Whopper 101

POW! Did you know Donald Trump loves New York? Did you know he would like to share it with you? Oh, good. In case you didn't, that news is the opener for the new season, as we watch footage designed to prove the following: New York contains buildings. New York contains the Statue of Liberty. New York contains trees, and in the fall, they turn different colors. New York has "lots and lots of energy." Man, who wrote this copy for Trump? "Lots and lots"? Couldn't cough up the word "unlimited," or "boundless," or "spectacular"? Pay a little to the writing staff, people. Big vocabularies and subject-verb agreement are worth every penny! Anyway, from inside the Trumpicopter, the man himself informs us that we already know everything about him, including how large he is. He is speaking as a developer, of course. Not that he doesn't undoubtedly claim to be large in many respects. Wow, didn't even finish the first paragraph without a dick joke. Hi, I'm your recapper, and I just got here directly from the gutter.

Anyway, Trump owns a honkload of mostly-obscure companies, and he's been having trouble finding anyone to run them, what with the declining enrollments in undergraduate bootlicking programs. In what I guess is supposed to be one of his many offices, Trump is telling someone that "success breeds success," or, as he likes to put it, "bankruptcy breeds bankruptcy." A couple of American flags wave to remind you, to the bottom of your patriotic heart, that this is the land where any dipshit can become a billionaire, as if that isn't the entire theme of the show, kind of like Lost reminding you that air travel is dangerous, or American Idol reminding you not to smoke crack. And then Trump tells us that he only hires the best. Or, in the case of this show, the least worst. We are reminded that originally, there was Boyfriend Bill. Oh, yay, Boyfriend Bill! I miss you more than ever. Just seeing how lovely you and Kwame were at the finale brings back the entire bad experience of the Kelly/Jen-off, and I just never want to think about that again. But -- ack! There's Kelly, looking as smug and oily as ever. Trump claims that Kelly has been doing a great job in the...month since he was hired...much of which was holidays...much of which hadn't happened yet whenever this was filmed...so I'm thinking this is actually footage of Kelly's first day. I'm surprised they left out the part where they glued his pens to the desk. (PENS, people. Read carefully.) Because isn't that what you would do if a guy from TV were brought to work in your office? Yeah, I thought so. Me, too. And then we see Kelly, incredibly awkwardly, say, "Thanks a lot, Paul, I really appreciate it." You can tell he worked for, like, ten minutes on that line. In front of the mirror. And sometimes, he had a finger-gun at the end. At least Boyfriend Bill tries to sound genuine, Kelly. Oh, and then "Paul" tells Kelly to say hi to Trump. As if Kelly will be calling Trump right after this to set up dinner together or a night of action movies at his apartment. Whatever, "Paul."

New York skyline and city porn goes by as Trump claims to be looking for a candidate who "can handle the pressure" that going to reality television events involves, and who can be "a creative thinker" in terms of dressing for the People's Choice Awards. "I'm looking for...the Apprentice!" Trump says, pointing into the camera in a way that he also worked on for ten minutes. This whole thing is just sad with a capital S. And a capital A and D, also. In fact, it's only a shame it's not a longer word. Skyline porn! Bomp-chicka!

An airplane lands. Trump explains that this is a sixteen-week (!) (up another week from last time, ACK!) job interview. And a young woman with a startlingly blank expression deplanes. She has a fuzzy pink sweater on, and I have a feeling that's about as tough as she gets. She's all about being embraced by her own stuff. Quentin Tarantino's Husky Brother comes through the airport with a suitcase. That Guy (Fraternity President Variation) approaches from another angle. Green Ruffles Girl walks purposefully. Guy Who Seems To Have Just Been Indicted ducks into a cab and away from the prying eyes of the press. African-American Woman We All Really, Really Hope Isn't "Crazy" approaches through the subway as Trump explains that (if you haven't heard) this season will pit "book smarts" against "street smarts" -- the college grads against the not. Listen for the part where Trump tells you that not one of the people on his "book smarts" team went to an Ivy League school, or any other traditionally hoity-toity school. Oh, right. It doesn't happen. Note that this does not mean I am saying these are not good schools, so don't send me that email. I'm saying that it's not as if they went and recruited from Harvard and Berkeley, and they've actually had more impressive academics in past seasons when that wasn't the whole point, so I don't know. If you want to see the real academic snotheads get whomped, you'll have to make your own show.

But anyway. That Guy (Secretary-Humping Variation) gets on a bus, telling the driver -- who totally cares, and isn't at all going to tell this story later with a lot of uses of the words "fucking" and "girly" -- that this is his first time in New York. Morticia Raspberrysuit comes strolling down the street with her little wheelie-case. That Guy (Self-Amusing Proud Oddball Variation) walks along with his...guitar on his back. Also African-American Woman We All Really, Really Hope Isn't A "Loose Cannon" comes at us, and I'm pretty sure I recognize LaGuardia from the signs. Oh, my travel habits, how they are crazy. Captain Bow Tie is coming to save us, fortunately. And his sidekick, Tweedy Suit Girl, will be there to help. Her superpowers include faxing.

And now, the people who Trump claims "learned the ropes by skipping college," which is kind of the diploma-case-half-empty approach. That Guy (Round, Jolly Variation) comes around a corner. Skinny Blonde Could've-Been-A-Standup-Comic Girl gets off the bus. African-American Guy We All Really, Really Hope Isn't "Intense" is in the subway as well. Generic Dark Hair is a woman on the move. Marcia Crosselganger rides in a taxi. That Guy (Heavily Moussed Variation) approaches! Pink Sweater Girl! And that's full circle, people. The Trumpicopter has to leave us now, so it deposits Trump on the roof, where he gives us that "yooge salary" line we've all been waiting for. Doesn't it feel like we just got this spiel, like, a week and a half ago? It does to me. Sigh. And yet again, he repeats the classic line, "So they too can become a billionaire someday," and now I just think they're teasing me. Not that seeing all of these people glom into one super-being who was, in fact, a billionaire wouldn't be hysterically funny. Because oh, yes, it would.

Trump Limo 3000ZX pulls up to Trump Tower, where a crowd is waiting and cheering as he gets out, just to keep the tone realistic for a serious business event like a job interview. Trump repeats again how much he loves New York City. He thinks, but does not say, "Especially the parts that are MINE, MINE, MINE!" Instead, he yells over the cheering that, here at Trump Tower, the 18 candidates will get their shot at greatness. Or, of course, their shots at life as former reality show contestants. More shots of all the people we just saw follow. Trump wonders, as he does, "Who will succeed? Who will fail? Who will be...the Apprentice?" Only this time, a whole crowd of people yells, "The Apprentice!" with him, because do you know what any freak show needs? More freaks!

Oh, the O-Jays, the merciful O-Jays. In the credits, we learn the following: African-American Woman With Braids is Verna. Secretary-Humper is Alex. Morticia Raspberrysuit is Erin. Quentin's Brother is Michael. Ruffles Girl is Stephanie. Frat President is Todd. Tweedy Suit Girl is Kendra. Guitar Guy is Danny. Bow-Tie Man is Bren. Skinny Blonde is Tana. Round and Jolly is John. Dark Hair is Kristen. Wait, Round and Jolly is actually Brian. I think John was Heavily Moussed. Marcia Crosselganger, who looks nothing like Marcia Cross except in that original taxi shot, is Angie. African-American Woman With Straight Hair is Tara. Wait, maybe Heavily Moussed was Chris. See, I'm all thrown off because Just-Been-Indicted Guy was hidden from me. Goddamn grand jury confidentiality. Pink Sweater Girl is Audrey. African-American Non-Intense Guy is Craig. I apologize for my poor job of explaining who all those people are. If they had given me more than an hour and a half to recover from the last season, it might have gone better. Thanks, scheduling monkeys, for keeping me mired in work. I didn't want to clean my apartment or anything.

Music from a video from the '80s plays as we return to...yes, the New York skyline. Because really, couldn't you look at it all day? At Trump Tower, the elevator doors open, and a guy I feel like I haven't seen up until now, either in the intro or in the credits, steps off. Man, I am in the weeds. Okay, he says he's Chris. That's kind of what I was thinking, although I'd be lying if I claimed I was sure. Robin tells him to put his suitcase aside and wait. Chris explains to us that he's only 21 years old, but he works with super-rich people. And he doesn't see failure as an option, because you can't very well allow yourself to fail when you work with the rich, now, can you? They'll have you killed by offering their lunch money to the violent who have fallen on hard times. Here comes Erin, who, Sars would note, does not walk well in those heels. "Clomp, clomp," her feet say. Others file in. Tana interviews that while she's "not one to prejudge," she definitely sees some losers among the other candidates. But not in a prejudging kind of way. And just as she says that some of them are not "Mr. Trump material," the doors open, and Danny and his ugly red leisure suit enter the lobby. (Not that there's any other kind of red leisure suit, really.) John explains that Danny apparently "marches to the beat of a different drummer, and apparently, that drummer loves polyester." Hee. The Crosselganger -- now back to looking kind of Crossy during this sequence -- eyes Danny with disgust. I feel you, Crosselganger. Bren tells us that he is that most delightful of things -- "a little man with a big mouth." The caption says he is a "prosecutor" as he explains to us that people will underestimate him and put their guard down, and then he will...swoop in, or file a motion in limine, or something. He looks meek, but at night, he becomes Litigatron.

In other news, Alex rubs his chin thoughtfully, or in a manner that would be thoughtful if he had more thoughts. Michael gives his opinion that some of the women are spoiled, and they all got lots of help from their daddies. Which apparently, he was able to conclude by looking at them. Interesting observation, there. I don't suppose Michael is going to turn out to be Fuck Fuck Fuck How Can All These Chicks Be Smarter Than I Am I Can Feel My Balls Shrinking By The Minute Guy or anything. Erin reminds us in an interview that she's "an intellectual." Which makes sense, because that's what they cast for, after all. That's why there's an essay test on Great Literature Other Than Vanity Fair. Erin further explains that she intends to prove that women can be "sexy and powerful." Considering her hair and blank expression, it isn't clear just how proving this has anything to do with her, but I'm willing to wait and see what she comes up with. ["I'm not: Shut up, Erin. Reverse sexism is so '89." -- Sars]

Trump calls for Robin, who sends the Apprenti in to meet with Trump. She directs the women to go in first and stay on the left (their left? Trump's left? She doesn't say), and the candidates file in. Todd informs us that all the people in the group are "sharks," and they want the same job he wants. Those sharks. He says it will come down to the Boardroom. Survival of the fittest! I can't wait. Maybe blood will be shed. Or the entire thing will switch over to a documentary about Galapagos turtles.

In the Boardroom, the candidates are stared down by Trump, George, and Carolyn. Carolyn's Brain: "Hmm. Fewer tube dresses than last time, although the off-the-shoulder green dust ruffle is unfortunate." Trump welcomes everyone to the "job interview." What's awesome is that rather than leading with how awesome George and Carolyn are when he introduces them, Trump focuses on how "very famous" they've gotten. Not that he doesn't also say they're "great executives." Because he does. And they are. But...did he mention how famous? Trump goes on to say that for the last two rounds, he pitted the men against the women in an effort to prove that all stereotypes are secretly accurate, because women are all about backstabbing and lying and pettiness, and that's before you marry them. (Kidding! Happy wedding! Hope you got a toaster!) This time, Trump is eschewing gender warfare in favor of class warfare. What he's doing is splitting them into two teams with "approximately the same IQ" who are "approximately the same age." What's the difference? Have we mentioned the "smarts" thing, because...yeah, I wasn't sure. We did, oh, good. Anyway, the "glaring difference" is that half of them have college degrees, and half have "only a high school diploma." LoopTrump tells us that both groups have been successful, but then we return to LiveTrump, who tells us that it turns out that the high school grads make three times as much money as the college grads. So Trump's plan is to see whether "practical experience is more important than academic knowledge." And this will be a great opportunity to learn exactly that. Welcome to America's referendum on the value of higher education.

Trump repeats last year's rule that the PM who wins will get an exemption (if necessary) the week. He promises them that they're "very talented and very smart," but tells them that there will be only one winner. I also love the part where he tells them they're going to be "living in hell." Well, the kind of hell with boom operators, a giant pretend apartment, and lots and lots and lots of the attention you've been craving since you were an infant licking the lens of your Mommy and Daddy's video camera. Trump wishes them luck and sends them up to the suite, and they take their leave. Brian interviews that he was excited about the division of the teams, because he believes in "street smarts" in business. I do not believe in his shapeless gray t-shirt. And what does Brian think will happen if you don't have "street smarts"? Why, you will fall victim to a terrible act of circus-related violence. At least I assume that's what Brian means when he says you'll be "cut by the juggler." You have to watch out for the clown, too. Mean bastard.

More skyline porn takes us back to Trump Tower, where the candidates are ready to check out the suite. It's a new pad, although we don't get a suite number for it, so I'll be calling it the Love Palace until told otherwise. The decorating scheme can be described as All Neutrals, All The Time, as it is a veritable hodgepodge of dark grays and browns, with beige thrown in just to make it a little flashy. They all say, "Nice, nice, nice," and "It's just beautiful," but what they're thinking is, "Could we not get, like, one red chair?" Tana directs everyone's attention to the "dream kitchen," so named because its checkerboard floor will show up in one of your nightmares anytime now. I can't believe anyone put that floor in a space that's going to be on TV, because I don't think I've ever seen anything so distracting to the eye. Tana interviews -- and her curvy eyebrows underscore -- that she loved the suite and "could get used to this lifestyle, really!" At the sight of the typical champagne/chocolate/caviar spread, Stephanie and some of the other women clap their hands in delight, because that's what you do when you can't think of words. Champagne is poured, a toast is shared. "Oooooh, shall we read the card?" Tana squeals. Man. Less squealing, please. The card they open says that first, they have to sort themselves into who has a college degree and who doesn't, and then they'll need to choose team names. Oh, team names. Always the best part of any premiere, and by "best," I mean "most demonstrative of fundamental incompetence."

Banter follows in which John asks whether, rather than referring to the non-college-educated as "high school," they can please be referred to as "the wealthier of the two groups." Oh, snap! Those entrepreneurs. You can't keep them down for a minute. Plucky! The collegians are shown looking irritated, although God only knows where those shots come from. Verna tells us that she can assure the high-school graduates with their big paychecks that "it's only going to stay that way for a quick minute." For she is Verna, and she rules all.

A bunch of the Street-Smartians meet up and discuss how they'll win because they have nothing to lose, and how they want to call themselves Net Worth, and there's just so much plot here that I can hardly stand it. John explains that if he gets beaten by a Harvard grad (not that there are any), he'll play it off as losing to a Harvard grad (who isn't here), but the Harvard grad (were there one present) would have to be much more embarrassed about losing to him. So in short, do you think John is naturally inferior because he lacks a college degree? Hey, he does, too!

Kristen explains to the group that she was planning on being a lawyer, and then she found out how much money they make, and she dropped out of school and moved to L.A. Now...I'm the first to tell you that you won't automatically get rich as a lawyer (God knows). But the idea of deciding you affirmatively can't be rich as a lawyer is stupid. If, as she says, "it's all about the money" (and how fucking sad is that?), then you can certainly make a lot of money as a lawyer. Especially if you like boxes and boxes of documents. This story just doesn't make any sense. Tara tells us in an interview that she wasn't so sure about this arrangement of teams until she learned that "the net worth of [her] team was three times greater than the net worth of the other team," and then she felt better. That's not what Trump said, of course -- he said "make three times as much money," which isn't the same as Net Worth, but...that's okay.

The Street-Smartians have a team meeting, and John lectures (who died and made him Papa Smurf, by the way?) that one of Trump's very own books says that hiring "attitude and experience" is sometimes the way to go, rather than education. He orders them to agree to a pact to "work [their] asses off together," and also to keep everything that's said in the Boardroom to the Boardroom, which I guarantee you? Will not happen. That isn't the way people are. But it's a nice thought. Brian busts out his set of orders, which are that he will tell everyone what he's upset about directly, and if they don't do the same and they surprise him in the Boardroom, he has only one piece of advice: "Buckle your chin strap." Because he's taking your ass mountain-biking, dickweed, and he's not kidding around.

Over at the Book-Smartians, Danny is suggesting that they all get titles, and he wants to be the CMO -- Chief Morale Officer. I shit you not. A bunch of the women cheer, because they are stupid. And then Danny yells, "UNBELIEVABLE!", which apparently he wants to make into a catch phrase, having narrowly chosen it over "We're GRRRRRRREAT!" Stephanie, whose occupation is listed as "Supply Chain Consultant" (whuh?), tells us that Danny was just great and energetic and made everyone happy and excited. And if you're in a bad mood, Danny will be there to perk you up. Unless you're in a bad mood because you want to beat the small intestines out of Danny, in which case his encouragement won't make you feel quite as awesome. And then we see him say "UNBELIEVABLE!" again. He must die. He tells us, in an interview in which he is wearing a raspberry shirt and light salmon jacket (lovely), that the rest of the candidates might not see him as a CEO, but that's only because they don't see all his experience in business. And, probably, because he's acting like he's on speed and alcohol and uppers and downers and Sudafed and baby aspirin and Pez straight from the Popeye head.

So now, it's time for the Book-Smartians to discuss a team name. Bren suggests "Shiznit," and as much as I don't like Erin, she does respond to that with exactly the "yeah, HILARIOUS" attitude it deserves. Someone suggests Einstein. Cornerstone? ("Too long, or something," Erin says.) Ronin? (Uh, "Ronin"?) Hmm, Victory, Legacy -- ah, Legacy! This one seems to be on track, until Danny mocks it with his guitar, and nothing can stand up to the guitar mocking, so obviously, that name is discarded. Or maybe it's because Danny likes it and is serenading it with his guitar. I can't tell. Either way, his guitar kills it dead. Verna interviews that Danny's idea to write a team song was kind of ass, which...it's going to be a very long season if everything Danny does that's ass gets called out in an interview, so I hope everyone is prepared to pace themselves. Someone suggests Diplomacy, which...is that a pun? Like, from diploma? They know "diplomacy" doesn't have anything to do with diplomas, at least in English, right? And then Stephanie says, "Magna." Which is possibly the worst team name ever, coming right behind "Mosaic." But they love it, and they're really tired of listening to Danny play the guitar, so that'll about do it. Alex explains, in case you didn't know, that "magna" comes from "magna cum laude," Latin for "second best." ["And I liked Alex, but I will point out again that, if you fling that term around, you'd better know how to pronounce it. 'Loud-eh' or 'loud-ay.' NOT 'LAWD.'" -- Sars] Which is just how they hope to finish. Oh, those smarties. Seriously, is there any reason you wouldn't call your team Summa instead? Doesn't this suggest that they don't know what "summa cum laude" is? Because it kind of seems like it does. Tragically, Danny apparently gets the rest of the team to participate in a chant of "UNBELIEVABLE!" before their meeting breaks up. This is going so, so badly. (And I think that marked the first of about six times that Miss Alli's Mom remarked, "That guy has got to go." She said it over and over again, like Rain Man. Danny has reduced my mother to incoherence. Jerk.) Oh, and then Danny's like, "Rock and roll, brutha!", and I want to die. And then they say "UNBELIEVABLE" again and I want to get hurt bad and suffer and then die.

The Street-Smartians overhear the celebrating from Magna, and Tara declares it "corny." With which I agree. John comments that his team might not be as "rah-rah" as the collegians, but he thinks Magna is "all show, no go." Yeah, I had that car once. They start in on a team name, and Tana doesn't want a "little pussy name." How about "Dreadnought"? She wants a "powerful bang name." Hee hee. She said "powerful bang." Brian suggests "Brass Balls, Inc." Which is great, unless, of course, you're a girl. I really wish one of the women had come back with "Tits of Steel." Brian goes on to tempt the departing Michael Powell by interviewing that "in business, you have to have balls. Big balls." For, you know, the powerful bang.

More New York porn transitions us to the daytime hours, in which Todd is explaining to Alex that he's going to be bringing him to the final table, on the basis that he thinks Alex blew it on the production side, presumably on the staffing issue. Although he says "upselling," an expression that isn't entirely clear to me, but one that I think just means "selling," in this case. Alex tells Todd that he thinks Danny was a problem, but Todd failed to control him. "I don't know who's worse, Danny or Todd," Alex says. "Todd is a terrible leader. Danny is a steamroller with a drunk driver at the helm." Well...nice metaphor, except...is Danny his own drunk driver? Or is Todd the drunk driver? It's a short exercise in figures of speech, there, Alex. You don't want to be losing people in the middle. Todd assures Alex that Alex won't go anyway -- it will be him or Danny. They shake on it. Elsewhere, Stephanie and Danny have a chat in which she says that she thinks they did great with the marketing, and the claims that they didn't are a crock. "You and I did not lose this on marketing," she says. Danny says that Stephanie is smart, and she knows the marketing was successful (snerk), so only Todd remains to take the blame. Only Todd! Todd sucks! Marketing rules! The world belongs to those who make math jokes!

And then...the Uggs. Oh, Erin's Uggs. She's wearing a green minidress that is already very, very disturbing, and she's got it paired with brown Uggs as she flops face-first onto the foot of the bed where Todd is hanging out. She tells him she doesn't want to "harm" anyone on the team. He sympathizes with her desire to be positive. He does not share it, though. She interviews that "emotions are running so high." After, you know, the three days in which they've all bonded. And...and...then there's this interview, where Erin is wearing a...pink blanket? Bath mat? Horse cozy? I have no idea. Whatever it is, it's very, very furry and unfortunate. Erin just doesn't want to participate in the hurting. No hurting! But the hurting is inevitable, so you might as well throw yourself into it. To wit, the team picks up its luggage and heads for the Boardroom, as the distinctive music plays.

Ding! They get off the elevator, and Robin sends them in to see the Viceroys and Trump. Once Trump is seated, he berates them again for losing to high-school people. Alex says he's embarrassed, irrespective of who beat them. They can try to keep that up, but Trump isn't going to hear it. He returns again to how he himself went to college, and now he thinks it might have been for nothing, based on...you know, a day at Burger King, because isn't that what your degree in philosophy is supposed to help you with? Todd says he didn't. Asked what his strategy was, Todd says he divided the team into restaurant on one side and marketing/promotion on the other. Trump asks about the cash register problem, known to higher mortals as "point of sale." George points out that the other team had three people trained on point of sale, but actually, according to Brian, they had four, I think. Four of the women. Isn't that right? Maybe I'll go back and check. Anyway, George says the whole team "should be ashamed" that they blew it at the cash register. Yeah, I kind of agree. A pretty stupid way to lose what's supposed to be a marketing task. Carolyn, asked about how the team did, says she thinks "the promotion was horrific." Hee. "I have never seen a worse promotion, ever." Snerk. I'm not sure I have either, actually. With the guitar and everything? Man. Yeah, that hurt. George says he couldn't tell from the promotion what they were selling, or what throwing the ball had to do with anything. He asks how people on the street were supposed to know what was going on. Danny insists that it doesn't matter, because he was only supposed to get people's attention. Carolyn points out that that's not really right -- he's supposed to be getting people to buy a particular item, not to just come in the door because he gets their attention or obstructs the sidewalk or scares the shit out of them or whatever the hell he was doing.