"We â¥ New York," Trump obligatories, "But... here are some meaningless clips of LA, because bad ideas were all we had this season." We remember how thirteen weeks ago, 18 candidates came to LA because they thought they were on that show The Apprentice, and not this misshapen beast. Well, most of them were already from LA, and most of them were lawyers, because the show has ADD. Derek looked particularly scrumptious at this time. They stayed on a graciously overbearing property in Beverly Hills, while Donald Trump fooled them into thinking that he was staying in the house next door, when we know he was there for five minutes every four days, and often crawled around in the mansion's airducts listening in on their conversations. The better to fire them nonsensically at this season's brilliant conclusion. Remember when Heidi and Frank were Project Managers for no reason except that Frank yelled because he was out of his depth and weird about it, and Heidi took control because she knew how serious a disadvantage it was going to be, being prettier than everybody else, and wanted to make sure they understood she was a contender. Unfortunately, she got no credit for this, or the fifteen thousand wins that followed, because nobody will ever understand that being hot, and smart, and a girl is like the worst deal God can hand you, and it always will be until everybody stops holding it against you. Take out any one of those three, and you're Turning Gold, but all three at once? Get ready to have people talk super slow at you.
Heidi was adorable washing some cars herself, in the first task, and Derek also, particularly in the credits. It was close, but Kinetic won, because Martin is too weird for life. The winning team -- remember? -- moved into the mansion, and their PM sat in the BR watching Trump scream for awhile; the losers lived in tents across the hedge. They acted like they were in a concentration camp even though people pay good money to go camping in California, where the weather is like ours all year round. Of course, those people aren't auditioning on a reality show that demands you dress really hot and emulating paranoid schizophrenia 24/7, so we can kind of cut them a break. There were sprinklers in case they got hot, and in case anybody ever got inside the gates to see the acres of perfectly kept grass. It was "a classic battle of the Haves versus the Have Nots," says Trump, I guess forgetting his history. A real "classic" battle of the Haves v. the Have Nots would have involved Frankie taking up a machete in the middle of the night, Stefani marching Kinetic to the guillotine one by one, or possibly Tim handing out leaflets. A printing press in the attic, lots of clove cigarettes, or a full-on riot. Those are examples of the reality of Have v. Have Not. This is more like a classic battle of the Haves v. the Towel-Dried. The Air-Conditioned v. the Balmy. The Gas-Guzzling Minivans v. the Abercrombie & Fitch-branded Sport Utility Vehicles. Dormitory v. Campsite. The Reserved Table v. The Twenty-Minute Wait. Beluga v. Sevruga. The Whiners v. the Other Whiners.