Bachelor
Marching Orders

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Jenny Jenny, Who Can I Turn To?

A black stretch limo was clearly the most intuitive, logical, understated form of transport they could find to carry one small blonde across a miraculously traffic-free swath of Southern California sprawl. Maybe they were taking into account the breadth of her vaguely linebacker-esque shoulders, or perhaps they realized they needed a vehicle that could provide a wet bar stocked entirely with human tears, but whatever the reason, there's Jenny. And she's sad. And because she was The Capitalized Spy, she gets to let us know why she's sad. And she gets to let us know...again: "I'm on my way to the girls' house to let them know who I am. To meet them for the first time as Jesse's best friend." The camera crew crawls into a crevasse in Jenny's thigh -- ain't that always the way, making the crew sit on the hump during long car trips -- to get a tight shot of Jenny's wedding ring, which made her cry to take off. Like when she cries about worrying the girls will discover her real identity. Or when she cries about worrying how mad they'll be. Or when she cries about daylight savings time, the M&M that lost its color, or Air America being taken off the air in her local market. Or when she tears up at Oreo commercials, incorrectly-tailored pants, or the letter "y" only sometimes being called a vowel, the poor, ostracized Other. Yes. That's right. I'm saying that she cries a lot for no damn good reason, is what I'm saying. She cries on cryingly, "I hope that I'm forgiven for what I'm getting ready to do." For wasting a quantifiable amount of the average human lifespan on your fake, invented subplot? "I don't know if I would forgive me." Unless they severely edited this sequence and left out the part where that limo drove Jenny back to the house but on the way accidentally hit 88 miles per hour and sent her back in time, where she became despotic head of the Khmer Rouge and was responsible for the systematic, genocidal slaughter of millions of innocent Cambodians, her present emotional reckoning is slightly out of step with the nature of her crime, wouldn't you say? And if that is the case? Then, apparently, Jesse's best friend is a time-traveling Pol Pot. Now that's a subplot.

Miraculously, at that exact moment, Chris "Host In The Machine" Harrison presides over the living room at Cruella De Villa, where he calls the ladies to join him: "Ladies, if you would, come join me in the living room, please!" The ladies contractually oblige and would have done so without even the formality of a "please," but that's just the kind of guy Chris Harrison is, people. He's all about the random acts of cheese. It's his bread and butter. And it's topped with his cheese. Anyway, the ladies march into the room, self-satisfied sneers in full force, completely unaware that their entire perception of the safe status quo this show purports to represent is about to be...vaguely compromised for about thirteen seconds. "This week, three intimate one-on-one dates and one group date," Chris takes the liberty of Greek Chorusing, just in case the standing groundlings in the pit of the Globe have trouble following the action.

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