Lee gets naked and comes to Michael, telling him that Charmaine will do their bidding in the Boardroom, though Tarek won't. If all three boys are in the Boardroom, that's too many cooks in, so Tarek needs to stay out of the Boardroom. Huh. I'm not sure even Lee is clear on his overall agenda with all this lying and whatever, but the self-image of himself as "wheeler-dealer" is demonstrably more important than getting results, considering he can always take credit for unrelated shit at a later time to preserve his feeling of control over all living things. Anyway, that's three.

But soft! We're not done! Lee then comes to us -- you and me! In our very own living rooms! -- and continues to lie. The best liars believe what they're saying, and no less here, because he's lying to himself about any number of things that have nothing to do with anything real. "I'm done with being a pawn," he says, which is odd since it's the only thing he's good at. He tells us in all seriousness that he's done playing games: he's not "teaming up," he's "not conspiring," he's not "planning going in to say this and this," he's "not supporting anyone." I'm done I'm done I'm done with that, he says, like a hundred times. But you just...I mean, we literally seconds ago saw...fuck it. He's not worth thinking about. "I'm supporting myself." Dipshit.

Final votes: 31\% Charmaine, 16\% Tarek, 15\% Lee. Really? That's...I don't know what that is. I think I had my thumb on the pulse of America, starting with the true facts of the Andrea hate, and any licensed CPR trainer will tell you that's a great way to find out...your own pulse. This just in! I think women are A-OK! But nobody else seems to, including women! ["If that reflects a through-going frustration with Charmaine's inability/unwillingness to put her foot down with Tarek, I can live with it...but it probably doesn't." -- Sars] This show is vile!

But it's not just the show: picture this. A man with falsely bushy eyebrows sits in a nouvelle restaurant, and is brought a piece of well-presented sushi. He turns to the camera -- holding his faceless girlfriend's hand behind a wine glass full of water -- and begins to sing. "I am man, hear me roar / In numbers too big too ignore..." He stands -- his bitch's face goes sour -- and takes off down the aisle of the restaurant, which is filled with men wearing the same colors he is. He tosses his napkin behind him, because what need has he of the napkins of the matriarchy? He is man. In the background, his girlfriend is weeping inconsolably. "And I'm way too hungry / To settle for chick food..." He frees himself and sets off into Manhattan; turns manfully, sternly toward the camera as he walks directly across the street -- not even looking for oncoming traffic! -- toward a Burger King. "'Cause my stomach's startin' to growl / And I'm goin' on the prowl / For a Texas Double Whopper...man that's good!" His sentiments are echoed by another man outside the BK, who holds the prenominate sandwich into the air like Lady Liberty -- a new statue for a new millennium, where men finally have a place they can just be men. Where they can rediscover their liberty to eat sandwiches larger than a full-grown adult person's head, dripping in fat.