Give me your tired! Your poor! Your huddled masses yearning to lunch on ketchup and pickles! The wretched refuse of your teeming Walgreen's express lane! Or so seems to say the regal opening check-in with the Statue of Liberty this week, a shot which will also appear on the cover of Exceedingly Cliché Establishing Shots Weekly, available on newsstands now. None of these girls has even ever been to the Statue of Liberty. With the exception of one field trip in fourth grade, I've never even been to the Statue of Liberty. So unless the topic matter of this show has somehow morphed into America's Next Top Student In Mrs. Karpen's Class At Birch Lane Elementary, let's montage over to the mainland and make fun of Camille. Follow me!
Up in the ZoLoft, we check in first with that very Vice Bootee from last week's Catwalk Of Doom elimination ceremony. Nursing a self-righteousness hangover -- what I can only infer is the morning-after curse of those who go to bed while drunk with self-righteousness -- Camille stumbles around the ZoLoft in the early-morning hours. Ssssh! Turn it down, Camille! You'll wake my private store of unused Jensacia-sleeping-late jokes! Camille pulls off that sleeping-mask thing that is essential sleepwear for divas, the Elephant Man, and those brave NASA technicians hard at work setting up that new space station ON THE SURFACE OF THE SUN, confessionalizing, "I'm not eliminated." Congratulations. You're still in the running towards becoming America's Next Master Of The Obvious. She continues on, lapsing into an unfortunate bout of generic realitybabble (one word): "I'm continuing on this journey." Oh, you're continuing on the journey, are you? You feel that you and top modeling have a "connection," do you? We watch as Tyra does the booting of Catie, and Mercedes reminds us that there are six remaining girls -- fine, here they are: Sara, Mercedes, Yoanna, Shandi, Camille, and April -- as Catie takes her tearful (after such superhuman stoicism! I could hardly believe it either!) leave. There's a ridiculously quick pan of the rest of the girls, and as Catie exits, Sara actually has her hands cupped over her mouth in utter, total, I-am-watching- a-baby-carriage- fall-off-a- roller-coaster shock. Either that, or she's just trying to deflect attention away from the collagen porn lips that make the judges think she'd be perfect for a Hooter's calendar featuring "Our hottest racks, of ribs and otherwise."