Did you ever jump a shark so fuckin' hard you landed in LA? Trump just did! Eighteen contestants -- post- some just hideously fake Trump stuff -- build a giant tent on the lawn of a mansion. Major players: Heidi, who leads well if apologetically; nasty, trashy Frank, who screams straight out of his ass more loudly than anyone else; and Martin, a law professor dressed like a clown who is allergic to effort of any kind, who stands on a rock "supervising" the whole time, like a fool. Heidi and Frank are chosen as team leaders after the group admits they bossed them, and they choose teams: Heidi (Team Kinetic, though they didn't get names this week) gets all the girls, a guy named Surya, and good old Derek. Frank (Teamâ¦"Arrow") takes all the other guys, and the few remaining ladies. The task: operate a carwash. Frank runs around with Hottie Aaron, acting like a douche and screaming horrifically; Kinetic's marketing is so heavy and successful that things get blurry, and they eventually start washing cars by hand. Ivanka (as newly sole Viceroy) is both amused and impressed by this, not to mention the go-go boys Heidi's team purchases to advertise their location: smack, as it were, in the middle of West Hollywood. When she visits Frank's site, she is horrified to hear that he's deserted the team to go finally make signage, even though there's only an hour left. Other standouts include Angela, the Olympic hockey player; James the Very Awesome IT Geek; and Carey, the beautiful black bald gay man who may just be the redeeming bald gay black man foretold in the reality TV prophecies of yore. Did I mention Derek? (!) Lots of Derek, who with James is the go-to guy for spitfire commentary this week (Martin, for all his faults, gets some zingers in as well). Kinetic wins by like $64, and then: The Twists! The winning team gets to live in a "luxurious" mansion apparently designed and furnished entirely by Ikea, while losers Arrow live on the lawn, in tents with temporary sinks and showers, leading them of course to whine about having to live in "the third world." Odious shrieking Frank immediately gets defensive as he sees Arrow Hottie #2, Tim, spinning a web of blame around him. Since Martin busily continued not doing a goddamn thing at the carwash, Frank's choice is clear; he also brings back Tim for calling BS on him in front of Trump. Tim is, of course, immediately dismissed from the Boardroom -- including Kinetic PM-in-perpetuity Heidi as Viceroy Minor & Royal Apple-Polisher -- which goes on and on for a million years of screeching, but ultimately/obviously, it's better to be an aggressive idiot than a passive suck-ass, so Martin goes home, pissy and whining to the end, and Frank stays, to scream another day.
I always used to say that Queer As Folk(US) was about as realistic and relevant to my life as a gay man as Smallville was. And you know, I meant it. In every possible way. Nowadays my life is more like Laguna Beach, or possibly freakin' Battlestar Galactica, some days. But the point isn't that I watch a lot of television, the point is this: remember when this show was awesome? It wasn't like real life or real business, and it certainly wasn't an "n-week-long job interview"; however, it was recognizable in the grander scheme as a television show about people doing things. You could at least say that it was realistic in that people are often known to do things. In great variety, oftentimes. But now... I don't know what this goddamn show is about, but it seems somehow less realistic or relevant than ever before. Sorta people sorta doing things. Crazy things that make no sense, or sorta make sense, that is what this show is about. Specifically, the things they are kinda doing this week: yelling, and... screaming. The whole thing was a blur, I have to say. I think this might be the best season ever, now, because you've also got Trump losing his shit in a massive way in the real world, in realtime, to add that frisson of excitement, and also because it is a truth universally recognized that a once-awesome, slipping television show -- much like Richard Simmons, typing pool names, The O.C. or any David E. Kelley drama -- has only one chance: to go from actual quality to shitty to utter cracked-out awesomeness. I feel like I say this every season, but this time I mean it: I submit to you the possibility that this has happened here.
This Show Is Going To Be Cracked-Out Shark-Jumping Awesome: Exhibit A
NYC is rainy and cold, and cold-hearted people with umbrellas scurry about like ants underground, because contrast is the most powerful force in the world. Except in terms of Trump always basing like about 60% of his identity on being a New Yorker and how New York is yooge or whatever, it's kind of a mixed message to be sending. Inside the limo, with loving songs of love, Donald Trump is talking into a telephone which is connected to absofuckinglutely nothing whatsoever, pretending to be having a conversation with his mail-order wifebot and their robot baby. While this is not, in fact, happening, I am at least relieved at the relative quiet of his voice. I was expecting screaming right out the gate. The baby from that Aaliyah song gurgles over the phone, I mean seriously the exact same sound, because not even the person or persons employed to create the illusion of Baron Trump can be buggered to bother this season. Melania, who is not on the phone, and Baron, who is not on the phone, are not in New York, they are in California. If in fact they exist at all. You know the Donald would be just as happy with a hologram. Be for real: as long as he could take it out on the town to prove that a "sexy" hologram like Melania would consent to his oily fearsome touch, he'd be fine. So he's riding in this limo, pretending to talk to his hologram wife, on the way to the airport, so that he can go to LA. He has buildings and things just all over the place, as you might know, and now he's building a house in LA. The loving rainy music goes TOTALLY FUCKING SWANK.
Jet Trump flies into LA, where you may have seen palm trees, tans, and breasts. In case you have not seen these things lately, Trump provideth them, and now he's driving a very cute, if marital-aid-shaped, white convertible car down a palm-lined and probably very famous street of some kind. Everything looks like Chinatown on coke; Donald Trump is shrieking. Los Angeles has a $600B economy. (Is he counting the Valley? I think he's counting the Valley.) Also he needs some things! New things! Talented things! Problem-solving things! Sharp negotiator-type things! Things that scream! Scream like this! Things in black SUV's! That are nervous as hell! Things that are varied, kind of! Things that are male or female or lawyers! Things that, for reasons nobody will ever understand, thought this was a good idea!
They all have the same goal: a year-long apprenticeship in the Trumporg. Which is, in its way, a screaming hologram all its own. Let's be real some more -- authenticity is at a goddamn premium for me right now -- they wanna be on TV. They are willing to fawn over Donald Trump in order to be on television. I have completely lost my innocence about this. Took longer than I thought it would. Trump drives his penis car to his penis house, which looks like a Disneyland castle caught mid-coitus with a Newport Group McMansion, and both the car and the house look like Viagra spam emails, which is what they are. "C!al!s" and "Be a Real Man" and "Your Going To Love Breaking Down The Walls With Youre Huge C*ck," and all that noise. What do you think happens when Trump gets Viagra spam? I bet he clicks right on that shit. Like every time. I want to see Donald Trump checking his email. That's the kind of fun I'm into.
Melania comes out to meet him with the baby. I'm sure she's a nice lady, but: she is also a Zsa Zsa Gabor drag queen slash robot. I'm totally all about female drag queens like this, robots too, and I think it's amazing and very conceptual to go all crazy on your own gender like that. However, you have to watch out for -- and I have run into this personally, and I do believe it's what's happening here -- something I call your Gender Viet Nam, which in Melania's case means you end up married to Donald Trump. You have got to have an exit strategy or this could happen to you, too. He kisses her and the baby sweetly, and then starts screaming into the camera again about all the things he just screamed into the camera about. While he is doing this, Melania stares into the camera with a darkness in her. I have fucked up my gender performance art, her eyes are saying. My personal Gender Saigon has fallen to the white man. Please help me. You will not help me? Will no one help me? Then you all will burn. That is what her face is saying.
Who will succeed? Who will fail? And who will be? THE APPRENTICE!? The credits are the same with the pretty fisheye stuff, and a bit of wonderful Ivanka, but there are some sucky additions: Trump going "You're fired!" a few times awkwardly in the mix, and lots of that sweet, sweet undernourished California ass.
Team Kinetic, or what we are this week calling "Heidi's team," is made up of Muna, Kristine, Derek, Marisa, Angela, Surya, Jenn, and Aimee. Team "Arrow," headed for now by the odious Frank, includes Nicole, Michelle, James, Carey, Tim, Martin, Aaron, and Stefani. Team Trump LA includes the Donald, Ivanka, a doorman named, I think, Otto who seems to hail from somewhere in Europia, more Melania than is appropriate... and that's it. No Carolyn, no George, no Rosie, no Martha. It's a family affair. I'm sure fuckin' Bill will show up at some point, or that boring man who also won that time. Or whoever won last year. That British person with the face. I wonder if he will show up. Gross. ["Thanks a lot, a-hole. I thought I'd forgotten him." -- Joe R] In the meantime, it's shocking how likeable I find almost all the candidates. There are a few who have me pretty worried, and at least two that I wish to punch in the dick, but the electability average here is much higher than I remember it usually being.
The SUV rolls up to a fairly awesome, Californiate complex mansion, Otto VonRobinGotSacked welcomes them, and then upstairs in the Trump Mansion, which is door, the phone does not authentically ring and Trump answers it, speaking to no one, and then does not authentically walk down the stairs, out the door, down the driveway, down the hill, and up the driveway to the Candidate Mansion. The fresh, breezy flavor of simulacrum. Tastes like insulted intelligence! Donald's hair looks even worse than usual, though, so possibly he did authentically do these things. I'm not budging on the phone calls though. That's fake ass. His hair looks like -- this part is always so hard -- his hair looks like...
Okay. Imagine a man, wearing pantyhose. Like a creepy YouTube tranny, smoking a cigarette, awkwardly, in a wig, with fake wood paneling, and he's wearing pantyhose. Sitting in a rolling office chair. And he hasn't shaved his legs, okay, and the hair is all balled up and matted and gross under the pantyhose. And this tranny does not know about keeping those knees together. And maybe this man is wearing briefs that are a little too brief, also under the pantyhose? This is what Donald's hair looks like right now.
The introductions take place faster than ever before, which sucks because I like the introduction part, where they justify their whole existence in dollar signs, and you can make snap judgments about their life and character based entirely on appearance, which is my favorite pastime extrinsic to this show, but especially having to do with the show, because I've been wrong once (about Andrea, even though everybody in the world seemed to start agreeing with me at the exact time I stopped agreeing with myself.) Let's do it! James Sun, Business and Information Systems, with a crazy awesome voice and very lovely sense of humor, and not a tool in any way so far detectable. Stefani, a defense attorney in LA, who is not going to last long, because of her makeup. I hate to say that, because I like Stefani (also she spells her name differently in real life than the show does, which is just so... stupid of them all), and I am interested in her life and her story, because I believe that it is both interesting and fraught with adversity. But a bijou makeunder and more expensive product would really help here, both professionally and period, and I say this with love. Also: defense attorney is so totally code for "big old girl." Aaron, the blonde of the two hotties, is much better looking live-action than he is in photos, where he was already good-looking, in a bland perfect faceless dimpled chin kind of way. He's the sales manager for a "Fortune 150" company and has seen $15B or something. Marisa is just adorable, put together, speaks well, has a BA in Poli Sci and a law degree, which automatically means: big old girl. Like an Amnesty amount of girl. Heidi does something with helicopters and is beautiful and hardcore, but on the Rebecca Jarvis scale, she only gets like three of five switchblades this week. Derek is a lawyer and VP Business/Legal at a film company. Derek is six-five and smokin', has some ears, a goofiness, good teeth, does nothing interesting whatsoever in this episode, and is nervous as fuck whenever Trump is around. I think maybe that's a fight/flight adrenaline response, probably having to do with the hair. (He's also a Pisces, ladies!)
Michelle spreads a little "entreprenure" having to do with real estate; her face says she's here to do business. I like the cut of her jib. Kristine -- wearing Smart Chick From The Future Glasses -- is a lawyer who deals in intellectual property and sports and entertainment licensing, mergers and acquisitions. Her BA was in Criminology! What an interesting life she is leading! After the episode I could name all eight males without stopping, and only like four of the females even after prompting. This leads me to believe it's a women's invitational this season, which is cool, but makes my job harder. Michelle's the pretty blonde one with a lot of character in her face, Kristine's the pretty blonde one with the Smart Girl glasses, Angela's the one who has clearly never worn heels in her entire life, Aimee is the crunchy looking one, and I think there are twelve other blonde women and I think all of their names are variations on Jennifer, just like every other year.
Carey's the one sane bald black gay man in all of reality TV, apparently, and he is beautiful like a supermodel, and he does event marketing and promotions, of course. Angela has gotten gold, silver, and bronze Olympic medals for Women's Ice Hockey. If you are paying attention, you will have noted that's: all the medals. She won them all! That's how good she is! But not only that, she is also a cum laude and does commercial and residential real estate. I think also she has a tattoo on her back that proclaims her as Trump's long-lost daughter, is how perfect she is. That didn't sound like a compliment, sorry. It was meant in the nicest possible way. And I'm not saying she's a lesbian, but there is a lot of gayness getting in the way of my crush on her, which could very well be 100% due to my own extreme gayness. (I don't like stereotypes and I think the female athlete one is particularly gross, but it's also, to be frank, both a numbers game and an intuitive one. Condensing fact from the vapor of nuance, as they say. Until Clay Aiken actually says to my face that he is gay, I guess he's not gay, but that doesn't mean you and I can't wink at each other and shrug about it -- and do our level best to try and keep a strong grip on the horses of our imaginations.) Trump hugs her for being in the Olympics and everybody laughs and claps for her Olympicness, and again: she has never worn high heels in her entire life, but what's weird is that I would think the hockey would make this easier. I've never worn heels and I've never ice-skated, but to my objective eye it seems like some of the same concerns would come into play.
Tim, the not-blonde of the two hotties, got his BA at Harvard then turned abruptly left and started a tutoring company like the same way that your cover business might become your real business, if you were a drug dealer: it just got time-consuming and profitable, from my understanding, so that's what he does now. He also -- in case he wasn't dreamy enough already -- loves music and writes his own songs with his very own guitar. He's the kind of smart guy that can say the word "passion" and not come off like a tool, which is just... so rare. I think also he might be a little mean-streaky. We'll see. There's Jenn, who looks like somebody I can't place, whose part falls at a weird place on her crown and makes her look cone-headed, or she is actually cone-headed, in which case I shouldn't mention it, who's in multimedia, who publishes a magazine in her spare time, who clearly gets a lot of personal satisfaction from these things. Surya does like marketing or something businessy -- they're like a blur is how fast this part goes, my favorite part I said: sadly, in an episode that is 90 minutes of Frank being a total fucking trashbat cock and Martin sucking eggs, it's still my favorite part -- and then there's Martin. Let's fucking talk about Martin, okay?
In fact, let's wrap up everybody else and go back to Martin. Aimee is super cute and does something with medical devices that I tried hard to pay attention to but apparently cannot. My friend Amie also does something with medical devices, but they are apparently more interesting in some way, or maybe they are the same medical devices, I don't know. That's a huge industry that hardly anybody knows anything about. Like porn, or soy. Muna is from Jamaica and talks all awesome and is very pretty and is a lawyer with strong focus on international... something they faded out in the never-ending quest to enquicken this, my favorite part. And then there's Frank, whom I would advise immediately to go fuck himself, because the nicest thing I can say is that the show did a classy thing by not pointing out he's the only blue-collar one out there -- and he sure fucking shows it; no offense to those blue-collar folks out there who aren't ignorant, poisonous horrors -- but does him at the same time a disservice by not pointing this out, because a lot of (most of, to be fair) his complete and total bullshit comes from his weird feelings about this fact. 17 Harvard grads, including 6 lawyers, and you're Bob the Builder? On top of being a classless, shitty person? That's gotta be rough. It's not alpha dog so much as desperation. And childish Trumplike Trumpiness. If he wins this show 14 weeks from now I am going to steal a helicopter and throw microwave ovens down on the Taco Bell. I mean it this time. I will start the ruckus. Speaking of the ruckus, meet Nicole: a person from whom I get no reading whatsoever, and I can't remember what she does. She's like... if you were a dog and there were a person, like a magically scary person, who moved into town and smelled like nothing at all, that person would be to your doggie senses like a horrible menacing void in space. I don't find her scary, but I'm very proud of and reliant upon my people instincts, for like daily survival. I trust my intuition completely on that score, so I find Nicole threatening in that way. She seems nice and Tim clearly likes her, and I like Tim, so she's fine via the transitive property, but I shouldn't have to do it like that, because of the people instincts, and it's creepy, like reaching back for your gun and there's nothing there, at the time you need it the most. Wait, why would you need a gun, Jacob?
Meet Martin. He is the Senior Assistant City Attorney for the Great City of Atlanta Georgia, and the first thing he does is tell Trump... no, that's not the first thing he does. The first thing he does is be offensive on sight, both to my people instincts and to my sense of aesthetics. He is dressed like a motherfucking clown. He is dressed like Doctor Who. He is dressed like a man who has never been beaten up in his whole life, thanks to his Mom's valiant efforts and vicious roundhouse kick. This is exactly what he is. Remember freshman year of undergrad and there were the boys with the... like, one of them walked with a cane. He did not need this cane, or walking stick, and he did not need to wear a cocksucking cloak over his backpack either. And there was another one who wouldn't stop talking about Ayn Rand, and he always wanted to be the Dungeon Master, and it occurred to you that these things were related, and that that is heartbreaking. And there was the more attractive but still socially awkward one with a cute haircut who never got laid because he was like this. And if you observed these people as closely as I did, like from behind trees and at the parties they accidentally found out about, you soon learned two things: one is that nerd sexuality is very, very complicated, and you would do well to stay out of it altogether, because it's always going be either "polyamory," furries, or S&M, and often the Ren Faire is involved, which apparently can get expensive, but mostly: all of which are so gay you might as well just be gay, in my opinion, and save yourself the mental journey. When you're gay? You get laid like that. I'm just saying. Plus there's no extra equipment to buy. ... I mean, as far as I'm aware. But anyway, the second one is that these boys also had people that they were too cool for. I mean to say that there were some people so unpalatable that they never even got to play GURPS with these boys. And those people were Martin, and he's on your TV right now! Wearing a pinstriped suit, a checkered tablecloth, a barfy and clashing tie, a simper, and the fragrance known as Eau d'Lazy Asshole. He is avant nothing at all, après the world, and illustrates my grandmother's axiom: In fashion, there is a difference, admittedly sometimes razor-thin, between being cutting edge and fucking up on a heretofore unimagined scale.
He is making a statement, and the statement is this: "I am confused on a basic level about the economy of respect in which other people constantly trade." He is making the statement: "I don't even understand the concept of being taken seriously." Another statement that he is making, even more loudly, is this: "I am on the down-low."
He states that he is also willing to hug Mr. Trump, if he'll let him go to the bathroom. This is Martin. Fuckin' Martin. Dale Peck's whackjob sense of entitlement to respect; Markus's lazy, fnurring, clueless persona swiped in total; plus whining on like a Jennifer W. scale. It is a heady gumbo. So he says this bathroom thing, which right away is the key to Martin: he believes that this entire group of professional people, 18 candidates and two Trumps and the camera crew, and you and I, should simply stop whatever we are doing, because his area of responsibility is slightly smaller than the piece of driveway on which he's standing. There are those of us who, regrettably, cannot read a room: Martin cannot read the universe. And what the universe is saying is, "Cut us a break, please."
The first task? To build a tent in the backyard of the Candidate Mansion. Angela finds this hilarious, Stefani is worried, Martin has no idea what's going on. These things are true across the board. Trump dismisses them and they run back to the yard and get started. James is funny, Heidi gets right in there, Frank is busily screaming, Derek is helpful, Carey is calm and collected. These things are also true across the board. Heidi finally barks and gets everybody's attention, and sweetly explains that she is now in control. Everybody is okay with this, because she puts a little spin on the last part where you can't disagree with her about any of it. She interviews that she has, in her time, put up many a tent. Angela interviews what went wrong : Heidi was "doing a great job," Frank got mad that people were doing somebody else's bidding and didn't care that it was working, and tried to assume control of everybody by yelling his stupid ass off. In order to shut him up, the whole team acquiesced, and Frank proceeded to not really be helpful in any way. And still, Martin will find a way to be less acceptable than Frank. Watch.
Everybody is unimpressed with Frank; Tim openly laughs, and Nicole and Muna are not happy about this behavior. James interviews that Frank is a "cartoon character" and "kind of frenetic." Frank shrieks and yells some more; Trump inauthentically yells down from his castle that Frank needs to keep his voice down. This scares Frank, because he is a big childish dumb old baby, but it has no perceivable impact on his behavior, because: ditto. They get it done. Kristine pounds stakes with her bare feet! It's amazing! Frank interviews that everybody was participating except Martin, who "stood on a rock in his three-piece suit." The word is "jerkoff." Martin yells pointlessly down at everybody who's actually working, and everybody ignores him, and he interviews that he was demonstrating his "ability to serve a function" and "keep it unified." My fingernails drew blood from my palms is how hard my hands wanted to throttle him, and we're just barely getting started. Frank screams "HANDS IN!" and everybody puts their hands in and shouts, sadly, "Trump!" Aaron interviews that there was a sense of mystery and terror about the completion of the tent, because what will happen ?
Quick Quiz: Put these items in the correct order of elimination.
A. People with repugnant personalities
B. People with personalities which are repugnant in the same way as Donald Trump's, i.e., overcompensating blowhards
C. Hotties with their shit together
D. Hotties with shit status unknown
E. People in need of a tiny makeover
F. Overcompensating overqualifieds with dead grandmas
Answer Key: Aaron is obviously fine, even though we do not yet know in which of these categories he actually belongs. We have lost the mystery.
Back up the hill to Trump's house, which is awful, terrible, nasty and ugly inside. Fittingly enough. It looks like hell even more than Rosie O'Donnell apparently does. Otto is there. If this were a story, Otto would be secretly poisoning them this whole time. That would be so fuckin' great. There's a Boardroom in there just like in NYC, complete with the GOB Bluth Aztec Curse door that Trump comes flourishing out of all the time. This time there's also Ivanka, whom Angela seems to find as fascinating as I do. Her hair is longer, and her breasts seem to be bigger, but I'm not good at paying attention to breasts. I can tell you that she is wearing large wooden buttons on a very cute dress and as usual, she is amazing. She even played off the Rosie thing pretty well, by pointing out that Donald Trump always overreacts and gets crazy (I'm paraphrasing) when anybody has the balls to question him or talk about him behind his back on TV. Tom Cruise's sexuality is Donald Trump's whatever: it must be aggressively defended. Put that together with the fact that his show debuted this week to flagging ratings, and a whole new Magic Eye picture appears, one that is much less authentic but a hell of a lot funnier, because Rosie's antics are to The View as Trump's antics are to the Trump Brand, and this show.
Ivanka, in her new place in Carolyn's chair, will be Trump's "eyes and ears," a fact he will be reminding you of on a constant basis. There's nobody in the George spot, and he points out this obvious fact with a Christmassy excitement that bodes ill. Trump asks if they had fun, and let me tell you: Derek and Stefani sure as fuck did. Their every movement is very exaggerated around Trump, to the point of like being obnoxious and weird. The difference between a gracious nod of the head and a grand mal seizure is perhaps subtle, but it is not invisible to the naked eye. I feel like Stefani is needy in some way, that's the vibe. If this were high school, she'd spend most of the time crying in the bathroom. Now, we haven't seen much of her, and we won't this week, and you know I like to change my opinions with whiplash quickness, but I'm sticking there this week. Kristine offers that perhaps there were too many cooks in the kitchen; Frank opines that it is the greatest tent the world has ever seen, thanks to his -- this is embarrassing -- construction experience, and that if pressed he would be happy to sleep there tonight. Ivanka laughs at this, because Christmas is coming! Marisa and James couch their characterizations of Frank and Heidi -- as a blowhard and an apple-polisher respectively -- in just enough plausible deniability that Trump gets the go-ahead to make them the first PMs, even though James's more firmly worded "they were very... vocal" is more an indictment than anything else.
Everybody lines up against the wall and the choosing begins. Heidi picks Derek first, because he's the best. Frank picks Carey, because... that is supermotherfucking fishy, isn't it? After the sixteen gay panics over the course of this show, the first two picks are also the two gay guys, and this somehow reflects... well on Trump? That's the reasoning here, and it makes me queasy. Heidi takes crunchy-looking Aimee; Frank picks the hottie, Tim; Heidi takes Marisa; Frank picks the hottie, Aaron. As usual, we're going in hotness order, just like every season, and like every season I'm sure there are some panties in a bunch somewhere, but you know what? Real world. Learn it, live it. This isn't some kind of weird effect, it's the way the world works. Use that to your advantage and stop wishing things were different. They're not and they won't be. Just get hotter and you won't have a problem. And on that note, shut the eff up, Martin. He hypothesizes that it's so weird because normally he's picked as "either one or two" in like every project. Other things that are totally weird: how he's very nervous and he is never, ever nervous.
Projects For Which Martin Has Been Picked First, Historically:
Snipe hunting.
Left-handed screwdriver procurement.
One-person, time-consuming committees.
The down-low, if it comes down to Martin or the twitching schizophrenic in the bushes who might not even be in this public park for anonymous sex with married men, but even so: tough call.
The Quiet Game.
Heidi takes Angela, Frank calls the strange empty space called Nicole ("Hi, boys!" she says as she approaches -- hmm), Heidi requests Surya's permission to call him, Frank takes the wonderful James. Heidi takes Kristine and her glasses, Muna please, and Jenn; Frank takes poor Stefani and Michelle, and through the dastardly machinations of long division, is forced to take Martin. Trump laughs his ass off about Martin being picked last, and it's strangely adorable. Martin interviews his sudden apperception that there's some kind of "popularity thing" going on, but quickly drops that poker-hot concept -- with which he needs to fucking acquaint himself already -- in favor of one of his favorite bedtime stories, how once there was a little boy named Martin whose mommy told him he was the most precious thing in the world, and engineered the violent accidental deaths of anybody who was ever mean to her precious little boy, and sometimes she would make him wear a dress and stand out on the porch for some reason, but that's all in the past, and the little boy Martin grew up to be a whiny, pissy, lazy little man who dressed like the acid trips of nerds, and a most amazing thing would happen with him, where people immediately and correctly recoiled from him at first contact, but slowly and over time they grew to like him, and none of this was his problem or his responsibility, because other people's "standoffishness" has nothing to do with your greasy personality, horrible sayings from Fortunecookia, total allergy to effort, or the creepy love-hate-stalker-chronic masturbator relationship you have with yourself, or your creepy bi-curious vibe.
This Show Is Going To Be Cracked-Out Shark-Jumping Awesome: Exhibit B
"When I think of LA, I think of movies, I think of sex, and I think of cars." Love this game! When I think of... the films of art-house favorite Federico Fellini. I think of La Dolce Vita, because I want to live there; I think of clowns; I think of people fucking. This is fun! Man, but what if I was Trump and this were all some kind of rotoscoped Phillip Dick story? Flow My Tears, The Recapper Said. When I think of LA plus crying, and recapping, I think of Entourage. Derek nods, because he's from LA, and has seen movies and cars there; but when Trump says the word "sex" in a room with you, face to face, it creates a headache and wavy lines. The first task will involve, surprisingly, both cars and sex, kinda: running a car wash. In LA, car washes are big business: $250M a year! Make some money with car washes! Twist: Heidi and Frank will remain PMs every task, until they get fired. Michelle snorts flames at this. Ivanka is, once again, Trump's "eyes and ears" and what she tells her dad means a lot to him. Good. She's generally 100% correct. "Good luck, have fun, wash cars," he says magnanimously. Why?
There's harmonica music for some reason, and somehow that indicates that we're visiting Frank's team first. It makes sense on a whole nonverbal level, like, I heard the music and immediately knew it was Team Frank. What's Frank doing as PM, you ask? Why, screaming his damn fool head off while missing the point entirely, of course. He's looking at the other eight people on his team, ready to be led, and he blanks out and realizes he's totally out of his depth, so he starts screaming about how they need flyers, they gotta make flyers, to advertise things, and Tim and I think Michelle have to pull him back to the group so they can talk about how much it will cost. Frank's idea, which is a good one that he at no point communicates properly, is that they will undersell the basic wash, for volume, but add value by upselling each customer to the more baroque forms of car washing. So the basic price point, he screams, is I think ten dollars, and then it's like the $30 wash and the, I think, $100 wash. This part is pretty poorly edited, given that this is a major bone of contention at the end of the episode, but gets across his absolute inability to lead quite nicely. Everybody stares at everybody else, suddenly realizing that the call is coming from inside the house after all. Martin interviews that it was "like Normandy beach," "absolutely bedlam," and that Frank led "like a three-year-old hyperactive kid on grape soda." While this is funny, it does not help at all with the "dealing with Martin" issue.
Frank grabs Aaron and runs off like a kid with a hobbyhorse in the middle of Carey's asking, one last time, what the prices should be for the upsales, but Frank's already gone. Tim and Carey share a moment of fear and foxhole bonding, and then immediately man up and take over. It's beautiful and this was when I decided to back these ponies in particular. I think there's a snakiness in Tim, but let us never forget my abiding love for Hateful Jim: snakiness is not a dealbreaker. Tim corrals everybody, and they have an actual short meeting to discuss the task. Tim interviews that he had to "fill the void" when Frank and Aaron disappeared so suddenly. They come up with the prices, and get ready to work, but then Michelle stupidly calls Frank as though he's their Project Manager, and he screams at her about nothing whatsoever, and then -- awesomely -- she's like, great, I'm putting you on speakerphone. Smooooothly done, Michelle. I liked that a lot. Then he screams at them for a while and everybody rolls their eyes and he tells them to drop the small talk and start working. Which they now can do, because he's gone, and they could actually devote a second to planning. Whatever, I hate Frank so much I can't even see straight. Finally Nicole "agrees" with him and shuts him up, or else just tries to get everybody moving again, and they head off to change. Most of them, I guess. Meanwhile, Frank and Aaron run and run and run. To nowhere. For no reason. Even Frank admits, out of breath, that this is dumb. Tim interviews for us that whatever Frank is off doing, it better be fucking amazing, because they're two men down on a sales force task.
The group hug known as Team Heidi, meanwhile, agrees to everything Heidi says with her pleasant voice, fall into ranks, and get to work, whistling little tunes and buying each other inexpensive, but very thoughtful, gifts. Angela and Heidi make cardboard signs, and at this point in the task Derek pointed out some gay facts. Their car wash is in West Hollywood, which Heidi describes -- stuttering hilariously -- as a "homosexual area." And you can tell immediately that her mental rolodex fell off its spinner about halfway through the sentence, because its Derrida-esque complications and politics and implications and internal tensions threaten to rip it apart on the page or whatever, but what's the problem? It's a homosexual area. In the webisode, there are two main things about Derek, in which he is slightly more alert and active and interesting, and the way this show is edited, the way that Derek does nothing and says nothing in this episode -- rather than implying that he is a boring or dull person -- somehow makes it seem as though he's in fact tremendously entertaining in some kind of unacceptable way, or that he's going to freak out or something. The Iron Curtain between us and any identifiable personality makes it seem like on the other side of the wall, there is a crazy nonstop carnival where every day is an adventure. Contrast with Aaron, whose hotness demands screentime, and yet he doesn't manage to do anything with it whatsoever. So from the webisode it's clear that the go-go boys were his idea, and in fact, the first half of the adorable webisode is Derek and other teammates running around West Hollywood, tracking down hottie after go-go boy after lithe meth addict, and asking for a few minutes of their time, and if they like taking off their clothes. Or, as I call it, "Just another Tuesday."
When Ivanka arrives at the gay car wash, there are two hotties with their shirts off, advertising car washes and free lunch. She asks Aimee (who?) why the detailing bay is empty, when that's the cash crop, and Aimee very confidently, smoothly, and quickly replies that their strategy is to push quantity, resulting in a higher return versus tying up their staff with hand washes that take thirty minutes. I just fell for Aimee a little bit. It's like she'd been rehearsing that since Friday. Ivanka's body says, "Well played, Aimee," but her interview calls this an "interesting strategy" and wonders how it will pay off. She visits the hotties on the curbside, where -- I hasten to point out -- they are not actually smoking crank on camera, and they are friendly but not really... classy. ["Well, not to mention their ragged cardboard-box signs suggested a cage-dance-for-food type of transaction." -- Joe R] The smaller one invites Ivanka to take off her shirt and join the fun, thinking this is somehow cute, and she classily declines and laughs, appalled.
Team Frank is like this: Crazy women wandering out into the Los Angeles traffic and screaming their asses off. Michelle, Stefani, and Nicole. In the street. Harassing passers-by about things they will never understand, thanks to our old nemesis the Doppler Effect. Aaron and Frank come running up with flyers, which I guess not all of us remember are used to advertise with parked, unattended cars, like a surprise gift. The gift of information! However, if your target is driving by, under the hot Angelino sun, you are risking not only your own safety but that of others when you attempt to advertise using flyers. I don't know how to make this point more easily without resorting to those diagrams with the little people. Michelle seems to actually slip a flyer under a passing windshield wiper. That can't possibly be right, but my notes say she did this.
"This is me with a sign, right here," Carey says, holding up a 8.5x11 flyer. "This is our sign. I work in marketing." It's a cry from the heart; I want to say that I feel it too. He interviews that Frank's enthusiasm and dedication are... large... but you can't get a moving car to pull over with "a piece of copy this big." My question to Carey, and the rest of Team Frank: Why would you even fucking try? This is so 101 retarded, I mean, you do not have to have a degree of any kind to get the basics of this. Why did they let him make flyers in the first place? I realize that he was yelling, but... flyers? For traffic that is moving? Is this one of those M-O-O-N Spells Moon things where I'm just so uninitiated that I somehow arrive at the simple answer? Carey drags Frank to a nearby drug store, which is dumb on many levels, to get posterboard. This is dumb because it's not mission critical, it's markers and posterboard, and you don't want him to go shopping in case he comes back with some magic beans, and also: of course, Ivanka now shows up. Tim watches Aaron kiss her ass and smiles when she notes, pissily, that Frank is nowhere to be seen. Aaron is sweaty and magnificent, non-explaining that "Frank's done a good job delegating duties this far... " And Ivanka nearly neck-snaps at him: "Oh, uh huh." She interviews about how there are zero signs, and James comes running up like he just drank a Starbuck's and yells about how everybody is selling! Everybody is buying! Cars are being washed! Waxes are being implemented! The world is on fire with transactions! Ivanka laughs and adores his madness, taking pains to point how wonderfully "amped" James is: Energy. Confidence. Getting Things Done. These are qualities that not only Ivanka, but all people who are not fucking losers greatly admire. Who will speak for the... oh, hi, Martin. Ivanka's lip curls the second he approaches, and she asks him in a very Connecticut Throwdown kind of way how it's going. She's anticipating the worst, and she's not disappointed. Or rather, she is: "I'm tired!" he whines. She laughs like with the go-go boy, appalled once again, and tells him not to say that. Tim is grossed out, James I think has to physically hold himself back from beating Martin's ass, and there's a gorgeous 360 degree pan around sweating, exhausted, awful Martin, going: "Hoo! Whoa! Oh, man!"
Helpful Quiz: Do you exhibit any of the following symptoms?
1. Did you get beat up a lot as a kid for reasons that remain a mystery?
2. A sluggish and unhealthful metabolism which causes you to tire easily? Possibly due to your physiology being markedly different from most other people's? Even though this diagnosis has been confirmed by no medical professionals?
3. No concept of "work," "effort," "ethos," or "what getting on everybody's tit is like"?
4. Are you correct... all the time? About things nobody asked you about?
5. Do you sometimes feel as though your superego has been injected with a sleep agent and possibly murdered by persons unknown?
6. Are you married even though you are gayer than the month of May?
7. Is she maybe imaginary?
8. Do you live constantly in fear that other people are going to somehow force you to do something or take responsibility for something? Does this lead you to the squirrel-like stockpiling of alibis and excuses, and the readying of whining formulas?
Answer Key: If you answered yes to even one of these, you know what? Just go to hell. You are too old for that shit, and what you're doing is proving you cannot even be fixed at this point. You screwed up, and I'm sorry, but my medical diagnosis is that you are ruined. The truth is that you are fucking lazy, and you're moving your own cheese, because in the end you spend as much time apologizing or not apologizing, stressing out, making up excuses, lying, blame-shifting, whining and being a prat as you would have by just, you know, doing the thing. Basically, what everybody else knows and you seem to have avoided recognizing after forty years -- the secret to happiness that we're all denying you -- I will now give you for free.
The Actual No-Fooling Secret To Happiness: Your P.E. Coach Was Correct.
About all of it. If you missed it when they were handing out self-discipline, I can totally identify, but here's a little trick: imagine your elementary school Phys Ed teacher standing behind you, with like a tiger or large scary dog, and simply do whatever you are told by this imaginary P.E. coach. Start by getting over yourself, then move on to more complex duties. You'll find you suck less almost immediately.
Team Heidi, with help from all the birdies and fauna of the forest, continue to pull together and make America strong... and clean! Angela proudly hefts a sign that shines like the sun; Aimee makes people feel better about themselves simply with her presence, everybody is cute and everybody is doing their job ... until it all goes wrong! As Surya explains, the focus on marketing led to a terrifying amount of success w/r/t marketing, and the cars started backing up. Their resources were too heavily weighted toward getting customers, and not enough manpower was left to do the job. There is an aerial view of a clusterfuck! An old lady starts washing her own damn car! Freaking out Kristine! Heidi interviews that she was feeling pressure! She had to take charge! She begins to wash the cars herself, and the sun comes out! Everything is going to be oh! Kay! She laughs with the customers and moves with blinding efficiency! Everybody on the team joins in! Marisa's sweater is VERY PINK! Marisa loved it when everybody "pitched in"! Derek had so much fun and looked great doing it! Heidi runs around getting things accomplished! Without being mean or weird! Or scary! Angela worried that if they lost, it would be due to "chaos," but she knew they wouldn't lose! Heidi continues to be a blur of effective management!
Everybody high-fives and Nicole, coming down off the ladder finally at the conclusion of the task, asks Martin where the bathroom is. He's so clueless he doesn't even get the joke, or that she's talking to him. He's just flipping through his receipts, adding up his sales for the inevitable Boardroom. This pisses James off badly, and I agree: it rests on presuppositions of your team's loss, your total lack of effort getting you called into the BR, and the need to prepare another alibi, like you do every single day. Barf me out. Visually, we're treated to a long, long shot of the team surging out of the parking lot to head home as a group, worn out and scared of Frank but willing to work together... and something like ten yards behind, Martin, still dressed like an a-hole, muttering to himself, all alone.
Into the Boardroom! I mean driveway! You won't believe this, but Derek had so much fun today. Aaron calls the task "difficult," which is scintillating, and Frank is sure that his team "did excellent." He uses this construction about fifty times in this episode, and every single time you can feel everybody wince and feel bad about their privileges in life, and every time he does it you feel a little worse about hating him, and if only this were a strategy, I would love Frank so very much. But it's not. Like Jenthura last year: the stance of airheadedness is very brilliant but if you pull off the mask and reveal a stupid person underneath, it's embarrassing for everybody. So whatever, Frank "did excellent" but Heidi knows damn well she won, and cheerily notes that she couldn't have picked a harder-working team. They also have the refreshing yet soothing scent of lemon and eucalyptus, and have the ability to do magic. Ivanka lets them know the totals. Team Frank whined and jerked their way to $2,345.54, while Team Heidi realized -- Ivanka notes for the first of eight times tonight -- they needed to roll up their sleeves, get dirty, and actually operate a carwash, so they did, with a choreographed group dance number that ended in them lying down on the pavement itself, and that's when their bodies spelled out a word, and that word was "Peace." $2,463. Team Heidi hug and are overjoyed and form a mosh pit of congratulation and mutual respect for each other's opinions. Frank almost bursts into angry, stupid tears. The reward, which will be as boring as ever, is characterized by Trump as a "true LA experience." OMG they're going to get carjacked by Lindsay Lohan!
No such luck: dinner with Trump at the hippest restaurant in town... Spago. Are they... using a time machine to get there? Team Frank is unhappy but what else is new? The mysteriously irritating but omnipresent Wolfgang Puck will join them, which gives Derek the giggles. Heidi is proud, the PM until she loses, and now officially an Indoor Candidate. Frank shits himself with rage. Also, Heidi is the Viceroy taking George's place; before he even says it, she gleams all over. Even Ivanka loves this stuff; Stefani and Carey are not entirely pleased. Trump reminds Frank that he overexcitedly shrieked earlier that he loved the tent, and how now he gets to sleep there after all. Martin and Nicole are blasted by this; Team Heidi is horrified and joyful. Trump calls it "a case of the Haves vs. the Have Nots." Man, that's dumb. I hope he says it like a billion more times this season! James and Tim take it in stride, because they are respectable people for now. Trump weirdly mentions that they will have to conduct their toilet in the out of doors, including activities like "washing the teeth" and "washing the face" and "whatever the hell you do to yourself -- I have no idea, nor do I give a damn!" Now, that was Trump trying to make a joke about his hardassedness and also their sad lot, but forgetting that he is crazy and his mind makes no sense, so it ended up sounding like he takes his showers under general anesthesia.
Frank is worried and stupid some more, and also there's still the immortally retarded Boardroom to get through, and they go off to their respective places. Heidi holds the door open for her team, and they giggle and give each other high fives. Derek squeezes her shoulder and continues to applaud until he remembers to stop. Inside it's aggressively IKEA but Derek, because he is a nice guy, obliges with the whole "the place is just amazing" soundbites about the "great furniture" and the "great artwork." Everybody walks around oohing and ahhing at the IKEA furniture, and Heidi explains (this is great) that being a "Have" means "you get to have things." Later on Frank explains the accompanying corollary to that admittedly confusing concept, which is that "Have Nots" do not "have" things like the "Haves" do, but it's less funny when he says it, because he is a pisher. Kristine heads straight for the champagne while Aimee checks out the fridge and Derek goes looking for the closet, meaning all three of them are on Team Jacob, and everybody runs around with their shoes off and their priorities showing. They find the bedroom, singular, in which nine IKEA brown beds are arranged in a circle, like the creepiest summer camp cult on earth. Team Heidi collectively experiences its first disappointment in life; Heidi points out that at least they're not outside, and the group hug begins once more, rising like a polite and courteous phoenix from the flames.
Speaking of outside. Aaron is putting up another tent, James is pissed, and when Tim hears the Haves yelling about their champagne, he and Aaron giggle about the horror of life. It's very cute. Frank is disgusted and angry. Michelle -- speaking as though Dracula is standing behind you -- notes: "This is our bathroom." Frank talks about how he doesn't like to lose. Frank, you lose at talking. "I'm not a loser. In business, you always have to win. If you don't, you know, you lose." GET OUT! I hate him. Nicole cries. The sun sets, and we learn that in Tent City, at night there is night vision. That is most excellent. Carey freaks out in the darkness of the shower and somebody hands him a flashlight. Stefani regrettably compares the sinks not draining to being in the third world. Everybody digs down to what they think is a deeper place, and commit to winning at any cost. I don't think it's going to work. We'll see.
Team Heidi strip down to their bikinis and dip their feet in the hot tub, laughing and cheering each other on to greater heights of success. They congratulate each other on the bounce and shine of their hair, and promise to stay friends no matter what. Heidi congratulates her team loudly for something that's very cool: not one complaint, all day long. The camera lingers on Derek a bit when she says this, but not everything has to mean something. She cheers them on for doing a great job, and meanwhile, in night vision, Tim admits that he will be telling Trump to fire Frank. Frank gets pissy and his mouth becomes a childish tight little line and he gets all huffy and stupid, immediately. Tim tries to explain that he's not the weakest teammate, but that it was a poorly managed task. Which is underplaying the horrible task management, because in fact it was Frank and not Martin who fucked it up from go, and somewhere in his dim little nut even Frank knows that. Frank shouts pointlessly a bit more; the Hot Tub Club pause in braiding each other's hair long enough to laugh at the shouting and shake their heads tenderly. How far Team Frank still has to go, they murmur to themselves, and then go back to baking each other cookies and making up their secret handshake.
The problem was marketing, not Martin's suckiness. They had little flyers that Frank not only came up with, stupidly, but spent a third of the task on, also stupidly, and also were of no use whatsoever. "Lack of hustle" comes in second to "no workable attempt to garner a customer base." Frank makes a trashy little fist and fights for his right to exist and gets pissier and pissier, and dumber and dumber, and louder and louder. Tim's fully aware of Martin's suckiness but reiterates that it was not the reason for the loss. Frank, in interviewing, gives us a quick peek into his stupid head, noting that "now that Tim's had time to evaluate the task," he's "playing Monday morning quarterback" by... evaluating the weakness in team performance and looking for lessons learned and culpability? Well, now that he's had time to evaluate the task, what a dick he is for doing so. "That's a little funny in my book," Frank pouts.
Frank, you don't have a book. Youâve never read a book, much less written one, and if you did, it would be about being a tool, not a businessman. And no, Frank, it's not "a little funny" that Tim's playing the game and evaluating team performance: it's what you do. "If Tim plays hardball," he assures us, "I'm ready to go." If Tim's going to play hardball, you'd still have to find the field, you total ass. Tim just grins at him, grossed out. And meanwhile there's Frank, who I guess doesn't see the point in thinking about the past at all. I think this is because he knows for damn sure that it was his fault, but I'm not sure he understands why, and anyway, what he doesn't need is some little shit from Harvard calling him a bad manager when he built his contracting business from nothing using only his strong hands and the sweat of his brow, and it's all just so stupid and pointless and ego-based and has nothing to do with the facts, and I may have mentioned this but I am reacting really badly to Frank. I mean, I thought Lenny was a bad person, like in his heart, but at least you could ignore him because he didn't do anything ever. But Frank screams, nonstop, with his trashy stupid voice, about nothing, and he's wrong about like everything all the time, and he is migraine-inducing and unavoidable, and I'm sorry but I am taking it personally, if for no other reason than that the sound of his voice gives me lower back pain.
The mansion: pool empty, all the babies asleep in bed. Even Kristine's sleep mask is from the future. She's so "intellectual property" and dot-commy, I love it. Outside, in the yard, there are sounds, wind in the palm trees; the sprinklers come on, hilariously, and they don't turn off again. There is tossing and there is turning, there are heads under pillows, and then there is a sunrise to the accompaniment of suspenseful music. Martin stares out over the Cliffside, yuckily. Tim comes out of the tent and falls immediately on his face, because he wants to one-leg race around in it instead of walking, for some reason. It is vital to note that Tim is as hot first thing in the morning after sleeping in a tent with the sprinklers going all night as he would be after a spa weekend. Now that is hot, my friend. Martin whines in his creepy, kitteny voice that he thinks he heard something crawling around in the night, like a rat or something, and Nicole tells him to shut up. Later, Tim points out a lizard nearby and she screams like an idiot and runs around like this is high school, and he doesn't chase her with it by some miracle but whatever, now they're dating in real life, and I still can't get a fix on her at all.
Poolside, there is laughing, and lounging, and yet more lounging. Carey and Nicole and Martin and somebody else stare at them madly, over the hedge. Nicole wants to "go for the kill" on the task. Tim gazes at the pool with a powerful desire that is both beautiful and cute, and interviews about the hot, hot sun beating down upon them in the yard. In the webisode, I assume this is right around when the Yoga Lady came and made them do yoga and balance their minds and bodies and whatever. This shit would never fly in NYC. Derek plays the goofy giant card during the yoga and makes the Have Nots giggle over the hedge as he falls down and acts awkward and screws up. I think that this is 99% genuine and 1% for show, but because we like Derek, we're going to say it's all an elaborate ruse and he is actually a ninja in disguise. Then they got dressed up so pretty to go to Spago, and Derek is working the Obama tie-less open collar look, which is confident and cute and awesome, and there's a stretch limo and Aimee is just so darn happy about everything, and Spago and whatever, and Surya is like, "I have heard of Spago, and Wolfgang Puck is on TV, and apparently knows a thing or two about cooking." Also at Spago, Melania's exceedingly pointy shoe comes out of their limo, followed by her mean, scary face.
Trump Wisdom: Nonexistent! Not even a hint of it! Cross those fingers and keep those bitches crossed! Trump and Melania and Puck sit down and talk about how Puck married Spago or something and they have 15 white tablecloth babies and 60 express babies and Trump patiently explains the secret of Puck's success: "See, he loves what he does, and because he loves it so much, he's the best at it." Everybody nods and tries not to look anybody else in the eye because this is so not the time for church giggles, no matter how crazy old uncle Trump is being right now. Puck takes off, they start in on the amuse-bouches and the ever-present wine, and the sun sets, and their food is delicious and totally respects your boundaries because this is Team Heidi, and meanwhile in the yard back home, they're eating at a long table on the grass that's like at camp, if your summer camp happened to be in the Mideast. Stefani cracks a joke about how they're dining at the "Valley View Restaurant" and tah-dahs the cliffside and nobody seems to notice her existence, and they all bitch and moan and whine about being losers.
Spago: Angela won her gold in Japan, in 1998. She interviews how weird it was to have Donald Trump seeming to be genuinely interested in having a conversation with you. I know, right? Trump addresses the table, saying it looks like everybody did a great job. "Who did the worst job?" he asks, and the record skips, and everybody goes very still and quiet, and there is stunned silence, and there's even Boardroom music, and Team Heidi is about to burst into collective and mutual tears when he smiles: "This is a reward, what am I doing!? Force of habit." And then? Oh, how they laugh.
This Show Is Going To Be Cracked-Out Shark-Jumping Awesome: Exhibit C
Segue to awful paper plates and plasticware and the taste of broken dreams. Michelle points out, with her striking face all in an uproar, about how they didn't know what they were doing, and Martin agrees, asking Tim to talk more about the price point issue. I normally don't support sneakiness and creepiness, but you know what, I would be so happy if the whole team could meet behind Frank's back and bitch about him, and not because that is funny and I am a bully, but in fact because then Frank wouldn't be there to scream. Martin interviews another motherfucking Nigerian saying: "Seize every opportunity as if it was your last," he says. How does this man live on a day-to-day basis? A Quaker would punch him, that's how horrible he is. There's a Scottish saying in my family that goes, "The best-laid plans of Mice and Men; Shut ye the fuck up, Martin."
AWESOME LIE:
Martin gives a fabulous interview, all about how he manipulated the team and "put the focus on Frank." Martin pats himself on his assface back about how he "can handle the psychology of the group" and that now Frank is, "in the back of his head," in "a dark place," and that if he can "pull this off" he will be the greatest Apprentice ever.
EVEN MORE AWESOME TRUTH:
I submit to you that this season is awesome, because what actually happened, we see, was that Martin got piss drunk and convinced himself that he was manipulating the group, when in fact he was making vague, weird statements and then giving a lot of eyebrow while making this noise: Eh? Ehhh?
In the morning there is much spitting and little celerity in the City of Angry Tents. The sinks still do not go down. Meanwhile, Team Heidi is giving each other valid criticism and helpful household hints, and singing hymns of their own devising. Heidi notes that her viceroy duty is a reward for their team, and she will have to use it to their advantage in whatever way she can. Everyone congratulates her on this point and then they pull out their mud masks and Secret Santa gifts. Because in Team Heidi, Secret Santa Day is every day.
They head up to the Boardroom mansion, Tim very pissy, and once there we find that Otto is wearing a French blue tie today and it is a nice color. James and Michelle are the first in with their baggage, like they're going anywhere, and in the Boardroom it is revealed that Ivanka's buttons have gotten larger. Heidi smiles as they walk in; Trump is wearing a periwinkle necktie that is very flattering to his eyes. What? It's true. Plus, about a hundred pages ago, I compared his hair to a tranny's batch, and I want to be nicer this year. He explains once more about how Heidi is now George, and everybody kind of immediately realizes that this is going to be almost impossible to implement, because either she's acting in her best interests or not, and either way it's a weird conflict to have her there, but I do applaud the twistiness. Michelle offers firstly that Frank maintained a "very consistent energy" from the tent ("the first pseudo-task," in Michelle's crazy words) to the car wash. True enough. Ivanka asks Team Frank if there was any kind of strategy whatsoever, and there was not, and Martin will be happy to explain that. In motherfucking depth. He totally outlines his speech beforehand, how there were "three mission-critical errors" and also some "fatal character errors" that came into play. Fuck right off, dude. You're talking to Donald Trump, who, even more than normal people, does not need your BS today. He doesn't even remember your name, how is he going to remember the three mission-critical errors and the additional character issues? The three mission-critical errors were no planning, no discussion of price point, and no marketing to speak of. That's my whole report. That's all you need say. He screamed instead of planning and then spent the majority of the day stomping around on imaginary errands.
Heidi asks how much time was spent on marketing, and Frank informs her that "time was of the essence," and there is a little bit of something scary in her response: "I'm aware of that? I was there? I won?" Ivanka describes how Team Heidi went for volume and moving the cars, while Team Frank... she politely describes it as a focus on "high stream clientele," but really the difference is that Team Frank was a dog's dinner and Frank started fucking up the second the clock started ticking. Literally from Go, he fucked it up, and continued to fuck it up from various angles and positions for the length of the task. Ivanka asks him to describe his point, or how to get there, and he can't even remember how much the goddamn car wash cost. Fire him. Fire him! Heidi asks if everyone at the table agrees that Frank had zero strategy, and Tim is vocal in his agreement, but tempers it with the fact that this was not a brainstorming-heavy task: set the price point, get the cars in. Not a lot of prep. Not no prep, which is what Frank made happen based on his desire to give the illusion of... I don't know. You know what? I don't even know what the ego-spackle point is to Frank's horrible little act. Something about being dominant, and efficient, and a born closer, and in control -- the usual, on this show. He's really just a less-moneyed, more grody version of Donald Trump. Come on. So Frank continually interrupts Trump and refuses to answer questions with their corresponding answers and talking himself up and licking Trump's ass and patting himself on the back and talking endlessly about nothing, nothing, nothing at all.
This Show Is Going To Be Cracked-Out Shark-Jumping Awesome: Exhibit D
Ivanka points out that Team Heidi and the creatures of the forest were washing the cars themselves, while in Martin's case, he was wearing his tie. Also, I should mention this, he had a pink shirt on inside out over another shirt, and looked like an idiot. Martin agrees that this was lazy and stupid, and reminds her also about how he complained first thing about how tired he was, even though he had obviously done nothing at any point. Stupid. Ivanka's like, "Right, and remember how I told you not to say shit like that? Why are you like this? You're horrible!" Martin asks everybody to agree, however, that he was a really hard worker. The people in the room are reluctant to sign on for that, for some reason. Tim agrees that Martin was a piss-poor salesman and should stay away from sales; Aaron admits that he heard through the grapevine that Martin was the weak link. I don't know where Aaron was for the latter two-thirds of the task, because he's so boring he's barely alive, but I do know the first hour was spent playing at Kinko's, instead of using that God-given face to sell some fucking stuff. Martin is like, "But I was really great, right?" Nobody can even hear him, anymore. That's how over him we are. Trump asks once more for Frank to cough up his strategy, again Frank cannot.
Trump: "Listen, Frank. Listen. Listen, list -- listen. What was it?"
Frank: "Blah blah blah blah blah."
Ivanka asks Frank to confirm that during the first hour he was "making photocopies," and he does, stupidly. He congratulates himself on this "tactic" and how it worked so "excellent." Martin starts yelling and calling him "sir" about how they lost 45 minutes of critical time sir and made executive decisions on his behalf, sir. He's like this close to busting out a polka-dotted handkerchief or fanning himself or something. I just got gayer by watching him do this, is what I'm saying. Frank tries to split a hair about how they didn't lose by very much, maybe like one car, and Trump points out that somehow this is both irrelevant and also relevant. Frank's response: "I am a New Yorker!" You know what? Fuck you. This is gross. I'm going to wrap it up with some choice quotes and paraphrases, because everybody likes a good round of Death Is Not An Option, but that game is fun because there's humor and whatever involved, whereas this is like, "Cancer or AIDS?" How fun is that? How fun was it to watch?
Frank: "Martin does not hustle. That is an evil trait."
Jacob: "WORD."
Martin: "In my imagination, Ivanka saw me 'rockin' and rollin'!"
Ivanka: "No. I didn't. I did not."
Trump: "Also the bathroom thing."
Frank: "I know, right?!"
Trump: "Shut up, Frank. The bathroom thing."
Martin: "I don't understand! I had to go to the bathroom! What is the problem?"
Ivanka: "Oh you really do need us to go back to kindergarten with you about this stuff? Doable: Martin, that was a problem because you should have waiting until the grownups were done talking."
Martin: "I tried but I couldn't hold it!"
Ivanka: "... I don't fucking know what to do with this."
Frank: "You know how else Martin sucks? Because he doesn't want to prove himself. I totally do, though! It's my one trait! Insecurity!"
Trump: "You are speaking my language."
Martin: "But for the fatal errors made by the PM, we would have won."
Frank: "I don't understand any of the words you are saying. Your sentence structure is too complex."
Martin: "And yet."
Frank whines that he was "picked" by the other 16 candidates to be the team leader, which is both untrue and irrelevant, but he's actually too stupid to have a conversation, so whatever. Trump points out that this means nothing. Nicole pats herself on the back for standing on a ladder and screaming pointlessly at people who could not hear her, and tells Trump basically to stop looking for reasons why they lost, and accept that Frank "did phenomenal" and basically... tries to sell the viewpoint that Frank was such a good leader it was like they won, instead of losing. I don't think I actually like Nicole, you guys. I think that's the vibe now. Trump finally begs Frank to stop yakking because they still have to do the whole Leave And Come Back In thing, but Frank cannot stop. Round table: Who should be fired? Michelle says Frank, blowing his mind. Carey says that they lacked direction, and Ivanka asks him to confirm that Frank should be fired, and Carey says that there were two people who were problematic, and Frank gets even more fucking obnoxious.
Frank: "At the end of the day, she asked you a question."
Carey, shrugging: "At 'the end of the day,' I would fire both of them."
Trump: "Not the answer you were hoping for, Frank."
Frank: "No, I just wanted him to answer the question!"
Trump: "Um, if you say so, but I'm right."
Frank: "No, I'm upstanding and a straight shooter and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah."
Trump: "Aren't you great. I might fire you but I find you strangely appealing."
Frank, as Martin and Heidi laugh at him: "Mr. Trump I understand but blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah."
Trump: "Um, whatever. James?"
Also Frank. Stefani agrees with Carey that it was a sales-plus-marketing problem, and that both should be fired. Trump describes her as vicious, but then she's a lawyer, but I'm not getting "vicious." I'm still getting "needy." Ivanka rolls her eyes in agreement with my silent judgments. Tim and Frank blah blah blah about how Tim would fire Frank over this task even though he's not the weakest link, and Trump calls Martin a "pompous ass" like out of nowhere, which was awesome, and then Ivanka asks if, since this is the first task, it was unavoidable that Frank might not task them efficiently because of not knowing their skillsets. Which is a good point in theory, except if he had been there he could have asked them. He didn't "task" anybody with anything, didn't care about their skillsets, and made zero decisions for himself, because he was in over his head. So it's a good point on the books, but has nothing to do with this. Nicole and Carey agree anyway, and Nicole is all about how motivational Frank is, and how he "did phenomenal," and Aaron calls Martin a "great guy" (lie) but has to say that Frank has the energy and skillset. To do what, I don't know. Trump repeats himself verbatim about how Frank is terrific but maybe going home. He's not going home, obviously. Obviously, he is not going home. Obviously Martin is going home, because they are both off-putting in a nearly pornographic way, but Trump is making this decision: if Donald Trump, even for one second, could grasp how horrible Frank is, and why, he would kill himself.
Frank: "Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah."
Trump: "Frank, my God. Pick your people and leave and come back and the rest of you will go to your horrible tent rather than Trump Tower or a mansion."
Heidi: "The mansion is very nice."
Tim, impishly grinning: "You're real fuckin' cute."
Frank: "Mr. Trump, Mr. Trump: Martin and also Tim, because he was the 'Sales PM,' which I just made up, and this somehow makes him culpable."
Stefani: "I am shocked by everything, all the time."
Trump: "Get out of here. Please stop yelling."
Frank: "I can't stop myself! I have a personality disorder called being a Total Fucking Tool! I have a doctor's note! For your organization you need somebody hungry, aggressive, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah."
Trump: "Save it."
Frank: "Okay, but first, I want you to know that blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah."
Trump: "SAVE IT."
Frank: "Okay, but Mr. Trump! Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah!"
This goes on for some time. Ivanka laughs and says that, whether or not you want to put knitting needles through your eyeballs just to make his voice go away, you can't make the claim that he lacks spirit. Which I suppose is true. I can make the claim, however, that he needs to get the fuck away from me with his horrible voice and his stupid face and his intolerable, weird, uncomfortable, insecure bullshit.
Once Trump is alone with his ladies, Heidi spills the beans about how she's totally on the other team, so obviously she wants Martin to stay. Shh! Trump admits that this is a valid point, and asks her to pretend that she is Donald Trump. "Martin," she says, without even having to think about it. Ivanka calls bullshit on Martin's shitty, creepy attitude and points out that Donald, Ivanka, the world, the universe and the Trump Organization cannot handle his annoying ass being around, so stop playing and fire him. Trump nods and intercoms them in with all the toadlike drama and majesty he can muster, and in they came.
Frank: "At the end of the day, Martin didn't show what I expected, and Tim stepped up as Sales PM, and I don't know how sales was working, and I gave my all, and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah." This is also where he starts to freak the fuck out. Martin too.
This Show Is Going To Be Cracked-Out Shark-Jumping Awesome: Exhibit E
Martin: "Now I'm going to get upset."
Jacob: "Also even gayer."
Frank: "Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah."
Martin: "Whine whine whine, squeal squeal squeal."
Trump: "This is a fucking travesty. Tim, you can leave."
Tim totally leaves, with a grin, and Frank gets even weirder and screamier and starts making fists again, and he's an "asset" and pissed that he lost by just a little and not a lot, and blah blah blah blah blah blah, and Martin. Oh my Lord.
Martin: "Mr. Trump you might appreciate this phrase: 'A new broom sweeps clean, but an old broom knows the corners.'"
Jacob: "Fuck you sideways, you mincing, prancing fucktard. Shit on your sayings. I got a fuckin' saying, it goes like this: Fuck you sideways, you mincing, prancing fucktard. I just made it up!"
Frank: "Scream scream scream! Blah blah blah!"
Martin: "Whine whine whine! Squeal squeal squeal!"
Trump, Ivanka, Heidi: "OMG, what now? Brooms what? Seriously? What the fuck just happened?"
I realize this part of the recap is boring but I mean, this is literally what happened. I am quite nearly transcribing the episode for you. I don't know how to spice that up. It was horrible. Horrible boredom, horrible noises, horrible people saying horribly stupid, empty things. Why should I protect you from that?
Trump: "Frank. Frank. Frank. Frank. Frank, how about Tim is awesome and went to Harvard, but thinks you should be fired?"
Frank: "You're the greatest businessman ever." (I swear that this was his response.)
More screaming, price point talk -- Did you know another word for "price point" is "price"? Did you know that? Why didn't you tell somebody? -- Martin again, for like the eighth time, tries to get Ivanka to tell everybody how great he is and such a hard worker, and for the eighth time, Ivanka's response is slack-jawed amazement and a curt rejection. They talk a bunch of bollocks about nothing whatsoever and I think Martin gets the GERD or possibly is about to puke, and Ivanka laughs in his stupid face, and whatever, and Frank and Trump get into a conversation so stultifying I can't even. Trump asks Martin about his education, and Frank obnoxiously answers for him, and Trump and Frank get into this semantic symposium about how you shouldn't talk about Martin in the positive, and should in fact shut up, and Frank's few literacy skills continue to drip out of his horrible ears, leading him to say the following idiotic statements, and many variations on them, and a lot of blah blah blah.
1. You see the fire I have in myself. (Even Trump: "Fire and... stupidity.")
2. I meant it as in the book smarts.
3. That's what I meant it by.
Trump asks Martin about his qualifications, and Martin has none, so he predictably flounders, and Ivanka explains to him, finally grasping Martin's actual remedial level of interaction skills, that he is gross. It's so wonderful. "I don't like the way you talk, I don't like the way you project yourself. Everything you say is rhetoric." Meanwhile, Frank is screaming his ass off about unrelated shit. Trump finally, into this pandemonium, drops the beautiful and refreshing sound we've waited so long to hear: "Martin... " Because he's a lazy twat, basically, but Trump calls it "the nitty-gritty" and fears that Martin is not a good match for the "nitty-gritty." I would have just said, "It's because you're gross." That is the total reason, and contains the infinite other reasons inside it like a pretty box full of surprises and hatred. Martin continues to whine, and Ivanka's like, "Your inability to give a straight answer has defeated you," and Frank giggles madly like a nasty little boy. "Martin, you're fired." Martin goes, "No... " And Frank, with maybe the most sickening, shit-eating, ugly, icky smile ever, addresses Martin directly: "He said 'Martin, you're fired.'" Frank is trash. I'm sorry, but that's the word for what he is. I don't know a better one. He is a piece of trash. Martin becomes hilarious: "This is... unheard of. This is... horrible..." Heh. Don't let the door hit your useless ass on the way out. Trump offers him a great tall glass of cool, refreshing lemonade and LIES, but it's over. They leave, with a minimum of blah blah from Frank, and Ivanka's like, "Can you imagine him at like the Chicago construction site?" They're all like, "...Shit. Seriously." Heidi notes Frank's "passion," and I assume does a little dance on the inside that his ass is staying around to fuck up her opponents' every move week too.
Into the limo to the airport to the plane back to the great city of Atlanta: "I can't believe I got fired," he says, and claims for the ninetieth time that he was "probably the hardest-working person" there. Which, at what point do you start feeling sorry for someone who's so efficiently fucked himself out of reality and into the abusive arms of crazy? He's wearing yet more crazy person clothes as he says this, and seems to be sincere in his sentiment. I don't know. I still want to push him in the river. He congratulates himself in another crazy way, about how at least he's the first to go, rather than "third or fourth." Which is a fact, so, not deluded like the other thing, but also: huh? I don't even, whatever, forget it. Congratulations on that too, freak. "At the end of the day, I had to go the bathroom."
You what? You know what, fuck it. Again. Forget it. I don't know what lessons we learned this week because I think I just actually went crazy. I heard a little "pop" in my head and now... I don't remember what I was just thinking about. I don't know what to talk about. I'm tin-roof rusted, if you wanna know the truth.
Lessons Learned: Stop being a gaywad, if that's what you are. Stop being a jerkface, if that's what you are. Lower the volume of your voice. Dress like a person. Um, working together well is as easy as not bringing an entire monogrammed set of luggage to the party. If you're a Have Not, work on ways to, like, Have. If you're a Have, be grateful for the things you Have. Add "California" to the list of things that make Donald Trump think of sex. Lawyers are awesome, as always. I love lawyers! They are great! Thumbs up on lawyers! I can't wait to meet the other ten people we barely know after this first episode. Candidate filler is the new Trump filler. Sometimes people are just natively stupid, and there's no way to silk-purse that fact. That sucks. What else did we learn? Not much. Do what you love, follow your bliss, marry a hologram. I came no closer to understanding my hatred of Wolfgang Puck, because he's never done anything wrong to me personally, and was on screen for like five seconds. Oh, I know one: Sleeping on a hillside in sunny Southern California is pretty much exactly like being in the middle of an unending Hurricane Katrina. Did not know that!