The Women Tell All (Season 4)

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Friendster Is For Suckers!

Props and thanks to Hillary Dickulous.

We're California soundstage dreamin' on such a loser's day, as we join Chris "Okay, But I Don't Want Anyone Thinking We're Robosexuals" Harrison, standing in front of a studio audience comprised entirely of the unemployed, the financially compensated, the middle-aged, and the damned. Hoodwinked tourists from Des Moines stare suspiciously around at the studio, wondering just when the hell Sajak is going to show up already like that guy on the street told them he would, while contractually obligated former bachelorettes gleefully applaud the death of culture. "Hi," a chipper Chris tells them all, his entirely black ensemble belying his outward glee and subversively mourning the death of culture, "Welcome to The Bachelor: 'The Women Tell All.'" Welcome to Recapping The Recap Day at Television Without Pity, folks, in which I attempt to tell the story of them telling the story of this season, all without plunging off the precipice of meta-dom and falling through a recapping wormhole, ending up back in time to find myself recapping My Mother The Car for Mighty Big Dumont Network or something. What? It could happen. Well, it could. Stop looking at me like that.

Chris continues: "America embraced Bachelor Bob on his quest to find true love and the woman who could eventually become his wife." Oh, now, is that just what America did, Chris? Because from here it looked like the only people embracing Bob were the twenty-five unlucky ladies who had to go through him in an attempt to snag a correspondent position onExtra, and the only thing the home audience was hugging were our knees, while rocking back and forth in our padded rooms, foaming at the mouth while trying to formulate the sentence, "Just...make...him... stop...laughing... can't...hear...laugh...again... mmmmmrgzmsga." And I really mean it. But I mean "mmmmrgzmsga" slightly more than I mean the rest of it. Chris continues to wow us with his televisual parlor tricks, including The Feats Of Math ("Twenty-five women started and now only two remain!") and The Coif That Shall Not Budge, segueing into a brief commercial for next week's two- (kill) hour (me) finale and coming to rest on the sentiment, "Tonight, we'll talk to the women who left without a rose." Known to freedom-lovers all over as "The Emancipated." Take it away, Chris: "Please welcome...our bachelorettes!" He does that sweeping, left-handed "Behind Curtain #2...Fame Whorishness!" arm swoop practiced and perfected by years of talentless TV puppets before him, as we back up through time and catch up with the rose-less and the lonely. Because it's like I told you...only the lonely can play:

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