6/6--You're Kidding; These Guys are Still Single?

Dead Man Walking

"I Think the Fastest Way to a Woman's Heart is to Insult the Living Shit Out of Her!"

Heh, heh, heh. Amazing, isn't it? Men are a pretty dim lot. But young men? Ha, ha. Dumb as bricks. How hard is this, fellas? There are three basic rules of things you must not do when wooing a woman. No, no, not anything complicated like: don't get drunk and throw-up over at her parent's house or any advanced concepts like that. I mean the easy stuff--stuff even a man/boy should have learned before he was given a high school diploma. I'll type slowly so any young men reading this can understand:

The Captain's Basic Rules for Not Instantly Wrecking Your Relationship

Rule 1: Never make fun of your woman except in private and be prepared to buy her flowers even if you do.

Rules 2: Positively never make fun of anything about your woman--her hair, her tits, her fingernails. If you must make fun of anything about her--whisper it--then buy her flowers and something expensive.

Rule 3: If you must make fun of her anyway: shoot yourself. It will be quicker and less painful than what awaits you.

If on the other hand, you decide to blast her in public AND on national television, douse yourself with honey and stake yourself to a fire ant mound. Other men will gather around you, nodding with utmost solemnity and understanding and help to tie you down. It's part of the code, like setting fire to your boat at a Viking Funeral. The crowd could have gathered around several of these lads last night, as they busied themselves with the romantic techniques of publicly humiliated a woman they wanted to date. How painful was that? It was like watching a mass suicide... committed with a spork. I'm sure most people are focusing on the human cesspool who is Big Head Bentley and his malicious douchebaggery, but what blew my mind was just how stupid are these guys? Jeffery Ross--"Roastmaster General"? Seriously?

Let the Ratings Bonanza Begin

The producers of this crap can howl all they like about how they were fooled by Bentley and his sociopathic douchebagginess, but who are they kidding? This episode was solid gold ratings. They kick it off by sending in their favorite stooge, the wingman. Chris Harrison ambles into the mansion in a warm-up suit and lays out the coming disaster before splitting to get in 18 holes. This week will feature 3 dates--one group date and two 1-on-1 spectaculars, but mostly it will feature the emotional demolition of Ashley Hebert--as their promos have giddily previewed. Quickly previewing the episode, Harrison drops the date card and departs in a flash so they can fit in as many scenes of Ashley crying as possible. The date card informs Ben Chipmunk to stop storing walnuts in his huge jowls and get ready to dance his passionate ass off.

Flash Mob

I know I'm old, but when I heard Ashley say she had planned a "Flash Mob" to surprise Ben Chipmunk, I thought she had planned a riot. She helps me understand that a flash mob is going to a public place and pre-planned, people show up in mass and and perform a choreographed dance. Well there's nothing dumb about that. Anyway, she hauls Ben to a dance studio and teaches him some dance, then they go to a public park and sit down on a blanket while onlookers gawk. Ben C., not being the sharpest tool in the shed, agrees to stand up and do their dance together in the park like two mimes. I would have stared at Ashley and asked if she were crazy. But Ben man's up and starts dancing away acapella. Suddenly, music breaks out, and then a flash mob joins them and they all dance like life is a 60's Disney Movie. Hoorah! Such giddy fun. Turns out their lame dance is an excuse for some Asian thug mob to come out and lip sync their latest smash hit. The thugs finish scratching an old record and the gathered crowd chants "kiss, kiss" so Ashley and Jowly have a smooch. As darkness falls, Ashley and Ben head to a Hilton rooftop by the pool to eat and give Ben the chance to talk at the speed of an auctioneer. Blasting through a punctuation-less stream of blabber, Ben sets off the few red flags Ashley is equipped with by painting an completely unrealistic vision of what marriage is supposed to be like. I'll try to transcribe:

"Iwanttoliveinabubblewithawomanwheretheworldjustgoesawaybecauseitsallsoooooooooospecial!!!"

Ashley cringes but must have promised the producers ahead of time and sullenly fingers the rose before handing it over. One very lame date; over.

Remove Mask, Insert Personality. We're Waiting...We're Still Waiting

While Ashley was morosely giving Ben Chipmunk a rose, a second date card has arrived back at the creepy mansion. You know its creepy because the masked specter of the Phantom of the Opera is haunting a balcony in broad daylight. Pipe organ music blares as the masked D-bag sometimes known as Jeff, tells us he needs a few minutes with Ashley before the date so he can take off his ridiculous mask and show her just how old-looking he is. As soon as Ashley shows up at the mansion, the Phantom hauls her outside, bores her with his weird personality, and then with every imaginable cheesy sound and visual effect inserted, takes off the mask to reveal...an old guy with a five o'clock shadow.

"Hi, I'm Jeff," he announces dramatically.

"Ewww! You're old as shit!" she obviously wants to scream, but manages to hold it until a Private Interview.

Roasting Your Chances With Your Date

The other guys stare outside and giggle since even a group this dumb can see him striking out from 50 feet away. The mask now dropped, they all pile into a stretch Hummer and head out to a comedy club. The club houses a very fat and burned-out looking Jeffrey Ross, who has put on a couple a hundred kilos in the decade or so since his career took a dive into the nearest crapper. Since then, Ross has dubbed himself the Roastmaster General instead of the more accurately named Washed-Up Loser, and is haunting around looking for work. Honestly folks, if you ever doubted just how little the producers care about seeing a love match, this should do it. Any first, second, or fortieth date where the main focus of a suitor is to rag, denounce, and take a crap on their date is designed by sadists, not people looking to pop a cork at the coming wedding. The boys are herded around and Ross demonstrates his trademarked style of Jokes Without Punchlines by offering to fill Ashley the dentists cavity for her. What a card. What a joke machine this guy is. The example offered, the boys are given 15 minutes to perfect their routines and take a few shots of Crown Royal while Fleiss and Co. kidnap some lost tourists to fill Ross' normally vacant club. Now, it's suicide time. A few actually recognized that light at the end of the tunnel for the locomotive it was and and swerved to avoid it. Others did not.

• Lucas the Enigma shows that mystery or not, he's not an idiot, by slamming Eraser Head Ames for having a gargantuan forehead, and ignoring Ashley's prodigious brow.
• Sunny Ryan, the relentlessly upbeat solar energy dork decides to spare everyone insult or laughs, and proves to the world it should never fear Armageddon from a Solar Bomb; they explode only with the sound of crickets.
• Eraser Head Ames fires back at the weakest target--the former Phantom--with a cocktail napkin mask.
• Blake, the smarmy dentist is the only one to actually show any wit by launching a single joke that sprays ever competitor pretty well, but leaves Ashley out of it. Points to the suit filler.
• Its left up to the now unmasked D-bag, Jeff, to take aim at Ashley's tiny tits and launch some lameness.
• Vino Ben and Nick and His Horrible Hair Highlights, decide that since the mask ragged their date, well, then doggone it! it must be ok, and the focus becomes her miniscule chest. Ashley claps and tries to act like it doesn't bother her.
• The stage now set, comedian wanna-be, William the Wise, decides its more important to try and impress Jeffrey Ross, a crowd of strangers, and any watching talent scout than dating Ashley by blasting her to the moon. A sampling: Ashley is a "Womack leftover", he only came on the show because he thought Chantal or Emily were going to the Bachelorette; and wonders why he is competing for a "flat-chested Bachelor runner-up."

Ashley's face crashes to the stage and the crowd boos and gasps. By the third riff, I started to slink lower into my chair. To my side, the Wench Queen gasps. By the fifth strafing shot, she is squeaking and about to tear up with Ashley and her sister across the room is snarling. Damn this idiot! He's about to get ME into trouble! Both women gnash their teeth while I sink down low and avoid the waves of hatred coursing through my living room. Guilt by association is threatening. Any person with a penis is now guilty of callousness and hatefulness. I move to deflect the outrage by declaring William a "deadman." Whew! Close call. William sits down looking at the crestfallen Ashley and compounds his idiocy by trying to defend himself. "Its a roast, not a love on Ashley contest!" This was like watching a guy grab a live hornet's nest and cram it down over his own head. I was just grateful it wasn't me. Idiot!

The next time we see Ashley she is sitting in a darkened corner of the now empty club bawling. It's time for the true male asshole, Big Head Bentley, to display his edited and very real awfulness. William is just a famemongering idiot, but this guy is borderline evil. Deciding he will buck Ashley up so he can "mess with her head", Bentley swoops in to offer false comfort. The rest of the night is going to be a one man contest where Bentley tries to up himself on just how callous, arrogant, and downright mean he can be. Saying much about this performance is needless; if you are reading this, you saw it. It was a new low in sadist fame-seeking. The guy obviously had a sick agenda of some sort. I'll keep my assessment of Bentley short and to the point: This guy needs his ass kicked! Badly! I think that will cover it.

The "Party"

Joy buzzers for all. Ashley arrives crushed and crying. She tells the boys her greatest fear was that they would all see it was her instead of Emily or Chantal and get back in the limos and leave. Yeah, she may have self-esteem issues, but this smackdown was needless. The producers can suck me. This was their fault; they scheduled a date whose only purpose was to humiliate their insecure Star, and allowed Bentley onto this show to promote his worthless, sadistic ass. They got their ratings, I'm sure. Anyway, various dudes make their pitches to the crestfallen Ashley and William cries like the idiotic turd he is an runs away bawling and threatening to go home like a three year-old. Unfunny dork though he may be, Sunny Ryan earns a kiss and a rose for trying to give comfort, and Big Head Bentley maneuvers around to try and wriggle deeper under Ashley's skin before he trashes her. Glorious. Ashley, weak and vulnerable after the kicking lets us know she is "in love with Bentley". He holds her head in his lap and smirks at the camera. Mercifully, date over.

Bentley's Big Exit

Must I? Nope. He sucks and I don't want to.

J.P the Skinhead Tries to Ride to the Rescue

The dating must go on. A thoroughly shattered Ashley, who has cried herself into oblivion over the departed Bentley, awaits the scheduled JP, the Skinhead with all the enthusiasm of a corpse at her house. If anything fancy had been planned, the producers had enough sense to change it. J.P, equipped with a producer supplied bouquet, arrives at Ashley's rental where she greets him. Completely shot, Ashley finally asks for a slum around night and they change into pajamas and make out. Give JP credit, he did his best, but how much could anyone have done after this?

Cocktail Party Skip

Ashley arrives at her room of deliberation, stares at the picture of Bentley, and starts bawling again while the boys all wait out front cooling their heels. I wonder if they had any idea just how bad this was? The wingman slithers into the deliberation room behind Ashley and has a sit down with her. He weakly tries to steer her away from Bentley without bothering to show her the endless footage of him ragging her and laughing about what a fool she was. "What do you want to do? I already told you, there are no rules." Harrison covers his own ass.

"Except your contract," a producer snarls as a reminder.

"No party," Ashley begs. "I'm just exhausted."

Rose Time:

Safe: Sunny Ryan, JP The Skinhead, Jowly Ben Chipmunk

Roses:

1) Constantine the Utterly Silent--hasn't said three words but keeps scoring roses

2) West--about time to head east.

3) Mickey Finn--boring beats mean or stupid every time

4) Vino Ben--Can he recover from the tit jokes? Will it matter anyway?

5) Blake the Smarmy Dentist--Funny, but you get the feeling it doesn't matter anyway.

6) Nick and his Godawful Hair Highlights--filling in the numbers

7) Eraser Head Ames--didn't hurt himself

8) Lucas the Enigma--ditto

9) William the Wise--shows how bad the last two were.

Dumped: Jeff, the unmasked D-bag and Chris, the unexceptional.

So now, with 8 weeks to go, if Ashley recovered enough to pick anyone, the guy is getting a ringside seat to sit and watch just how much she had fallen for Douche Head Bentley and share her humiliation. He also gets to relive the entire nightmare along with her and their relationship can follow Jeffery Ross' career into the nearest latrine. The Bachelorette, and its dubious record of relationship successes rolls on. Next week, the boys take Ashley's shattered emotional remains to East Asia. I'll tag along and report back.