Lessons learned: There are at least three stories going on here, and they are incongruent, they don't match, they contradict each other, but they all three are true. The story you see is the one you're telling, and wherever it doesn't Venn up with the other ones, that's where the other stories are lies, unless you're willing to step out of the box and have some sympathy for the other ones.
The first one is a story about acceptable levels of gayness. You can be this "gay," whatever that means to the guys who make the rules, in these ways but not those, and you'll be okay -- as long as you reassure the people who need it every now and then -- but if you don't get it, or expect the world to follow along behind, or do any of the stupid things these people on this show always do... if you are waiting for the world to fall into position with that, with how you would like things to be. If you can't compromise and remember that it's not the sum total of who and what you are, if you can't keep quiet when you know you should, if your desire to draw attention to yourself outweighs your desire to tread lightly on other people's evolution, you're an astronaut and I applaud you, even though you make things harder in my personal life sometimes. Your facts are not my facts, and yet we both represent the same monolithic group, which means if you're wearing that awful thing, I might have one in my closet too. That might be one of the artifacts the Trumpworld sociologists bring back to the party. Which is your prerogative, but doesn't bode well for your results on game shows like this.
The second one is short but sweet: this show is disgusting, and goes for the ugly laugh, and does everything it can to reinforce everything that it can about what's above and what's below this paragraph. And I honestly don't blame Trump for that. It's not really his show, it's his decision -- we're told -- but he's not the editor. He's not the artist that brings it to life. He's not the guy who chose I think nine incidences of the phrase "ram-rodding it down people's throats" and chose to put all nine of them onscreen within the 42 minutes of this show. He's not the one who ignored Derek for every scene except the ones in which he indicted Carey while letting the audience off the hook. He's not the one who kept focusing on Carey's junk and ass at every opportunity, like a slasher film for people afraid of black and gay sexuality. He's not the one who traveled slowly up Carey's body, revealing the pink monster as dramatically as possible, and he's not the one who cut audio to the formerly clapping buyers group, so everybody at home would know their disgust was valid. That wasn't Trump, he'll tell you he isn't an artist beyond the art of the deal: that was the work of a true artist, and I applaud the team that managed such a disgusting display, given so little time. The second story is one about art: the lie that tells the truth, as Picasso would say.