9/7--Poll Results--and they say a lot

YOU Have Spoken.
















Ok, Poll results are in. I asked you guys to vote not for who you wanted to see as the next Bachelor, but for who you THOUGHT would get the role. Now, I suspect there was a lot of wishful thinking going on in the voting and not as much truth, but hey, free country and all of that. The results, however, speak volumes about the preferences of the fandom's hardcore base. They are:

Out of 42 votes cast, fan favorite Reid Rosenthal picked up 27 votes, or 64%. Bloodless human statue, Kiptyn Locke, scored a minuscule 8 votes, or 19%, while Jake Cheesemachine Pavelka came in dead-assed last with only 7 votes, or 16%. Even more tellingly, this poll ran congruently with the first swirling rumors that the new Bachelor had been chosen and all signs pointed toward Pavelka. This should serve as a warning sign to the producers of just how strongly the fandom does not want this guy. The boards are filled with comments about his expected candidacy that run the gamut from the rarely believed vow "not to watch" to the more believable assertion that the show will be fodder only for it's comic potential of seeing the disingenuous Cheeser wandering around spouting off scripted hyperbole like he's the new wingman, and engaging in false dating with a herd of fameho's or the truly gullible. Fandom's bottom line (and its nearly universal) is that even the pretense of fairytale romance will be thrown out the window if Pavelka is announced at the next Bachelor.

Perhaps last weeks rumors were merely a trial balloon to see how the base would react to Pavelka? Well if they were, Fleiss and Co. got their answer with one giant Thud! My blog is tiny, with a small readership, but like any polling it makes the statistical sampling point quite nicely. Name Pavelka in the role and the producers can forget the base pestering their co-workers around the water cooler to watch the show and root for "X." Becoming invested in the 'journey' of any contestant? Fuggetaboutit! There aren't enough gullible human beings in the western hemispheres television market to believe this guy after seeing him in focus for a few weeks. Without any belief in the sincerity of the lead, ratings will collapse like like a house made of jelly. And the post show interviews? Every TV producer in the land who assigns this story to his on-air talent will have in their tremulous mitts the clip from last season of Pavelka collapsing over that hotel balcony railing and bawling. Just imagine that clip in the hands of Jimmy Kimmel; comic relief gives way to farce, and farce is the one thing this show can never openly declare. The threat that someone might actually fall in love is the foundation of the show--the drama and BS are just the garnish. Fandom doesn't have a long memory, but they remember the last Bachelor who was so desperate to get the role that he went along with whatever he was told: Jason Mesnick.

Mesnick was up against Jeremy Anderson for the role. Anderson was a lawyer with leading man good looks while Mesnick looked like what he was: a Jewish insurance salesman with an ok bod, ok looks, and trending toward baldness. By just about any barometer, Anderson should have gotten the job. But Mesnick had a huge fanbase among the masses and the fandom, and that along with Mesnicks' malleability to producer wishes won out. The fandom learned it's lesson. The ending Mesnick and the producers orchestrated remains the biggest trainwreck in this show' s history and Mesnick remains about as popular as the Ebola virus with fans. Despite the big ratings the finale scored, I can't imagine any thinking human being wanting to see a replay of the Mesnick/Rycroft/Mallaney ending. There remains a real chance that Mallaney and Mesnick might actually marry--and for the first time in show history virtually no one will care. They just want them to go away.

The results of my little poll on my little blog are clear: The Fandom Does Not Want Jake Pavelka--they will settle for Kiptyn Locke--and they REALLY want Reid Rosenthal, despite my personal misgivings. I'm at the point of actually daring the producers to go ahead and hire the Cheeser. It will make feminist groups happy to get rid of this show once and for all, and I can reclaim my life and stop blogging. Any Fleiss-minions wandering around here should get the message: Pay Rosenethal what he wants and enjoy a banner season. Hire Pavelka only if you're tired of getting checks from ABC. Personally, I plan to eviscerate the guy on a weekly basis. Snark-blogging about Pavelka will definitely channel my inner-barbarian, and it will be about as difficult as killing goldfish in a rain barrel using hand grenades. When the ratings fell because of your sloppiness last time, Fleiss, ABC stuck with you. I wouldn't count on getting a third chance. Fair warning.

ABC Trashes Its Own Show

"Ich Bin Ein Pimp Master!"






In the newest Olympic sport--Insanity!--ABC has decided to come out of the gate smokin'! No, no Tail-End Charlies are these guys. After 18 seasons of claiming to be the lost fairytale romance from days of yore, the pressure must have finally gotten to them and they decided it was time to parody themselves and just admit they are nothing more than a cartoon. In the newly updated site for Bachelor 14 from ABC, the network has written a show description that would have P.J. O'Rourke green with satirical envy. Either some intern has slipped one past the powers that be, or Fleiss and his gang have been on a 48 hour glue-sniffing bender. What I am about to post is NOT something I wrote to be funny. It's from the actual network website. Enjoy!

When it comes to falling in love, The Bachelor has the formula down: Add a parade of 25 (often-times bikini-clad) babes, a hot tub, tear-riddled elimination rounds, verbal cat fights, multiple make-out sessions and a mansion.

When it comes to staying in love... well...

*crickets*

The Bachelor takes us on an all-access journey with one man looking for his ultimate sweetheart.

Whether you're envious, excited or completely revolted by the scenario, we know you can't help but spy on our leading man as he plays tonsil hockey with his many lady loves. Arguably the luckiest guy on the planet–for just one television season–our bachelor finds himself TOTALLY exempt from the cheating rule. In this world, nobody hates the player.

The bachelor is the object of 25 girls' affection. And these women aren't those trashy bar flies you see on other reality dating shows–these ladies are classy (yes, with a "c"!) and they are looking to get hitched. Have no doubts over their determination–these women will do anything to make an impression. ANYTHING. You get to see how lady contestants play the game not only in front of the bachelor, but also what side they show the other girls. (Two-face much, ladies?) And we know you love it when the claws come out. Oh, and they do!

Will these bachelorettes' efforts go unnoticed? You'll find out because you get to play spy during all of the one-on-one dates. These rendezvous can involve anything from couples massage and bubble baths to helicopter rides and bungee jumping.

At the end of each episode, the bachelor reflects on all of his darlings to determine who will go home in the rose ceremony elimination. And we know his choices are always the subject of heated living room debate. As the season progresses, you are taken along on the bachelorettes' hometown visits where our playboy extraordinaire switches gears to meet the family. You'd think the prospect of in-laws would kill the buzz for our said mack daddy. But quite the opposite inevitably occurs as the bachelor falls further down the relationship rabbit hole.

Who will steam up the hot tub with the bachelor this season? From which exotic location will he propose to his "true love"? Sit back and enjoy as host, Chris Harrison, A/K/A "The Pimp Master," guides us each week as the bachelor narrows down the field of his female pickings to the final ONE!

That's right, folks. According to ABC, the new Bachelor will play "tonsil-hockey" with a bunch of lying, two-faced women who will do ANYTHING to make an impression; presumably even, throw themselves off a building or leap into a set bear trap. Look, folks, your ol' pirate here is no sanctimonious preacher, but drugs damage the brain--Just Say Maybe. Anyway, I can't wait to see Harrison in his new Bachelor Host Uniform--a shaggy fur coat topped with a purple Fedora. Bet his momma down in Texas is proud.I've always suspected Mike Fleiss was a complete lunatic, and now I know he is. Honesty can be refreshing and I suppose confession is good for the soul and all, but this was like watching a celebrity sex tape--entertaining, but perhaps we staggered into the realm of Too Much Information?

And I thought I was crazy.

In case you think I'm making this up? See it before they remove it...or don't.

http://abc.go.com/shows/the-bachelor/about-the-show

While We Wait--The Big Three

The Three Suckers...er, Finalists

Jake (Cheesemachine) Pavelka

Kiptyn (Krypton) Locke
Reid (The Seed!) Rosenthal

Yep, there they is...in all their glory: the next three suckers all volunteering to have their characters, reputations, and sanity's leveled lower than mowed grass by Producer/ Human Sphincter, Mike Fleiss, and his relentless televised circus, The Bachelor. On a side note, several folks have emailed and asked why I haven't joined in on the pile-on against Jillian Harris and her fiance Drop Dead Edward Swiderski from the recently completed Bachelorette 5. That's an easy one: show's over. Whatever relationship they have or don't have isn't any of my damn business. If they make it through this shit storm that Romeo Ritchie and that weapon he has semi-hidden in his Jolly Green Shorts have caused, well, you can mark these two down for the marriage mart. The fallout for those two has been nothing short of seismic and any shaking me and my little blog could add to the earthquake they're living through wouldn't amount to more than a fart in a hurricane--so I'll let them be and just see if they make it or not. Besides, Satan Fleiss has three more volunteers lining up for his reputation-firing squad and that means fresh prey for your old pirate.

Bachelor 14

...The thunder rolls and the lightning strikes...

You couldn't kill this damn show with Atrazine...or hemlock. No, I'm afraid the various feminist groups and people with taste who cringe at the very mention of this franchise are going to have to resort to nuclear weapons if they want to get rid of it. However, classless, tasteless rednecks like myself can hardly wait for the next cheesefest to get rolling and we haven't long to wait either. Weak Wingman and overpaid emcee of trash, Chris Harrison, has been tweeting his cold, blackened heart out to let us all know that the next round of schlock will be premiering in early January. Naturally this means that filming must soon be underway and that means a new Bachelor Douchebag-Supreme must soon be anointed to take the reins and start warming his lips up. For those of you who were hoping to see someone new on the show, well, let's just say you're shit out of luck. Various interviews with two of the three men as well as Beelzebub Fleiss have confirmed it's a three douche race...and you know them all. How convenient.


Man of Marble

The one guy everyone could pretty much agree after the last Bachelorette that was good looking, classy, sensible, and sane was Kiptyn Locke. He was obviously edited to look tremendous. The problem with his edit was that he was edited to the point of looking nearly unreal. Of all the main contenders, he probably generated the least passionate fan base and that's the shows fault. You can edit someone to appear so flawlessly that they start to resemble a statue instead of a man. Kiptyn came across like a marble chisel-job, not a living breathing human being with flaws and quirks. None of this was helped by the fact that Kiptyn was classy, reserved, and determined not to make a fool of himself. Regardless, if I had my druthers he'd be the next Bachelor.
Reasons the Producers would want him: Good looks, six-pack abs, a level head, possessed of considerable class. Runs a charity.

Reasons they might not: A squishy fan base. One also gets the impression he would hard to bully into doing things he didn't approve of. He didn't seem ready to propose to Jillian until the last second and never slobbered all over her. They want a proposal, or at least a trainwreck at the end of every season. Once they announce him, they're stuck. He becomes the one with the power and the last thing they want is a Bachelor who won't play along with the next nefarious scheme they dream up. His profession was never clearly defined on the Jillian season but he clearly comes from a wealthy clan. In other words: he doesn't really need this, and would probably to object to some of the producer's more outrageous script ideas.

Man of Quirks

The biggest, most-rabid fanbase I have ever seen in the fandom of this show is owned by one Reid "Honeybear" Rosenthal. He built this fanbase despite being rendered virtually mute the first month of last season on nothing more than his dorky glasses and a ready smile. But once he allowed the producers to con him into appearing at the FRC as needless cannon fodder, he shot into the stratosphere. He also got a more real edit than Kiptyn. His quirks, phobias and weaknesses made him appear human, and to many, positively adorable. Add to that the sympathy he garnered for getting tricked and mega-dumped at the FRC and you got one popular dude. He's my number 2 pick mostly because of the depth of hurt and bitterness he demonstrated at the After the Final Rose show. He was obviously VERY hurt by his double dismissal and I think it's way too soon for him to be dating. Nevertheless, the Real Estate market is about as soft as microwaved Velveeta everywhere in the country and it's hard to imagine he's moving too many properties for Rosenthal Inc. in Philadelphia these days. It's also a good bet that if he's the producer's choice that they're waving a fistful of cash under his nose.

Reasons they want him: Good looks, a quirky sense of humor, and a wild-eyed maniacal fan base.

Reasons they might not: Seems like a tough, experienced business guy who wouldn't mind making demands. Part of his edit was the whole 'indecisive" bit that makes a proposal no guarantee. Quirks and neuroses are cute with a second banana, but with the lead? Can they afford to have him look like a nerd?


Man of Cheese

In mass online polls at places like TV Guide, Jake Pavelka always wins when fans are asked who should be the next Bachelor? At places for the 10,000 or so members of fandoms hardcore base, however, Pavelka is usually dead last. His over the top antics last season may have caused casual viewers to swoon over his good guy heroism, but the more refined (and cynical) veterans of this show can spot a fake pretty easily, and they do not want Pavelka in the role. He was edited as the extremely honest, selfless, earnest super-dude who even returned after being dismissed not to recapture Jillian and mend his broken heart, but to protect her from that human lice- blanket, Greaseball Wes Hayden. Veteran viewers recognized the set up pretty easily while the uninitiated masses missed it. Last minute phone calls to non-existent foot fetishists and damning confrontations (that turned out to be untrue) against Hayden were quickly recognized among the faithful as the silly flim flams they were. And no one will be able to forget his showstopper that had news anchors all over North America rolling in the aisles when they tried to interview Jillian: his ridiculous balcony railing flop (complete with fake tears) when she failed to heed his warnings about that heartbreaker, the Greaseball. Taken as a whole, few contestants on this show have ever looked more plastic and disingenuous than Pavelka, and the hardcore fandom know it. But he remains a major contender for a lot of reasons.

Reasons they want him: Great body, great looks, a 'sexy' profession (airline pilot), and the willingness to do and say absolutely anything the producers want. He also appeals to the masses with his aw schucksness act because they seem to have forgotten they are watching a TV show. Proposal? It's in the bag. This guy would propose on the first night to one of the limo drivers if the producers told him to. He would also probably do the show for free. The ultimate "Producer's Dream."

Reasons they don't: The hardcore of the fandom ain't buying it. The 10,000 or so lunatics on the internet (like me) are the ones who actually create the buzz about each season, and they don't want this guy. Producer Dream is only a dream to a producer; not a fan. This show is about ratings and some plastic actor doesn't fill seats in front of tv's. This guy should definitely be "Plan C", or should be encased in glass with a sign that says: "Break only in the case of an emergency!" Last season the producers had to go with Plan C, but were lucky it turned out to be a fairly likable Canadian girl. They won't be that lucky again.

Ok, there's my take. Now we wait for the announcement.

7/27--Finale: The Triumph of the Living Dead

What an odd season this was. You would think that the demonic producers would have been in hog heaven; they got the ending they supposedly wanted: an engagement. But noooooooo. They couldn't leave well enough alone. A simple Final Rose Ceremony ending in pronouncements of love and an engagement just wasn't enough for them. They just had to mess with it to create some false drama for the masses. The needless (and pointless) return of the already dumped Reid the Seed, was arranged for our additional viewing pleasure and gave Reid's internet worshipers (The Seedlings) a chance to gnash their teeth and denounce Jillian--a woman they were proclaiming not ten days ago as 'perfect' for their man--as "stupid, classless, trailer-trash" and worse. But such is the chance you take when you sign up for this voluntary crucifixion. Of course, none of this has been helped by the constant drumbeat of 'rumors' about her new fiance, Drop Dead Ed, as a merciless, heartless, user of gullible and innocent women. Haha. Ok. Fans will now waste as much of their lives as they choose arguing over just how much was scripted, acted, or real. Whatever. It doesn't matter now anyway. Show's over and considering the level of anger and joy out there, plenty of people got sufficiently invested in what we were shown to actually give a damn about these people. For Satan Fleiss and his production staff, it's a big Mission Accomplished. The Bachelorette was ABC's second highest rated program of the entire summer just behind Wipeout! and well ahead in the critical 18-49 female demographic. Jill, Ed, Reid, and the fans will just have to get over it. Satan rules the earth in ABC's eyes, and most of you whining, bitching, complainers will be back in front of your TV's next season to see someone else's 'journey' to perdition. We're like crack addicts folks. Wear it proudly.

The Last Chance Date Template

Do I really need to recap this? No. First of all, no one cares about the first hour and a half of these things and unless you've never watched the show before, you know what's going to happen. I will instead produce a brief template of what every one of the Finales look like:

1) Bachelor(ette) meets one of two remaining douches (douchettes) and slobbers over them before taking them to meet his/her family. Ed goes first and wears coconut tits, Kip goes 2nd and doesn't.

2) Family meets and questions said douche (ette) about all manner of crap. Both dudes made adequate utterances of love and seemed sincere. Ed asks dad for permission to marry Jillian; Kip doesn't.

3) Bachelor (ette) meets with family to help decide which person he/she will share a brief engagement with. Family turns out to be no help whatsoever and leaves Bachelor(ette) "More confused than ever". Check.

4) Bachelor(ette) takes both chosen ones to exotic date locales in some tropical paradise where said douches all pronounce undying love and willingness to get engaged. Ed gets a copter ride to a volcano and Kip gets a dinghy ride to a surfboard paddle. Both kiss Jillian incessantly. Kip shows his abs and Ed breaks out the green tighties again to show he means bidness!

5) Bachelor(ette) goes back to each douches bedroom for last second pleas for their love. Kip makes out with her and sounds nearly convinced he needs to marry her. Ed smooches her bunches and makes it clear he wants to nail her, and the Fleiss-Rat provides a hilarious visual of an erupting volcano in lieu of actual porn. Viewers are force-fed the idea that the Chicago Don Juan went off like Vesuvius (amazing Jillian survived the encounter with Ed's Fearsome Firehose of Love) dates over.

6) Ring Shopping. The sacrificial douches, both Bachelor-guys and and Suitor-Ettes, are required to participate in a product placement ad for a ring company, whether they mean to propose or not. Both dudes choose multi-carat diamond rings that will look ridiculous on Jillian's tiny hand for the brief time she will be wearing it.

7) The morning of. Bachelor(ette) awakes refreshed and suddenly clear-minded of who they will spend the rest of the show's required media interviews with despite being 'in-love' with the two remaining clods. Check.

The Demise of (the few) Kryptonians.
Kiptyn from Krypton, gets up, showers (flashes his abs one last time) and says he's ready for what awaits him. Kip's an odd duck and has been all season. He's the one guy everyone seems to agree is nice, good-looking, and possessed of common sense. But he certainly hasn't inspired much passion. I think there are a couple of reasons for this. First, he's seemed a little too aware he's actually filming a dumb TV show. If he ever got drunk or cut a fart or whatever, we were never shown it. He also seemed determined not to embarrass himself or his uppity Malibu family by slobbering ridiculously over Jillian. Second, I assume he was was given the squeaky clean Bachelor-of-the Future edit. The problem with that is that he came across like he was made out of marble. Guys like that are fun for the ladies to look out, but they seem somehow unreal and indifferent. Most people just never bought into him as anything more than an attractive hood ornament. But you gotta give him his props--he never made an ass of himself either and will be the only person coming out of this experience with his rep intact. I'll also give him some props for the dignified way in which he handled himself and his dumpage at the ceremony too. Jill was already waiting for him on some platform in the middle of the swimming pool when he got out of the limo, and unlike other Bachelors, Kip went to her and started a probing preamble of his feelings for her before he fell prostrate onto a knee before the Bachelorette Goddess. Fortunately, Jill is no DeYawna, and she didn't try to bait him into going down onto a knee. Her face is about as difficult to see through as a piece of cellophane and by his third sentence even Stevie Wonder could see what was about to happen. He ended abruptly and let her speak. She let him down as nicely and easily as you could and he drives away and maintains his dignity. Maybe too much dignity. He tried to work up some emotion for the camera but the only one I saw was a sense of relief that this nightmare was over. His fans shouldn't fret. I'm sure he got free of the bubble, went back to his hotel, did fifty ab-crunchers, and had a beer.

Producer Interlude--The Seed at Waterloo--Part Deux

Just as most of the naive home audience was expecting to see Ed pull up to complete the fairytale, up pulls a red minivan and out pops Reid the Seed, dressed like he's been shopping at a thrift store for the homeless. Reid tells us in private interviews and voiceovers that he had "to pull a lot of strings to get back here. I flew home to Philly but just knew I needed to come back and tell her I love her." Really? You had to fly all the way back from Pennsylvania, eh? The producer's didn't just stash you in a nearby hotel for a few days and work on you? Nevermind. Anyway, Reid's back and just who was pulling what and whose strings is more than debatable. But the wingman greets him and tells him he hasn't much time. Reid smooths his mismatching suit coat and slacks, runs a hand past his unshaven face and through his bed hair, and marches out to the gangplank. Jill smiles at his appearance but seems confused as he joins her on the plinth. I've been wondering all season just how good an actress Jill is, and now I know: she isn't. She clearly didn't know he was coming. Meryl Streep isn't that good. They talk and Reid, acting like the producers put LSD on his cornflakes, seems convinced that if he just tells her that he loves her, that she'll dump everyone else and pick him. The stale breath of Satan's sirens still ringing in his ears, he confesses his love and Jillian looks like she needs a ventilator. The only adjectives to describe Jillian's face next are shock and horror as Reid plummets to a knee and hits her with a quickie marriage proposal. Much to her credit, Jillian splutters in shock and reaches over and hauls him up as quick as she can. Stunned, she tells him she needs to think and wanders back into the house while he waits for her on the plinth.

Enter Wingmanus Repairus

Jill collapses on a Bahama couch in the bungalow and in slithers the wingman. Now, the next conversation may have lasted three full hours, but what we were shown, lasted all of thirty seconds:
Jill: "How am I supposed to make a decision like this?"
WM: "When you woke up this morning did you want Ed to propose to you?"
Jill: (Smile breaking out) "Yes."
WM: "Then you know what you have to do."
Jill beams

(See ya, Reid)

She walks back out to where he awaits her and once again, dumps him as kindly as possible. They hug for what seems like forever and she walks him back to his special, alcoholics-only taxi--complete with it's own booze bar. He stops her at one point and says: "But...I don't get it!" Yeah, I bet you don't. The serpent-like words of the producers still ringing in his ears: "Go on, Reid! All ya gotta do is tell her you love her! It's YOU she wants; she told us!"(Why Reid's fans are mad at Jill and not the producers is a mystery to me.) She deposits him in the taxi and he opens that bottle as they drive him away. I went to ABC's website and watched the "Diary of the Departed" and they obviously gave Reid the grand tour of the Big Island. By the time the sun was setting outside the cab, Reid was soused and feeling vengeful" "She made a major mistake! I mean a HUGE MISTAKE! Ed? Fuck Ed!" Argh! You tell em Reid! You just got trashed on national TV. You got every right to be pissed. Reid Rosenthal, you gullible bastard, you've just made a Pirate-fan! I wish more of these guys would get angry and the first one of them to direct it at the production staff who just screwed them wins my special Pirate Award. I wish one of these guys would take about five steps with the Bachelorette toward the limo and then sprint over to the wingman and punch Harrison right on the mouth. I'd download that video from youtube and watch it every single day for the rest of my natural life.

Jillian wanders back out to plinth and sighs: "Ed better not fuckin' let me down!" Haha. Some people are trying to say that her dropping the f-bomb at the ceremony is evidence of her trashiness. Well, these people need to yank the broomstick outta their asses, as far as I'm concerned. That was about the most honest utterance Ive ever heard at one of these things.

The Army of the Dead

Drop Dead Ed shows up in his limo in triumph and his dwindling Dead Army cheers. The wingman greets him and Ed heads inside to Jill, his head up and hands thrust into his pants pockets. He actually walks with a bit of a swagger and shows some confidence. (Did she let him know it was him? Likely, I think). But Ed also has a plan and like Kiptyn, won't go down until she gives him clearance to fire. He starts his preamble: "I love you. I want to spend forever with you...but...before we go any further I need to hear what you feel about me?" ARGGHHHHH! Damn straight! No man in his right mind would drop to a knee and ask that question unless he was 100% sure of her answer. Jillian caves in like a coal mining tunnel dug in beach sand: "I love you madly!" They kiss and she leaps up onto him and wraps her legs around his waist, "I've been dying to tell you forever!" He puts her down and slips down to a knee. Before he can get the ring box out she's letting out that dolphin-squeal of hers and thrusts her left hand under his nose. (Way to make him sweat Jill) He pops the question and she screams: "Absolutely!" The last thing we see on the broadcast is Ed putting her up on his back for a piggyback ride and running down the gangplank with her.

My sister-in-law turned to me and said: "But I don't see her and Ed making it." I informed her that since the relationship record on this show now stands at a ghastly1 for 17, that prediction isn't going to win her the Nostradamus Award for clairvoyance. But for those people who say: "Finding love on this show is impossible!" Well, once, long ago, a woman who wanted to go to Hollywood and be a star became the Bachelorette. She picked a soft spoken fireman from Vail, Colorado. Shockingly, she moved out there with him and a year later they were married. That was two kids ago, so impossible, is a proven misnomer. Miracles happen--they're rare--which is why they are thought of as miracles--but wouldn't it be funny if the third string gal from Canada broke the drought? Then again, they may be done already. Ya just never know.

Ok, tomorrow, a brief recap of ATFR. See ya then.

7/20--Planet of the Apes

Anyone doubting the foresight of Charles Darwin should have had their doubts laid to rest last night, and anyone who seriously questions the venality and sadism of this shows producers would need their heads examined after witnessing that beat down of defenseless country-fried loser, Greaseball Wes. The crooner with no brain was left with no character intact after incurring producer wrath by not attending his own specially arranged second funeral last night. Leading the beating of the mentally challenged was show host, Chris "Wingman" Harrison; wielding his voice like a scythe, the wingman sighed, preened, and dripped sarcasm from his fangs like a deadly serpent; and helped along by the willing class of well-trained apes, they exhumed Wes' dessicated carcass, burned it, and buried it in a shallow grave. What an idiot Wes is. He wouldn't have been allowed to say much in his own defense that made it to air, true enough, but at least he could have done some rehab. Instead, he abstained, pissed off the powers that be, and refused to even appear in his own defense. Whoever is advising Wes needs to be fired, pronto! That was like try to surrender to a gaggle of club-wielding gorillas. You might as well throw your hands up and go down fighting. Without Wes to pick on in person, Harrison was reduced to picking fights between the show apes and letting them duke it out over "The Man Code", and desperately trying to launch the future Bachelor career of Jake, The cheesmachine, Pavelka. Nausea grips me as I type that, but the stars are aligning that way, I'm less than delighted to report.


Jill's Private Interview

This served a few purposes: first of all, it got to introduce a little foreshadowing of next weeks finale and the return of fan-favorite, Reid the Seed.

Jill: "I was ready to let everyone go; but I wasn't ready to let Reid go."
Wingman: "Reid couldn't be with us tonight, he had a prior engagement. (Wink, wink)

It also set the tone for the fights the wingman was going to pick, but it's most important contribution, was to introduce the outtakes for the year. These were funny, at least to me. But I'm a guy. And I'm beginning to think Jillian is too. Fart jokes abounded, including Jill pulling the wingman's finger. We got to see that Reid dances the Hula about as well as Jill, which is to say Badly! But to this old pirates eyes, we may have inadvertently witnessed the end. What do I mean by that? Hmm. Well, we got to see Drop Dead Ed plastered like one of the great statues of Europe and Jill's reaction to that stunning level of his inebriation. After seeing Ed barely able to speak, picking her up in his arms in a hotel hallway while she squealed, "Ed! Short dress Ed!" and then watch him morph into Ed, The Dancing Bear, I'm of the opinion that if Jill ever saw Ed passed out face down in a galleon of his own vomit she'd think it was 'cute'. I guess if I was a decent writer, I'd save my finale predictions for the last paragraph, so you'd read to the end, but I'm not. There comes a time when all men act like total fools, and only a woman who loves you, still accepts you anyway. Someones got a bad case of Ed, and that someone's name is Jillian. If these two are together more than a few weeks, I'm looking forward to the youtube videos of Jillian passing out laughing while a drunken Ed lights his own farts--she might even pull his finger for him. Back to the important stuff. We get to see Jill taking dating advice from a Harlem Globetrotter. 'Absurd' is obviously not a word in Mike Fleiss' language. And an unseen visit on Kip's hometown date leads us to his charity HQ. Kip, as he has all season, comes off smelling like a rose. Mr. Perfect marches on. And one of his female coworkers sure looked in love with him too.

Jason and Molly return!

Fascinating.


deus ex (Cheese) machina

The wingman's 60 minutes portion of the show opens with a gang-up on Jake, the cheesemachine. Tanner F.--a guy who was dismissed early, and I could never figure out why--becomes a virtual Master of Ceremonies, and leads several assaults against his namesake, Toejam Tanner, for ruining his name as a foot freak--and then rags the Cheesemachine for pulling "a Mesnick" and collapsing over the balcony and bawling. Hey! Has Tanner F. been reading my blog? Make up your own damn lines, Tanner. Caveman Dave, now sporting a beard to make him look even more like a neanderthal than before, joins in the gang rape. Sasha the incredibly boring, launches the last blow by telling Jake how plastic and fake he is and always referring to himself as "Too perfect". Jake, unable to deny a word of it, tells Sasha to "Fuck off!" The nearly all-female audience cheers and lowers my faith in the fairer of the species. Later, Cheeser slithers into the Lukewarm Seat, watches some clips of his horrible acting, and takes the magic question from a producer-plant in the audience: "How would you feel about being the next Bachelor?" The gullible (or well-paid) audience cheers and the Cheeser hems and haws in his aw shucksness way before concluding that it: "Would be an honor." Ha ha, ok.

The Silverback Gorilla Steps Forward

Next up for some wingman desecration, is Caveman Dave. My thoughts on Dave aren't going to be terribly PC. I've said in past columns he's a guy with a drinking problem, and there's little doubt his I.Q. isn't much higher than a grapefruits, but a few things do come through in his defense. Dave was dumb enough (and drunk enough) to think dating on a reality show is supposed to be like dating in real life. The audience, and his man code buddies, all jumped on him when the scenes of him drunkenly pawing Jill were shown. Fair enough. He was, and is, an ape. However, he tried to defend himself with logic that had more than ring of truth to it. Had he been dating Jill in the real world for a month, and told her she had a great ass, the heavens wouldn't have tumbled downward. The women in the audience all acted shocked--shocked! I tell you, that a guy dating them would have the crassness to tell them they had a great ass and that was grounds for an instant break-up. The truth, we all know, is that if you don't tell your girlfriend that she has a great ass, that that is grounds for an instant break-up. Dave's just too stupid to know the difference. Anyway, they all jump on him and he apologizes. Ya can't fix stupid, buddy. Oh, and please see a doctor about that single-eye-slow-blink thing you got going on--it's creepy. and you don't need any extra help there.

Jill Comes Out

Nothing new to report: Dave apologizes, Jake churns some more butter, Liberace Juan gets his beard-on by slobbering over her feet, and Breakdance Michael keeps up the good edit (just in case plan C is put into operation) and she recaps the season. They're all nice to her because she is. There is no mention of 'engagement' or that she is actually with someone, only the 'happy' comment again. Make of that what you will.

In between everything I've wrote is the constant drumbeat of Wes is a loser. I didn't feel the need to recap it. The guy is toast and his managers better get their heads out of their asses. He's in the perception business, and right now, he'd rank just below Hitler with Israelis who watch this crap. He and his handlers passed up a chance to try and redeem himself before the audience he was ruined in front of--millions of them. Instead he ran to Reality Steve and whined about the edit to a few thousand geeks like me, some of whom actually understand how this show slices and dices people's words to crucify them. Big deal. The truth doesn't matter, Wes; perception is the truth in your business and you've got a long way to crawl out of the hole you're in. Toejam even commented in an interview after the taping that he and Wes went out in Dallas and women were coming up to the Greaser and telling him he was douche bag to his face. Try selling them one of your CD's, Wes.

Previews

Ok, this is actually what most of us watched for anyway, isn't it? Well, Kiptyn from Krypton still looks perfect I'm happy to report. (Kryptonians Rejoice!) The most negative thing we've seen about this guy is that he doesn't have great balance on a rope bridge. Horrors! Refused to Stay Dead Ed, I'm happy (or cringing) to report, is going to wear those green shorts again. They both get to meet Jill's parents and there's lots of crying and whining at the Final Rose Ceremony...and lastly, Reid the Seed is shown in the last two seconds pondering over some kind of ring. (Seedlings Rejoice!)

So, nothing more to do but wait for the end (and the leaks from the filing of ATFR) to tell us who the winner is and what kind of dating arrangement has been worked out(if any). I will say this however, no matter what happens at the end, Jillian has been my favorite Bachelorette. She may go on to mini-fame doing commercials and whoever she picked and her may not last till the end of the ATFR, but I don't care. Unlike other bloggers I could mention, I like her. Pirate kisses to you, Jilly, and good luck.

Next week: The Final Five Minute Twist! See ya then!

7-13--As the Stomach Turns

Pretty obvious what you need to do when you have no love to sell, isn't it? You declare your "reality show" a Soap Opera and you hire Jerry Springer to direct it. Flim-flam moves become the default course of the day: Ed comes back! Cheesemachine comes back! Now? Reid comes back? Is this all ya got Fleiss? Cut guys returning like bargain basement superheroes to save the day; country music douche bags being edited to look like cartoon villains, and now... a computer nerd being reduced to cinders for having dead dick at the ripe 'ol age of 29? I was actually expecting Bret Michaels to pop out of the Fantasy Date closet to give poor ol Ed a hand with Jill. He would have demolished her all right. Maybe that's the ending they're going for: Bret Michaels comes in the last five minutes and sweeps Jill away from these other whiny dudes and spirits her away on his Harley for a wild, three week fling. Probably more entertaining than what's coming. Especially for her.

A Casual Fantasy

First up is the casual, somewhat indifferent Malibu snob, Kiptyn from Krypton. The guy with the superhero name drops in on Jill and they trade hugs over an expansion bridge while Jill informs us how 'perfect' this guy is again. He then picks her up and kisses her...sort of. Ok, enough is enough!! Will somebody--anybody!--pick this little elf up and kiss her like they actually want her! Jesus Christ! Where did Fleiss find these guys--a nunnery! Thirty guys and every damn one of them has pecked at her like she's a chicken! I know Jill tends to pull off and had a 'no tongue' rule on the Cowboy Soap Opera Date, but this the final frigging 3! I got some bad assed news for all ya'll: if I hadn't seen her in more than two days, she'd be in for it! And I don't care if she pulled back. This is supposed to be a romance show. Erica Kane kissed all 15 of her TV husbands with more passion that this! Somebody man up! They need to have a contest. Get the wingman and a film crew and reshoot whatever bullshit ending is coming our way. The rules are simple: First one of you eunuchs who kiss this babe like you wanna' have her, wins! It's disgusting! Ahem. To resume. Ok, Jill takes Kip to some crummy pole climbing thingie where they have a leap of faith moment. Yeah, yeah, it was all about trust. ZZZZZZZ. Now it's off to a luau where we get to hear again that Krypton has never had his mechanical heart broken before, and this worries Jill, because he might dump her before she can dump him or whatever. The wingman moves to save the day by sending in the 'ol sexcard and Jill tells him "I adore you." He kisses (and misses), but he does take her up to the Fantasy Suite and since the cameras actually left, I assume he got some. Date over.

The Seed at Waterloo

Ok, Reid's turn. Compared to the other two (especially the Dead Guy) he comes off like Odysseus before the Gates of Troy. He greets Jill next and manages to kiss some of the Kiptyn off her face. He actually kissed her...sort of. Ok, he wins. He then cracks a few funny jokes and a helicopter arrives. They carefully check the chopper for airsickness bags, Depends underwear, and a first-aid kit before he climbs in. After methodically checking the pilot's license, our Greek Hero is finally spirited up, up, and away. "We flew over all these beautiful scenes of Hawaii but we only have eyes for each other," Jill squeals. No one told her it was because Reid was scared to look out, but whatever. They circle around the island and then the pilot announces that he is an ordained minister and offers to marry them. Reid nearly swallows his tongue choking and probably broke in those Depends they brought along. Reid finally escapes the helicopter and they sit and have a talk...er an inquisition. She puts on a relentless full court press to get him to admit he loves her...or really likes her...or would like to go and get a lemonade later. Reid, sounding shockingly sane, won't commit to much as evening finally falls. For some odd reason this guy feels rushed. Can't imagine why. I've often confessed true love on the third date to a woman I've never even had sex with. What a weirdo this guy is. Anyway, instead of yelling with glee that she finally found a sane one, Jill instead expresses doubts about him. But that doesn't stop her when the ol sexcard arrives! She hauls him up to the Fantasy Suite so she can interrogate him some more. He still can't declare his true love so she hauls him into a bubble bath and somebody finally dismisses the cameras, so presumably, she can sample some of Reid's Seed. Hope she got her fill; cause that's all for this week.


Ed's Dead...from the waist down

So, this is the Lothario of the Windy City, eh? The Terror the Midway? What do you wanna' bet that Chicago is demanding a recount as we speak? Jill takes Romeo Ritchie out on the open water where Ed gets to show off a pair of shorts he stole from Greg Brady's closet. I haven't seen shorts that high and tight since my 8th grade basketball team. Shamrock green with white pockets, fittin' nice and tightie? Dr. J wouldn't have been caught dead in those. Either the leaks about this guy are bullshit or the women of Chicago got some 'splainin' to do! Anyway, she takes him out on a catamaran and they go swimming in some beautiful water and he tells her 'he' flew his parents to Hawaii to meet her. Uh-huh. (If he had that much spare change he could have bought a decent pair of swim shorts.) She squeals and they go to meet the folks. Mom looks like she's gonna' faint the entire interview and dad asks the million dollar question: "What are we doing here?" Good question, pops. Your kid doesn't seem to have any idea either. Ed finally let's us know he salvaged his job (and lost his girlfriends I assume) and he's really serious about Jill. Mom and Pop do their best to act like the believe any of this and Jill takes Ed down to the beach so she can hand out the ol sexcard. Ed says the magic words: "I love you."

Chicago Hangs it's Head in Shame

Jill takes the Dead One up to the Fantasy Suite where they oil each other up with lotion and...go to to sleep? THUD. Oh my, oh my. Canada sends a cute little elf down here and this is all we got? This was practically an international incident. I'm expecting an apology from the Oval Office before nightfall. The Terror of the Midway needed a nap? Jill, however, can't seem to make up her mind whether to bury him for the insult or to defend a guy she obviously likes: "There...there was just no passion...but, but, we were both really tired...and sunburned! Yeah. He was really sunburned!" (Shakes head) As I type this, there are sixty thousand U.S. troops along the Khyber Pass in Afghanistan, humping it up mountain passes with fifty pound rucksacks on their backs and engaging Taliban militants in deadly firefights. If the Fleissmonster wants some action, he merely needs to drop Jillian and a keg of Budweiser into one of those forward operating bases at dusk. If he'll supply the chaplain, he can have the nuptials and she can have the most exhausting honeymoon she could ever imagine before daybreak. It would only be two, maybe three episodes long, but can't you just imagine the scene: Fierce, drunken fistfights and gun battles that would have Caveman Dave running over the nearest hill looking for his mommy; followed by a quickie wedding, and wild-assed honeymoon once the dust settled and the wounded were evacuated. Those Marines could do all of that and still go out on patrol the next morning, and we're supposed to believe that Ed was sunburned? Work on it, Chicago!

The End of the Honey Bear

Jill has a sit-down with the wingman and after confessing Ed's dead in the rack, he plays her some videos the boys recorded. Kip goes first and keeps up the good-looking blandness. Reid is next and although he stubbornly refuses to get into the Bachelor-bubble and confess his love, he does crack the Wench Queen's heart by asking her not to cut her "honey bear." Ed goes next and since my notes got a coke spilled on them, I'll have to wing this one from memory: "I...I, I can get wood! Honest to Pete! I'm...I'm not gay! Don't think I'm gay! I've got a hundred women back in Chicago who can tell you I'm a great lay! And, oh yeah, I love you!" (Pretty close anyway.)

Rose Time

The boys all show up, and Ed, obviously thinking his dad hasn't disowned him yet, shows up dressed like the Easter Bunny. Producers look at the clock and yell: "Fill, fill!" So Jill hauls Peter Cottontail aside and they discuss why he wants all the women in Chicago but not a Canadian. He tells her what she wants to hear and here we go:

Jill: "Kip, will you accept this rose and keep being too perfect and allowing your family to look down on me? And will you continue to allow me to get away with making constant references to your lack of fortitude every time I see you?"

Kip: "Sure, whatever."

Jill: "Ed, do you promise you actually want to have sex with me, cause my self-esteem couldn't get any lower if you sent it straight to hell."

Ed: "Absolutely! And ignore the suit; I seem to have left my good ones all over Chicago."

She then takes the stunned Reid aside while his Seedlings cry a river and they have a long sit-down where little is said. Reid then gets in the limo while she bawls her head off, and proceeds to kick his own ass: "I should have told her. I'd reverse it if I could." (Hmm. I'm betting Reid didn't make it to the airport. That bubble is starting to work.) She sits back down and howls so Ed comes over and delivers a few Easter Eggs and then takes her back over to Kiptyn where they all drink the most desultory toast in the history of this show.

Next week: The Men tell All--less Reid, and Wes, and Ed, and Kip. That means two hours of Liberace Juan and Caveman Dave shouting at each other about the 'Man-Code.' Gawd, the crap I have to watch to be able to write this for you, faithful readers. Ok, expect a mighty short recap before we see if Reid is suitably brainwashed enough to come back and propose and if Ed is finally gonna' lay the wood. See ya then!

7/6--The Funeral of Greaseball Wes

Oh, lord that was pathetic. Greaseball Wes has just showed himself to be the dumbest contestant ever in this show's history. Never has any cast member ever given Producer/ Human Trashbag, Mike Fleiss, so much ammo to bury him with--he practically handed him a shovel and dug the hole himself. Now, absolutely no one with an I.Q. higher than a stapler has doubted that the country-fried loser came on this show to pimp his sorry music career, but I have the feeling that Wes, his manager, accountant, hell even his next door neighbor, must be wondering what the hell he was thinking. Whatever career in country music that Wes had is over after that. Parents of children dying of rattlesnake bites wouldn't buy his crummy CD now, even if it came with a free dose of antivenin, after that little performance. But on the bright side, Wes did provide a lot of entertainment tonight to hide the fact that Jillian cock-blocked everyone else. It was an episode of Jillian and her Canadian Blueballs Parade, and it makes you wonder whether or not any true happy ending is in the cards. If you can't do the nasty in Spain; just where the hell can you? Hawaii, I'm sure. But that's for next week.

The Torture of Kiptyn and the Kryptonites.

First up is the resident alien from another world, Kiptyn from Krypton. Jill meets him in Madrid where she tells us she has adored him from the start, but in another of her flashes of low self-esteem, she confides, "He may be out of my league." No, Jill: Robotic, diffident, uncaring maybe, but of your league? No. But perhaps Kip came across as so uncaring and uncomfortable because he sensed the hell she was about to put him through. They start off with a talk about their possible future, and he makes it pretty clear that any proposal is a "ways off."(And I'd say that roughly translated into: The 1st of NEVER.) Then she takes him Flamenco dancing so she he can squirm with discomfort and she can demonstrate that Canada is probably no threat at the next Olympics in Ballroom Dancing. (She couldn't even clap in rhythm.) A Flamenco Dance babe comes out and puts them through their paces and Kiptyn looks like he would have more fun swimming in a shark tank, or wandering around the streets of Pakistan with a sign that says, "Infidel wants your women!" Deciding that he doesn't look miserable enough, the Producers make them dress in genuine Flamenco clothes so Jill can show off her flat chest and Kip can get his balls crushed by some tight bedroom drawers. He comes out looking like the whitest matador in history and they dance together Flamenco style, and do it so badly that the Canadian Special Olympics Team would pass out laughing at them.

Next, she forces him to drive her to dinner on a moped and he drove like he had never even learned how to ride a bike. He weaves down the street and crashes into the curb when they arrive. Well at least the crash helmets weren't just for show. (Not exactly The Wild One.) Anyway, after escaping serious injury, she takes him into a restaurant where the producers decide to make him squirm some more by ordering the happy couple a plate full of snails. Yuck! Nothing says 'romantic dinner' like disgusting food fit only for a desperate Survivor Challenge. They gulp it down like someone is holding a gun on them off camera, (and with this show, someone might have been.) She then ups the creepy vibe by telling him that he reminds her of her own dad. I assume by this point that she had decided to give him a case of blue balls, because that statement would have sapped any starch from his snake anyway. Deciding he hasn't been emasculated enough, she declares that her mom often wears the pants in the family "too much" with her dad and she is worried Kip just isn't tough enough to handle her spunky Canadian self. He sideswipes her by telling her "If I really care enough, you'll know it." But his effort is weak, so when the 'ol sexcard Harrison likes to write appears at the table, Torquemada cock blocks him, but still takes him up to the suite, jumps in bed with him, and tortures him to the point of insanity. His balls swollen like blue watermelons, he finally crawls away whimpering. Volunteering hands from Kryptonians all across the continent rocket into the air to help Kip with his 'problem'. Date over.

Reid's Soy Grande! (Or at least he claims to be)

Next up, it's the Seedlings turn to see their man in action. Jill meets Reid in Sevilla, Spain and they go shopping for groceries and and demonstrate a complete ignorance of the Spanish language--it sounded about like a uni-lingual version of Pig-Latin. They end up in a butcher's shop to try and buy a picnic lunch? Reid practically shits himself at the sight of all that raw, disease-carrying beef right in front of them, so they settle for some bread and cheese, to go along with whatever booze the Fleissmonster is providing. A brief walk in the park lands them on a bench where Jill attempts to engage the Neurotic One in a serious conversation about their relationship and possible future together. Apparently anything as icky as feelings is hard for ol' Reid to talk about because he constantly cracks up and interrupts himself to ask: "I'm bad at that this, aren't I? I'm really bad at this!" Relax Shakespeare, she just wants to know you see a future together between you two; you don't need to pen her a book of prose. (Yeah, I know: camera's are there. But I think if you're into the girl enough, you can ignore them a minute when discussing whether you're ready to propose or get her pregnant or whatever. If she had hold of your wang, you'd ignore them.) But I digress. Despite all of his stumbling and bumbling, Reid turns out to be funny, which is a major plus for the guy in my book. His humor is often dry and self-effacing, but it is there and compared to the other robots, it's a breath of fresh air. Over dinner, when the sexcard arrives, she goes to demure again but it's painfully obvious that if he'd a pushed, it was his for the taking. He shows some jealousy and she obviously likes that too, but like a gentleman, leaves it up to her. A piggyback ride down the riverbank ends the date as far as we can see. After that? Who knows. (Wink)

Refuses-to-Stay-Dead-Ed Makes his Pitch

It's on to Ed, and his Deadheads all stand and cheer. Doubling up on the cities, Jill meets him in Sevilla too and intercuts let us know that the Formerly Dead One is ready to lay it all out for her. She confesses that the reanimated corpse scares her and says: "He broke my heart a little bit." Really, do tell? I hope all of that bawling wasn't just over some guy you liked a little, Jill. Anyway, they meet in the park and go for a carriage ride where Jill, acting like a real woman, reminds him of his mistake in leaving her...AGAIN. Thoroughly castigated, Ed moves like the Casanova the folks on the Internet claim he is, and hits her with some smooth cheese. Jill promptly melts into a puddle and they stage a make-out session all over town that would have gotten them arrested in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. (Trust me, I know.) Ahem. Anyway, talk is cheap on this date until they get to dinner, and unlike her other suitors, Ed launches the attack without prompting. "Could you see yourself living anywhere else? Moving to a new city?" She is so pleased she only knifes him gently about not getting to meet his parents again and then finally coos: "What would we have done?" Ed tells her he would have taken her to a Cubs Game, and they talk fairly animatedly but he refrains from making eye contact (again!) The sex card arrives and she goes to demure, but unlike the other gentleman, the Dead One, has other plans. Argh! "I think we should do it; just hang out, and do more catch up." Heh-heh, not bad. Jill caves like she wanted to originally and takes him to the Fantasy Suite and insists they'll "sleep in their clothes." Yeah, Jill, wasn't his shirt a little big on you? Argh, yet again! Odds are heavy against the Nerd Romeo, (Once dead; twice shy), but don't count this boy out just yet.

The Funeral of Greaseball Wes

The opening stages of this date are barely worth relating; Jill met the Greaser in Barcelona and took him for a bike ride. They picnic under a gazebo and the Greasy One stays so far away from her you would think her dad was sitting behind them with a shotgun. Unsurprisingly, Jill notices and wonders what's up. They go to dinner and there the real fun starts. Becoming increasingly suspicious of his completely disinterested attitude, she stars grilling him--no, I mean that--she really started hammering him with questions and wouldn't back off. Instead of defending himself with his usual lies, Wes gets pissed and all but admits he is only here for his lousy CD, and spends a good part of his time glaring at her while she hurls questions at him like thunderbolts. I took all of this to mean that Wes had had enough of the Bachelorette Experience, and wanted to go home. He didn't even try to charm her. When she pegged with a heated question, he merely shrugged and said: "Hey, it's all about numero uno." Women across the Continent began gnashing their teeth at this douche. The sex card arrives and he has the nerve to say: "Yeah, I think we should." Translation: Sure, I'll tap that! Ha ha. If she'd been a hooker and he'd had five hundred in cash at that point, it wadn't gonna happen. She tersely tells him: "We'll skip it!" and walks him out to a cab and throws him out. The sad part is that some women will still want him. Don't believe me? Serial Killers get love letters in prison. Enough said.

The Greaser is Leaking Oil!

This was the most pointless ceremony I have seen. It had one, and only one point to it: to allow Wes the opportunity to commit career suicide and like Kevorkian of the Gutfiddle, he obliges. Jill walks out and Wes, looking drunk already, and dressed like he sleeps in a dumpster, whispered to Kip: "If its me, remember, I'll be gettin' plenty of sex back home." The other three move away from him and Ed can't control a giggle that he's actually met someone this fucking stupid. Jill hands out the flowers and without the wingman anywhere in sight, she makes to walk the stumbling, bombed Wes down the hill to his limo ride of doom. She deposits him, he opens a bottle, and goes on to demolish his career chances and whatever small amount of decency he arrived with. Wes helpfully decided that since he was leaving, he should help with his own funeral arrangements, and even jumped in the hole and pulled the dirt over himself. I wonder how long it will take the Spanish authorities to get the oil stain out of the ground? Slice and dice audio edits start immediately and he starts shooting his mouth off like he wants to be Fleiss' butt-buddy for life. "Losing to Reid? C'mon, the guy's a retard! Ed? These guys wouldn't get a nibble back in Austin. I'm gonna' cut loose tonight! The shackles are off and I'm a free man in Spain! First man ever to make it to the Final 4 with a girlfriend! My acting career is over!" Ha ha, so's your music career asshole. Can you get thrown out of your own band? If it can happen, he's done. Ha ha. Couldn't have happened to a bigger asswipe either. Once in a very great while: BOOM! Karma happens.

Next week: Hawaii, part 1. See ya then!