"To our departed fellow," Raj offers in the kitchen, and they all toast Rob with red wine. Indeed, Rob was good and loyal cannon fodder. "And then there were seventeen," someone adds. Wow, let's not go through that every week. I may not have great confidence in all of you, but I think you can subtract, at least by one at a time.
New York sunrise porn. The phone rings in S5, and an already fully dressed Baldford goes to answer it. It's RonaFromMr.Trump'sOffice, and she says that Trump wants to meet the candidates at 8:00 AM in the Trump Tower atrium. Maria interviews that this call came at 5:00 in the morning, so that actually qualifies as early, even I will admit. Preening begins. Kevin in the shower, Jennifer M. blow-drying her hair, assorted boys shaving, Stacy (I think) dabbing makeup on her face, Maria ironing in a towel, and Raj -- duh -- tying a polka-dot bow tie over his pink shirt. And then somebody -- Sandy? -- goes through a terribly tricky shoe-choosing drama, getting help from Maria, who offers, "The black stands out more, but the pink sort of catches the [something] a little bit more." Oh, just pick a shoe, would you? You're going to look inappropriate either way. As the puttering around continues, Stacie interviews that with all the "personalities" on the team, "it's almost like being in high school." She says that the women are "trying to attach themselves to each other," but it's ultimately all very false, and they're all entirely "ready to cut each other's throat." She says that she doesn't particularly want to be friends with any of them herself. It doesn't sound like there's much danger of that when Maria interviews that Stacie's "freaking out" will be remembered for later, because they can't have that. You know, when it comes to emotional instability, women in pink tube tops shouldn't throw stones, is my opinion.
Everyone gathers in the atrium, and then somebody in some capacity working for Burnett has just a wee bit too much fun with the trumpeting regal theme as Trump appears at the top of an escalator, followed by George and Carolyn. As the candidates all look anxiously in one direction, we see the perfectly spaced Trump and the Viceroys glide down on the escalator behind them. It's a goofy shot, really, and way over the top, but still...pretty funny. Finally, Trump appears to them and greets them for the morning. He announces that behind where he's standing right now, he has a plan "to open the finest ice cream parlor anywhere." He further says that to no one's shock, it will be called Trump's Ice Cream Parlor. Hey, catchy! I'll take a gold-dipped vanilla cone. All the candidates chuckle, because the other option is rolling your eyes, and although none of them has a caption under his or her name that reads, "Rocket Scientist," they know that would probably be wrong. He goes on to say that the ice cream business is worth $20 billion a year, so obviously, he needs to nail down his chunk of it. There's a great shot of Stacy, looking like she's thinking, "Ice creeeam! Maybe Mom will get me some!" Trump tells them that they'll be working with the Ciao Bella Gelato Company to develop and sell their own flavors of ice cream. The team that makes the most money selling its ice cream will win, so this week is more like the 100-yard dash and less like gymnastics, judging-wise. And then, somebody will get fired. Fired! Stacy gives a really unfounded interview in which she claims that the women will be at an advantage because they're "so highly specialized with [their] skill sets." Yeah. Unless your "skill set" is something really complicated like "dressing yourself." Because nobody seems to be highly specialized at that.