Blow Out

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: F | Grade It Now!
Lesson Ten: Girls R Just Dum

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 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.

Men flood the streets; a host of men come out of Burger King holding their sandwiches proudly. "Oh yes, I'm a guy / I'll admit I've been fed quiche..." He barely shies away from this admission, but you can tell what he's implying: eating quiche is basically equivalent to eating dick, which is fine in a sushi prison, but in the brave new world of the Burger Kingdom, there's no need for that. These proud men are of all races, all classes, all forms of dress, in a parade now numbering in the hundreds. They pass a bistro patio, where men shove their plates across their tables, standing up in disobedience -- they will no longer be eating quiche, no sir. They will be eating beef. Their girlfriends -- all womankind -- left far, far behind, the bistro boys are helped over the railing to join the throng, a hamburger shoved into their hands as they come, blinking and unbalanced, seeming new-born. "Wave tofu bye-bye / Now it's the Whopper Beef I..." A man comes out of a salon, confused, in a smock, with a green skin mask on his face -- but he cannot be hated for having gone so terribly, awfully wrong. All men deserve the freedom of the Burger Kingdom, even those led into sexual purgatory by their pores. "I will eat this meat!" A man in the foreground shoves the sandwich into the camera, as behind him, ten floors or more of rioting men dance on balconies, unfurling banners that say "Eat This Meat!" and "I Am Man!" They do not dance like homos -- they have the power of beef. "Till my innie turns into an outie!" These men, in defiance of all nature, will give birth to hunger itself! They will consume the world, until women and their disgusting foods are left far behind!

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