Say, is that a mochaccino you've got there?
"Hi," says Chris Harrison, welcoming us to The Bachelor, "I'm Chris Harrison, and welcome to The Bachelor." Chris strolls casually out onto a glorified, palm-fronded, swimming-pool-inclusive, but still undeniably Golden-Girls-esque outdoor lanai. He looks tanned and rested, and is in fact wearing a suit that -- in its monochromatic taupe and beige sameness -- perfectly matches both his skin tone and his personality. Chris delivers his dubious copy directly to his audience: "Over the past year, America has watched Alex and his search for a wife, fallen in love with Aaron, and embraced Trista as she struggled to find her soulmate." And though I have done none of those three things (watched Alex, fallen in love with Aaron, or embraced Trista), you really have to give Chris credit for how much he believes in this material, right down to his Emphatic Fist Pump Of Trista's Moral And Emotional Fortitude which underscores the word "struggled" at this point in his Journey Through the Hall of Bachelors epic song poem. "Tonight," we learn, "the journey begins again." Oh, goody. The six of us not watching Clay's fifteen minutes unfold on one channel or debating the continuing integrity of Aaron Brown's hairline on another can't wait. "We searched high and wide for America's most eligible bachelor," Chris continues, reading the words like they make total sense off of the Dubious-Copy-O-Prompter, a device that failed to flag the fact that the expression he's looking for is perhaps "high and low" or "far and wide," or maybe even "high and tight," which I'm pretty sure is a phrase widely used somewhere in the discipline of either sports or porn. Whereas "high and wide" is a phrase widely used in the discipline of never.
Strolling across the lanai and edging ever closer to Rose, the cheesecake, and Dorothy Zbornak (all of which clearly reside in the house beyond), Chris continues with his brave one-man anti-integrity rally, spewing, "Before we meet everyone, let me tell you what's going to happen tonight." Boo hoo, Fleiss. Show, don't tell. Chris promises that tonight's episode is going to feature "everything," from "how we chose The Bachelor and bachelorettes" to "revealing their innermost thoughts as they begin this journey." Forgive the crass generalization, but wouldn't the "innermost thoughts" of a twenty-two-year-old office assistant who is going on television to try and snag herself a husband be something along the lines of "Y'all, how does this bikini look on me?" or "Do my hips make me looking kinda, I dunno, 'hippy,' or something?" or "Do y'all think 'cause I was totally the president of my sorority my junior year at Villanova I can list 'proficient in Greek' as a special skill on my Bachelor application? Y'all?" We learn as well that we'll see the bachelorettes (or, as Chris calls them, "ladies," because it's suddenly 1940 and therefore no long socially acceptable to refer to them as "dames") "leave home, travel to Los Angeles, and meet each other for the first time." FYI, that's a pretty big set-up for a fourteen-second montage of planes taking off, Chris.