The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America // Week Seven
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America // Week Seven The Bachelor dates—dump Kristina. I don’t think the Bachelor producers expected Kristina to come as far as she first black bachelorette. This is good news for obvious historical reasons but mainly because it means The Bachelor_edited.jpg Corinne and Raquel’s relationship. Becky Scott Becky Scott is a writer based in New York who loves The Bachelor and is great at giving humorous advice. with near certitude that Rachel Lindsay will debut next season as the franchise’s first black Bachelor, the story of 30 women who are “literally trying to win over their fiancé.” I can now say Photo Courtesy of ABC Can't get enough of Becky's humor? Follow her on Twitter. Welcome back to The I can now say with near certitude that Rachel Lindsay will debut next season as the franchise’s
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America: Week Two
Welcome to week two of The Bachelor, the show where one man gaslights a country into falling in The Bachelor The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America: Week Two Bachelor, the show where one man gaslights a country into falling in love with him. This week kicks Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. Photo by ABC Can't get enough of Becky's humor? Follow her on Twitter. Welcome to week two of The on The Bachelor. And deep down, Liz knows this. She’s here, though, and that means she has to suck
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office // Week One
The Bachelor The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office The Bachelor Blog IMAGE COURTESY OF ABC Welcome back to The Bachelor, the show that believes you can fall in love and sell Clorox bleach at the very same time. It's the start of the new year, which means we are all googling "self-help podcasts" and making promises to ourselves that we will be better this year. It means the treadmills at the gym will be virtually inaccessible between the hours of 5 PM and 8 PM until the third week of January, when all of that resolve diminishes into something truly inescapable: the person you are and always will be. Lauren B. Despite its famous moniker, the new year isn't happy. It lends itself to misery. It is the ultimate Sunday. At best, you manage to keep your head above the waters of despair afloat the buoyancy of self-delusion. At worst, you give in immediately to the desperation that accompanies the passage of time. At least we will always have love. And that's what we are here to talk about today: love and one man's journey towards it. Lauren G. Who is that man? Great question. Fantastic question. The only question, perhaps, worth asking until Donald Trump has been safely escorted from the Oval Office to a private island full of menopausal Komodo dragons. His name is Arie and here is everything I know about him: his family seems to be recent Dutch immigrants. He is a "racecar driver" who is involved with real estate on the side. He is the Victorian ghost in a Wes Anderson movie. He looks like a swamp at dusk. The three things that make him excited to be alive are excitement, adrenaline, and pizza. He starred on a season of The Bachelorette that aired years ago, before I had even heard of the show, perhaps before I had even made my acquaintance with this sad world. He appears to be well over half way done with being alive. Lauren J And he could absolutely get it from this girl. Why has The Bachelor franchise condemned us all to watching the eight week journey of a strange man in whom we have no emotional investment? Well, first of all, it's a free country and you don't have to do anything you don't want to, except pay taxes so we can bomb other nations to keep democracy safe. You have every right to turn off your television and say, "not today Satan, I would rather watch a Ken Burns war documentary than give even a moment of my time to this stranger with the fake career who is inching ever closer to being eligible for Medicare." But wait — before asserting one of the insignificant rights America gives you in order to create the illusion of freedom, consider what Chris Harrison and his shadow people were up against. Do you remember the men of Rachel's season? There was Peter, the gap toothed infidel incapable of compromising his morals in exchange for a free wedding. There was Eric, the well-dressed Playboy who couldn't pick true love out of a lineup. There were others, but I'm not paid enough to remember their names. Lauren S. What other choice did they have than to parse through the archive of contestants, searching for one who was single, alive, and not in jail? So here we are — "we" meaning you, me, Ari, 29 beautiful women, Chris Harrison, the shadow people, and whichever country music star is ready to throw their career under the bus this season. There's not much to report back from last night's episode. None of the women got particularly drunk. None of them dressed up as a shark. One of them collects taxidermy animals but even she seems down to earth. One of them might not be 21 yet. Some of them are named Becca. Most of them are named Lauren. One of the Beccas spells her name "Bekah." All of the Lauren’s spell their name "Lauren." Bekah M. They're all beautiful. They're all vaguely employed. And they're all ready to trade in their dignity for a starring role in a cage. Let the games begin. BECKY SCOTT Becky Scott is a Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. View all Bachelorette Recaps The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office // Week One The Bachelor 2018.jpg be alive are excitement, adrenaline, and pizza. He starred on a season of The Bachelorette that
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office // Week Four
The Bachelor The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office The Bachelor Blog The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office // Week Four the-bachelor-recap.jpg IMAGE COURTESY OF ABC Welcome back to The Bachelor, the country music version of Rock of Love. Many people have of late been asking me about my creative process as it pertains to this account of love. How do I so authentically capture the subtleties of Arie's emotional pallor? How do my bold predictions come to manifest themselves weeks later? How have I become the most trusted news source in a world of journalists whose mad cries of "Objectivity!" belie a penchant for twisting the truth until it resembles one of the Space Fleet monsters from the first episode of the fourth season of "Black Mirror"? Let me tell you this: exactly one half hour before the episode begins, I take a bottle of red wine to the face. Then, I open a new bottle of red wine and sit down to play witness. I write down words that occur to me as the two hours pass — "lamp," "Michigan," "jailbait," "Stockholm Syndrome" for example — and then in the morning, I piece those words together to form an emotional collage, sort of like a Monet painting, only there's a point to it. Last night, my creative process failed me. Blame it on the position of Mars, or a sudden, jarring realization that I haven't been attracted to a man since the New York Times ruined them for me, or maybe all the vegetables I've been eating lately have cut off the blood flow to my brain. You can blame it on any number of these things, but deep down I know it's because the government shut down ended yesterday which means that, once again, at any moment, nuclear war will bring the civilized world as we know it to an abrupt end. Still, here I am, honoring my commitment to the hundreds of millions of Internet users who dutifully log in to an inclusive wedding website to read my work, even as many might say my message threatens the very sanctity of marriage. It's incredible, isn't it, the lengths to which your brain will go to protect you. I believe my inability to remember basic facts about a television episode I watched 12 hours ago is nothing short of evolutionary self-preservation. Still, here I am, honoring my commitment to the hundreds of millions of Internet users who dutifully log in to an inclusive wedding website to read my work, even as many might say my message threatens the very sanctity of marriage. That being said, I believe it was Seinne who wrangled herself the first one-on-one date of last night. The date took place in the wilderness of Lake Tahoe where Arie has squirreled away his brothel of women for the foreseeable future. I visited Lake Tahoe once, long ago, in the throes of heartbreak. The object of my unrequited affections was there as well, and I had to pretend to enjoy the trees and the dirt even as he, despite being much less smart than I and of roughly equal physical attractiveness, showed no interest in pursuing a romantic relationship. Seinne, who is also much smarter than and of roughly equal physical attractiveness as her Lake Tahoe love interest, had much more luck than me. Despite having never been educated past the ninth grade or something, Arie demonstrates a cool confidence around a woman who would intimidate most men. The two of them go windsurfing, or whatever that sport is called, and then they drink champagne by a lake of shining waters. At dinner, Seinne tells Arie that, growing up, she never saw women who looked like her get the man in love stories such as most animated Disney films and movies like "Forrest Gump" or "Shallow Hal." Aries gives her the rose, and makes her the unbreakable promise that "maybe" this will be her love story. Back at the mansion, everybody except my mortal enemy, Bekah, is invited on a group date to go hiking. The ladies meet up in the middle of the woods with a survival guide who makes them all pee into a water bottle so they will not die of dehydration in case the cast and crew get lost in the Tahoe wilderness for weeks. The only remaining Lauren makes it clear that she has no intention of drinking her own pee, even if the alternative is certain death. I'm beginning to understand why this revolutionary spirit is the last Lauren standing. The ladies break up into groups and are tasked with finding their way to a champagne hot tub party in the middle of the Lake Tahoe wilderness. There's so much drama that could happen during this pilgrimage — broken legs, a creature from the Upside Down mauling one of the contestants, one of the groups stumbling across a hiker who has been missing for weeks and is on the brink of death — but the only notable thing that happens is Krystal talks a lot of shit about the other ladies. They eventually all find their way to the watery depths of the champagne hot tub party, where Arie has to divide his attention between 13 beautiful women whose menstrual cycles have all synced up. He fails, as the Bible prophecied, and the dagger sinks deeper into the body of Krystal's relationship with the other women. Unfortunately, the next day brings a one-on-one date with Bekah, the teen queen whose thinly veiled contempt for women echoes through the northern California canyons. Arie and Bekah ride horses to — you guessed it! — A hot tub overlooking trees and dirt. This moment is the last truly uncomplicated moment of their relationship, as she will later reveal to him that she was too young for preschool when he lost his virginity. To Arie’s credit, he freaks out a little bit when she reveals her age. He asks a lot of questions that really make sense like, do you like going to bed at 10 PM on Fridays? It's clear that Arie was a little tramp when he was 22 and I respect him for being concerned that Bekah also has an opportunity to be a little tramp. Bekah assures him that everybody in her family gets married pretty much as soon as it's legal for them to do so and Arie, despite cloying reservations which will absolutely play a part in Bekah's eventual departure, keeps her around for yet one more day. Because Arie is a merciful God, he cancels the cocktail party. He already knows who he is going to say bye-bye to. Krystal, who believes her character has been thrown into question by the other ladies, manages to make everyone hate her even more when she interrupts the rose ceremony for a minute alone with her, and everybody else's, boyfriend Arie. She whispers a plea not to give up on her just yet and Arie honors that request by granting her one more week of national humiliation. Join us next week to find out if Krystal is a fitness instructor or working for a revolutionary group that seeks to subvert the American oligarchy by infiltrating the most acute public spaces of neoliberal capitalism (or both!). BECKY SCOTT Becky Scott is a Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. View all Bachelorette Recaps
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office // Week Three
The Bachelor The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office The Bachelor Blog IMAGE COURTESY OF ABC Welcome back to The Bachelor, the only family-friendly show that condones a physical relationship between a woman who lies about her age so she can rent a car and a man who lies about his age so he can get the senior citizen discount at his local movie theater. This episode begins innocently enough — with a date to a wrestling ring so that Arie can watch his suitors, if you will, attack each other to earn his love, much like a Roman king would watch his gladiators. He has hired two women from the original 1980s reality show GLOW to teach his future wife and her enemies how to pretend to beat the shit out of each other. Nobody, including Arie, knows anything about wrestling except Bekah, who cannot stop talking about the 10 seconds she watched of the WWE in 2009. She is featured prominently in the confessionals, giving America her manic take on everything going on around her. Listening to Bekah speak is like being inflicted by a mental Cruciatus curse — you aren't sure what's going on but you would do anything to make it stop. Unfortunately, the lady wrestler who goes by the name "Little Egypt," asks Bibiana if "your mother knew how to spell when she gave you that name," which is another way of saying "as a racist, it's difficult for me to accept that some people give their children names that didn't originate in Western Europe." That puts a momentary damper on the fun but the ladies dust themselves off, put on their costumes as sexy animals or sexy low-paid jobs, and go at it in the ring for their man. There's no real winner — all of the fights are staged in advance — but it feels like, in the end, feminism might be the real loser here. It feels like, in the end, feminism might be the real loser here. That night, Bekah, who is a mix between "the opposite of Kristen Stewart" and Jolly Jane, an outwardly friendly nurse who killed 33 people in the late 19th century, tells Arie about the time she got over a three year relationship in one week. This is a woman who has never experienced an emotion that wasn't "maxin', relaxin', all cool" and Arie is into it. She receives the date rose. That's all I'll say about that. Lauren S, who you've never heard of before, gets the sole one-on-one of the evening. The poor thing, who sounds like she is in the end stages of tuberculosis, is kicked to the curb after a day spent drinking wine in a vineyard. This is exciting because it means there is only one Lauren left, and she no longer has to be known by her last initial. The women who were not lucky enough to make the acquaintance of "Little Egypt" are invited by Arie to go on a puppy date. Annalise, the woman whose traumatic bumper car experience colored last week's date, is afraid of dogs. It would appear that she is a virtual Grab Bag of traumatic childhood experiences. She is deeply unlikable in a very classic way (as opposed to Bekah, who is deeply unlikable in an "end of times" way). I have no idea, really, what happened on this date because I was eating ice cream and watching the puppies on screen and thinking about why so many women on this show sound like they’re smoking cigarettes and drinking milk at the same time. Presumably, someone was given the date rose. I think it was the other Becca, although I would probably bet no more than one dollar on it. At the cocktail party preceding the rose ceremony, Bibiana sets up a beautiful outdoor futon so she and Arie can sit and look at the stars together so he can get to know pivotal things about her, like her last name and, for all I know, her first name. Unfortunately, the plan blows up in her face as Arie uses the set-up to hang out with literally every single woman except for her. At some point, Annalise, who's the kind of woman you hope has friends even as you have no personal desire to befriend her, attempts to get to the bottom of whether or not she and Arie have physical chemistry. It's a sad investigation that ends with a very uncomfortable Arie telling a very uncomfortable Annalise that, not only does he not want to spend his life with her, he doesn't even want to kiss her. Imagine being physically rejected by the sluttiest man at your liberal arts school. Now times that by 10. That's what I imagine this moment is like for Annalise. After saying goodbye to Annalise, Arie dry humps Bekah on Bibiana’s outdoor futon. At one point, Bekah pulls away to tell him that "I'm unsafe because you know I don't need you." Please take this moment to enter a private space and scream until you have no voice and your soul has been healed. Bekah, who literally drove here straight from her college graduation, is slowly stripping me of any hope I have ever had for the next generation of women. Her attempt to perform a woman who doesn't give a shit belies a deep resentment of having been born a woman, of having to contend with the prejudice and the dismissals and the contempt for honestly caring. In eschewing every stereotypically female trait that doesn't directly earn her the affirmation of men — no to vulnerability, yes to sexiness — she reinforces the steel of her prison bars. Bekah dances like she is in a field when she is, in fact, in a cage. Anyway, just some thoughts. Join me next week to see how the last Lauren standing uses — or abuses — her newfound independence. BECKY SCOTT Becky Scott is a Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. View all Bachelorette Recaps The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office // Week Three The Bachelor Wrestling.jpg
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office // Week Eight
The Bachelor The Bachelor Blog The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office // Week Eight Image courtesy of ABC Welcome back to The Bachelor, the only show that takes a man who can't find love in the real world and expects him to find it on television. It's the week none of us have been waiting for — hometown dates. If you deign to take a walk down memory lane with me, you might remember that last week Arie inexplicably chose to visit the hometown of blonde taxidermist Kendall, a woman who has never received so much as a group date rose, never mind a whole one-on-one date. This is who the episode chooses to start with. Kendall meets Arie with all the enthusiasm of a woman meeting up with a man who is actively dating three women he likes more than her but can't dump more than two women per show. The two of them take to Kendall's taxidermy studio, which is the size of three New York City apartments and is filled with the preserved bodies of otters and deer. But still, Kendall is not satisfied. She and her boyfriend stuff the bodies of rats until they are nearly lifelike and then, like two forest children whose mother is off hunting moose for dinner, they proceed to act out the romantic scene of which Kendall the human was deprived because Arie doesn't like her enough. Fun! The two then proceed to Kendall's abode where we meet — and I dearly hate to say this — her much hotter twin sister. It's rare that a Bachelor contestant has a sibling that is hotter than they are. It's even rarer that they have an identical twin who, despite literally coming from the same egg/sperm combo, is somehow inexplicably more attractive. And yet this revelation explains a lot about Kendall. For example, why does she act like a six when she's clearly a nine? Because it doesn't matter that you are a nine if your twin sister is a 10. That's simple math, folks. Nobody in Kendall's family believes that Arie likes Kendall that much and they tell her this, a sentiment that is something of a theme in this episode. Other things go on but I can't stop looking at Kendall's sister and wondering, how could this happen from the same egg? Arie heads down south next to meet up with Tia. Unlike Kendall, Tia's beauty is an anomaly in her family. You can tell her mom is her mom because they both have witch-like features but while Tia looks like a witch from "Practical Magic", her mom is more of a standard looking witch, all due respect. Tia's brother attempts to intimidate Arie, whose pallor and personality should be easily intimidated, but somehow fails. He is like a southern Mafia reject, big and brawny but without the vocabulary or conviction necessary to bully northern boys like Arie. Other than that, the highlight of this scene is Tia's family toasting her success with pigs in a blanket. Next up, Arie goes to Minneapolis to meet up with the elderly Becca. Becca's family is religious and her uncle Gary, a stand-in for her father who passed away when she was 19, is a pastor. Arie, who has had nothing but extramarital sex and probably believes in existentialism, somehow passes his test and receives permission to marry Becca. Unfortunately for Becca and her family, there is a reason Arie is unmarried and until he sits down with himself and asks the hard questions like "maybe women bore me" or "maybe I am only sexually attracted to cars" or "Kendall, Kendall — I recognize that name, but from where???" He is never going to reckon with his own demons. The darkness permeating Lauren's family is chilling. They make the white family from "Get Out" seem positively jovial. Next up: Lauren B. Or as I like to call her Lauren S.(Ucks). There's not much to report back about Lauren's hometown except that there's a 100% chance there is a room full of nothing but porcelain dolls in her family home — and no one ever, ever goes in there. The darkness permeating Lauren's family is chilling. They make the white family from "Get Out" seem positively jovial. Perhaps this is why Lauren's demeanor is consistent with that of the Little Match Girl except without any imagination. Perhaps this is why Lauren is the opposite of Anne of Green Gables. Anyway, Arie escapes Lauren's family home unscathed, physically at least (there's not much left to harm emotionally in that man), and everybody flies back to Los Angeles to be judged by a 36-year-old former race car driver who takes six naps a day. Then, Tia immediately gets back on the plane to Arkansas. Kendall rises once more and suddenly Donald Trump winning the Republican nomination no longer seem so far-fetched. Join us next week to find out who would win in a fight — the dead animals in Kendall's taxidermy den or the lifeless dolls that Lauren's family keeps in a back room somewhere. BECKY SCOTT Becky Scott is a Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. View all Bachelorette Recaps
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America // The Finale
The Bachelor The Bachelor Blog Photo Courtesy of ABC Can't get enough of Becky's humor? Follow her on Twitter. Welcome back to The Bachelor, the show that contractually obligates 25 women to declare their profound love for a man who is contractually obligated to play them all. I tuned in ten minutes late to this episode because my mom and I were at a dinner that ran later than we thought it would, so I made her lie to the server about our real reasons for packing up the food as soon as it got to the table even though my mom would have been FINE with telling a professional that we’re leaving her nice restaurant because her daughter needs to watch The Bachelor finale. SMDH. By the time I got there, Raven is telling Nick’s dead-eyed mother that she’s in love with her son. To be fair, Nick’s mother wasn’t born dead-eyed — she became that way after her Nick made her complicit in four years of devastation porn. She’s like the woman from Final Destination who knows that everyone is fated for a grisly doom. Or, alternatively, she’s the demon from The Ring crawling out of your television set toward an uncertain freedom. Whatever horror movie icon Mary Viall brings to mind, one thing is certain: her ability to feel has been compromised and ABC is to blame. Vanessa shows up for more of the same after Raven is dismissed and immediately launches into her meet-cute throw-up story which is funny and charming, or should be. Nick’s family doesn’t laugh, though, and it starts to make sense that Nick doesn’t want to end up with someone like his mother. Although laughter may not be a popular performance of emotion in this family, tears certainly are. Everybody cries at one point, although their reasons for doing so are unclear. In the end, Mary Viall’s verdict, boiled down, is: “They’re fine. They’re both fine.” Suddenly, we’re back in Finland. Or maybe we never left? I’m not sure. Vanessa meets Nick in the woods to ride ponies, and he’s like, “This is a week that’s filled with mutual decisions,” even though it’s obviously not, and nobody should be more acutely aware of that than Nick “Always the Groom’s Competition, Never the Groom” Viall. Vanessa and Nick run into Santa Claus mid-way through their pony ride, and he’s like “Come here so I can give you a hug,” and Vanessa seems into it. At this point, I think Vanessa is just grateful for a date that neither renders her physically incontinent nor tests her core values. Santa Claus gives Nick and Vanessa a memento that reads “To Niko and Venla” even though that’s not their names. Let’s make one thing clear: your name is your name in English, in French, in Chinese, in every language on Earth. There is no translation for a human name. After fulfilling her lifelong dream of meeting Santa Claus, Vanessa says, “If I get engaged, that means I’m married” a couple hundred more times even though that “core value” is “nonsensical.” The women (and men) on this show love to talk shit about how much more marriage means to them than the rest of the world. Soon, we’re going to have someone on this show like, “When I made eye contact with Nick stepping out of the limo, I thought about him naked, and for me personally that means we’re engaged, which means we’re married, which means I’m suing for divorce on the grounds of adultery with 24 other women mmmbaiiiiii.” So then Vanessa asks Nick who he’s going to pick and he’s like “tbh idk,” and she’s like “how…?” and he’s like, “baby, when I’m inside of you, I don’t think about any other women,” and then she cries because that answer is unsatisfactory. The next day, Nick takes Raven ice skating at a secluded pond, and there’s no one around for miles except them and some forest nymphs and a few woodland trolls and the entire Bachelor camera crew and probably Chris Harrison watching from behind a tree somewhere. It’s very romantic. Then they run out of things to talk about, so Nick goes into the woods and finds some puppies, and it’s a grand moment for everyone involved. “I hope our children look like these puppies” says Raven, and for the first time, I feel a surge of affection for her. Sadly, Raven will never give birth to Nick’s dog-children as his heart belongs to Vanessa. He drops her the next day, leaving her only with a Lapland keychain and the promise of finding better love in Mexico this summer. Meanwhile Vanessa promptly abandons the moral high ground she could have claimed as her own by failing to walk away from Nick’s proposal. I’m not saying it would have been satisfying to watch Nick get rejected a third time—although I’m not NOT saying that—but Vanessa had a bad case of “this-is-actually-a-really-fucked-up-way-to-meet-your-husband” syndrome throughout this season. Then, without warning, she changes her mind and decides this is a perfectly fine way to meet your husband. So much for sticking to her core values. Photo Courtesy of ABC Flash forward to After the Rose, and Vanessa’s disgust with Nick Viall is barely concealable, simmering visibly beneath the surface as she tells Chris Harrison that “long-distance is hard.” I have never witnessed a newly-anointed Bachelor couple who seem to possess such a virulent distaste for one another. The happy couple still doesn’t know where they’ll live. Following VaNick’s mutual grimacing comes Rachel Lindsay’s emanation of pure joy, darkened only slightly by Chris Harrison’s surprise announcement that she’ll be meeting four of her suitor’s early. It’s hard not to notice that two of them are…unfortunate. Like, really unfortunate. I’m going to refrain from casting any premature judgment so as not to compromise my reputation as a critic who carries her judgment to term, but know that I am not without preliminary opinions. Join us next season to find out how I really feel about all of this. Becky Scott is a writer based in New York who loves The Bachelor and is great at giving humorous advice. The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America // The Finale The Bachelorette
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump’s America // Week Ten
The Bachelor Welcome back to The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump’s America, where facts aren’t real and love exists only to serve capitalism. Photo Courtesy of ABC Can't get enough of Becky's humor? Follow her on Twitter. Welcome back to The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump’s America, where facts aren’t real and love exists only to serve capitalism. This episode begins with Raven insinuating that Nick delivered her first big-girl orgasm, but I refuse to believe it. If Corinne is the Donald Trump of this season, Raven is indubitably the Sean Spicer. She lies to America’s face about Nick’s sexual capabilities and thus follows a montage of her traipsing and skipping through the glacial plains of Finland, as a fully-grown, freshly-gasmed woman often does. Next up is Rachel’s date, and it’s bittersweet because we all know what’s going to happen. They cuddle, kiss, nap presumably, and when Rachel tells Nick that he’s rare, he responds “I may be white but I’m still a minority.” All cute stuff. She tells him she’s falling for him, but ultimately Nick knows the ACLU will need all the lawyers they can get in the upcoming trash months so he sends Rachel back to the Mother Land with a single mandate: save us all. And I’m sure she will — right after she finds a love of her own on national television next season. Or perhaps WHILE she finds love on national television. After all, look at the work Teen Vogue is doing, not to mention the Twitter account @WeRateDogs™. In a country run by idiots and villains, the revolution lives in unexpected places. There’s no reason one of those places can’t be ABC on Monday at 8pm EST. Vanessa’s sleepover is next. Nick invites her to run back and forth from an outdoor ice pool to an indoor sauna for an hour, and Italian nonnas everywhere are screaming, “YOU’RE GONNA KILL HER, ARE YA CRAZY.” But Vanessa, to whom Nick and the producers are needlessly cruel, isn’t giving up so easily. When they finally take a minute to bop around in a hot tub, they have a conversation entirely in code. Nick tells Vanessa she’s “traditional,” and Vanessa is like “… yes?” and Nick is like, “I’m so not traditional,” and it’s around this time that I start to suspect Nick does not, in fact, understand what that word means. Of course, there’s plenty of evidence to suggest we live in a post-meaning world, so maybe I’m being old-fashioned, but it is hard to emotionally anchor yourself in a conversation where nothing means anything. A few theories: Nick could be using the term “traditional” to describe the way in which Vanessa eats Sunday dinners with her family every week. But that wouldn’t explain why he looks so goddamn sly the whole time. And you’re not allowed to be on this show unless you’re willing to at least lie and say your family is the most important thing in your life. So let’s move on to my second theory: Nick is using the word “traditional” to get Vanessa to admit whether or not she’ll engage in premarital love-making with him. If this is the case, Vanessa deftly refuses to acknowledge his question. This is the more likely scenario, but still — The Bachelor usually encourages its contestants to talk about their pre-Nick sex lives, especially if it fits a narrative of “I’m saving myself for the man who will own me after I’m transferred from my father’s possession.” “I’m proud to be an American,” says Nick, even though nationalism is the foremost ingredient of fascism. Maybe there is no explanation for what they’re saying. Maybe — and this is my favorite theory — they’ve managed to get some time away from the cameras to develop a code where words and inflections like “core values” and “core values” and “core values” all mean different things. Anyway, most of what both of them are saying goes far above my head, including when Nick refuses to admit that Canada is objectively a better, kinder, less stupid country than America. “I’m proud to be an American,” says Nick, even though nationalism is the foremost ingredient of fascism. Here is a beautiful Canadian, sitting in front of Nick, offering to share her Canadian citizenship with him until the day they both die. One day, Nick will watch someone he loves die from a curable disease because they couldn’t afford health insurance and hopefully that moment will at least complicate his American pride. Or maybe he will blame the whole thing on immigrants. It’s hard to say anymore. Anyway, congratulations to Raven and Vanessa, both of whom move on to the final round. May Nick take you far from the Arctic Circle this week. Photo Courtesy of ABC At this point, we make a swift U-Turn into part two of this week’s show: Women. Tell. All. Nick kicks off the Women Tell All with a tour of his biggest fans’ watch parties. There are hundreds and hundreds of teenage girls, a few dads, and four Backstreet Boys. I hope one of the Backstreet Boys is the next Bachelor. Anything can happen in Trump’s America. A few highlights of the Women Tell All: Elizabeth, a woman who I cannot prove was actually on the show, tells Corinne that she could be a “slob-kebab” at times and who can disagree with that? No one. In fact, it’s the best summation of Corinne’s six-week run on the show. Chris Harrison then tries to drag Liz the doula for her crimes of passion but the ladies aren’t having it. After Liz launches into repeated digressions about how people should love people for people’s present, not their past or future, the 25 women demonstrate heretofore unseen solidarity. Liz builds orphanages, they scream at Chris Harrison, and Chris knows enough to leave it at that. They’ve been infected by the revolutionary spirit of tomorrow’s Day Without a Woman and spend most of the rest of the show defending one another from Harrison’s gently-delivered accusations. Except for Corinne and Taylor who should both star in their own episode of Planet Earth. Poor Taylor. She means well but comes off like the protagonist of an anti-feminist propaganda film. It must be awful to have an enemy who is so much more fun than you. “Being fun” is a weapon that human beings have used against each other since the beginning of time, and it’s more powerful than any of us give it credit for. Taylor shames Corinne for shaming Taylor for “caring about mentally ill people,” which to my knowledge, never happened and isn’t a thing people do. Did I miss something? Are mental health counselors a protected class now? “You dumb-ass,” I can’t imagine anyone saying. “Why do you care about these mentally ill people anyway?? You weird, kind bitch!” (Meant to be read in the voice of a 1950s Hollywood star). Whitney, a pilates instructor, is like “You’re both condescending in your own way,” and it’s the best mental health counseling that has gone on all night. Anyway, there’s an extremely long back and forth about the rules of napping and who violated them during the season, and then Corinne and Taylor come to a tenuous peace, and suddenly that part of our life is over. Kristina takes the hot seat next, and Chris Harrison tells her he doesn’t know a single person who didn’t cry when they watched the episode where Nick broke up with her, which raises several questions about Chris Harrison’s social circle. Then Nick shows up and gets reamed for a lack of empathy, Liz the doula tries to ruin this show for everyone with her feminism, and Rachel emerges to say, “You are all welcome in advance, for I will deliver you from yourselves, from your country, from the silly little lives you think you’re running.” Join us next week to see if Nick stops being a dumb fuck and takes Vanessa up on her all-too-generous offer of a lifetime supply of Canadian citizenship. Becky Scott is a writer based in New York who loves The Bachelor and is great The Bachelorette The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump’s America // Week Ten
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office // Week Seven
The Bachelor The Bachelor Blog is a Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. View all Bachelorette Recaps and talk to them about love. "The Bachelor" loves to pretend people in other countries haven't heard The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office // Week Seven Photo Courtesy of ABC Welcome back to The Bachelor, the only show that romantically matches The Bachelorette Welcome back to The Bachelor, the only show that romantically matches teachers and the female children they might have taught in elementary school.
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America // Week Eight
The Bachelor Scott is a writer based in New York who loves The Bachelor and is great at giving humorous advice. The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America // Week Eight the-bachelor-recap-3.jpg Photo Courtesy of ABC Can't get enough of Becky's humor? Follow her on Twitter. Welcome back to The Welcome back to The Bachelor, the show where four women risk it all by giving their home address to The Bachelorette Bachelor, the show where four women risk it all by giving their home address to a near-stranger who
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America: Week Three
The Bachelor Photo by ABC Can't get enough of Becky's humor? Follow her on Twitter. Welcome back to The Bachelor, the The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America: Week Three who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor.
The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America // Week Two
The Bachelor The Bachelor Blog The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America // Week Two Photo Courtesy of ABC Welcome back to The Bachelorette, the first show to so proudly host known emotional adulterer Ashton Kutcher since the Justin Timberlake episode of Punk’d. If you did indeed tune in last night, you might have gone to bed wondering: WTF just happened????? What happened is this: Whaboom Lucas, childless brand, beat out Kenny, professional wrestler/father, in the cruelest of relay races. The race, devised by Mila Kunis and her husband, was a test to see which of the men on Rachel’s first one-on-one was husband material. What is “husband material”? That depends on what you understand to be the husband’s purpose in a home. According to Mila Kunis, feminist of truly respectable proportions, a husband’s purpose (not to be confused with the classic film “A Dog’s Purpose") is to vacuum, change diapers, and pull a hairball out of a clogged sink with the baby strapped to his chest. In this respect, Mila and I are on the same level. One way we are not alike is I would have promptly disqualified Whaboom Lucas for repeatedly submerging his plastic babies’ head beneath the water in the germ-filled sink. Blake is like a three-year-old who has been given a detective kit meant for infants. Can you imagine having to live with Whaboom’s ex-girlfriend in order to figure out he’s here to promote Whaboom and not for Rachel’s heart? Whaboom Lucas was not disqualified, and the end of the group date saw Rachel, a woman whose grace and beauty rivals that of Mila, walking away with the least sexually desirable man of the bunch. It was a sad moment in paradise. Later that night, Blake confronts Whaboom Lucas about the real reasons for his presence on the show. “What’s the difference between Whaboom and Lucas?” asks Blake, who, as it turns out, lives with Whaboom Lucas’ ex-girlfriend. “There is none,” says Whaboom Lucas, with that very on-brand sense of frankness. Blake then decides he has to discuss his suspicions that Whaboom Lucas isn’t here for the right reasons with Rachel in order to protect her heart and ensure she doesn’t make a decision she’ll regret. Blake is like a three-year-old who has been given a detective kit meant for infants. Can you imagine having to live with Whaboom’s ex-girlfriend in order to figure out he’s here to promote Whaboom and not for Rachel’s heart? Can you imagine genuinely believing that Rachel thinks Whaboom is here to fall in love with her, and WHAT’S MORE can you imagine fearing that Rachel will choose him over Josiah, Bryan, Kenny, MY GOD EVEN FREDDY P????? Men like Blake are why being a heterosexual woman is unsustainable. Kenny sums up the second half of the night aptly: “I’m a professional wrestler, I know about white dudes acting crazy.” On an unrelated note, Rachel gives the group date rose to Dean, a 25-year-old start-up recruiter (??????????????????). The second date is Rachel’s one-on-one with Pete. Pete didn’t make much of an appearance in the first episode and is one of those guys who is so suspiciously good-looking and kind-hearted that you can’t help but assume he’s a serial killer. Three-legged puppy/BABE Copper gets to go on this date with them, which starts in a private plane and ends at Barkfest, a big party for little baby doggies. Peter is really fucking hot, but you can barely tell because there are six million perfect doggies running around. It’s a 10/10 date—Copper overcomes his fear of the water, and Pete and Rachel bond over their shared teeth gaps. Good job all around, producers. Later, Rachel takes Pete and Copper to see some fireworks, which is low-key disrespectful because dogs are terrified of fireworks, but I can forgive her for this one tiny thing. Pete and Rachel seem to vibe pretty hard, but I’m still rooting for Josiah. The next day, Rachel takes the rest of the men on a group date to play basketball with Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, who is big AF and weirdly old. For a second, I think Kareem Abdul-Jabbar might be The One but contractually Rachel’s not allowed to hit that, and he’s probably too old for her anyway. After the men play for a gym full of high school students, who should show up but DeMario’s seething ex. His ex, whose name has been lost to time already, is mad because he disappeared, and then three days later she saw him on television charming Rachel in front of a live audience. So, as one does, she decided to contact the producers and set about to ruin probably one of the coolest things that has ever happened to him. Of course, most of these men probably have women back home who they left abruptly with little to no explanation. They’re hot, they’re successful (for the most part), and there’s absolutely zero viable reason any of them should be single if they are, in fact, hell-bent on finding love. Which is part of their contract, is it not? Still, most of these exes are not willing to go on television and make a fool out of themselves for the sake of revenge. Unfortunately, DeMario gets unlucky. He tries to talk his way out of it, but lawyers make unforgiving played women, and Rachel tells him to “get the fuck out.” God, I love her. That night, the men gather round and Rachel confides in them about her shaken faith. Several of these men lean in hard to their performed empathy, but none so adeptly as Josiah who earns himself the group date rose. The night ends with DeMario at the gate of the mansion, two security guards on call, as if the fact that he was smashing another girl mere days before coming to L.A. renders him now dangerous. Join us next week to find out if DeMario’s ex-girlfriend gets a spin-off show. BECKY SCOTT Becky Scott is a Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America The Bachelorette
The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America // Week Five
The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America // Week Five The Bachelor Blog is a Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. View all Bachelorette Recaps on to The Bachelor, provoking the largest contestant into a wrestling match, and then suing ABC for the full cost of their student loans? The Bachelorette Photo Courtesy of ABC Another day, another totally calm conversation that ABC sold to us as a bloody beatdown in the teasers. But it’s okay! I’m not mad! I’m just happy I get to be here at all, in America, where I have the freedom to choose between a MULTITUDE of television shows! If you want bloody beatdowns, turn on Animal Planet, ladies, because it ain’t happenin’ here. That’s not a prediction — that’s the rule of law. Do you have any idea how many people dream of getting on to The Bachelor, provoking the largest contestant into a wrestling match, and then suing ABC for the full cost of their student loans? Anyway, what happened last night? Something happened, but not like they promised it would. Kenny spoke to Lee in a calm, adult fashion. Lee sniveled and snorkeled and snorted and snived like an evil Elf-on-the-Shelf who’s been watching every move Kenny makes and reporting lies back to Kenny’s mother, Rachel. Okay, this simile got away from me. But it’s not too far off from what actually happened. After Kenny and Lee agreed that they were definitely not friends, Will took Lee aside to give him a short racial history of America. “You have to understand, Lee,” said Will, taking care to enunciate every word. “There’s a long history in America of calling black men ‘aggressive’ in order to justify doing certain things to them.” Like shoot and kill them, Lee. But Will doesn’t say that, or maybe he does and ABC cut it for all the children and sensitive white people watching out there. Lee does NOT understand, nor does he try particularly hard to understand. Instead, he accuses Kenny of playing the race card. At this point, other things happen, chronologically, but I’m not sure how or what so let’s jump to the next catastrophe: Rachel’s date with Jack. Nobody understood why Rachel chose Jack for a date because, quite frankly, he is neither particularly attractive nor charismatic. But today, we find out the reason: he is from Dallas, he is an attorney, and one other thing. I can’t remember it all, you guys. Remember that I am going back and forth between this show and the new season of RHONY; I’m not a machine. Photo Courtesy of ABC Anyway, Jack, who no one has heard of before this episode, lives up to the reputation we’ve given him via six seconds of onscreen time. Rachel looks like she’s enduring the worst form of suffering. She reminds me of me on every Internet date I’ve ever attended. “Does your dad have a good sense of humor? Does he joke a lot?” says Jack, clearly under the impression that he is slaying it right now. “Yes but you have to know him to see that side of him,” says Rachel, annoyed that she’s here with a caricature of a straight man while Bryan and Peter are probably getting it on in the hot tub back at the mansion. “I feel like I know your dad,” says Jack. THEN Rachel asks Jack, if he could take her back to Dallas right now, what would they do? And Jack tells her he would take her to his room, lock the door — LOCK THE DOOR — and they would just “talk.” And that’s when Rachel knows the time has come to break Jack’s heart. Bye-bye, Jack. At the cocktail party that night, Rachel lets go of Iggy the Snitch and The Tickle Monster. Photo Courtesy of ABC I will not miss Iggy but The Tickle Monster will find love very soon. I can feel it. His biological clock—as exhibited by his incessant need to tickle women — is begging for children. Inexplicably, Lee gets to hang around for another week. The group then heads to Oslo, home of the Vikings, where Rachel takes Bryan on a ski rappel adventure. The two of them rappel down some large structure, taking a short break to make out in the middle of the journey. Rachel’s (and my own) primary issue with Bryan is that he doesn’t make any sense. He’s gorgeous, tall, built, sexy, handsome, and single. THAT is a math problem that simply doesn’t work. He also has a job and can sing Despacito without an awkward American accent. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be married to a French model with a decent personality. Instead, he’s on 'The Bachelorette’ and Rachel is right to fear he’s here for fame or money or to secretly win Chris Harrison’s heart. Still, beauty is a powerful drug, and Rachel finds her concerns slipping away with every tongue-kiss anew. Bryan is safe for now. Photo Courtesy of ABC On the group date the next day, the boys play handball which is, apparently, a thing in Norway. The most interesting thing that happens during this scene is that Dean wears his jock strap outside of his uniform, presumably as a joke, but nobody references it as a joke and therefore it just appears to be him exercising his right to freedom of expression. That night, Rachel spends a cumulative 20 minutes talking to the other boys about their feelings and such before retiring to the hot tub with Peter for 3 ½ hours. This is what happens when you hire a 31-year-old bachelorette—she knows what she wants and isn’t willing to pretend that she doesn’t just so your dumb television show can have good ratings. That’s not to say Rachel doesn’t play the game a little bit. After her hot tub romp, she ends up giving the rose to Will for being good at sports, instead of Peter for being good at making out in the hot tub. Thus, we arrive at the dreaded twosome date with Kenny and his racist foil, Lee. Poor Kenny just wants to FaceTime his daughter. He never signed up to deflect accusations of aggression from a squirrelly demon boy. Alas, we don’t always get what we want and today, Kenny is getting something he really doesn’t want: alone time with Rachel and Lee. But mostly Lee. This date, like all twosome dates, takes place
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trumps America: Week Five
WOULD CALL. Corinne’s promise to “make America Corinne again” is literally the closest The Bachelor franchise The Official Bachelor Blog of Trumps America: Week Five The Bachelor hero does. Corinne’s promise to “make America Corinne again” is literally the closest The Bachelor franchise Scott is a writer based in New York who loves The Bachelor and is great at giving humorous advice. Welcome back to The Bachelor, a show where one man navigates the rocky waters of romance against Photo Courtesy of ABC Can't get enough of Becky's humor? Follow her on Twitter. Welcome back to The Bachelor, a show where one man navigates the rocky waters of romance against the backdrop of a
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America // Week Nine
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America // Week Nine The Bachelor until it was too late to change anything. She bursts into tears, but in the most feminist turn of Scott is a Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. Bachelor events ever, ends the scene by declaring she’ll never kiss up to a man again. Normally, the Bachelor, the number one show for understanding race relations in America. This episode picks back Photo Courtesy of ABC Can't get enough of Becky's humor? Follow her on Twitter. Welcome back to The
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America: Week Four
The Bachelor Photo Courtesy of ABC Can't get enough of Becky's humor? Follow her on Twitter. Welcome back to The Bachelor, the show that takes place in the United States of America and definitely not in a country where each year 30 children are asked to murder each other for The People’s entertainment until only one is left standing. That being said, Happy Belated Day of Patriotic Devotion. I hope you all spent it immersed in a bathtub full of vodka listening to your favorite acapella version of God Bless America on repeat. This show opens with Taylor and Sarah being so obsessed with Corinne, and Corinne doesn’t know why. She’ll never know why. But it doesn’t matter because she came to an agreement with herself that she’s not everyone’s cup of tea. And also she’s not privileged in any way, shape, or form. It took several iterations of white feminism over many generations to produce Corinne, and I don’t know about you, but I am PLEASED with the results. I will never know myself as well as she does, and that’s why she runs a multi-million-dollar business, and I spend most of my day refreshing my Twitter feed, searching for a distraction from the fear that I’ll never do anything meaningful with my life. Good job Corinne, good job Gloria Steinem, good job Riot Grrrrl Revolution of the early 90s, good job world. We did it. Despite the weird, desperate hopes of Taylor and Sarah, Corinne does not go home this week. Nick knows that sending Corinne home would mean sending half of America home, metaphorically. I can’t imagine many viewers intend to stay past Corinne’s symbolic burial. She is the lifeblood of the show, flowing through its veins like an incurable disease. Sometimes the women on this show get to go cool places like Bali or a beach town in Mexico, and sometimes they go to Waukesha, Wisconsin to milk cows. Nick brings all the ladies to Waukesha to meet his mom and see all the places where he learned to kiss with his eyes closed (it was a process). This is where Nick, bereft of human instinct, learned to perform basic “person” acts like tell a joke and indicate to a woman he would like to touch his pee-pee to her vee-vee. Nick chooses unlucky Danielle L. to go on the one-on-one date, which will mostly consist of serendipitously running into his ex-girlfriend through the window of a Starbucks. Nick encourages his ex to list to Danielle all the reasons Nick is a real human being and not three thousand centipedes stacked on top of each other, and she complies. Not shown: the barrel of a gun held just out of frame by one of Nick’s favorite producers, Cindy. What can we say? When love feels like magic, it’s called destiny. When destiny has a sense of humor, it’s called serendipity. Danielle L. has a tiresome, almost loping laugh that sounds something like “hu-HAH, hu-HAH,” and she employs it generously throughout her cookie-making, ex-girlfriend-hanging, dinner-having, Chris Lane-listening date with Nick. It’s the kind of laugh that would make someone say “And I said, If you laugh that laugh one more time … And she did. So I took the shotgun off the wall and fired two warning shots. In. To. Her. Head.“ But who knows. Everyone has a different trigger (GET IT???????). Anyway, Danielle L tells Nick her biggest flaw is that her parents are divorced, but I would argue that Danielle L’s biggest flaw is that the president of her country is a raging Welcome back to The Bachelor, the show that takes place in the United States of America and growing up, Nick is incapable of handling a simple pair of teats. Jaimi, The Bachelor’s version of The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America: Week Four scott Becky Scott is a writer based in New York who loves The Bachelor and is great at giving humorous advice. its website! “Whaddya mean, the queer community is thriving, look at Jaimi from The Bachelor! She made
The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office // Week Nine
The Bachelor Photo courtesy of ABC Welcome back to The Bachelor, the only show committed to finding wives for The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's Second Year in Office // Week Nine Welcome back to The Bachelor, the only show committed to finding wives for men multiple decades past their sexual prime. Scott is a Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. View all Bachelorette Recaps down in history as the most unlikely second runner-up in Bachelor history. Join me next week to find
The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America // Week Four
The Bachelor Blog journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. View all Bachelorette Recaps The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America // Week Four Photo Courtesy of ABC Welcome back to The Bachelorette, the show that makes you feel better about The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America her and a “start-up recruiter” which might be, but shouldn’t be, a real job. He may make it to the Welcome back to The Bachelorette, the show that makes you feel better about humanity’s rapidly The Bachelorette top four and even become the next Bachelor, but there’s no way his future involves Rachel Lindsay as
The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America // Week Three
The Bachelor Blog Scott is a Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. View all Bachelorette Recaps The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America Photo Courtesy of ABC Welcome back to The Bachelorette, the intrepid series that explores new The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America // Week Three The Bachelorette
The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America // Week Nine
The Bachelor Blog Photo Courtesy of ABC Welcome back to my coverage of The Bachelorette, the only show that hates The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America // Week Nine Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor. View all Bachelorette Recaps The Official Bachelorette Blog of Trump's America The Bachelorette Welcome back to my coverage of The Bachelorette, the only show that hates walls as much as those
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