Just then, the door to the suite opens. "Honey, I'm home," says Tana with the help of her leather jacket. Craig and Kendra hop up from the couch and run for the living room. Tana runs down the hallway and hops up into Craig's arms, which would be sort of endearing if they weren't both pretty much insufferable. What's even worse is that Tana says, "This is destiny." Destiny? It's fucking Donald Trump, lady. It's got about as much to do with destiny as ice cream sandwiches have to do with existential angst, and you need to get that straight before we sit through a finale together -- um, assuming we do. She goes on: "Whoever this was made for will be the one who eventually gets it." This is where it occurs to me that I would love to see a version of this show in which everything these people say that doesn't mean a goddamn thing is edited out and replaced with, like, animal noises. Like, instead of hearing Tana say "whoever this was made for will be the one who eventually gets it," you would see her lips moving, but you would just hear owls. Her lips: "Whoever this was made for will be the one who eventually gets it." Her voice: "[Hoo-hoooooo.]"
Now, Craig and Tana say their prayers before bed. And I know they mean well and are sincere, but you could not get me to pray in front of a camera for any amount of money, I will tell you that right now. Because unlike "bomb the heck out of them," "loving the wrong person will send you to hell," or "evolution, shmevolution," the part about praying in private lest people think you are doing it for attention actually is in the Bible. (Matthew 6; look it up. And they say hippie religions don't know their stuff.) But at any rate, Craig and Tana pray, and Tana thanks God for being with her in the Boardroom. (God: "That wasn't Me.") Kendra comments that she's concerned about Craig and Tana's close relationship, because it leaves her as the odd person out. She gets in bed, substituting "don eye mask" for "pray" in her nightly ritual.
The judgmental moon looms.
The next morning, the camera guys grab some very pretty shots of early morning in Manhattan, and then the Rhonaphone rings in the L-Pal. Craig answers it, and Rhona tells him that they'll be meeting Trump in the penthouse suite of Trump World Tower. He makes a note. We watch as they stream out of the building, and then we see Trump's limo flying down the street. The candidates are waiting in the hallway outside the elevator when the doors open and Trump himself appears. He greets them, congratulates them, and leads them down the hall, promising to "show them what a real apartment is." This is sort of my least favorite Trump quality -- it's not his appreciation of over-the-top kitsch, because...hell, if I had six or eight gazillion dollars and no idea what to do with it, maybe I'd install gold faucets, too. I'd like to think not, but it's hard to deal in hypotheticals. But those sneering comments about a "real apartment," as if everyone else is living a second-tier life whether they know it or not...I do not dig that. I realize it's late in the game to be put off by Donald Trump, but there it is.