Lee: "This would look better if the signage were...tight," which honestly, really is the whole of the problem here, but he keeps those cheekbones high as he points out all the Wal-Mart products and price points on display. Jay or Stephen points out that it's a bit small, that it's crowded in there with just four people (and, um, I think three cameras). It sucks! They did so great! And then Adrian tragically muffed it. Sean and Lee do point out that it could be larger, if the execs used their ecomagination and this weren't just a prototype, so don't worry about that. They take off, and Lee and Sean actually have the balls to be hopeful. I always get into it at the last second: what will happen? I really need to know! I'm hating on my beloved people and admiring the nemesis and it's all very upsetting. Taylor Hicks has been the best the last three weeks in a row and I'm just shy of being too obstinate to say so. What's that say about me? Why's Lee gotta be kicking ass like this? And what will happen if they lose this week? I'm all in a tizzy. I'm confused! I'm in a state of confusion! Adrian finally shows up when they're gone. Sean is grossed out. But they're drinking.
To Microsoft! Bill and Ivanka make small talk in the hall, waiting for The Notorious DJT. And by "make small talk," of course, I mean that Ivanka is lovely and classy and brilliant and makes sense, and Bill repeats one thing over and over like a frightened fax machine or color copier, to wit: how the concepts were so different. He says it with a million different emphases, and yes, each one means something. "They're very different concepts," says Bill, and what he means is that's the deciding factor, or should be. "They're very different concepts," says Bill, and by that he means the difference in level of execution is not important. "They're very different concepts," he says, to remind us that he's there, he's a Viceroy, he's seen them both with his very own twitching, equine terror eyeballs. "They're very different concepts," he says, which encapsulates all of the above. "Very different concepts." Trump shows up, nearly scaring Bill out of his shorts, and Ivanka levels: "You'll have a very strong opinion one way or the other, on this one." Trump asks if Ivanka felt that way, and she did, so then Bill did too. Trump and Ivanka head into the Microsoft boardroom, Bill repeating that they were "very different concepts" one more time, into the air where the Trumps were just standing, before following after. It's like some kind of fucking Rowan Atkinson bullshit, this whole part. "Veddy different concepts, hmyes, veddy different. Hmindeed." Barf.
Sean admits in front of God and everyone they "missed the mark in implementing" their concept, so I guess whatever person his internal psychic antenna is currently picking up is not Lee, who goes a bit white at this. Allie, when asked, says she feels a bit more "sure" about the results now that Sean has accidentally voiced the concerns of someone who is not on Gold Rush. Lee busts in and goes "blah blah blah," like, that's actually what went in my earholes, "Yadda yadda blee blee blorp," and apparently Trump's too, because he fully tells him to cram it. They look at the "environments" on the Xbox, because no hand left jobless is the order of the day, and this is just one of the many capabilities of the Xbox that we already knew: looking at images run through a monitor. Synergy was beloved by Jay and Stephen, because they created a "great hangout," but the problem is that it's where they would go if their feet were tired, not where they'd go to make a high-end purchase. Sitting in a "nice living room" inside a Wal-Mart is not only a violent contradiction in terms, it's also a stupid idea. Those purchases are made on a wave of adrenaline and poor judgment, not in a relaxing, Center For Intraspectful environment. And yeah, you could probably buy an Xbox 360 from your fuzzy chair without feeling too bad about it, if you were flush, but if you had a bajillion dollars to toss around like that, you're not shopping at friggin' Wal-Mart. Not unless you're one of those Ripley's crazy people with newspaper in their shoes and rubies under the floorboards, you're not: the psychic cost-benefit is too high. I'm a very poor writer of a person, and it will be a cold day in HELL before I go to Wal-Mart, and when I do, it'll be because I'd rather buy underwear than do laundry. Not so I can buy shiny electronic crap I don't actually need.