Scrubbing Bubbles means creating webisodes that lead to advertising, or advertisements that lead to webisodes, or marketing that leads to brand assurance, something. It doesn't really matter, and you know Trump has no idea, but the skinny is this: The teams have to film soap opera shorts in McMansions to advertise the brand. PM Kristine creates an adultery storyline, and puts Muna's anal-retentive ass on the details. She balks, and begs to be on camera, so Kristine -- who has no time for Muna, of course, and knows Muna's going to pick-pick-pick the entire time if she doesn't get her way -- puts her in front of the camera. Meanwhile on Arrow, Nicole's come up with the most wonderfully coincidental storyline ever: a horse-faced girl with a creepy-ass voice comes home to her slick and good-looking boyfriend, who's been busily cleaning the house while waiting for her. They both have news! The girl just got this AMAZING JOB (on a show called The Apprentice, basically) and the boy wants to PROPOSE! On a bed of roses! But, you're asking, who on Earth will they ever find on Arrow, to play this loving boy and girl? Barf. Nicole actually has the balls to pretend that this is all wildly out of her control; Tim has the class to admit it's actually really fucked up; PM James ignores them completely. Kristine and Angela run off for hours to buy makeup, leaving Heidi and Muna, the actors in the sketch, to play director. And to run around babbling like cokeheads in front of the camera, nervously speaking as quickly and loudly as possible and making zero sense whatsoever. Add that to Muna's sometimes difficult accent, and you end up with pure poetry. Kristine and Angela come back to the shoot and eventually have to scrap almost all of the product-placement footage, because that's where Heidi and Muna were acting the most insane. Their resulting incomprehensible Chipmunk/Pussycat massacre of an ad leaves the execs cold, while Arrow's boring dumb ad at least manages to squeeze the product in a few times, between Nicole's Ken & Barbie games, Tim's sudden OCD, and James's sneaky, weird management. Ivanka rules the boardroom with an iron fist, Heidi and Donald Trump almost get into a fist fight, and Muna curls into a little hypocritical fist of a zealot when she's fired for making Kristine's PM suckiness even suckier. And week? James sends Nicole to Kinetic! And probably gets fired for being the only non-white person left on the show! It's ALL SO FUCKING AWFUL! Why couldn't this season have been this awesome all along? Now nobody's watching, and it's become the best show on TV! And the nastiest!
Previously, Surya whined and bitched and was willing to say anything to fuck with James, and Trump called Tim "Jim," and Surya had no defense but that James should be fired instead. Down at the fire as James is returning, Nicole tells people to "visualize" success. Which is nice if you're not, you know, planning on just going ahead and winning. Stef asks about whether Tim and James are okay, and Tim lies that he has no problem with James, and then Frank gives a speech that makes no sense about how James got called out in the BR and that means he should become PM this week. James tells us how this informs his personal drama and how it's his moment to step up, or whatever whatever. The Amazing Saga Of James, like Sean and Lee before him, is something I think we're going to have to learn to deal with. I don't really even mind anymore. At least not yet. I'm just glad Surya's gone because he was driving me bats.
Phone rings, and Stefani and Kristine answer. Andie's wearing an ill-fitting bra, and they're meeting Trump suddenly at the set of Passions. Awesome! I hate soaps, but I love that show. Speaking of drama, Nicole screams her way through an entire shower, in her most disgusting display yet. Nobody wants to hear that shit in the morning. Then they get in the van and she starts screaming about how much she loves Passions. And I can't say anything. Trump talks to Whitney about how apparently she's a "big star" and she says she likes it, and he promises to watch her on the show, but you know his ass lies. She skedaddles before the cast even shows up, weirdly. Like why was she there? Nicole screams about how she loves the show, and Heidi looks at her like the cutest, saddest little thing.
So the task is to create a webisode about this new kind of foaming cleanser, and it'll be related to soap operas in some way, and one team will get a "fabulous reward" and the other one, somebody will be "fired," Trump says, "like a dog." Angle on Frankie Suits and Muna. No! Not Frankie! He thanks them and they leave, just about as disinterested in this entire process as we've yet seen them. I love how the show is unable to hide the disdain we all -- including the candidates, of course -- have for it, while simultaneously having to pretend that it still believes in itself: the score becomes suspenseful and brazen while Kristine is particular is like, "Whatever. Just give me my Rice-A-Roni or whatever and let me take a damn shower." It's like something you just can't clean up in editing, even when it's in your best interest to do so. This show teaches us lessons through its own mistakes, which is the definition of humility, which is itself another unintended factor of its shitty editing. Sometimes you're so bad you don't know how to be good anymore. That's I think the deal with Frank: he's humble because he has no idea, and he teaches us a lot of things about how to behave, or not. The Zen of Frankie Suits is being complete in oneself, like a block of tofu with no idea what's going on, ever.
They hit the McMansions, where Heidi apparently finds that missing soul of hers. Damn, she rocks this entire episode so hardcore it's unbelievable. Also, Angela looks amazing and beautiful this whole episode. She's really likeable; I wish that we knew her better. They talk about doing their skit based around a "dirty secrets" concept, which is pretty obvious when it's soap operas + actual soap, and Trump barely scratched how "soap opera" has an etymology all its own which makes this entire episode hilarious because of how that's like this entire show. People want to sell X product, they figure out the market for it and decide how to make them feel bad about not having it, and eventually they do what this task is, but on the radio and not the internet, and it blossoms like a cancer into five hours of the day doing basically that, for like a century, and now they're like, "Household cleaners? And daytime drama? What!?" Meanwhile here we are watching this show, which is designed to dangle a different carrot while selling us the same shit, but which is genius because it makes selling us the shit the actual carrot. I never recapped this show when it was good, if indeed that was ever true, but whatever happened then, I know this show is nothing more than a soap opera for middle management. Soaps are about sex and delayed romantic gratification and high-stakes money and families and one evil white man taking us all out one by one, sometimes wearing an eyepatch or controlling a giant ice machine or hypnotizing you into a priest or catburglar. All the things people who buy detergent are looking for or obsessed with, including a secret life that they don't have to be responsible for. Take out the emotional core -- and I mean motherfucking completely -- for the numbers geeks, amp up the money part and the conspicuous consumption even more, add some "I could do better than that" couch-quarterbacking and what do you have? The wonderful pine scent of this great new cleanser I can't stop talking about.
Angela cannot quit with the beauty of the McMansion they're in, which is like if their usual mansion had a little cloned baby, and they have a "great brainstorming session" about how they'll have an adulteress, or shooting her husband, or whatever. Muna, of course, bugs them the entire time with whatever pops into her mind: "Are you sure there's a telephone number we can call? Do telephones still work? Is this PCS network guaranteed? Do cameras still record images onto film that chemically reacts under exposure to light? Will Passions still be on months from now when this episode airs? Will Theresa ever stop with the Ethan thing, or will she continue to poison people with guacamole and agreeing to get raped nightly by Donald Trump and getting her spine stabbed every five minutes and put in a wheelchair by Gwen and her personalities? How come Gwen gets to have multiple personalities when her regular one is nonexistent? Where did Fox go, and who's this ugly new guy? How come Fancy's Bedazzled eyepatch couldn't stay forever? Am I going to have to decipher the DaVinci Code in virtual reality after conceiving a baby with my brother and convincing myself that God nightly appears to me and asks me to whip myself to death? And then marry that brother? What about Chastity, is she going to become a zombie again? Are there any more mermaids we don't know about? Remember when that witch fought the gargoyle and word balloons started coming out the baby witch's mouth? That was AWESOME, was it not? And remember when the two axe-murderering old ladies stole Santa's sled and got into a high-speed chase with the cops and only escaped by throwing people's birthday presents into the path of the cops, and one of them was dressed as an elf and the other old lady as Santa, and then the witch turned them into a tiny screaming Christmas ornament?" On the regular, we are told, Muna does this. We were expecting that. Heidi offers, with relish, to be the quote "slut" in the skit. We weren't expecting that.
"Muna, you're repressed, irritating, and detail-oriented to a pathological degree," they say. "Why don't you handle the details and timeline of the project, because as long as you're bitching and nagging, it might as well be stuff that the team as a whole needs to be bitched at and nagged about?" But Muna declines: she's never heard of a timeline and she doesn't know what one is, she's suspicious about "time" as a concept of physics, "lines" as a concept of geometry. Angela explains to her about how in order to make a movie, there are various set-ups or "scenes" in which actors say lines, and are filmed saying these lines, and these set-ups are filmed sequentially, rather than all at once. Muna's not getting it. "Okay, we have ten scenes, and each one of them needs to be filmed in the few hours, and each one has specific demands and stuff that we need, as a team, to get them accomplished. You're like a producer?" Muna's like, "What's a team? What's a producer? What's filming? What's a camera? What's television? What's the internet? What's your name? Where am I?" Heidi explains again that her whole detail-oriented, God-fearing vibe makes her the best fit for the job. Muna calls her a liar for suggesting she ever paid attention to a single detail in her entire life, and furthermore, she can't even say the word "detail," because it offends her. She wants to be in front of the camera, of course. She wants to be a star! Kristine looks at her for awhile, repeats that she has tasked Muna with the production, and watches Muna staring back at her like a moo-cow on the train tracks. And she feels the fear.
"Fine, Muna. You're the housewife." Kristine interviews that Muna's really difficult to manage, which we know -- especially for Kristine, who does not take kindly to Muna's questions. Which is interesting, because it's not like Muna's trying to be offensive when she does that; she's a classic deductive thinker. It's not Kristine she's questioning, but the entire universe. So it kind of tells you where Kristine's ego is at that she can't see that, and feels like Muna's trying to dick her. Now, you know I hate those wall-eyed motherfuckers that start every sentence with "Actually" as much as you do, because if you say "No" to everything in the universe, then the universe starts looking like a big "No," and that's no way to live. It's negative and that takes a toll. But it's also eminently logical, and that helps out. It's like... Michelangelo, okay, talking about how there's two kinds of sculpture. The kind where you chip, chip, chip and discover the shape inside the stone, that's Muna: chip, chip, chip and whatever is left, that's the thing. But Kristine's intuitive and she doesn't sculpt that way: creative people build an armature and put coats of clay over it, or papier-mâché, or whatever, and refine the shape as they go along. Business is made up of these two types, because life is made up of these types. And you know what I always say: whatever you are, start acting like the other thing until you understand it, because that way you get both and all the territory in between, and you'll never be Muna'd (or Kristine'd) between the eyes again. While Heidi is all of a sudden having thoughts and feelings, and talking about them, and sparkling and being interesting, Kristine tells us about this thing: she makes the call, knowing that Muna is intractable, to let Muna have her way. But frankly, this is an exciting task, it's fun and sloppy and has all the earmarks of being enjoyable, and you are in part being sidelined because you won't understand that either, so the fact that you've accomplished branding yourself "the boring one" -- on Kinetic -- is kind of something about which you should be taking stock.
MULTIPLE CHOICE, KRISTINE
Is this leadership? Only if it works out just as well this way. You're bound in management to allocate to each according to their ability: the "actor" role is for the useless. It's a Markus job, in that somebody's gotta do it, but it's the last thing on the list. First comes producer stuff, then director stuff, then the workhorse stuff, THEN the talent. That's how this comes together. So put capable, smart, dogged Muna on producer stuff, Kristine's the director because she's perceptive and creative, and Angela's a strong, silent killer who doesn't mind shouldering burdens. Now, they have to stay in pairs because of the vagaries of filming, which means half of them have to go off-site to get things done. That's Angela, and who? I'd say Muna, except you need two actors to begin with. Muna's hard to understand and Angela would be hard to believe, so Kristine has to be the other actor, but you can direct and act at the same time no problem. Send Muna and Angela to do the backup while you're filming, and then -- like Arrow -- the whole team edits it together. That's the only way this could have worked out. But since Muna's being her usual chip-chip-chipping self, Kristine makes the call. I don't think she's thinking about the final product -- and once you see the final product you know that this is above her skill level, no matter what anybody else is doing -- but as far as treating this task like any other task, sometimes you fall on the Muna grenade because it's your best option. Kristine failed here, big-time, but this wasn't her worst decision by a longshot. They hand the script over to Muna, and immediately she starts questioning the actual words of the script, as though they're set in stone: deductive reasoning. "I can't say the Lord's name in vain," she says, in such a tone that you could almost believe she's trying to be like this on purpose. Instead of telling Muna to say whatever the fuck she wants, as long as it sounds like English, Kristine gets bitchy. "God said that I could use it in vain, though."
MULTIPLE CHOICE, MUNA
And so now I guess we have to talk about that. In brief: don't be a dick. However, the episode makes it pretty clear, reading between the lines, that Muna has been making her relationship with God everybody else's problem for a while now, and we're only just seeing it. I don't think anybody -- and Kristine's pretty likeable, like she's not a bad person -- would go from 0-60 like that otherwise. I myself got my hackles up a little bit last week when Muna told Surya she'd pray for him, because that's my honest response, even though he himself didn't take offense and frankly he needs all the prayers we can give him. But God is, like sex and money and politics, something that requires excellent room-reading skills, in that almost everybody has religious issues of one kind or another. So while your relationship with God is beautiful, it does not, in and of itself, make you special, and that's how it's going to look after a certain number of mentions. I don't know if Tarek ever mentioned his Mensa status -- or frankly the importance of religion in his life -- but I do know that's all we know about him, and it's de facto a bad impression, if that's all there is to you. Christians among Christians can talk about it all day long, but you don't live in a Christian world, and religion itself carries a bunch of signifiers and connotations that, while they may or may not be true, are still going to get attached to you. If you act in accordance with the negative connotations, as Muna does, then you're stereotyping yourself, and at that point it stops being about both you and God, and starts being about the thing that you can't drop. I don't know if I'd be as dickish about it as Kristine, no matter Muna's extremity (which again, I'm positing) but I do know that I would be doing everything in my power to try and subtly communicate that she was creating problems for herself. It's back to the Mean Girl thing: we're not trying to make you hate yourself, we're trying to make you feel just bad enough about yourself that you cut out the behavior that is bringing you down. Maybe after a certain number of "weeks" with no sleep, I'd get this rude about it, but that's only at the point that you make it clear -- as again, I honestly believe Muna has done at some point -- that you're doing it on purpose.
There's a difference between being proud of who you are and needing other people to validate it, and it's not a subtle difference: they are opposites.
Meanwhile, Arrow is again a breath of fuckin' fresh air, which I hate typing to my very marrow. James is being very nice and plotting out the story with Tim and Nikki, and again: the many, many levels on which this is creepy don't require even an undergraduate degree to comprehend. Their storyline is that a businesswoman comes home to crow about her new job, but her boyfriend -- who's been scrubbing-bubbling the bathroom all day so that he can propose to her, in the bathroom, near the toilet -- gets down on one knee: the cliffhanger is that you don't know if her new job will tear them apart, or something. Now, I don't know if you know this, but Tim and Nicole are dating or something. Another thing you might have forgotten is that this show they're all on is calling itself a fourteen-week job interview, from which Nicole hopes to emerge victorious. So the idea of a storyline in which a girl gets a great new job -- from a realty tycoon, perhaps, named Fronald Frump? -- and comes home to her boyfriend proposing, is understandable I guess, and there's a nice twist in that the majority of the commercial is this guy and his friend scrubbing hell out of the bathroom, but... Jeeeeeeeeesus, Nicole. I feel like I should buy you a copy of The Rules myself. Frankly, if somebody I was casually dating, much less while under the enfakening mortar fire of a reality show, started with that shit, the dumping would occur in a blink. It's just too scary. Like week Nicole's going to be, like, "It's about a girl who gets married to a guy she met on a reality show! Right? And Fronald Frump gives her away, and she's a swimsuit model for Trina Turk, and also a princess." Or the week after that: "In this task, I will get pregnant. No ifs, ands or buts." Scarier still, what if that is literally as far as Nicole can go, like in her head: what if she's consumed by things in a way that is too intense to deal with? What if maybe that's what they mean by "driven"? Like, if things had gone a different way, and all she was thinking about today was a cheeseburger, or her shoes weren't fitting right, or she was having her period, we'd be sitting through some kind of cheeseburger mess that they had to clean up, or some kind of Mentos issue where her heel breaks and she drops the fruit punch, or a girl discovers that she has the power to destroy anybody who annoys her, with her mind? That's how they live in the wild: whatever the thing is. Nicole might be scarier than Frank, if that were the case.
Stefani scatters rose petals. to the toilet. Tim and Nicole stand around as usual, with their bizarre chemistry, as usual, and they begin the Barbie 'N' Ken nightmare to which they've committed. Nicole can't act, but you know her ass can scream; Tim's forgetting his lines left and right. I imagine that he's distracted by his fight or flight response. Nicole disinfuckingenuously interviews about how she and Tim just happen to be playing the boy and the girl in the scenario. "That's soooooo cuuuuuuute!" she shrieks. I'm sorry, you guys, I tried. I honestly did try, but this is upsetting on like every level. This is not what the kind of people I like, do: it's the kind of thing done by people I despise. It's gross and fake and self-dealing and deluded and weird, and the acting is additionally atrocious. So Nicole shouts, and flirts, and acts obnoxious and stupid, and Tim acts like he's never had a girlfriend before, which I'm still looking for evidence that's not the case, and Frank watches -- I love this editing storyline where Frank is so in love with Nicole and hates that she's dating Tim, not only because I'm sure it's entirely false but also because if this were Frank and Nicole falling in fake TV love, it would be my favorite thing in the universe -- and he's so not impressed with the bad acting and general crapitude of what they're creating. Stef, as usual, is not liking it, but keeping quiet for now. Tim interviews how, strangely enough, the whole "propose to Nicole" thing she's engineered is kind of weird and awkward. You know why that is, Tim?
They are horrible, horrible, horrible. Finally Frankie Suits stomps around with his "this is BS" face on, and as usual, he's right about this. Nicole -- props to Nicole -- teaches the team about television and the concept of closeups and editing together different shots to create an interesting visual, rather than apparently setting up the camera and walking away from it like they thought you were supposed to do? They're reinventing TV! Guys, it's already been invented. James is like, "So apparently in filming things, if you show a person's face every now and then, that shows feelings and character." And sometimes, just sometimes, gaping, desperate need. She does a good job of getting the idea across, and I'm glad she mentioned it, but almost equally I am troubled by the fact that she needed to. James gets stupider: "Nicole's experience watching all those soaps really helped out." Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh. I realize that you don't do my job for a living, and Lord knows I don't have the skills or mindset to do yours, but: really? This never occurred to you? Do you know that the people on TV aren't real? Do you know that they're normal human-size people? Tim and Nicole embrace flourishingly when they wrap, still nobody cares.
So Muna knocks on Heidi's door -- Heidi is sleeping with Muna's husband, and must scrubbing-bubble and otherwise hide the evidence once Muna enters her home -- and she's not a bad actor, in that I believe she is a woman knocking on a door and requesting cleaning agents from her sexy neighbor. That's where it stops. Muna interviews, bitchingly, about how Kristine and Angela went to get props and stuff, and I do have to call bullshit on that one, because of the pairing rule. You can't go anywhere alone on this show, ever, because they need to tape your conversations, and because that would double the number of camera crews. So if there are two people acting, that leaves two people: either they don't get the props, or Kristine and Angela are the ones going. The fact that Kristine, instead of doing double duty as an actor, has been basically sidelined into this by Muna's weird insistence on being in front of the camera, makes her both a hypocrite and a little dumb to be complaining about this, but also makes the show kind of dumb, because it's creating a boardroom point where there isn't one. And not even the show, or Muna, can sustain it, because she's going to admit later in the boardroom (for reasons I don't understand) that they weren't gone that long at all, so it's not like it affected the shoot itself. That was going to be a hellishly bad idea and shitty execution no matter where Kristine was. Kristine reiterates to Angela that Muna's sensitivity and constant whining are proof that if she didn't get her way, Muna would obstruct the whole project -- and I agree, though I don't think she'd know she was doing it, and in fact I think she would be feeling really helpful, more and more helpful the more she complained, because she really does think that helps -- and that this is "the path of least resistance."
I'm at a loss as to say what Kristine should have done, because she's right about all of it. And yet. Angela's not buying Kristine's little director's remorse self-pep talk any more than we are. So what's the problem here? I guess you could film Muna doing a short scene and then show it to her and ask what the hell is going on there, and shame her into doing the job that is rightfully hers, but I can see her balking twice as strongly then, because that's getting kind of personal. I'm positive she gets static every day for speaking the way that she does, and a lot of people are probably not very cool about it. I'd imagine after about one day of people getting rude or weird about, "What was that?" I'd do my best to change it up, and adapt -- but I'd still feel cruddy about it. And then add in the cameras and lights and stuff, you're trying to remember the lines and hit the camera just right and the hundred other things that make acting hard, maybe you drop into your natural accent. She's not a professional actor, that's not her deal, I don't expect her to fully be able to deal with that and it's not fair to say she should be doing a perfect job: but she shouldn't be doing this job anyway. And Kristine put her there. Which means that this task hinges on whether or not Muna is truly unmanageable, or if Kristine's being weak. And I think in this case, it's the former. I honestly do think Muna would get even more neurotic if Kristine pulled rank, and I don't blame her for not seeing that in herself, or being introspective enough to accept and do the task to which she was originally assigned, which by the way showcases her best skills and would make her look strongest of the four no matter the end result. So Muna's obstructions to the task put her PM in a situation she didn't need to be in (several of them in fact, because of the pairing rule), which means that the loss is Muna's fault, based on some social dynamics of which she demonstrates little-to-no understanding, which means she's never going to understand or take responsibility for her part in the loss, which sucks! For her and for the team -- but not for the boardroom, if you know what I mean.
Heidi and Muna are onset, and it goes like this: Muna knocks on the door and immediately starts talking a mile a minute about how she needs to borrow sexy neighbor's cleaning products, and after a conversation about the pros and cons of scrubbing bubbles that goes by so fast it's just a high-speed whine between the two of them, like a VCR tape about to explode, Muna pushes her way into the house. At which point I'd stab her anyway, because that's a huge deal to me. Fucking pick up the phone, jerk. You can't understand a word either of them are saying, and they have to keep reshooting over and over because of the camera set-ups and people moving in and out of frame. Heidi's "nervous slut" act when she's trying to hide the man in her house is both hilarious and verrrry soap-opera-ready. That was pretty awesome watching her act like she'd done it before. (Playboy? Really? ... And more importantly, why do I kinda want to see that? What's Heidi doing to me?)
Angela interviews, on her return with Kristine, that they "weren't as far along as we thought," which looks cobrable at this point but will actually work out in Kristine's favor. Heidi explains the story to us and Kristine finally gets the behind the camera. Muna, by the way, looks incredibly beautiful and radiant this whole time. She should be in webisodes as like her job, because she looks wonderful. Kristine critiques the acting -- while ignoring the fact that they're both basically speaking gibberish -- and Muna gives some on-target Muna-ing back, about how in the flow of the script her acting is, in fact, correct. (Basically, she's acting mad, and Kristine tells her to dial it back, and Muna -- using far too many words -- explains that she's already seen the note from her husband that Heidi tried to hide from her, so her emotional intensity is appropriate.) Of course, the way it's cut together just adds to the Muna's-a-bitch storyline, both on the show and in Kristine's head, and I don't really agree with that. It's enough to show what she already did, and is doing, and leave it at that. Manufacturing a situation in which she's "still" complaining and nitpicking, when she's in the right, is stupid. "Muna's being Muna again," Kristine bottom-lines it for us, and lets us in on the secret that she'd drive Trump crazy if she worked for him. Which is no doubt true, because what wouldn't, but also: she's a black woman, a black person with strong opinions, and a woman with strong opinions and a decent ethical compass. The skies will rain Lexus Witchmobiles before that happens.
Tim and James are discussing how it's going to come together, and Tim's trying to explain cutting it along with the music so that it's your basic montage of cleaning like in every movie, but since James has never seen television or anything on film before, he's not getting it. He then says the words I've been dying to hear: "Show me, instead of telling me." Somewhere, Surya slaps the back of his neck, but there's nothing there. Show me what you're capable of, instead of telling me what you're going to show me about telling me what we're going to do. It's awesome, but also scary, because if they are able to get it together post-Surya, and I see no reason they shouldn't, then my girls are in hella trouble. The film editor they're working with is eerily identical to Glark, give or take a bunch of poundage. James admits, privately of course, that it's "a risk" letting Tim and Nicole handle the production side, but ... he sucks at it, and he knows it, and he's operating at a deficit. And I mean, the thing which they create is a monstrosity that looks like a high school project, but at least it uses the technology which so mystifies James. What's funny is the ways in which the two webisodes suck in precisely the ways that the two teams suck. Like, the Arrow one is sloppy and screamy and annoying and takes place near a toilet, while the Kinetic one is hyperfrenetic, sketchy and self-obsessed but not incredibly detailed. Ugly and hardworking v. beautiful and confused: Arrow and Kinetic.
Stefani watches from the back of the room as they get it all together â and for the remainder of this second â looking like somebody's peeing on her. I really hate that she's going to go out this way, because she's the best. And I cannot believe she's really that much of a secret bitch. They cut the stuff together with the music per Tim's great idea, and James is like: "OH! I GET IT! MOVING PICTURES PLUS SOUND! THIS WILL REVOLUTIONIZE ENTERTAINMENT AS WE KNOW IT! CALL MY PATENT LAWYER!" Frank screams for us to show him the money, and I just... he wins. I love you, cretin. The stupider, dumber, more irritating you get, the more I just don't have any defenses for it. Fucking bring it on. Test me. I know you're going to, so do it. week I want you doing every horrible thing you can think of, double, at the top of your lungs. I can do this all night, motherfucker. They're all so tired. It's so sad. Tim's eyes are glassy, Frank doesn't know where half his limbs are, James is nodding out... and Tim gets a little Muna happening. The dialogue is too loud... Frank and James think it's perfect the way it is.
QUESTION:
Of all the people on Arrow whose opinions about vocal volume should be disregarded at all cost -- in fact, your best bet would be the opposite of whatever they suggest, frankly -- put these names in order, from most egregious and horrible when they talk to least objectionable. I'll get you started:
1. Nicole
2. _____
3. _____
4. _____
5. _____
ANSWER POOL: Nicole, Tim, Frank, Stefani, James
Stefani continues to be unimpressed with things. Frank interviews... oh, Frankie. He tries to explain to us how sometimes you can spoil things by working on them too hard. And I mean, it's true. Michelle fucked up talking by working too hard on it. But it's conditional, because the opposite is always true, and not just sometimes true. And this is Frank we're talking about, which... another thing I don't trust him on is the pursuit of excellence. It's not Frank that is going to save you from mediocrity, you know? So this is uncomfortable and obnoxious in many ways, because the edit is to keep you in suspense about whether or not Tim's dithering is going to fuck up the webisode, but this is a show that celebrates overworking and overattention to detail when it's warranted, so it's not even that suspenseful, A. And B is how, like, it's Frank? Talking about how you sometimes put too much olive oil in the spaghetti sauce and overcorrect and screw it up, and feel bad about it. But: still Frank talking. So please don't ever tell me how to do things or that I'm working too hard and ruining things? Because imagine Frank carrying off this task by himself. I don't even... I can't even imagine what kind of fucked up product you would find yourself viewing. Like some kind of Big Night deal or the Gay Jersey Couple from SNL: a succession of chefs spilling tomato sauce on themselves and exclaiming in some overdone Italianate fashion. A million Tony Danzas in stiff white hats and the only word in the script is like, "Ay-yo!" as they drip sauces all over themselves and their equipment. And it would be weird, and it would sell, and Frankie Suits is adorable and I don't know what to do with that.
And somewhere, Tim is still futzing with the recipe and adding salt and olive oil to everything, where even Stefani's whispering, "Oh my God... " And it goes on and on, and Tim's feverish cokehead eyes are darting all over the place, and he's apologizing for being so intense, but just as an offhand comment, and his eyes never leave the screen, and he's getting kind of ALL WORK AND NO PLAY, which, who wouldn't at this point, and the thing that really, really makes you feel the craziness is that there's this one-second clip of the music they're using in the segment, and as he edits it, the eternal weasel being chased by the unending monkey around the infinite mulberry bush, and this tiny little bar of music is playing over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, until you are like: Yes, I too am crazy now. And that's perfect timing for the commercial break, of course, because this show is evil.
Then, a sad moment for Muna, and a terrible decision. She watches herself "acting" in the soap opera, and doing a good job, but her face falls and she asks the question: "Do you understand what I'm...saying?" Even to Muna, she sounds nuts. Kristine of course is also horrified by the footage, and interviews about Muna's terrible rambling. Because there are actually three problems here: one is the accent, which is not that difficult at all when she's at rest but amps itself up considerably depending on her mood; two is the fact that, like Heidi, she's talking a mile a minute like an insane person; and three is that the mics themselves, due to the director/producer not knowing the tech, aren't working terribly well. Add those to the actual complicated business of acting for the camera, and really it's just that she's bad at this, with a couple of other things going on simultaneously. Kristine gnaws on ice cubes and frustration like a beaver with a herpie. Heidi interviews smugly that perhaps it was "not wise" to leave, as PM, during the first moments of filming. And I have to say, she's not wrong: at least make sure that everything's not ass-up blitzed-out awful before you high-tail it to the lipstick store. And yeah, I know it's Angela's first time there, and that's exciting, but trust me: it can wait. Angela, sweetly, is like, "Muna, you talk crazy!"; Muna's all, "Seriously!" Angela tells us that Muna was clearly flustered in front of the camera, and her speeches weren't "clear and concise" -- when she gets nervous she talks fast, and that can make it hard to understand. Muna watches the video, feeling awful; Angela eventually decides they should cut all the parts where Muna and Heidi were running around like insane babblers. Heidi and Kristine finally agree. Heidi interviews about the difficulty in editing around the crazy talk while still trying to preserve the storyline and keep the product placement going. Needless to say, this is impossible, but I guess they at least try. Muna and Heidi stare into space, scared.
James takes Arrow to a "delightful" sit-down brunch. Is there giant fruit in the champagne? You bet your rich and classy ass. He's proud to be able to do this, you can tell, because it makes him look good as a leader -- in the same subconscious way that Trump constantly petting Heidi and Angela makes everyone afraid of them -- and as a manager on this task: they've got "time to spare," he says. Normally I'd say "Keep working on the editing until your eyes cross!" but this week A) Tim's got me covered and B) they kid of deserve it. Stefani and Frank hold a small "hope we win" party; Nicole tells us that when the execs see that video, "they're getting blown away." And hey, if the execs buy it, in the bizarre claustrophobic whirlwind of this show, that kind of means that she and Tim will get married after all. Task = Subject = Subtext = Endpoint, and Trump and whatever exec ass she needs to kiss = God. She's a carnivore, I'm telling you. Or like a termite. I kind of admire that: it's one way to get things done. James says, and I do think he means it honestly, that if they somehow lose, he is really not interested in bringing anybody to the boardroom. He tells them he's honored to have worked with them on this task, and that it's been a pleasure. Stefani says it sounds like he's saying goodbye, and things are awkward for a second. I don't know what his game is. He's being vague enough that he could be shooting multiple skeet here, or it's just edited poorly, but either way:
BLAISE PASCAL EXPLAINS JAMES SUN TO YOU
1: They win, he remains PM and looks like he was going to sacrifice himself to humility, ensuring ongoing loyalty and another task's worth of mind control.
2: They win, he just meant it would be hard to bring somebody back, but of course he'd have done it, but he didn't have to, because he led a good task; there's no way to clarify this now-negligible, if weird, statement without looking accusatory.
3: They lose, he's the PM with the PM's perennial target on him, but he just meant all along that it would be hard to bring people back. Which can't be turned around on him or brought up in the BR, because it is loyalty and team spirit, which Trump likes.
4: They lose, he doesn't bring anybody back and gets himself fired, because he's suddenly lost his mind. Which ordinarily, because James is sneaky and obsessed with the boardroom, and because anybody on this show is all about me-first, even when they're not, seems unlikely... but this season? This season was invented to drive them crazy, so who knows. Frankly, I'm not convinced the scene even bears this much looking at, but God knows that's never stopped me before. Maybe I'm going crazy too. Maybe the yard's gettin' to me.
Somewhere in the world there's a very crappy conference room with that painful-looking proto-Berber and ficuses where we're watching the webisode with two execs, of whom the female has literally no time for this bullshit. Arrow: the horror of Frank which we can all imagine (but add five extra horrible points, of course, for being awkward and amped in front of the camera), the weird wipes and shit between scenes, the horrible acting, the scariness of Nicole in the corner of the room watching them watching her with a terrible need shining off of her like the light of a sun going supernova. She's pretty charming and has a funny bone, so I'm sure she has friends, not that I am one of them, but I can't imagine having to sit in her living room and watch this show with her, now that it's airing. Not even being nasty, I'm just saying it would be exhausting, because that's Nicole: she needs you. The story itself is rather adorable, at the start: Frank shouts about how they have to clean the bathroom up really nice for the proposal -- which... -- but then they musical montage the hell out of the bathroom. I don't know, it seems like it would be fun to do projects with Frank. The second Nicole shows up on screen, Nicole outside the TV but inside your TV starts nodding furiously, like, "This is it! This is the part with me! Watch this part! Please! I will put on a bathing suit if you want! This is where it gets good! Just like my life!"
Nicole on the screen inside the screen screams and screams at Tim inside the screen about something my ears hurt too much to hear, and outside there's Nicole nodding like a maniac, and Stef's voiceover is all, "Will [Tim] propose? Will [Nikki] like whatever? Find out at some stupid website about grout cleaner." The boys are wearing these weird pale blue/mint green candystripe ties, the colors of the cleaning agent company, and the ladies are wearing equivalent scarves around their necks, like they work on Rodeo Drive being mean to hookers. Stefani looks like a million bucks as usual, but there's something maddening about the little Daphne scarf on Nicole, and I can't put my finger on it, and obviously my problems with Nicole go way beyond Nicole and more to the box I plopped her into nine weeks ago. I mean, I get that. And the second she steps outside that box, I'll reevaluate, because the only thing stronger than my judgmental streak is my delight in showing how open-minded and flexible I am. But that day has not come, and you and I both know it never, ever will. So when I say that in grade school she loved horses, I mean LOVED them, like drew pictures of them and had plastic ones that she took everywhere, this is all I'm really trying to say: the neckerchief looks fucked up on her.
Kinetic then threatens to "take [us] on a journey to SoftScrub Suburbia," okay, where Dirty Little Secrets are about to make their debut, and then: apocalypse. Muna knocks on Heidi's door, and in the second of the knock and the second of the opening of the door, and in the second that Heidi standing just inside opens that door, all hell is unleashed. I would do a little fake transcript of the part, because I do think that would be both fun and edifying, but...well. Who knows what they're saying? So Heidi opens the door and Muna gabbles at her for a second and then pushes inside, and then Heidi is talking equally crazy, and then they run up the stairs and down the stairs and into the kitchen and out of the kitchen and into closets and out of windows, and there's Sasquatch chasing them, and then a girl in a bikini whose clothes suddenly disappear, and then Benny Hill on a tiny little tricycle, and there are some nuns, and a Friar on a bicycle with a squeeze-horn, like one of those pennyfarthing ones way up in the air, bicycling slowly across the sky, and there's a yellow submarine, and Gordon Lightfoot comes flying out of a clown's mouth into a mountain of ice cream, Sarah Silverman driving a German car over Loch Ness, the entire cast of Spun doing an angry dance-off with the cast of Trainspotting over River Phoenix's body outside the Viper Room, Lohan's there, you get a flash of Britney's vagina, one fat kid in green silk pajamas in the middle of a Chipmunk dervish whirlwind, and all the time, they're talking, talking, talking, and yelling words at each other, and you don't know what they are, but a few of them float up out of the screaming, words like "cleaning" and "ammonia-free," and there are violins and the executives are like, "We have been roofied by Tim Leary." Heidi runs upstairs and wipes words that you also cannot understand off the mirror after reading the entirety of the back of the bottle as fast as the crank will let her:
Heidi: "removestoughsoapscum dirthardwaterspots andotherbathroomstains withoutscrubbing bathtubsshowercurtainsanddoors tilecountertopssinksandfixtures toilets wheretouse bathroomtileschromeshowercurtainsanddoors cleansshinesanddeodorizes and leavesafreshherbalscent donotuseon naturalmarbleorstone ifindoubtspottestfirst directions forsensitiveskin orprolongedexposure usegloves liftflapandlockintotopofsprayer directsprayer awayfromfaceandeyes cautioneyeirritant avoidusingwith otherhouseholdobjects keepoutofreach ofchildren! Great!"
And then the screen goes still, with Heidi wiping the mirror and saying yet more words, and the cliffhanger is that he has left her a love note in lipstick, which men should not do because it's kind of gay, and not the good kind. And that's when the laughter starts, and it doesn't really ever stop.
Alone with Trump, the execs couch it as how both teams have "pros and cons." Which means Kinetic is done. "One was a better cliffhanger, the other had stronger branding." Which means Kinetic is done. Nicole's still somewhere grinning into space like a hungry dog waiting for somebody to tell her how cute she is. Both teams are sure they have it wrapped up; neither team knows how shitty their little video actually was. Kristine: "With Heidi as our cliffhanger? Come on." Word to that. They bring them in and explain that Arrow had good brand integration, and their story made since and started immediately. They weren't feeling the drama of the cliffhanger, but there was lots of product on screen. Which means Kinetic is done. On the other hand, Kinetic had a good cliffhanger, but that was the only part that made any damn sense, and they seemed to have eliminated the product from the cast entirely. And this part made me sad: Muna goes, "Wow," just like she did last week when Kristine told her she was being rude. And she says it the exact same way, when I took up for her, but this time she knows the project is crap, and that makes me think she knew she was getting on Kristine's nerves last week and was being disingenuous about it. So she's a big faking faker in addition to the rest of it, and Arrow wins, and they deserve to. And if I'd ever thought I'd be saying that, especially in a week where their product was basically Nicole playing Barbie dolls in front of the universe, I'd have thought I was insane. But there you go. Kinetic, please help me out here.
So James will join Ivanka (IVANKA!), who's flying in from New York to Viceroy even though, um, she wasn't there at all, and then the reward. And sweet Jesus this reward really is the best part of the episode, after Kinetic's ad. It's something "very special," says Trump. Which is scary, right? Then he says "Blue Star Jets," a private jet brokerage. And Arrow starts crying with joy, because that's how they roll: they don't care where they're going, they just want to ride in a big fat private plane. These people! But no, that's not the whole reward, you podunk hicks: You're flying to Sacramento! Again, they break into sweats, because they think that's in Europe. Still not done! You're meeting with the Governor of California! Arnold Schwarzenegger!
QUICK QUIZ: Brainstorming!
I dare you to make a list of things that are trashier than this. You're flying in a private jet to have a ten-minute meeting with Arnold Schwarzenegger. I fucking dare you.
But of course that's like their pink diamond ideal, so they all throw themselves on the floor and start having the shits about it, and Kinetic pretends to be sad like every week, and then Trump's like, "This time only, it's going to be a really tough day for me. But somebody has to be fired." Like a dog!
Heidi interviews, with her shiny new personality, how it's a "big bummer" and a "pain in the butt" and that she hates to lose: "so I was annoyed." I really do like this girl, I'm glad. I thought she was my favorite because she was the prettiest! Whew! I'm not shallow after all! They head back to the campsite and -- my notes are unclear about this point -- either "bitch out" or "butch out" about the state of things, again. Somewhere in the middle, I think. Heidi notes that at least it gives them something to do besides sit in the yard. "We can pick up their fucking mess!" she giggles. Love.
There's an assload of classy luxury on the private jet.
Frank: How cool is this?
Arrow: SO COOL!
James: The Governor was an immigrant coming into this country, just like me. Even though he moved here as an adult and I moved here at three. But since for every reward somebody must make it all about them, I'm going to pretend that being born in Korea and immediately moving to the US is the same as moving here from Austria during the Cold War, thus making this all about me.
Jacob: That's really interesting. You know that it's actually your parents that are impressive in that story? Not really you, so much, in this instance?
T-800's Assistant: The Governor is coming! Sit down!
T-800: [Walks in, the imprint of some lady's ass still on his molesting hand.]
The music of The Apprentice: [Starts crying and masturbating.]
Also, the California Capitol is eerily identical to the one I work at/near here in Austin. Also, he takes meetings at the biggest table in history. I can see my house from here. T-800 tells them it's all very exciting that they're interrupting his day, and how he got a phone call yesterday from his "good friend" Donald Trump, and how Trump said, "You gotta see my people, they're the top of the line!" At least I think that's what he says, basically, I got the gist, because his accent is tough. Which is ironic, don't you think? That the T-800 is being held up as a success greater than or equal to Hugh Hefner's, and that one of the things that he overcame was his accent? Just a thought. He talks at them for awhile as the music lays down hosannas and palm fronds at his feet. James gives a long speech about how they're both immigrants and thus blood brothers, and finally remembers to tack on a question so that T-800 won't feel left out of James's huge fucking drama: "How do you...deal with hardships?" AndT-800 tells them how he wanted to be a movie star, and nobody could remember his name or understand what he was saying, but then suddenly they could, and now he's the Governor of a state for reasons of this nature, because California is uncommonly stupid. Or I guess not "uncommonly," but please hand me a break anyway. Either way the logic is iffy, but since it wasn't a real question -- and as far as T-800 knows, that is the story -- it's fine. Whatever, he's a joke governor who married into politics and where you and I keep our personalities, he has yet more muscles. Why bother?
And they kinda don't. Tim puts on his nice face like your grandma's telling him the intimate details of what it was like to hoe a Victory Garden without nylons; even Frankie's got this adorable patronizing smile like, "I have to be nice to this retard and not finish his sentences for him"; Nicole's just staring at him and wondering if fame is something you can suck out of a person like on Heroes; and James looks at Arnold Schwarzenegger and sees somehow himself staring back. He tells them to be hungry -- Nicole nods, because that's all she is -- and you have to go through your pain barrier, no matter how many jellyfish. But then things get slightly more awesome as he explains in fucking detail how he was filming a scene on Conan The Destroyer where he had to crawl around on the rocks for awhile and he was bleeding, but he kept doing it. Because he's too stupid to feel pain? No, because...something, I don't know. Advice of some kind. Pain is temporary, but (and I am not making this up or exaggerating) "what's on that film is permanent." Which is funny in many different ways, the first of which is the implied contribution to the cinematic canon of Conan The Destroyer (when everybody knows The Running Man is his best film, of course) but also: TIM AND NICOLE! WHAT IS ON THAT FILM IS PERMANENT! HE IS TELLING YOU SOMETHING IMPORTANT! Nicole interviews what T-800 just said -- in case we didn't understand his accent perhaps? -- but "film is forever." And yet she doesn't actually comprehend the relevance of this, at all.
Nicole instead is forced by the Governator to reassess why she's here: she's not here to whine about pain, she's not here to worry about the yard, she's here to work for Donald Trump. Which I admire, I really do, that moment there. I mean, the part where this show is a joke is complicating, but generally: Go for it, girl. T-800 continues, telling them that success breeds attacks, but for every offense there's a defense: figure out how to defend against attacks, and you will win. Which is not so much advice as talking about the obvious in an obvious way, but that's how you get public office, John Kerry. What's most beautiful about this is how their bored nodding cannot be edited to be anything other than it is, so the music is forced to countermand their boredom by creating the illusion of awesomeness, and the power of their boredom is so deeply intense that the compensating excitement of the music is like watching somebody win a thousand lotteries and have a thousand orgasms all at once, or get struck by lightning on the subway, standing in a puddle of urine.
Heidi sleeps in the heat like a housecat, stretching languorously like a dangerous yet beautiful jungle killer. Muna's like, "What on earth could I have done to not fuck that task up?" Heidi's like, "I don't know, but I do know you're fucked. I like you, I choose you for my team for life, but you're totally going home." Heidi says the ladies were dumb for going to the store, and that there should have been somebody else to do it. But again, there wasn't, because of Muna, so this point is not really a point. Looks like a point, and she sure is pretty, but it's not like Kristine was fucking around at the lipstick store: there was no way for the labor to fall out. Heidi interviews that they are both fuckups, but that she doesn't care one way or the other. She promises to be fair, and keep her mouth shut, just like always. And I love that, but not as much as the result of her breaking that promise into itty-bitty pieces in a sec. Muna explains that the Bible tells her to destroy her enemies, like a true hypocrite who doesn't understand religion or Christianity in any way, and "God willing," she will draw on him for strength, because that's what God likes: weakness and leaning on him for meaningless shit like this show. She swears on the blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ that Kristine will be destroyed, and that she does not deserve to be fired this week, which is false witness.
There's a funny fake shot of them in the sun, Muna reading a tiny Bible and Kristine reading a book "written by" Donald Trump. And Kristine's explanation of this is actually fairly hilarious, because it's not actually a diss on religion so much as on Muna. She explains that Donald Trump is a stupid small man who only agrees with people that agree with him, and that he's never thought rationally about anything in the universe, so the only way you can win here is to pretend to be him, to step inside those expensive ugly shoes and lie to his face like he wants. In contrast, God is not an asshole, so Muna's stupid for reading the Bible for "strength" when she should be reading up on Trump for "retardedness."
Kristine, verbatim: "God is not the one in there making the decision. I have yet to see God sitting in the chair to his right."
Jacob: "I miss Carolyn too."
Trump: "This is the actual video? This isn't a joke?"
Execs: "For 'shizzle'."
Trump: "Are there any stars on Kinetic? For example this one girl Angela?"
Execs: "We didn't see any part of the task except for the horrible shit right here."
Trump: "So you can't tell me that Angela's the best butter-cream tart in the batch like I'm telling you to?"
Execs: "No, because we don't know who that is?"
Trump: "FIRED!"
Execs: "Beg pardon?"
Trump: "Why is this video crappy?"
Execs: "Um, the person behind the camera should know it's unintelligible. Somebody should have noticed that this is a monkey on crack times five."
Andie's dressed like a K-Mart Julie Cooper, and Bedazzled to boot. Bad show, Andie. Angela's dressed like Horatio Hornblower; she's not even trying anymore. She looks like she should have a cigar in her mouth. She looks like the guy on the Monopoly box, but with luxurious blonde hair. Into the boardroom, and look, it's Ivanka! Yay! Ivanka! She and Angela... Wait, is that...? What? Are we supposed to be watching this? ... I think... no. Yeah? Maybe... I think maybe that they are making eyes at each other. I think Ivanka's got the sneak for Angela just like her pop. Trump would...I don't know what Trump would do with that. Stuff I can't think about without my head going Scanners from the sketchiness. Yellow, his tie is yellow, he's wearing a golden necktie.
Trump: "You're all awesome, but you all suck, so this is really hard but also real easy, but also I don't know who you are."
Kristine: "Unfortunately, the problem is that it was a good idea, but then we fucked it up roughly right after that part."
Ivanka: "Was this a problem with the delegation of tasks?"
Kristine: "In that Muna is a bitch, yes."
Trump: "Did you know that your video made no sense? And it was like talking to that one Playmate at Hef's house that's still going, long after all the other ones are asleep?"
Ivanka: "I used to think that you were 'articulate,' which is what white people say when black people shock them by not being drooling cretins, but now I find that you aren't always very 'articulate,' so what are you exactly?"
Trump: "I think she was still being 'articulate' but I think it was just incomprehensible, which is different from not knowing what you're talking about. Trust me."
Jacob: "Fair point, Trump. Good on you."
Kristine: "I begged her to be behind the camera and do the stuff that she's good at. And honestly, she would have rocked that, because I am a good manager, but she refused."
Trump: "You wanted to be the actress?"
Ivanka: "Why, Muna, did you do that?"
Muna: "I stated a preference, merely a preference, to fuck things up for everybody. She was free to order me to do anything, I gave my input that I would stonewall her and ruin everything, and she made the decision. I have a lot of 'presentation' experience, making presentations to people who can understand what I say."
Trump: "What are the circumstances under which people can understand what you say?"
Kristine: "She's abominable when she's routed? So I wanted to make sure she didn't bring down the whole team?"
Muna: "So you fucked it up because I talk crazy!"
Kristine: "No, you fucked it up by being an asshole and by talking crazy."
Muna: "I am a MUTE!"
Kristine: "No, you're obnoxious and passive aggressive to a shocking degree."
Muna: "... Absurd!"
Ivanka: "So basically she's so very disruptive that you were taking a backseat as PM to mitigate her as a loose cannon? You put yourself in the position of being a pussy, basically?"
Trump: "Well, whether it's a good or bad decision depends entirely on how awful Muna really is."
Muna: "I am the right amount of awful for you to fire Kristine!"
Trump: "Were you trying to appease Muna?"
Kristine: "AGAIN, no. I was trying to shut her up. I was doing this for the good of the team."
Trump: "How good for the team is it to have a presentation that makes no sense?"
Ivanka: "Kristine, also, the execs couldn't pick you out of a lineup. Why didn't you meet them?"
Muna: "Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me..."
Ivanka: "And thirdly, there was a lack of product integration?"
Heidi: "This part's kind of funny. We had to cut all the parts where we were acting totally insane? And that was also the parts where we talked about the product."
Ivanka: "Muna may or may not know at any given time how powerful her accent is going, that's how accents work. So somebody should have been there. As a director, in other words."
James: "Did you even like watch it, afterwards?"
Muna: "NO! She had the option of doing that, watching during the shoot. She wasn't gone the whole time, she was gone for like five minutes. We only had two scenes done the entire time."
Jacob: "So was she inattentive and absent, or was she there the whole time and finally ended up having to collaborate with the rest of the team to cover for your crap performance?"
Muna: "Shut up, Jacob. She was there the right amount of time to fuck it up and get fired! Plus, I am NEVER disruptive. I went as a lamb."
Trump: "That is a lie."
Muna: "Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me..."
Trump: "No, you're a liar. You're not a lamb, you're a complaining negative jerk."
Ivanka: "Which is fine, we like that. We don't want a lamb anyway. But if you're going to lie about basics like who and what kind of ruminant you are, you're fucked."
Muna: "I am focused and driven. I am the kind of lamb that is focused and driven."
Trump: "Angela, help me here."
Angela: "Mr. Trump. This job is hard."
Trump: "I know, my sweetness, my darling, my second daughter. I know this, as I know the tender feeling of watching you sleep, or wishing you'd give me a piggyback ride. It's so difficult, and I'm sorry that you are put in the position of having to work or do anything at all. It's hard for me too. So Muna, you're difficult -- shut the hell up, you are so -- and Kristine is or is not an idiot for being afraid of Muna. Or Kristine did a good job shutting her up. Except she sucked anyway, so it's like she was fucking up on purpose even though Kristine tried to make her happy and not fuck up on purpose."
Angela: "Thank you for that quick introduction to the last five minutes, but also I still don't know. It depends."
Trump: "On what?"
Angela: "Oh my God, what you just said. On that. Are you okay?"
Trump: "Wait, so let me see if I...who is responsible for this?"
Angela: "Both of them? They're in a pissing match that has nothing to do with me?"
Ivanka: "Who do you want on your team? By which I mean, 'My mom's had me in gymnastics since I was a kid and I can do the splits faster than a shooting star.' How does that grab you?"
Trump: "... Okay, you're playing Russia in a hockey game..."
Angela: "I choose Kristine because she...has more experience?"
Muna: "Wow (again), disingenuously (again)."
Angela: "Fucking what? I'm being honest. She's more accomplished, while you are a croaking sea bird that never rests."
Heidi: "I like them both."
Trump: "You're...Heidi, right? My superstar? Oh, I mean..."
Heidi: "-- Former superstar, I know the drill. You're like a broken old flabby stupid record."
Trump: "I don't like to go back to tasks in the boardroom, because I cannot remember them. That has nothing to do with what I'm about to say, but I have forgotten saying it already. Now, you've met Kristine and Muna before, right? And Angela is safe as usual. I think she's under the radar, though I hate clichés."
Kristine: "Don't be an asshole, she's a great player. The fact that we all love her means she's not a drama queen like the rest of us, not that she's FUTR."
Trump: "That's true, Kristine. I just forgot she existed because she wasn't on the video."
Muna: "Heidi, who do you want on your team."
Trump: "Awesome! This is so much stupider than what I was planning. I like your thing, let's go with that. Heidi, answer this stupid question that makes no sense."
Heidi: "I can't answer, because you're dicking with me."
Trump: "Heidi, come on. It's just a question. It could be a death sentence or a smart question, depending on your answer. It's all up to you. Whoever you choose, I could always fire the other one, and then you'd have the majority of the team against you, and that would be my doing! This is awesome! Muna, your bitchiness really comes in handy."
Muna: "Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me..."
Trump: "Angela, you and Kristine and Heidi are totally against Muna, yes?"
Angela: "I guess so. I mean, right, because I picked Kristine when you asked me an entirely separate question, so at least I can see how you got there this time. A lot of times I think you're just nutty."
Muna: "Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me..."
Kristine and Muna talk over each other and beg and beg...but they're not begging Trump anymore. They're begging Heidi. She's STILL THE ALPHA! She hasn't been PM in a thousand years, but they are still hilariously in love with her! All of them! Me! They are the collective Mo to her Mercer: the first few days of this show were so intensely traumatic that they don't even know that they're bowing to her these days: it's just part of life. She is their queen because they are all crazy now. And she's working it! Like Melanie Griffith! It's so great!
Muna: "Heidi, please answer Mr. Trump who you want moving forward with you. Because you made an offhand comment earlier that has no bearing in this context, and also because the Lord is going to brainwash you into lying for me, because I'm pretty sure that's how God works."
Heidi: "Well. It's a 'great' question. Um. I would preface this with the fact that I respect each one of you..."
Ivanka: [Rolls her eyes and waits to grill Angela some more.]
Trump: [Screams at Heidi a thousand times to answer the bullshit question.]
Heidi's face: Go fuck yourself, old man. This is jank. You're stupid for thinking this matters.
And the thing about it is, I love this show so much, and this season so much, because once Michelle pointed out the Emperor had no clothes on, nobody's respected Trump in these boardrooms, and it's driving him nuts, and he's going on all these patriarchal limbs and threatening people nonsensically trying to get "respect" back from them, and it keeps going south on him, and that makes up for so, so much of what we've had to endure from this show until that point. Derek and Jenn? Slapping Randal? Heidi right now? That's my favorite one, because all the ridicule and hate is in her eyes, and Trump can't read eyes. He gets vocal tone and he gets some body language, but faces? Doesn't get it. Boys draw bodies, girls draw faces. He cannot see the scorn on her face because he doesn't see the emotion in her face because he doesn't get emotion, or rather, doesn't get that other people's subjective emotions have an existence and life beyond his stupid little tower he's built. So while I think Heidi's crossing the line into flagrant disrespect, and any normal viewer would have assumed her ass would be fired and possibly executed by snipers, but Trump: not seeing it. Has no idea she's broadcasting loud and clear that she's disgusted by him, after all this time. And that is fucking fly.
Heidi and Trump: [Nearly get into a fistfight that Trump doesn't even know they're having.]
Heidi: [Wins the fight Trump doesn't know they're having.]
Heidi: [Is wonderful.]
Heidi: "Fine. Kristine. As I was always going to say, and would have said immediately, until you decided to compare cock size."
Muna: [Breaks into a million shriveled, fist-shaped pieces, because what if in addition to no Heidi, there's also no God? Just Trump for no reason?]
Trump: "So Muna, you just asked if Heidi would give me the go-ahead to fire you, and she did. Sucks, no?"
Muna: "Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me..."
Trump: "Yeah, we're done here. Muna, you're great."
Muna, straightening her jacket, already fired: "I understand."
Trump: "I'm going to keep talking for a million years. I like how you took a risk, because I take risks. And even though that one was stupid and would never fly, it's stupid in a way I share and will never understand the fact that you were doomed the second you asked it. Which you also don't understand. So to both of us, it looks like a risk."
Muna: "I know! And I don't take risks usually!"
Trump: "Do not talk shit about risks. I just told you I take them."
Muna: "Mr. Trump, Mr. Trump, Mr. Trump, Heidi lied to you. She told me in strictest confidence, in a wildly different context, that she chooses me. I would like to submit the idea to you, moving forward, that we use this version of her answer, instead."
Heidi: "Um..."
Trump: [Babbling.]
Heidi: "Hey..."
Trump: [Babbling.]
Heidi: "Like..."
Trump: [Babbling.]
Heidi's face: "Fucking shut the fuck up, you crazy old drunk! I cannot believe how dumb you are! Why did I ever think you were cool?! I need to get my head checked! You SUCK!"
Trump: [Babbling.]
Heidi's face: "Fucking fire her! God!"
Trump: [Babbling.]
Trump: "Muna, as I said twenty minutes ago in this very room, you asked a very dangerous, risky question."
Muna: "Because I was confident! God and Heidi both said that I will become the Apprentice!"
Ivanka: "Why would you say that, Heidi? If you think Muna's a weaker player, why would you tell Muna that she was the queen of the universe? It doesn't make sense."
Heidi: "Do you know what 'hearsay' is? Of course she didn't take it the way it was intended. I wouldn't even have said that much if I thought she was this dumb and would bring it into the boardroom. I was trying to be nice! Sometimes we tell white lies!"
Trump: "Heidi, as I said twenty-five minutes ago in this very room, Muna asked a very dangerous, risky question."
Heidi: "Oh my GOD, shut up! I like all three of them, okay? Just like I liked Jenn, and Aimee, and Derek, and allll the other people named Jennifer that have been on this team. We don't go like that, we are not the rabid wolverines you so desperately want us to be, snuffling and eating each other's hearts out for your approval. We are not LIKE you. We are HUMAN."
Trump: "Heidi, as I said twenty-six minutes ago in this very room, Muna asked a very dangerous, risky question. And you answered it, and your answer was Kristine."
Heidi: "...Yeah. Your point?"
Trump: "Muna you're fired! Ha! You totally didn't see that coming! I lulled you into a false sense of that I had gone nuts! But really I was lying in wait, underneath my babbling! You had no idea! Oh, the look on your face! Angela, kiss me! With tongue! Everybody else, leave! I'm a very important man with very important shit to do! I am the most important, richest, classiest man in the world! And you're all afraid of me! So run from this room! Or else!"
They mosey out, and Trump lets the Viceroys in on this thing he noticed where Muna asked a risky question. Ivanka goes, "Yeah."
Outside, Muna's well ahead of the pack, but is sweet as she's leaving: "Okay, girls!" They wave goodbye, sadly. Heidi exhales for the first time in two hours and slowly unclenches her fists and thinks about Chardonnay. "No pressure on Heidi, or anything." The "fucking A" is silent. God, I love her so much. I wish we'd seen this before, because I would have been way more thumbs up on this season if they'd shown a second of Heidi being interesting or cool in any way. The three Kineticists remaining laugh and grin and are awesome as they go back to the yard, all friendly and wiped out. This show is so good now! What happened before? What was the point of that sucking before?
In the limo, Muna gives just about the grossest speech I've ever heard somebody give in this position, all about how she hopes to inspire at least one little girl or one little boy to believe in God and be a hard worker -- gross -- and then also that God is going to destroy Kinetic for what they've done to her. Gross.
week: RESHUFFLE! And you'll never guess who's coming to Kinetic! "Will business...trump love?" Man, this show rocks.