Finale

Okay, there's really no way to say this except to just say it: the previouslys and the first set of commercials take 20 minutes. I'm not kidding. They take 20 minutes. One-third of this one-hour finale consists of Trump voice-overs in which he tells us about things that have already occurred. He reminds us of every fool he's already fired, and he fusses over the stories of the final tasks. You can read all of the recaps for the 16 episodes if you like. Because I'm saying? Twenty minutes. Great for those of us navigating the end of threecap season; not so great for those of us who have better things to do than look at each other going, "Oh, yes, I remember that early episode, in which the task was to run a dinosaur-washing business out of Central Park." This makes 17 episodes plus a clip show, people. Ken Burns couldn't drag this out any more. Can we get on with it, before my retinas have to be replaced by futuristic doodads? Because I don't want to say it's possible to make me tired of watching TV, butreally, y'all. Really.

When the long national nightmare of nostalgia is over, we swoop into the live hall, where a big plasma screen is presenting the show logo, and the live band is playing the music -- not the O'Jays' opening theme, but the end theme that accompanies the non-fired contestants back to the suite. "Dum-dum -- dum-dum -- dum-dum -- da-da-da-da-da-da dum-dum -- dum-dum," and so forth. Only they're doing it with sort of a hipster beat that's not working for me at all. I feel like I'm at the worst awards dinner ever. Which, come to think of it, I sort of am. The announcer informs us that we are at New York University, which apparently really needs money to pay forI don't know, khakis and beer or whatever. ["More like nose rings and beer, but: same principle." -- Sars] We see Tana and Kendra. And it wasn't until a few people pointed it out that I really put my finger on it, but it does look -- and I emphasize look, because I have no information -- like Tana had a little something done between the shooting of the episodes and the finale. Her nose looks different, her teeth look differenther entire face looks more flat and balanced. It's possible that it's just that she had access to proper television makeup and somebody to tell her to make her hair less poodle-rrific, but I'm voting for Extreme Makeover: Iowa Edition.

For whatever reason, the Boardroom set has been rejiggered to resemble a courtroom instead, with Trump sitting up on the bench. It's like Trump isn't just hiring and firing -- he's granting pardons and condemnations. Trump judges you and your mortal soul! To one side of him, and at a lower level (obviously) are George and Boyfriend Bill. To the other, Carolyn and Kelly. Off in the "jury box," scribbling notes to each other and waving to their moms because almost none of them will get to talk, are the previously eliminated contestants, sorted into Magnamians and Net Worthians. Book Smarts! Street Smarts! No smarts at all! And at what would be counsel table, we see Tana and Kendra. I reallydon't understand taking a show with an iconic set, like the Boardroom set, and moving the entire thing to what looks like a courtroom. I mean, don't get me wrong -- I love Judge Mathis, and I really, really love Marilyn Milian. But if there's nobody there to look at Trump and tell him he's not fooling anyone and he did too key that person's car, it's just not the same.

Anyway, the audience burns some more time as Trump ineffectually -- and looking rather bored, I must say -- waggles his hand like the audience is supposed to shut up. Of course, Trump doesn't really want them to shut up, because Trump never wants anyone to shut up, because he's Trump, after all, and the more noise you make, the more important he becomes. From the mad cheering, I would say these people clearly believe that they are here to see something else entirely and are about to be sorely disappointed. I'm not kidding -- if you consider the amount of substance in this show, the screaming live crowd will indeed begin to look a little funny. And borderline tragic, because they aren't even going to be here long enough to need a potty break.

Trump turns immediately to Tana. "You lost control of your team," he tells her. "Absolutely not," she cuts in. Because this was not a question, Trump ignores her response and goes on. "You laughed at your team. You called them the Three Stooges." Tana says that she "did poke fun," and Trump wants to know why. He doesn't believe in making fun of your employees, after all. He thinks you should just call them total losers and be up front about it. Tana calls the trash-talking "a mistake on [her] part," because she kind of has to. The stooges are in the room, after all. It's not like she can start talking about which one is the Shemp.

Tana does everything she can to suck up in case her team is asked to comment on her performance, saying that she couldn't have done the task without her team's help, which would be a lot more convincing if she hadn't been not only shit-talking them to Carolyn endlessly, but also insulting them to everyone she could find at the event. This is one of those "how dumb do you think we are?" moments that make you wonder whether people hear themselves. Or see themselves on television. Or read about themselves on the internet, not that I recommend that. The fact is that nothing she says now is going to make up for those little faces she was making for the camera behind Kristen's back and all of that. I mean, talking about how you "had to depend on these three idiots" is not the kind of thing you can later claim you were saying to rally the troops. Tana says she shouldn't have "judge[d] them on their experience," which is a hilarious and passive-aggressive way of saying they still sucked, but she shouldn't have assumed the sucking would continue. I think she honestly believes that she's being called out for misjudging them, which is totally not the point. Idiots or not, stooges or not, Trump is talking about how she talked to and about them, not whether she correctly assessed their talents or lack thereof.