The Final Four

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: A | Grade It Now!
Lesson Thirteen: Stinky Bums Are Definitely Funny

Frank interviews that Bill -- surely the champion, even among these purebreds -- had a last minute meeting and couldn't make the painfully awkward cocktail party. I'm so sure, I bet at even the prospect of meeting in a room with these eight people kicked his paranoia in hardcore. God, just the idea of Frank dealing with Bill in this informal setting makes me want to wash my hands over and over and over. I can't imagine how scary that would be for poor Bill, whom last we saw still believes his life to be in danger. Frank gives us a concentrated blast of what lay in store for Brilliant Bill, had he not begged off, as he screams at length about how THIS is what it is to be an Apprentice: working 24/7, working until you are a husk of a person, working until your soul comes off on the ledger books. Of course, what Frank doesn't know -- and we do -- is that his ass will never be winning this thing, because he's the least procrusted person I've ever seen. His rough edges have rough edges. The rough in which his diamond can be found is bigger than the sandtraps at all Trump's golf courses combined. He's a blue-collar needle in a haystack of excellent crazy: he exists to make Trump feel like a populist, and that's it.

Kelly says that not only is this a hideously awkward and stupid idea, and they've all moved on with the probable exception of Sean, but also it's awesome, because the four of them have never taken questions together. Only separately, on their sad little trips through the media alimentary canal. They all offer meaningless, content-free advice (The Girl One: "It's now or never! It's time to find out what you're really about!") and all eight of them attempt to manufacture some soundbites about how incredibly fascinating and important the Final Four really is, so that the total letdown of the end of this episode won't seem quite so brutal. Randal manages to totally upstage everybody about how when he was in the Final Four, all he could think about was winning his eighteenth straight task as PM or whatever the hell. Sean gives an unrelated, tic-like, characteristic OMG!!!!!!! about nothing in particular. Sigh. Kelly raises a toast to the Final Four and throws out as many clichés as he can think of, and everybody sips their champagne, and it's still highly uncomfortable. Frank interviews that these four people, plus Bill, plus (... five times four less five is?) fifteen other people who are not there, only those twenty people know what this feels like. To be in the Final Four of The Apprentice! My goodness! What an exclusive club! Fifty people die of Creutzfeld-Jacob spongiform encephalopathy in the UK each year, so this is like 40% more exclusive than that. You know, what would have been awesome is a party made up of Final Four people. We would have gotten to see Amy and Nick! That would have been so awesome! Roxanne! My darling Rebecca! Alla! We could have had ALLA! We could have seen Alla and Frank interact! Tell me that's not like seeing a unicorn. Instead: eight people staring at the floor scouring to see if there are any identifiable personality characteristics left that they could be shedding right this second.

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