30 Eager Women Happily Meet Chris Lamb...er, Brad Womack! It's the Texas Tool--Take Two!
ABC Television--and a collection of dirtbags they're in bed with--present The Bachelor, premiering January 3rd on ABC. This season, The Bachelor re-introduces Texas bar owner, self-made gazillionaire, and self-admitted commitment-phobe, BradWomack, as the guy every woman wants...as long as they're under the impression he's someone named Chris Lambton. This season, Brad's out to prove that he isn't really a soulless robot devoid of human emotion, and at age 38, he's had enough of picking up floozies from his bars and is ready to settle down and help some gal achieve mediocre fame by dating him for a while. (Besides, his moms starting to wonder about him.)
This season's amazing journey will span the globe, from the same old Malibu mansion you see every season, to scenic Costa Rica where the Chamber of Commerce is picking up the tab, to exotic South Africa so you can check out some black people, cause there damn sure aren't any on this show. In between, Brad will do the same old crap you see every season: helicopter dates, race car dates, amusement park dates, and at least one zipline/bungee jump/or rappelling down a building date, all while dumping at least 29 of the 30 women who signed up for this alcohol-fueled vacation. Along the way, he'll be serenaded by supergroup Train (because you haven't heard enough of these guys) and by music superstar Seal (who's apparently hit rock bottom). In between, the women will entertain you by acting like Brad is the last man left on earth. And they will cry. Cry. Cry. Bitch. Cry. Fight. Cry.
It will all culminate when he culls the herd far enough to be left with four lucky women who will impose on their families and drag them into this mess, by having Brad over for dinner. After a few hours together, Brad will get the eldest male in each girl's orbit to give him permission to marry their daughters...or not.
The final three women, who have captured Brad's heart (or some other organ), head to South Africa so host Chris Harrison can write some dirty-verse cards and urge them to have sex with the Bachelor. Once Brad tries them all out in the rack, he then dumps the one who displeases His Mightiness the most and decides which of the two remaining women will adorn the covers of numerous supermarket tabloids for dating him, and which will become the next Bachelorette.
TheBachelor is hosted by insane clown pimp, weakest of wingmen, and Fleiss' personal lamprey, ChrisHarrison, who'd sell his own mother for one more rating point; and produced by uber-sleazebucket, MikeFleiss, who'd shoot his mother for half a point. It all starts January 3rd.
Ah, what's a simple snarker supposed to do? Brad Womack hasn't even managed to wash the scent of 15 or 20 women off him and spoiler-ho, Reality Steve, has already gone and spoiled the entire upcoming season of the Bachelor. Seems Steve and Bachelor producer/walking snotrag, Mike Fleiss, have decided to engage in the world's most public titty-twister contest, and do everything they can to ruin one another. So what's a simple snark blogger--who doesn't deal in spoilers--supposed to do? Sharpen his cutlass of course. And since I'm all out of Bachelor targets at the moment, I think I'll take a few slashes at Reality Steve for trying to ruin my weekly blog.
Lessons from Reality Steve--Master of Fame and Bachelor/ette Blogging
1) Sound pompous. Go ahead. You've got every right, since we all know having a successful blog about Reality TV shows is akin to curing cancer. And be sure to obliquely brag about all the money you're making in the process. People love that, trust me.
2) Be Long-Winded. Come on, you've got important shit to talk about. True, true, the U.S. Constitution is only about three pages long...but that's just boring government stuff, not important info like what DeAnna Pappas eats for breakfast. Besides, if you try and bring it in under 5 pages, you'll have to cut all those cute updates about your dog--or your non-existent love life. Ignore the haters.
3) Be Delusional. Con yourself that people give a shit about you or what you think. Sure, you could man up and acknowledge that people hold their noses and skim past your ego jaunts and skeezy personality to get to the spoilers you offer, but why? What's the use? It's better to go on thinking people value your worthless opinion. To quote you: "You're welcome."
4) Insult Your Readers. Let them know that you think people who are really into the Bachelor (Like them) are morons. Then spend months: researching, investigating, Tweeting about, and writing about a show you think anyone who is into is a yard ape. Don't worry, you don't sound nuts.
5) Don't be Afraid to be a Hypocrite. Slam the supermarket tabloids as sleazy instruments of evil. Then give them an interview and have them write you a check. And when they fail to give you credit for the information, slam them again.
6) Admit You Want to Have Mike Fleiss's Baby. Frankly, if Mike Fleiss wasn't about as welcome in my house as cancer cells, I'd insist he get a restraining order. Your obsession with him makes you ferret out the spoilers, but is it healthy? When you acknowledge that your actions do nothing but help the ratings of this show, and then say in the next breath that this is all just to get even with Mike Fleiss...well, have you had your meds lately? Is this trying to kill someone with love or suffocate him with money? Go pet your dog and stay away from the computer.
Ahhhhh, I feel better already. And Brad Womack, I'll see you in January.