jason needs about five really bad things to happen to him, and it will make him a far, far better person, and cause him to say a lot fewer dumb-ass things. The kid is twenty-three. He's frankly a little green himself to be delivering snotty lectures about whether you get to be on "his team."

Back from commercials. Manhattan. It's beautiful, isn't it? But our national debt is rising, you know, and the big National Debt Clock is here to remind you of that. They certainly do like that National Debt Clock. Time-lapse traffic footage further reminds you that things move pretty fast in the city that never sleeps. Well, except for the part of the city that is made up of Sam, of course. We move to Protg, where Ereka is still in team-leader mode from last time, I think, as she is snotting, "Ten minutes, ladies, ten minutes," as the women get dressed. Amy explains in an interview that the team has decided that for their presentation, they're going to wear "flight attendant suits." What this seems to mean is that they're all wearing black dresses, and they have matching scarves tied around their necks. Well, Heidi isn't wearing black. She's wearing white and a dorky leather cap, and as always, she's wearing her cleavage. She didn't have a single black top? Who goes to Manhattan to live and doesn't bring one black shirt with her?

The women file into the room where Deutsch and two of his minions are waiting. Donny says, "Let's go!" Assorama is in charge of the presentation, and she gamely explains that they decided to do not only the print ad and TV ad that were requested, but also a direct mail piece. Because when you're selling something that costs a couple hundred thousand dollars, nothing works like junk mail. That's just stupid, is what that is, and Donny basically says so. "Let me show you our direct mail campaign," Assorama perseveres, and Tammy unveils the "testicle ad," which is again a very clever piece of photography that...well, yeah, it's the testicle ad. And the tagline is "Upward bound." Gosh. Classy. "Look at this piece of artwork," says Assorama, "would you toss that?" And it is to her credit that she says this fairly convincingly, despite the fact that we know that she hates it. "I'm not going to say what I think of that," Donny smarms, making clear that he gets it. The women unveil the piece of art, which is the pointy-dick shot with the line, "How do you measure up?" Assorama calls it "simple" and "elegant." Uh...I'll go with "simple." Elegant? No. Donny laughs. The last one they show is a big shot of one of the engines, with the line, "Can you fit in?" Well, sure. Can't have just the male genitalia; that would be discriminatory. Assorama, who I think is a little mortified, says that now, Heidi will talk about the commercial. She will be wearing her Fonzie retro biker cap. Does she think that looks reminiscent of a flight attendant's cap? She looks ridiculous.

Heidi starts -- oh, I do hate that cap -- by leaning across the table so as to very intentionally give Donny a direct line of sight down her shirt, which is so goddamn tacky, I cannot tell you. There's subtle use of sex appeal, and then there's...oh, I can't even tell you what this is. Deutsch -- who is really starting to look a complete pig -- says to her, "I like the lean," and she stands up and wiggles. Her. Ass. Jesus, I despise this scene. She leans more, he drools more. I hate him. I hate her. She again bends over, thrusting her boobs as hard as possible, and says, "We're going to leave the client...wanting...more." You know what? Sexy is one thing. This is...something else entirely. She interviews about how important the presentation aspect is, blah blah blah, and whatever. She actually claims that she was using her "personality," as if you have to lean across a desk to display personality. She can spin it however she wants; there's not a person alive who doesn't know what that was about, and if she wants to do it, she ought to at least admit it with no regrets. Still, I would maintain that at some point -- at some point right around the ass-wiggling, specifically -- it got very embarrassing to watch an adult woman try to pitch herself in business by knowingly trying to make herself look cheap. Embarrassing and, actually, pretty sad.

I have no idea what the women's commercial they're so excited about is like, because we don't see it, except five seconds of a screen made to look like a card, followed by the slogan, "Own It." Considering that this isn't an ad for buying a corporate jet, but for renting time on a corporate jet, that seems like a rather stupid slogan to me. It's like Avis doing a rental car commercial that ends with, "Own It." Own what? You're not going to own squat. Worse yet, at the end of the commercial, Assorama claps. For their commercial. She claps for her own work. As Donny rightly points out, you just really don't do that. "Yay, me! Yay, my presentation! Yay, I am adorable!" Shut up. Amy wraps up the presentation to Donny by saying that they focused their campaign on "sex appeal" and "shock value." I would go with shock value, but I really didn't find those ads sexy. I suppose Donny found Heidi's fuck-me routine sexy, perhaps.

Oh, and something else, while we're on the women's campaign. To the degree that those ads are cool, they are mostly cool because of the quality of the photography. I have an extremely hard time believing that the women played a large role in setting up those shots, especially since what we saw them doing was a completely, entirely different setup of Katrina sitting on the wing of the plane with her legs almost wrapped around the guy with the big mock-up card. That seemed to be what they meant by "sexy," and it seems much more in line with how "creative" and "clever" these women actually are. Furthermore, the composition of the shots is still going to be largely the photographer's work, so...it's not that I don't think the print ads were good as far as getting people's attention, because they were, but I have to think it's mostly a credit to the photographer they worked with. I'm not sure what they told the guy, but he grabbed some really striking shots, and I find it hard to believe they dictated them really closely after starting with that stupid, pedestrian girl-on-the-wing business. I hope they sent him a thank-you note. Not likely.

Anyway, Donny sits around leering at the women for a while, sneeringly castigates them for "set[ting] the women's movement back about seventy years," and then he sends them on their way. I posit that there is a special place in hell reserved for a guy who will eagerly devour women acting like they have nothing to offer but T&A, reward them for it, and then put them down for it. The women seem happy. They don't really get the irony, I don't think.

Things are not so chipper at VersaCorp. Everyone is arguing right before the presentation. Nick explains in an interview that he is "the Zen master of presentations," so he was trying to give some advice to Kwame, who was planning to do part of the pitch. It seems that the guys' theme is "Marquis Jets: Redefining First Class," which I do think is a damn sight better than "Own It," slogan-wise. The guys file in for their presentation. Bowie is wearing a very nifty silver tie, by the way. Troy and Kwame pull a piece of red velvet and reveal...a photograph of a guy boarding a plane, handing a ticket -- or maybe it's his Marquis Jet card, come to think of it -- to a flight attendant. It is a seriously, seriously boring picture. If you're going to pull a velvet cover off a picture, y'all, it better not be...that. Kwame starts the presentation, and Bill says in an interview that he could tell that Deutsch was impressed with the work they did on the campaign. Oh, and then, we get my least favorite thing in the world. The scourge of the universe. The great agony of mankind. It's...PowerPoint. NOOOOOOO! The presentation starts with a screen saying, "Objective: To inspire motivation and expand consumer awareness through a targeted advertising campaign." Okay, first of all, there is no such damn thing as "inspiring motivation." At all. Second, isn't that the objective of every advertising initiative? See, it says absolutely nothing, and yet it says it in big letters on the wall. That is the curse of PowerPoint, people -- the notion that crap, nonsense, and vapidity sound a lot better if each one of them is a bullet point.

As if that opening screen weren't enough, we then get a pie chart that -- oh, it's so much fun to play with effects menus -- flies onto the screen on a little spiraling path. God, I despise that. At least there's no "wooooop" sound effect. Incidentally, the budget pie chart reveals that the guys had a plan for direct mail also, even though they don't talk about it. They also carved out substantial money for "Outdoor" advertising, and there's no discussion of that, either. Seems like sound thinking, though. Put an ad for private jet service on the top of a passing taxi, and you'll reach all those potential jet service buyers who are sitting on benches on the curb waiting for the bus. Jason interviews in the manner of wrap-up that their campaign "stuck to its guns," and he insists that it was "the right campaign for the client." Not that he met with the client. He's just guessing.

Now, we see part of the guys' TV ad. Oh, Lordy. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Or punch someone. There's actually a woman doing a voice-over that says, "When my husband's traveling for business? I no longer have to worry. Knowing that he's flying with the Marquis Jet card? It's the only card that allows him access to the NetJet world-class fleet of aircraft." Then there's a shot into the cockpit, and the pilot turns around and says, "The NetJets fleet. It just doesn't get any better than this." And then the pilot actually gives the thumbs-up. That would be a great ad if it were 1963 or so. Oh, and if you and I and everyone watching it were huge dweebs. Are we not a little past the "Hey, fellas, the wife won't fret by the phone!" thing? And...and...the thumbs-up? With no sense of irony? That's not even mentioning the fact that if you're going to have a woman do a voice-over, you should get one who can do it without talking in that annoying every-sentence-is-a-question kind of way. Because people? Who talk like that? Give me hives?

Indeed, I hate the men's TV ad very, very much. Not as much as I hated the women's disgusting boobfest, but I hate the VersaCorp TV ad. The men conclude their presentation by handing out cigars, which Deutsch derisively calls "tchotchkes." While I would agree with Donny under normal circumstances, the fact that he played so eagerly into the women's boob-offering and is now acting like cigars are cheesy and pedestrian is a little bit ridiculous. Although it would have been really funny if, when Heidi shook her boobs at him, he had derisively said, "Ah, tchotchkes." The men leave.

In a meeting with his minions after the guys leave, Donny says he thought both pitches were "pretty good." Woman Minion says that she thought the women were "sharper" and "more insightful" about their presentation, while the men were "generic." Can you imagine how not-insightful you have to be to have Omarosa and Heidi described as "more insightful" than you are? I think I would cry. Woman Minion specifically says that "if [she] were hiring people," she'd go with the women. Okay, but I didn't think the task was to get hired long-term by Deutsch. The task was to do this campaign for this client. Saying "I didn't like what they did in this situation, but I think they'd be great long-term" does not seem to me to be judging in the right way. Man Minion says that he preferred the men's campaign, because it was "the best business solution." In other words, he's judging by who solved this particular problem the best, not necessarily who impressed you more as far as what they might do in other situations. And that's how I thought it should have been judged. The task wasn't to prove that you would be great at other advertising campaigns for a different client. There was a specific product here.

In an interview, Jason pulls no punches, explaining that the team wouldn't really feel the loss very much if Sam got fired. He also says that other than Sam, he can't think of who he would bring to the Boardroom. In other words, he badly, painfully, totally is dying to get rid of Sam. Oh, and just for me, they throw in a shot of Troy in the shower as the guys are getting ready to go. That's what I get for leaving a briefcase full of twenties at the production offices. Also, Bill shaving. Hey, more shirtless Troy! And when Troy gets back to the room after his shower, Sam is still sitting on the bed with his eyes closed, dutifully being the hat. Kwame, meanwhile, interviews that he thinks Jason's decision not to meet with the client was very costly for the team. Bill says that it was a very bad idea -- "shameful, actually" -- not to meet with the client, and says that he expects that Donald will Trump-thump them for it. Okay, Troy is the conventionally best-looking, I think, but Bill, for some reason, is my boyfriend. I couldn't tell you why, exactly. Maybe it's all that work with cigars. Perhaps Tammy has a point about the...you know, symbolism.

The guys head out of S4 to hit the Boardroom, and the women wish them luck, all the time cackling internally.

Night! Manhattan! Lights! Tall buildings! The guys arrive at the Boardroom floor of the Tower, and they head into the Boardroom itself. In comes Trump, at last. "Jason," he asks, "what happened?" Jason insists that they "put together a phen-aaah-menal paaa-ckage" (man, his accent bugs me), but "it wasn't the one that they wanted." Trump asks for opinions about Jason from around the table. Troy says that "Jason's a great second-half quarterback." He says, in fact, that their whole team is "a great second-half team." Nick backs Jason. "I think Jason performed well," he said. He praises Jason's ability to make quick decisions. "Are you saying that because you don't want Jason to pick you?" Donald asks bluntly. Nick does not hesitate. "Not one bit. I thought his decisions were real sharp." You'll recall that Nick sort of agreed with Jason on not meeting with the client, which was Jason's most controversial decision. Trump asks Sam for his thoughts on Jason. Good or terrible? Sam hems and haws. Oh, he'd say...not good. But...not terrible. And Kwame? Who does Kwame think was the fuck-up of the week? Well, Kwame does think they should have talked to the president of the company. Troy puts in that Jason made the decision not to call. "I think that was a terrible decision," Trump says. "If you had met with the president face-to-face, you would have known that he wanted a flashier campaign." Well...maybe, but...remember what he said about what the women did? I guess you could have gone flashier without going quite so tacky. "It's time now, Jason," Donald says. He asks Jason to bring people along with him. Jason, unsurprisingly, starts with Sam, citing the fact that Sam fell asleep on the job. Jason actually feels that as the leader, this was an insult to him. Mm-hmm. Then he has to pick person number two. This is difficult for Jason, because he really just wants to fire Sam. Who does Jason choose? Nick, who just backed him up.

There's a theory among the Eagle-Eyed Forum Posters that Jason took Nick to increase the odds of Sam being fired, because he knew Trump wouldn't pick Nick. But the problem with doing that on this show is that you increase the odds of his firing you by just as much, potentially. If that is what Jason did, he might have been better off choosing somebody else who would provide an appealing option if Trump just wasn't going to fire Sam, however much the guys wanted him to. At any rate, Nick it is. Trump expresses some surprise that Jason chose the guy who just supported him in the face of quite a lot of criticism. Trump then asks Nick if he thinks he did a dumb thing in defending Jason. "No, I think that he did do a good job," Nick says. Bill, Kwame, Troy, and Bowie are dismissed to head back upstairs. Nick, Jason, and Sam have to hang out in the Loser Lobby and wait to be called back into the meeting.

Trump asks George what he thinks. George comes right out and says that he cannot for the life of him visualize Sam working for Trump. That's what he literally says. Seriously. One crazy weirdo per company, that's my guideline. Trump repeats his theory that Sam will either be totally great for somebody, or a total disaster, and Carolyn agrees. Trump maintains, though, that Sam is not the reason that they screwed up this particular assignment. Time to bring the guys back in.

The first thing that happens when the guys return is that Nick asks for "a chance to defend [him]self." Trump says that's fine. Nick asks for permission to stand. Permission granted. Nick says that he's there to win through good performance, and he has no idea why Jason picked him for the Boardroom. He also reminds them that he gave a crash course to Kwame in presentation style, and has Jason back him up on it. He then asks Jason, if Jason thinks he's not a good candidate, why Jason had him give a critique of the presentation before they took it to the client? Jason: "[Silence.]" Trump tells Jason to explain to Nick why he picked him. "I had to make a decision," Jason sputters. "Why did you choose me?" Nick says. Jason: "Because it has to be somebody." Trump repeats to Jason that his concern about picking Nick is that Nick was the one guy who backed him at the meeting. That's just not smart. Finally, Trump turns to Nick and tells him that he can sit down, because he's not being fired anyway, so he has nothing to worry about. Heh. I loved that. That's how guys with power act. They give the information they want to give, when they want to give it, and they may take you off the hook or they may not, depending on whether they like you and whether they feel like it. It's kind of revolting, but also kind of fascinating. "So now, we're down to these two," Trump says, turning to Sam and Jason.