After an outwardly mature but secretly very stressful dinner at Grand Central Station, the teams meet Trump, Bill and Carolyn, and some Microsoft executives at NASDAQ, which is apparently identical to Parker Posey's secret lair in Josie And The Pussycats. The task: create a one-minute promo for a Microsoft product called LiveMeeting (Just Like A Meeting, But On The Computer). Alla and Felisha fight over PM while pretending not to, get super-creepy super-fast, and Felisha finally becomes PM for the simple reason that Alla's in charge either way, so it's no skin off her ass. Contrast with the well-oiled machine that is Team Excel, who agree seemingly telepathically that Rebecca could use their obvious upcoming win more than Randal could.
Felisha and Alla then go so crazy you can't even keep track of what's going on -- Felisha's the director and Alla the actor, or the other way around, or both at once, or something, and for a while Felisha is the Secretary of the Treasury and Alla's the diplomat to the Lower East Side but then there's a coup and Jar-Jar Binks talks Amanda Woodward into taking a drug test or something, I don't know exactly, it was all a blur, but the point is this: a whole bunch of bullshit and hustle, and nothing really happening except Alla getting pretty frustrated at Felisha for not remembering her place and daring to have a correct opinion because "Alla Is Awesome."
They spend the shoot fighting so badly -- and pointlessly! -- that even their crew is eager to cobra both their mean blonde asses, and then in the editing bay learn they've produced something in excess of their mandate to the tune of like 250%, so Alla recreates the video from scratch. This results in something not unlike a gun pointed right at your head, firing over and over, only instead of bullets, it shoots words. The Microsoft execs, between trying to read the words zipping across the screen, getting more and more angry at Capital Edge, and feeling their time being wasted, are excellent.
In contrast, of course, we find Rebecca and Randal smoothly and effortlessly producing the same concept as Alla and Felisha, originally: a narrative where your life is on the verge of collapse until you learn about LiveMeeting. The only problem Excel has here is an actor who could never hope to match Rebecca's level of intensity, because who could, so they just do it themselves, because Randal and Rebecca can do anything, with a minimum of bullshit. Carolyn somewhat approvingly asks how long the video took them to accomplish, which causes Rebecca to get very damn intense until Randal tells her to chill. The Microsoft team is pretty nice about the video, but only really impressed by it in retrospect, once they've gotten a gander at the horrific graphic salad Alla came up with. Excel is pronounced the "clear winner."
Alla and Felisha have an ugly dinner while Excel enjoys their reward -- a trip around Manhattan on a schooner with Randal's wife (exactly as adorable and charming as you'd assume) and Rebecca's boyfriend (exactly as passive and smart as you'd think, and with a certain Napoleon Dynamite flair happening). Felisha weeps into her Waldorf about how hard her life has been, so apparently Felisha does not read The Smoking Gun, and this part is brilliant: Alla's doing her version of "sympathetic" -- nodding, looking bored, grunting -- inter-cut with interview footage in which she calls Felisha "pathetic" and says that she finds depression not only useless but also hilarious, and that she will use this information, just like everything else she's seen, to utterly destroy Felisha.
That night, Randal and Felisha -- maybe the two nicest people ever on this show -- sit down to talk about ways to be diplomatic about Alla's weaknesses in the Boardroom. Bad idea; again we cut back and forth against Alla laughing maniacally and sharpening her knives. In the Boardroom, Alla jumps on Felisha's throat within seconds of seating herself, throwing every single thing she's been saving directly -- Felisha's weakness, her inability to lead, et cetera -- onto the table. It's just like their commercial, only super-mean! After a pretty surreal Extra Bonus Footage moment that I highly recommend you view, in which Felisha causes not only Trump himself but Carolyn and possibly Bill to break into tears, Alla goes balls-out: openly lying about the facts, berating Felisha horrifically, and scaring even Donald Trump. It is awesome.
Trump finally fires Felisha, citing the fact that -- unlike Alla -- she has a heart, a soul, and the capacity for kindness that I guess spells failure in business. Alla gets very Boris and Natasha at this point, jumping up and trying to tiptoe out of the room without anyone seeing her. Trump actually earns my respect for once, barking, "Alla! Sit." Sheepishly, the not-so-stealthy Alla sits, is called a monstrous and unmanageable animal, and is also fired. The two ladies speak their piece in the Crazy Taxi, Felisha making more of her hilarious and cute faces, and then we end on the best Triumphant Return To The Suite footage ever: Donald Trump himself, striding down the hall in slo-mo, to notify Rebecca and Randal they've just gone from the Final Four to the Final Two.
Well, the most important thing here is the clip we see again in the previouslies, where Carolyn told Adam and Felisha, "There are five people remaining right now, and I think by far the two of you are the weakest," and Felisha's mind was blown. It's a sad but a very real character-revealing moment for Felisha, because it took her a relatively short amount of time to adjust to this information -- after she was done gasping and going "wow" -- but by the end of the exchange with Carolyn, she knew it was about setting her sights higher, and it was nice, and you know I like Felisha for this reason. I wish she wouldn't take it so personally, but that's a tough pill to swallow. You know Melissa, maybe even Kristi, would have been like, "Shut up! You are the weakest!" And I don't even know what Carolyn would do if you pulled that, but I don't ever want to find out.
Then there are credits, which are more interesting than ever, because of how you forget half these people ever existed, but also because week, presumably, we'll get to see our guys have to manage these bastards, and -- hopefully -- the biggest train wrecks are the ones they'll have to deal with. Where are the ratings in telling Chris or James what to do? No, I want -- demand -- Markus, Josh, Kristi, Toral, Melissa! I love that part! I'm so excited just thinking about it! Oh God: Clay!
Purposeful snare drums get you all tense and warlike as we join this week's Corporate Weasel Death Watch: Alla's asking Randal and Rebecca which of her two teammates will be coming back, and they agree that the only person who would know that is her. There's an unspoken but agreed-upon point here, among the three of them, that she's really been the only true player on Capital Edge for weeks. Like it's these three actual players sitting around knowing they are the real competition, and not even having to talk about it. I like that. Alla interviews that, "on a personal level," she's more interested in seeing Felisha return to the suite. Frankly, me too. I think part of the irritation you get with a Markus or a Clay or Jennifer W. is, "There's no way this person is going to win, toss 'em out," and while both Felisha and Adam pretty much fall into that category, Felisha's still more interesting as a contender. Also interesting is how suddenly Rebecca and Randal don't even bother with speaking out loud anymore, they just send each other psychic messages using their eyeballs and massive brains. It's awesome.
Alla then does something really bizarre. Because she cannot handle the stress of waiting, she pulls this Cruel Intentions-esque chair out into the middle of the front living room so she can stare at the front door, and stare and stare, and maybe run Adam through with a fireplace poker if he's the one that comes back. Rebecca and Randal accompany her in this pursuit, even though it seems like they also find it kind of creepy. It reminds me of those lordships or whatever that spent the whole Black Plague sitting between giant bonfires so that no germs could get through, and all their visitors had to deal with the drama of that. Alla interviews how she "didn't let [her] friendship with Felisha affect" what was done in the Boardroom. Dude, we know. She does say that Felisha is the stronger player of the two, and cites this as another reason she would rather have Felisha back. I don't know if that's exactly a lie, but it's not really the truth either.
Alla then does something really bizarre. Because she cannot handle the stress of waiting, she pulls this Cruel Intentions-esque chair out into the middle of the front living room so she can stare at the front door, and stare and stare, and maybe run Adam through with a fireplace poker if he's the one that comes back. Rebecca and Randal accompany her in this pursuit, even though it seems like they also find it kind of creepy. It reminds me of those lordships or whatever that spent the whole Black Plague sitting between giant bonfires so that no germs could get through, and all their visitors had to deal with the drama of that. Alla interviews how she "didn't let [her] friendship with Felisha affect" what was done in the Boardroom. Dude, we know. She does say that Felisha is the stronger player of the two, and cites this as another reason she would rather have Felisha back. I don't know if that's exactly a lie, but it's not really the truth either.
Alla jumps up, gasping, "Oh, thank God," as Felisha enters. That one Apprentice song that sounds like the beginning of "Why," by Annie Lennox, which is reserved only for the rare occasion when people have emotions, begins to play. Randal and Rebecca smile silently at each other as the hug between Alla and Felisha stretches out into Far Awkwardia. I don't know what else they talk about during the hug because I don't speak twin language. (On that note: you know what show I really, really like? Related. I feel badly about being the only one, but since you didn't watch it, take it from me: awesome. Really good work. ["I watched it, twice, and I'm sorry but you're overruled." -- Sars]) The hug still goes on. It's weird. They heave and cry and Rebecca and Randal demonstrate what a normal hug looks like as they welcome Felisha back. Even Alla cries a little, tiny crystalline tears that fall and shatter icily on the fake parquet. Felisha interviews that being told you're "the weakest link" could make you "almost wanna go home." She tells them that the Boardroom was "dirty" and not fun, and then sniffs and wheels her little suitcase back to the bedroom. Alla calls that they're all going to dinner, which Felisha thinks is a great idea, because "dinner" is where they keep the alcohol.
Rebecca and Randal look freaked out and stare all fidgety into space, because emotions are weird, especially if they're totally out of hand, and most especially if they're coming from somebody like Alla. Back in the bedroom, Alla stares into Felisha's eyes for a minute or two as Felisha babbles and processes -- "I can't take anger forward into this" and "If [we] don't beat Excel I'm going home" -- and then is pretty neat because of how she snaps Felisha out of it. "Okay, get dressed. Let's go." I know this seemed heartless to some viewers, and it's not always the right way to get things done, but here it's pretty effective, stopping a boring train in its tracks while simultaneously reminding Felisha that her seconds-from-now breakdown is not necessary. It's very much like when Dieter talked L.C. down after she caught Jason making out with that awful Jessica on Laguna Beach. I admire this strange ability to completely destroy your feelings as though you're playing Asteroid. Gratefully, Felisha steps out of the circle or whatever, and remembers that quashing your WASP emotions is what this country was founded on.
(Slight recapping aside: it was at this point that I was visited by a horrible beastie, of the six-pounder winged variety, and without even thinking, I grabbed a can of Lysol and sprayed it into submission, and now it's in a bag outside my door. Yes, that's a bastard way to die, and yes, I feel badly about that, but more importantly: I cannot say for sure that it was a wasp, because it had certain characteristics of the Great Cat sub-family, felidae panthera, like the roar and the fur and the giant teeth, but I would say that if it were in fact a wasp, this is all very fitting as a metaphor for what happens in this episode.)
Over at Grand Central Station, they clink their glasses to the Final Four, and sup on oysters. Randal asks -- in a very "the producers just made a conversational suggestion" kind of way -- what they all gave up to be here. Alla mangles that she's missing her ten-month-old's first steps, and Randal mentions that he and his wife have been married for less than a year. Rebecca interviews that, as nice as the dinner was, it would have been nicer had it included her boyfriend or friends -- she'd be "actually enjoying the night, as opposed to semi-enjoying," which is very Rebecca of her to say, but not as much as the follow-up: "…and also thinking about the competition." Alla asks Randal how he feels, being the only guy left, and he admits it's really weird, how Excel was "completely decimated" so quickly. Rebecca asks if he expected this outcome, which is kind of a weird question considering his demonstrated and lovely humility, and he admits he didn't expect that "no guys would make it." Then, awesomely, he interviews that dinner was "nice," but that he looks forward to crushing Alla and Felisha nonetheless. See? They're psychic now.
The morning, Alla looks like the exact hell you'd think she looks like in the morning, and learns that they'll be meeting Trump at NASDAQ at 9. Trump's waiting for them with two unfulfilled executive types, and here's what he's saying: "I use a lot of Microsoft and it works. So I'm very happy." The executives -- apparently from Microsoft -- nod and smile at this weird statement, because they don't know that he pulls this shit on somebody before every task. He then commands them to go downstairs so they can meet the teams in a very strange way. There's always something really awkward at this exact point in the episode, and I can't figure out why. His total lack of social skills? ["The use of 'Microsoft,' 'works,' and 'happy' in the same sentence? Because Wing, Toque, and I had to hit pause to let that shit sink in." -- Sars]
Alla is dressed like a crazy person, a concept I'm well aware has lost all meaning over this season. However: she's wearing a jacket that looks like it's quilted, with giant Victorian flowers all over it, trimmed with huge expanses of slate-gray seal fur, and flowery scarf best described as "menstrual," with a complicated white shirt underneath. She looks even more Versace-baroque than usual -- and not in the good way, not like there is a good way -- but of course she makes it work, somehow. Her makeup is even prettier than normal, and her hair looks touchably soft. This is the second-weirdest outfit so far, although nothing will trump her space diplomat attire. It's almost hard to focus on anybody when she's wearing this costume, but it is notable that Randal is wearing a pinstripe suit and looks like a seven-foot pile of a million unmarked bucks, although there are a few demerits for the three-point pocket square he's rocking, because it adds a weird concierge vibe.
Trump gets all Trumpy about how NASDAQ is so super-amazing and the most powerful, most hair-covered stock market ever to swing its economy-setting Adjusted Base Period Market Value Index around, and how other stock markets cringe and scatter when it comes stalking down the road, and how it's gigantic and powerful and will monitor and trade your shares into submission before kicking your publicly-traded ass out of a cab onto the sidewalk with just a few pennies on the dollar for your trouble, and wipe its composite index on the leather interior after doing so, because the NASDAQ doesn't believe in love, just its own animalistic needs. Man, I hate when he over-identifies with the weekly sponsor, to whom we're tenuously connected by the fact that Microsoft is traded on NASDAQ, but also NASDAQ is traded on Microsoft, in terms of software, and then he says NASDAQ trades the 3,000 "top growth companies" -- gross, somehow -- and that Microsoft is a $300B company. He introduces the teams to Janice (really unfulfilled- and resentful-seeming) and Dustin (That Guy to the MAX, moderately attractive but greasier even than James), and points out that Bill is here again.
The task involves promoting MSOLM, a product you already know about if you have any reason to, so why should I do their footwork? It's an internet-meeting collaboration software package where you don't have to leave your office to work on projects and take care of stuff. They have to create a 60-second video about it, and have a professional camera crew and editing team to help them do it, all about the power of MSOLM, the most creative and informative of which will be chosen by the execs. You don't even get to blink before things get incredibly awesome on the Capital Edge side:
Felisha: "I'd love to be Project Manager."
Alla: "Oh." (Literally, that's what she says: "Oh.")
Felisha: "I mean, I would like to be Project Manager."
Alla: "Oh. But actually, wouldn't you rather that I were the Project Manager, though?"
Felisha: "I just want to win, Alla …"
Alla: "-- So you're saying you don't want to be Project Manager?"
Felisha: "No, I kind of do. I mean, it wouldn't suck. I mean, it's okay if you make me."
Alla: "I'm not listening…la la la…"
Felisha [interview]: "I have something to prove, and if we lose I'm going home anyway, so there's no downside to me being PM."
Alla: "I am not sure that I believe that you really want to be Project Manager."
Felisha: "I…think I do?"
Alla: "Fine, but I don't think you really mean it."
Felisha: "Okay, I do, but why don't you be in charge of everything, since you like making videos and this is a video."
Alla: "Okay, but I need you to do everything I say, okay? I'm completely in charge of every aspect of this task, and you answer to me, okay?"
Felisha: "As Project Manager, I'm comfortable with that."
Alla: "Word."
Think I'm exaggerating? I'm not. Meanwhile, this is how that conversation goes on the Excel side: Rebecca says, "I'd like to be the Project Manager," then interviews that this is a good idea because Randal has the best record of the four, and she has the worst. And this is Randal's response: "I'd like to get you a win. You deserve a win, and we're going to get you one." Could you die? I could just die. How awesome are they right now? "If we have to steal every video camera in this city and use Radio Shack to do it, by damn that's what we'll do."
Alla takes charge -- on Felisha's behalf, of course -- in talking to the production team, as Felisha stands adoringly off to the side, adding token input. Bill watches. They give a good impression of working together, but the fact that they use something so mundane as actual words, instead of vibeing at each other with their thoughts and reaching a hive-mind consensus, makes it seem plebeian after the whole R&R: The Step In Human Evolution show. Cap Edge describe their concept: a female executive freaking out about all the indignities and annoyances of having to go to meetings (cabs are stupid, bags are heavy), and wouldn't it be better to sit on your ass and have meetings through the power of the internet? Good concept, right? Strong narrative, showing just how terrifically badly we need this product, and how much easier and more beautiful our lives will be if we pay a billion dollars for it. Felisha will be the actor, Alla will direct the footage, for which here is Felisha's justification, and it's awesome: "I'm a better actor than Alla, so I'm taking the active role." First of all, NO YOU ARE NOT, as every episode thus far as demonstrated. Secondly: NO YOU ARE NOT, because she's still Project Manager no matter how you lie about it, to me or to yourself or to anybody. She admits that it was a tough decision, because she's basically delegating subordination to herself, and giving Alla creative control even though she doesn't think that's what she wants. Neil Gaiman has written suicide scenarios less complicated and depressing than this, and that's like, his entire job.
Felisha: "Make sure this is collaborative, okay?"
Alla: "Uh, that won't be a problem. We're a team."
Bill: "This is sickening."
Felisha: "But check out how I'm letting you drive every aspect of this task."
Alla: "So, are you saying you don't want me to direct?"
Felisha: "No, I just want to have a role of some kind."
Alla: "What, all of a sudden?"
Bill: "Wow."
Alla interviews in her best Emily Gilmore tone that Felisha is basically giving her shit about pretending to be in charge, and like, if she doesn't totally ignore Felisha and do the opposite of everything Felisha says and fight her on every point, they are going to lose, and Felisha will go home. What is the point of having a sidekick if she's splitting hairs like this? She's really just doing it for Felisha's own good.
Alla: "I am not the Project Manager! Except I totally am, just like every week!"
Felisha: "I'm a better actor. If you try to tell me how to act, I will slit your throat. Being the better actor is all I have! And even that is a lie!"
Bill gets worried and tries to figure things out: Felisha is really confused here, he thinks nervously. She's the Project Manager, but she's not the Project Manager, but it's Alla we're talking about, so this is like, basically, a movie about a little kid sitting on Mommy's lap pretending to drive. Only they're both grown women. And for some reason Mommy wants the car to crash. "I am really confused right now," he thinks. "And terrified!"
Alla: "Okay, I'll be completely subordinate to you, as long as you remember that I own you and I'm totally in charge in every way."
Felisha: "Agreed, just as long as you remember that I'm in charge, except for how you are."
Alla: "I'm moderately annoyed that you're pretending to have an autonomous will, but mostly I'm bored. Let's go shoot this mother."
Felisha: "Speaking as a Project Manager, I don't want to step on any toes, but I'd like to offer the possibility that I am willing to sign off on that course of action."
Alla then totally gets all "by the way, Miss Project Manager" about things and reminds Felisha that the crew is still waiting for her command. She then informs Felisha A) what that command should be, B) that she is an asshole for not having given it already, C) how much time they've wasted now that Alla's had to explain basic shit to Felisha, and D) that she doesn't want to hit or be mean to Felisha, but Felisha's just so fuckin' dumb, and sometimes Alla can't help herself.
Felisha: "I have now delegated my entire existence."
Alla [interview]: "She doesn't want me to outshine her performance, but she also wants to win. I will have to step on her face to save her life. I am become death, the destroyer of worlds."
Felisha: "I hope Alla likes my outfit."
Meanwhile, we check in with some people who have a hope of success. Excel is psychically discussing camera angles, and Rebecca fills us in on the concept: This guy is getting his stuff together for a meeting, is beset by every possible hindrance, and nearly goes screaming out a window, only to be saved…by the high-tech futurity and world-crossing, fiber-optic-flexing power of MSOLM. We are introduced to the actor, whose name may or may not be Jeff, who will be playing the role, and he gets to work. Rebecca directs him to read the line as though "if you don't get the files you're totally screwed." Jeff gives the impression of attempting to worry about the files while laboring under a reckless cocktail of muscle relaxants and mood-altering Schedule I drugs. Rebecca: "Stop. Convey that you are in charge." Jeff tries again, in the exact same tone, his only nod to this request the addition of the adverb to the sentence "I absolutely need these files." Rebecca says "Stop" again, this time actually clapping her hands. This guy is like her exact opposite, in terms of directed and articulated rage, and you can tell he's just killing her. "Start from the beginning, a little more urgent." A third time he says the line softly, from just beyond the valley of the dolls, this time ad-libbing that he needed the files "like five minutes ago." This is fucking hilarious, you guys. Rebecca claps and yells "Stop!" again, and Randal pulls her outside for a little talk. They agree that what they're looking for is Rebecca Intensity and what they're getting is Jennifer W. generic bogus nothing, and Rebecca starts to chew on her own face. "I hate making a call like this. I didn't like it." Randal interviews why this is all so high-stakes: "This is her last opportunity to get a win." Rebecca simply asks him to do the acting himself, and he's down, and they're both happy about doing it themselves, but there's also a tension because the shot is going to take so much longer now. If only MSOLM could help!
Cut to Randal screaming into the phone. It's awesome: "Gosh, I hate waiting for these large files." There is actually no way to say these lines believably, especially if you're talking to yourself, but he comes cutely close. Picture Randal standing in an empty room, staring at, like, a framed photograph or something, and he's saying, "Beth Wallace, you'll never get that baby, no matter how many times you shove a bag of sugar up your dress, fake a car accident, put on a clown costume and keep me in a pit in your basement. Never! Luis is mine!" Awesome, right? That's what it's like.
From one drama to another, as Alla lectures Felisha about her acting choices, going against her original promise not to do this exact thing they both knew she'd be doing. Felisha lays out the basics of the burning bed she made earlier, in which they're both now obliged to lie: "I'm listening to what Alla says [true], but making sure that I'm heard as well [lie]. I don't think we can win unless we do this has a team [precisely and exactly half true]. Alla doesn't feel comfortable without creative control […duh]." There is then a brilliant moment where Alla commandeers an innocent producer into the fray, forcing him to point out that if Felisha is the one being filmed, she's in no position to make direction decisions. They all laugh fakely and it's incredibly tense, and Felisha and Alla fall all over each other about how it's "collaborative" and they're both directing, and again the guy points out that, here, "collaborative effort" actually means that Felisha would have to clone herself and be behind the camera at the same time as she's in front of it. Well, what he's really saying is, Get your fucking ducks in a row because we're on a deadline, but Alla suddenly feints with a brilliant "Are you sure you want me to do this?"
As tired as they both look at this point, I think Alla would actually be funnier in the role, but of course it's more about the balance Felisha has to draw here. "I'll be fine with it. I'm fine with it." Camera guy reminds them that again, it's totally Alla's show, so Alla fakes a near-freakout, such that Felisha is obliged to "calm her down," taking her by the face and saying, "It's okay. I give you the authority to be the director." Oh, Felisha. She's got you by the roots and you don't even know it. Brilliant, this. Cut to Alla, interviewing that Felisha has "gone away," only to be replaced by "somebody who is insecure and cannot make decisions," and is "frazzled." She actually seems bewildered by this sudden transformation, which is either terrifyingly compartmentalized or a last-ditch attempt to avoid a total villain edit. Either way it's pretty disingenuous.
There are various directing issues, care of which Felisha cannot take, because she's the actor, so Felisha has to -- for example -- put her bags into the trunk of a car one hundred times, which wears her very worn self out even more. She interviews that Alla is "trying" to take over, which is just about smurfy-level dumb at this point, and ridiculous, because her response to this is to convince herself that the cloning was, in fact, successful, and that she can actually see the frame -- in which she currently is -- better than Alla, who is currently holding the actual camera monitor in her hands, herself. This is a frigging joke. They yell some more. Alla interviews that if you give her a task, she will rock it, but for some reason Felisha is giving her the hamstring every time, and her hands are tied. "That's…suicidal! Why would you do that?" Felisha's acting is pretty much not acting as she goes through the motions of a businesswoman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Can you even have a fourth wall in a reality show? It's like a hypercube of fakeness, and Felisha is staring out one wall of it, starting to drool at you.
Much later, Felisha and Alla sit in the editing bay, and Felisha blandly tells the editor guy that Alla "knows what she's doing" and is "going to take the lead." The last glimmer of Felisha's grasp on things shines out for a second, as she interviews, "She doesn't partly contribute. If I'm going to get something great out of Alla, I have to just let her go." It's variously too true, too bad, and too late.
The editing guy tells them they've got too much content, like 2.5 minutes of material, and they look worried. Alla: "Let's go to Plan B." Felisha -- who is the Project Manager, if you'll recall -- asks what this previously-secret "Plan B" is. Alla proposes that they "just verbally relay the message with words." Since they lack that psychic bond that has been helping out Rebecca and Randal so much, she first thinks Alla means a voice-over, but in fact she means actual text.
Editing guy loads the graphics and text and plays it out for Capital Edge. Alla demands that it move faster, and faster, and faster, cramming more and more text in. Mad with power, she ignores the editing guy -- whose fucking job this is -- when he tells her it's basically unreadable and that you'd have to be on meth to understand it. Her awesome response: "Okay great, fine, we can always make it faster later." Words fly by on the screen more quickly than the human eyeball can process them. It induces seizures. Alla yanks Felisha and the editing guy up off the floor and places them back in their seats like slack rag dolls, still a little dazed. She pulls that damn Burberry lap blanket closer around her still and strokes a hairless cat and considers the possibility of fnording in messages like "ALLA WAS NEVER A STRIPPER" and "CAPITAL EDGE IS THE WINNER" and "FIRE FELISHA FIRST" and "MARRY ALLA MR. TRUMP" and "MICROSOFT IS THE DEVIL." Alla herself begins talking almost too fast to understand, but editing guy and Felisha just nod, still dazed from the power of her mad word-salad shooter on the screen. Alla babbles and screams and creates. Felisha shivers and cannot move. Alla bounces and shrieks and makes zooming sounds with her hands and mouth.
Meanwhile, Randal and Rebecca edit their commercial lovingly and tenderly, laughing at each other's secretly humorous thoughts. She claps some more. Clapping is the new Staring. Rebecca explains to Carolyn that they had unworkable acting talent, and intensely did the acting themselves, because that's what you do when you are an unstoppable juggernaut of power and efficiency. Carolyn enjoys this display, and the video itself: you can tell by the way in which she doesn't move her face whatsoever. In interview, she says that they did a very good job, noting how it tells a story. (Important!) Finding Carolyn difficult to read, Rebecca gets the howlers after Carolyn harmlessly (and obscurely, with vast approval) asks how long it took to create. It's a Connecticut thing, and you can't blame her for not reading Carolyn right. Carolyn's scary lack of affect is like the 49th Rule of Power: "Don't smile, don't frown, don't let your guard down." It's awesome for many reasons, but especially because it induces minor breakdowns like Rebecca's here, with minimal effort.
They all laugh fakely and Carolyn leaves, and Rebecca freaks. Only it's Rebecca, so you can't tell -- like, her face would actually have to start shooting out sparks or steam or something -- until she starts asking repetitive questions. Of course, this is Randal's prime mission on earth, cooling you down, so he just tells her it's a generic question. "Carolyn is freaking me out," Rebecca says, and decides that she hates the video. Randal's awesome: "You're getting neurotic on me. Let it go." She says, "All right," but makes this astonishingly cute face where she purses her lips and looks off the side like it's Randal that's being a silly child. Since we know Carolyn liked it, it's not half the amount of irritating this same face would be if it were hubris foreshadowing, not to mention how Alla is turning into a monster right before our eyes.
Trump's Weekly Wisdom: FAMILY. You heard me right, dear reader. "Family is very important in business. Each of my many families spread out across the globe, even the secret ones I support through front companies, is central to my success. Wealthy people aren't always happy, sometimes because they have really specific and expensive sexual requirements, but sometimes it's because they don't have enough family." Trump flirts creepily with Melania on the phone, and calls her "angel" and says he will bring her "chicken parmesan with meat sauce." Gross! "I'll get you some spaghetti, baby. You are so lucky to be married to me. Goodbye honey, bye baby." The very, very last part is said so sweetly you can almost forget the following: Melania's apparently unable to feed herself, even in Manhattan, even in a giant castle full of restaurants. And more importantly, you can almost forget that he apparently just said he was bringing her some…sodomy.
Randal interviews that he really wants this win "for Rebecca," because she deserves it, they've been together on three tasks now, she's "earned it," and she's "been through a lot here." The Microsoft people invite them in for their presentation and Rebecca hops around as much as possible, then gives some kind of damn speech explaining the task, and explaining why MSOLM is wonderful and deserves its sacrifices and ablutions. The commercial is cute: Randal yells at her about the large files and they finally meet up after Rebecca and all telecommunications have failed him at every turn -- nice touch having the company be "Contoso Inc.," which is the mockup company Microsoft uses on all their stuff -- and some crap about how travel was a nightmare and nobody even showed up for the meeting, and then there are angles on somebody using the software to save lives. The last shot is Randal at his desk with a glorious smile, accomplishing all manner of things. The Microsoft people are enthused to the degree that they are able, what with the stuff that's in their water and food to keep them docile, and Randal bookends with another speech about how Microsoft is a jealous and a wrathful multinational corporation, but also has a certain quality of mercy, which droppeth from Windows as the gentle rain from heaven, and Zuul goes back to sleep, appeased, and you can barely see him pocketing the note that Dustin passes him: Microsoft is listening. I can't talk. Please ask Donald Trump to rescue me. Blink twice if you can help. They beat us.
Felisha and Alla come in wearing matching weird outfits: t-shirts in that orangey coral color all the women have been wearing, white slacks, and weird Ren Faire touches like huge diaphanous scarves and laces up the shirtfront. There are more seizures from the whipping of the words, and the Microsoft people are irritating and tired. Felisha's voice-over is charmingly devoid of anything but perkiness, almost Lynchian. Dustin tries to be nice about the horrible commercial, but Janice looks daggers at him like, "Don't even lie to these freaks." Felisha gives the same speech she practiced before they ruined the entire commercial, which no longer applies in any way, about how it tells a story (it doesn't) and how it makes you want the product (it doesn't, unless that product is Dramamine. Which it isn't). Alla rolls her eyes the entire time, like Felisha is a crazy person and she fears being associated with her.
Alone with Trump, all Janice can say is that both teams worked very hard. Over and over. The teams come back in, and for once Reb stays on the crutches, I guess because there aren't any hands in the room she hasn't shaken in the last hour, and the execs start to talk about the two teams, and…my TiFaux gives out. I knew I forgot to make proper bloody tribute to MSOLM this week! So frustrating, but I'm able to come up with a copy through sheer force of will and legality. "How do you think you did," asks Trump, and Randal says that Excel did a great job and Rebecca was a ginchy PM. Felisha burbles about the awesomeness of Capital Edge, and Alla, with the morose appearance of someone who's just simultaneously contracted walking pneumonia, Epstein-Barr, mononucleosis, and spontaneous serotonin depletion a few seconds ago, mutters almost silently, "I…think…we...did really well, Mr. Trump." Seriously, you want to ask which of her dogs it is that just died, and how long it took. Cut to Felisha just now realizing there's something afoot. Lord.
Janice: Excel did a good job, she thinks, and she especially liked the storyline approach. "You showed how people's lives would change if they incorporated this product." Ouch. Dustin does his best for Cap Edge, saying they gave a good, strong "call to action," but their (nonexistent) storyline was more difficult to follow. Janice spits that there was too much going on, it was impossible to understand, relied too heavily on visuals, and didn't have the power of characters, like Excel's video. This is inter-cut with the expected orgy of disappointment and self-hatred from Felisha, and Alla's flat and flinty-eyed refusal to be associated with this failure in any way. Janice names the "clear winner," Excel, and Alla looks deadly, and Felisha looks punched, because she's now going home. Rebecca and Randal, however, are going to be sailing around Manhattan on the Shearwater, an awesome schooner from the '20s. He tells them that, as they go on to bigger and better things, they will each get their own yacht, if that's what they choose. It's weird.
Felisha and Alla head down to "Typhoon Restaurant And Bar," and we catch them around the fourth Cosmo, Felisha blubbering about how her life has been hell (Alla nods curtly) and this is a "tough impasse" because she wanted to be here so badly (Alla coughs). "Right." Alla interviews that Felisha is "desperate" and "pathetic" and can never say she's the "stronger player," cannot say she's "more qualified" or a better performer or has any accomplishments of any kind… "She doesn't have that against me. She loses." Back at Typhoon, Felisha's saying she's "great" and deserves to be there, while Alla tells us how she looks down on "people who get depressed," because she doesn't "relate to that mentality," so all she can do is "just sit there and laugh," and we cut to her…yeah, basically laughing as Felisha cries at the table, in public. "She's done." My, my. I think if the whole world could be divided up like the Stones/Beatles thing and you were either a Felisha or an Alla, I'd say without compunction that I am an "Alla," even and especially on this subject, but, like, do you think you could show maybe just a sliver of class? Compassion? Poise? Some kind of grace? At least a pretense of these things? Compassion is the basis of morality? The hallmark of aristocracy is responsibility? Better not to be at all, than not to be noble? Anything? No?
Fine. Cut to the schooner, where the first mate chuckles and welcomes Excel aboard, as Rebecca reminds us what just happened: "I had to be PM, and I had to win. I finally got what I need." Yeah. Second place! Randal and Rebecca clink their champagne glasses as we see two faraway people coming down the causeway. The dude floats the idea that maybe they'll learn a bit about sailing today, doing some boat stuff, and Rebecca laughs and tells him they're actually more into relaxing and not having some kind of Boy's Own adventure and then Randal figures out who it is coming closer: his wife Zahara, and Rebecca's boyfriend Matt. He starts laughing, and then screams! Rebecca's got her shades on and is way less touchy-feely with Matt than Randal and Zahara are together, and what they are together is ADORABLE. Randal giggles weirdly in interview and squeaks, "I got to see my wife!" It's very cute. Rebecca whispers that she's glad to see Matt.
They head out into the harbor, and the boat is pretty cool. I actually don't think I would mind this reward, for once. Matt murmurs, "Every time you've come within striking distance, you've struck." Rebecca smiles proudly. "It's true." She interviews that it was wonderful to see him, because his love is independent of The Apprentice and he's a familiar face. Randal and Zahara giggle about how horribly it would have sucked if the other team had won, and come back with tales of their loved ones: "I would have been vexed!" How cute is that?
Matt's got a healthy appreciation of his girlfriend's superhero qualities, and that's important to me. I'm afraid, though, that I still don't stand a chance, because apparently you have to look and dress like Dr. Who. Randal interviews that he can enjoy this, but he's remembering to put on his game face back on, because the city never sleeps, and this process isn't over until it's over, and whatever clichés he can come up with to cover the fact that he's not a very creative, just a very good, speaker. Back in the suite, he counsels Felisha about how hard it is to be going into the Boardroom with a "friend," and she says how they've been close since the beginning, and it just spirals into sadder and sadder stuff as Felisha interviews that Alla is just wonderful, "grounded and honest," "cares for people," "not a cold-hearted bitch," "warm," and one thousand other lies that don't even apply. But…I don't know, if I go on for ten minutes about how great Margot Kidder was in Indiana Jones And The Lost Ark, I'm not really lying or in denial or anything, just a little confused, you know? Only this is a little bit sadder because it's more like I'm telling you Margot Kidder is my mom.
Cut to Felisha, rambling at Alla as she packs about how she's all about not having a defeatist attitude, how she's going to somehow be completely honest and truthful and yet leave the Boardroom still feeling good about their friendship. Alla doesn't even look up during this mental yoga, but we do see her interviewing: "I will fight with everything I've got. It would be easier on Felisha as a person to accept that she failed, and just pack it up and go home with her head held high. If she fights, I will destroy her." Wow. I think I just switched sides again. I was feeling bad for Felisha, but I really liked that little speech. It was batshit crazy, of course, but I loved it. This is the kind of ruthless determination that gets things done, people. Bad things mostly, but surely there are some examples of this attitude being a good thing. Yeah, like Torah, you get some of this kind of bad-assery. Judith in the tent cuttin' off heads. The Maccabees. Moses slapping people every five minutes. Buffy's like this, on her better days. Even with Ayn Rand you occasionally get a building or something out of it. Tom Cruise is like this, and he can climb stuff. Cliffs, couches. Oprah. I'm just saying there's sometimes an up side when you get scary determined like this.
In the Boardroom, Bill looks more handsome than I've ever seen, although he's still on the lookout for whatever's got him on the run. Trump starts with a jovial "I know you hate to lose, Alla." He asks why Felisha would possibly have been the PM on this task, and she responds, interestingly, that she "had something to prove to Carolyn." And, grudgingly, "You. And…Bill?" It's cute. Trump says he heard that Alla was difficult, and asks whether this was because Felisha's a bad leader, or because Alla is totally scary. He leaves out the correct answer, which is Option C, which is: total codependency. Felisha chooses Option C, basically, and tells it like a story: "From the start, we clashed on ideas…" Alla immediately jumps in: "From the start," she says, she's "worked well with every Project Manager…" Trump says that, even so, she was difficult for Felisha. Alla disagrees, saying instead that Felisha went in with "the wrong focus," which it turns out was "not being outshined by me." What a horrible thing to say. ["Probably because it's true. She wanted to be in charge, but also to have that be Alla's decision. Not a workable plan." -- Sars]
Felisha complains that this isn't true, but Alla turns to lecture her about how she never cared about the finished product, but just about "outshining" Alla, that every time she'd give her control over a piece of the task, she'd immediately "put the brakes on," and finishes with the jaw-droppingly bizarre "If I did things too well, she would stop me." Carolyn gapes, and Trump's like, "I cannot believe that." Felisha starts screaming that these are strange, nasty lies, and Alla goes, "Why don't you tell them what you did?" I don't even know what the hell she's talking about. It's impressively nuts.
Felisha starts saying how whenever Bill was around, Alla would start in on her with this whole spiel about "I want this, I want that" and Felisha was just trying to be a team, and Alla interrupts again: "You said, Don't make me look bad." Felisha shakes her head like she was just smacked, and Bill says, fairly, "Alla, you were clearly taking charge." Like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, she does this whole routine about "I embrace my responsibilities and do the best job I can," and Carolyn asks flat-out whether she felt she was "the leader on this task." She responds in the negative, giving Carolyn her opening: "Honestly, neither did she, and that's why you lost: there was no leadership there." It's not exactly true, but it's wonderfully put.
Alla complains that Felisha wouldn't let her lead, but wouldn't let her be subordinate either, and Carolyn -- who seems to have made up her mind -- asks whether Alla takes any responsibility for the failure whatsoever. Alla does, kind of, but frames it in a very tricky "it was a collaborative effort" kind of way where she actually does not. Carolyn pushes her to explain what makes either of them better than the other: "What's the point?" I like Carolyn generally, but I liked her a lot in this Boardroom. "She was the PM," says Alla, "and she lost focus." Felisha finally gets her breath back: "I lost control of you!" but Alla's not deterred, yelling, "You told me that I gave you 100 percent, so why are you saying that?" Felisha reiterates that she was doing her best to take some kind of leadership role, but that Alla fought her all along the way, and then makes her most cogent point in the entire episode: "I wasn't getting Alla. Alla is very creative, she can lay it all on the table, but she has to be in a leading role to do that." Brilliant interpretation, Felisha, and key to the whole dynamic, but I've gotta point out that you're still only addressing half the issue, because the fact is that you should have noticed that was the case about eight weeks ago.
Trump asks whether Felisha feels Alla is actually unmanageable, and Alla jumps in again: "Felisha, have I ever given you a problem on any other task?" Trump shakes his head. "But you are difficult." He starts babbling about how his parents sent him to military school because they said he was difficult, and probably they were right, but suddenly realizing he's making no sense and isn't talking about anything all that related to the task at hand, he switches back again. "You were the director?" Alla flat-out lies again, that Felisha never actually gave her ownership over the direction of the video, but Trump's not fooled, asking her again and again if she wasn't, in fact, the director of the video. Alla, Carolyn, and Felisha somehow get to the point that Alla was in fact the director for the shoot itself and that Felisha was the actor. Even still, Alla's in there hissing and pinching: "I said I'd do either one." Stupidly, Felisha decides this is the right moment to bring up how awkward the whole actor/director thing got, how it was weird to take the subordinate acting role, and Trump asks whether this was "weakness" or "just a poor decision." The terms of the question dictate your implicit failure. Reject them. But Felisha, of course, says the worst thing possible, that it was a poor decision, and says for neither the first or last time that most of her missteps were predicated on the belief that if they won the task, she wouldn't be going home. Basically handing her career over to Alla right there, every time she says it. So regrettable.
Trump decides he wants to see their commercial, and it's tiny seizures all around. Bill clenches his fist. Carolyn clenches her face. Trump explains that he's not a "big computer person," than in fact he "love[s] buildings," but that in essence he doesn't know what the hell that was about. Carolyn points out the big problem, that it was too much info in too little time, which is the point. The guy told them it was 2.5 minutes of material, and instead of cutting it down, they just shot it at you like that guy with the mustache who sold Matchbox cars back in the day. As a person who might be described as "somewhat wordy," I can kind of identify, but, like, just give me a limit and I'll find a way. There was no reason to chop out the storyline in favor of the word explosion, except that they were both exhausted and Alla is pretty much nuts. The responsibility for explaining this falls upon Bill, and he asks if this was, in fact, Felisha's idea. She truthfully says it wasn't, and Alla gets nuts. She goes like this: "You're kidding me. Felisha, shame on you. I'm sorry, shame on you. Shame on you!" It's amazing. Just amazing.
Felisha explains that it was Alla that wanted the words, and Alla goes, "Wow. You didn't let me make one move!" Trump draws it out: "But I thought she wasn't a leader? Whose idea was the text?" Alla jumps on it: "We did it together. Are you denying that, Felisha?" Felisha's like, "Yes? Insofar as that was the one big thing you demanded? And you threatened me with the hose again? So we did it?" Trump asks whether Felisha was "outdone" by Alla, and Felisha equivocates with her belief that "one person" is not better than the other, that they both have strengths, all that schoolyard bullshit, seemingly having missed the memo that that kind of talk is rendered irrelevant since one of them will be going home in a few seconds, and I start feeling the balance shifting: Felisha's inability to take step one in covering her own ass or even making a basic case here is almost to the point of frustrating me more than Alla's outright evil and deception. ["…Which, in my opinion, Alla could have pointed out without all this nastiness. Why she went with this strategy instead of just repeating the phrase 'Felisha is a follower' is beyond me." -- Sars] Felisha spends most of the time, bizarrely, talking about how awesome Alla is, strong in "embracing" and "executing" her tasks, but "when it came down to the punchline, this was my task." This is funny, but none of the people in that room are ready to laugh about it.
Bill says he respects that Felisha stood up to Alla even the miniscule amount necessary to ask for the PM role, but Alla can't even let that one go: "Well actually, she totally pussy-footed around and tried to give that to me numerous times." Felisha finally gets mad, albeit in a kind of Melanie Griffith way: "Why must you steamroll? Be nice. Please?" Alla responds that Felisha is being a huge liar and needs to tell the whole and not the selective truth. Nobody knows what the hell she's talking about, including herself, and Trump ixnays it: "She's truthful." Carolyn points out how gross it is that Alla would interrupt Felisha in the middle of complimenting her in order to further attack her. "She speaks so kindly of you, and you're just killing her. If you'd left her alone she would have said I should fire her," Trump exaggerates slightly, and Felisha literally jumps, like she's been electrocuted or poked by a tiny needle where we can't see it. Carolyn asks if Felisha is giving up, and Felisha responds that she is "not giving up, at all!" Then she…bursts into tears.
Felisha explains that she doesn't feel that she did what she "came here to do," that she's frustrated with herself, and her performance, and then Alla…totally interrupts to agree with her. Like how worthless she is. It's so fucked up. Felisha throws up her hands, basically, and just moans. "Stop it, just stop." Trump is like, "Alla! Alla!" and Carolyn is agog. It's amazing. "She's a wonderful person, a wonderful woman, Alla. You've gotta stop browbeating her." Seriously, Trump. I'm with you. I kind of hate Alla for making me hate her here, when I really like everything she's done this entire time, if you know what I mean. Maybe it's just that she gives some kind of credence to Clay's whining about what a demonic monster bitch she is. Maybe that's why I'm really pissed. There's a moment of the extra bonus footage that comes in here, just a snippet really. Now, I don't normally even watch the extra bonus footage, neither at NBC nor the Yahoo site, because the show itself is such a Frankenstein reality monster with fake voice-overs and weird manufactured quotes and mysterious interviews and leading questions and such that I feel like we're seeing the story the producers actually want us to see, but this week it's so awesome I have to mention it.
At this point, after he's basically waded into this mess to protect Felisha from what's quickly becoming abuse, he just looks at the two of them and asks if Felisha's okay, if she needs Kleenex, and then looks over at Carolyn, who may or may not be a little mortified. Carolyn, of course, is like, "Yeah, thanks, but I think I'll survive." Trump, now desperate, tries the uncle angle: "Look at us! We're all crying! I'm crying! We're going to get through this!" And since I feel entitled to call him out for disgusting me at least once a recap, I feel like it's my duty that this actually made me want to give him a hug, because that was a nice thing he did, and I wonder how often he does this arbitration stuff and we never see it, because that would go a lot further in explaining his success than anything we've actually seen. And actually explain his three choices of Apprentice so far, come to think of it. And Randal too, of course.
Back to the actual episode. "Felisha, do you really believe you're tough enough to work in New York? By the way, Alla, I have no doubt would be fine." Felisha fucking smiles and says, "Yeah, she's tough." She says, though, that she absolutely has the stuff for the big city. Trump disabuses her of this notion right quick: "Felisha, you're not strong enough to be here. You're lovely, you're smart, you have so many things going for you. But you're not strong enough for this city. Felisha, you're fired." Alla licks her lips and pushes her chair back silently, and fully starts to tiptoe out of the room. I've never seen the like. It's like a cartoon. Trump's voice rings out: "Sit, Alla." Aw, yeah. This is the part where it stops being a movie you've seen a million times, and you actually get to be surprised for once.
"You're very hard to manage," he tells Alla. "Difficult to manage. And number two, you were the director of a disaster. You're fired." She makes a sad, slightly scary face, and Felisha looks freaked out. They stand and Felisha apologizes for letting him down, and he just sits there with that toad face, waiting for them to leave. Outside, it's only a little weird as they get on the elevator. Inside, Trump's pensive: "They both deserved to be fired, but it was sort of a little difficult." Yeah, I feel that. Bill's a little too Smithers on this line for my personal taste, getting very Bill-bottom-lines-it-for-you about "Felisha can't lead, Alla can't be led. Hands down." Dude, you already got the job. Jeez. Carolyn, still visibly shaken by the display they've just witnessed, breathes out in amazement: "They both just kept talking about each other's mistakes! It was hard to pick one!" Trump smiles. "Okay, now for something pleasant. I'm going to tell Randal and Rebecca they're the Final Two." He's so…gleeful about this. Even Bill and Carolyn think it's cute. I like Donald Trump eight times more than I ever have right now. It's a shocker, but it's true. He was good here. Very good and a nice guy, and his heart was in the right place. Surely this is due to Family.
Felisha and Alla walk out of the building together, and Felisha looks really pretty. Upstairs, there's a slow-motion shot of Trump heading toward the suite, and it's just as hilarious the fifteenth time as it was the first. He opens the door and Rebecca and Randal are standing at attention just inside, like at the beginning of the episode, when Alla thought her bonfires could save her.
Crazy Taxi: Felisha admits that she just didn't perform, didn't give the best she had to offer, and that this sucks, because it was her last task, which means that nobody will have a good memory about it, not even her. Alla then goes crazy nuts some more, losing a fair amount of what respect and goodwill I'd been able to retain for her through the Boardroom: "Mr. Trump didn't say that I am a terrible leader. He just said that there are very few people out there than can lead me. People have said I'm difficult -- or challenging -- to lead. Maybe they are weak themselves. I can be led by the right leader, that's all I can say." Shades of Marshawn and Brian, no? Felisha rolls her eyes affectionately. The end. I love that it ended on that, on something beautiful and funny after all that awkward ugliness.
Lessons learned: If you're entering a leadership competition, try to make sure that you don't have a violent phobia of leadership first. That can fuck things up for you. If you're going to be the boss, actually be the boss -- people can smell that on you so fast, and they won't hesitate to eat you alive, so don't stick your neck out unless you can trust yourself. It's an authenticity question, not a propaganda one, so if you feel like you're not standing on solid ground, take a second and figure it out. Trust nobody, especially if you're planning on trusting somebody whom you've watched destroy every other person in her path. That's just dumb.
Drink lots of water, because it's good for your skin and keeps you from losing it when you're working too hard. Whatever it is, Microsoft has a plan for it, and that plan is full of bugs and secret trapdoors and evil. Kindness costs nothing and has many dividends. Trump has something like a heart. Carolyn has something like something like a heart. Bill has something like something to prove. Either show or tell, but don't try to show by telling or tell by showing, because people will always project their confusion onto you, and think you're a moron. Just get it across and know your audience. Anybody can be an actor, so don't sweat it, but also, anybody can be an actor, so don't take people at face value.
Rather than constantly admitting weakness (Felisha) or making up entire lies out of whole cloth (Alla), try to change the subject to something where you actually look cool (Rebecca), or, failing that, actually be cool, and back it up (Randal). That's a big one. Family is important for some reason, I guess because there are supposedly times that money doesn't cut it, but God forbid you should find that out for yourself by getting loaded up with huge bags of cash that you could then debase and cry about and whine how money can't hug you like a little child or whatever crap propaganda rich people promulgate so we won't revolt and eat of their flesh. Um, it's possible to be competitive without losing that which is most precious: your humanity. If you go into battle without your heart or rightness on your side, you deserve what you get. Watching strong people do things they're good at is way better than watching weak people do stuff they're weak at, so if you want to be looked at -- and who doesn't -- try to be strong and do what you are good at. If you ever find yourself thinking, "What the fuck am I talking about? I sound like a total nutcase," chances are everybody else is thinking the same thing, and won't begrudge you taking a second to get it together. Oh, and working for Microsoft kills you from the inside.