Apprentice
Apprentice

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: B- | 598 USERS: B-
YOU GRADE IT
Lesson Six: Trump's Your Momma Now

Sean does that fucking "Yessss!" thing I so fucking hate, and then he, Michael, and Roxanne make out. I mean down and dirty make out, in the balcony of the Knitting Factory, and I don't get it. I think it's because Synergy is kind of dorky and lame, altogether, so it's like how the band dorks were the most sexually active, because all they had was each other, and there was the one guy who was just marginally more attractive for whatever reason, and he got all the ass, even though in Gen Pop he would be despised, and in one way it's sad because they honestly thought they were doing the "dating" thing that everybody was doing in Gen Pop, but in reality, it was the incestuous dating ghetto of band and nobody else cared whatsoever, except perchance to shudder. And some of them later got married, and probably right this second "World Of Warcraft" is setting fire to their happy and often polygamous and unshaven homes. I know this because I studied them for three years like a scientist, because I loved it so, so much, and I still do. The overwrought breakups, the yearning weeping triangles, the keepsakes tossed asunder, the soap operas going on that nobody else paid attention to, like how entire colonies of bugs and beasties live under your lawn and you might never know. If you could harness the sheer angst and power and rage and passion of a single high school band class, you could power the sun. I love it. Not that things were any cooler, objectively speaking, in the art fag/lit mag/Gaiman and Tartt corner of the world, but at least there the drama created itself; nobody had to strive to emulate the upper echelon due to feeling superior to everyone else, which meant more time to go all Dian Fossey on interpenetrating and parallel groups like the band. Why does The Apprentice always jog loose memories of high school? Hmmmm.

Reward: to have white truffle dishes at Alain Ducasse, with the focal fungi being flown in from Alba, which I always confuse with Elba due to my obsession with dictatorships. "Without question," Trump says like it fucking matters, "the most expensive meal that you will ever have." He says it's "more expensive than Arby's, but personally," he prefers Arby's. I'm telling you: $250 easy. I would tell Trump that a gallon of milk cost $20. It would be awesome. He tells them to have "an amazing truffle meal." Sean leads the way, kissing all-natural ass from the coat check girl to the maitre d'. Michael interviews robotically that Alain Ducasse is "very exclusive" and "very expensive" and "the type of restaurant you don't go to every day." Sean's Seanthusiasm, I have decided, hides something very dark, like if you were to see it you might go insane. Every single person in this world has their own creepy little surprise parties waiting for you to know them well enough, but don't you get the feeling Sean's are particularly hairy? "The ladies," he says to nobody in particular, "look wonderful tonight, and are just enhancing the whole experience." Don't you wish Sean would hit on you at a bar? Wouldn't that be hilarious? Allie says that Michael and Seanthusiasm "couldn't look more dapper," and it becomes immediately apparent that they are all at least two sheets in. Roxanne lets him be all ridiculous and flirty, and it's hilarious, and now that I have gone to the BQ place with them, I can't stop thinking about it. Like they're all playing these wind-up "I believe this is how Gold Rush acts" kind of games. "Aren't we all just so worldly and sophisticated now? Truffle?" "Don't mind if I do, would you like some wine?" "I don't know if I should! Things could get ssssexual!" "Oh, you're so bad!"

Apprentice

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