Previously, Fox cancelled several shows that didn't actually have murderous waves of suck emanating from them like the stink off a manure lagoon.

Announcer-Man grandly reminds us of the pain we endured a mere forty-eight hours ago, as if we could have forgotten. Believe me, Announcer-Man, I still have the bottles I emptied trying to numb the pain. Anyway, at that time, the peeps of Jill, Stephen, and Billie Jeanne narrowed their marriage candidates from five dimwits down to two, and America was asked the only question that really matters: would you tie up your phone line for the thirty seconds it would take to vote, thus risking the possibility that you would miss a phone call from your dentist? Announcer-Man claims that "millions called" to vote. Considering that "millions" barely even watched, I seriously doubt that, Announcer-Man. I think he's overcounting Valentine's mom. Announcer-Man then remarks that "the fates of Jill, Stephen, and Billie Jeanne have been sealed." I'm sure he didn't mean for that to sound like they had been sentenced to die by firing squad, which means that whatever patterologist is writing his shtick needs a little remedial training. I think that Sally Struthers University offers an associate degree. But anyway, out with the old suck, in with the new suck! I love novelty.

Tonight, it's time for Jennifer and Matt to be put through their paces, which you might already know if the contestants introduced two days ago were anywhere near as memorable as your average bowl of Shredded Wheat. Once this crucial news has been passed on, they show the first truly worthwhile piece of entertainment we've seen so far. Hysterically, they show us how the proposals are apparently going to be accomplished in the episode after this one -- we see this guy in a suit getting down on one knee and slipping a ring on the finger of a woman who is sticking only her hand through a screen that's between them. No, really. She sticks her hand through the hole they've cut through this rigged-up contraption, and he puts the ring on without being able to see her. It's the way MacGyver would have proposed if he had fallen in love with a woman who lived in a steel box. But really, you can't blame them for preserving their gimmick. These people are getting engaged sight unseen! Sight unseen! It's that big a secret, people. Security must be taken seriously. Stand away from the air locks! Don your hazmat suits! Mmm, hazmat suits.

And now, your host, Sean Valentine. (Audience, mistakenly believing that Announcer-Man said "Shaun Cassidy": "Wooooo!") By the way, Sean says his name as if there's some chance that it's going to mean something to us, other than "Isn't that what The Simpsons would call the operator of a fraudulent computer dating service?" Sean has no function except to repeat just about everything that Announcer-Man just said. In fact, I'm surprised that Announcer-Man's voice doesn't suddenly boom, "Didn't I just say that, Sean?" Sean talks a while longer without saying anything, which is a remarkable skill, and which makes this show a fitting accompaniment to Thursday night's presidential news conference. He basically hits you with "Next week, people will get engaged. Right here on this stage. So if you keep watching, they will get engaged. On this stage. Next week. On this stage. Because we've got people who are willing to get engaged, and it will happen next week. GUESS WHERE!" Announcer-Man next tells us that we have to go to break, but he promises us that after the break, events will occur. I am skeptical. I haven't seen so much emphasis on set-up without any discernible ETA for the actual event since the Super Bowl. And since the last Super Bowl I watched was probably five years ago, it's really been a while.