Tuesday, February 24, 2004

Donald Trump - Agent of Evil

Despite my protestations; despite turning my nose up at the merest mention of such a thing; despite the fact that I probably regularly watch about one hour of television a week (outside of baseball season), I've discovered a reality show that I actually enjoy watching. Heck, I even make plans to watch it.

I'm talking about "The Apprentice" - Donald Trump's foray into reality TV. For those of you who haven't (yet) been sucked in, the show is about young, attractive people living in a beautiful apartment for 13 weeks while whining, stabbing each other in the back and doing The Donald's bidding. Basically, it's "The Real World", except you replace the booze and sex with money.

We get Heidi, the brittle bitch, who's bark is far worse than her bite. Here we have Omarosa, who's bitchy, manipulative AND sneaky (and amazingly lucky -- she's still on the show). Over there is Troy, the genial Montana boy who tricked Ereka - an experience real estate agent - into taking on the bad apartment. And it goes on and on.

But here's the thing. The show is about being smart. It's about outmaneuvering your opponents. It's about winning at all costs, and I find it fascinating that these people who work together today are going to have to turn on one another tomorrow. So it's already one up on other shows of its ilk - your Joe Millionaires, Average Joes and Fat, Obnoxious Fiancees (notice that of these three - that I consider the most odious, two of them broadcast on Fox?), where the only rule appears to be let's be more outlandish than the other show! Sex! Violence! Hot Chicks/Dudes! Stupid People! But I'm not here to complain about the sad state of entertainment today. As the saying goes, you'll never go hungry telling dick and fart jokes for a living.

And then there's The Donald.

With his combover and high fashion, Donald looks like he's desperately trying to hold on to his lost youth. Apparently, he made the wrong deal with the devil. Yes, he's made a deal with the devil. I first began to suspect this when I found myself drawn to the show despite myself. Then I looked at the man and shuddered.

He has black eyes. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, I don't care for the view from Mr. Trump. I can actually feel them boring into my soul, telling me things. I want to go out and buy a lot of land cheaply and sell it for outrageous prices. I want to hobnob with the rich and powerful. I want the beautiful women on my arm (well, more than usual). I want to make more and more and more money. I want the brass ring, dammit!

However, I look at his hair and start giggling, effectively breaking the spell.

So Donald, when you're bargainning with Mephistopholes down the road, throw in a little eternal youth. That way, you can enjoy the outrageous living quarters, women and multiple marriages while not worrying about tripping them with your walker. Look at how well it's worked for Dick Clark.

So remember this, my friends, when you sit in front of the tube to watch the ever-shrinking group of applicants fight and strive to be The Donald's human familiar for the next year: one bad haircut is saving humanity from a wave of capitalism that hasn't been seen since Rockefeller and Ford ruled the earth.

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