You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
THE BACHELOR THE FINAL ROSE.
I don’t care. Do you care?
ABC cares.
All promos all the time.
The Bachelor, the Final Rose.
It’s reality TV flushing itself down the toilet.
It’s One guy a bunch of gals all dating, kissing and drinking liquor.
It’s crying and back stabbing and whining.
It’s the Brady Bunch on meth.
I am wretching as I write this, but I must write this.
A rose by any other name would it still smell as sweet.
Shakespeare would take one sniff of this plot and order someone to drink hemlock.
“Off with their heads!” King Henry VIII would scream, in the most outrageously inappropriate sentence in this morning’s blog.
Good Morning America, my social barometer simply calls it “SHOCKING.”
Shocking is a train hitting a tanker truck in a crowded intersection.
Shocking is the altitude in the slit of Angelina Jolie’s Oscar dress.
This is more like the TV equivalent of scraping the inside of an oven after your apple pie over flows in high heat.
Apparently, after a torrid 13 week love affair, there was no proposal in the bachelor finale.
Anarchy!! Blasphemy!!
So here’s the set up. Two women. One rose. No proposal.
It sounds like a job for the United Nations.
Makes you sort of forget events in Ukraine doesn’t it?
“Here is Jaun Pablo blind siding Claire,” the reporter squeals.
“I wouldn’t want my children to have a father like you,” a jilted Claire recoils after learning she won’t get a ring.
“Well I’m glad i didn’t pick you,” Juan Pablo says in his best na na na na moment.
All this show is missing is the famous quote: “I AM TAKING MY BALL AND GOING HOME.”
“I am not 100 percent sure,” he tells the other contestant.
Really? 13 weeks? Till Death do you part and you are not 100 percent sure?
I see a montage of girls crying in bathroom stalls and angry women who are also kissing Juan Pablo on beds, beaches and in hot tubs.
Do you need a union card to get this job?
“I made a decision good for me” the hunky bachelor with the subtitles would help accent says.
On the final debrief of this complicated social experiment, the bachelor is booed.
It’s not exactly like Philly fans booing Santa Claus, but it is memorable.
“do you love her?” the host asks.
“i won’t answer you,” he says.
It’s gripping.
OR NOT.
The host, Chris Hanson is asked if he was frustrated.
He says he is and also says “i don’t like Juan Pablo.”
Wow, apparently the host is pissed he didn’t get a rose.
“He fought the process,” the host says, as if this is some future society where we all must be assimilated.
Then the Pulitzer moment when the reporter asks this heavy question.
“is Juan Pablo capable of love?”
I am floored. So is the host who replies.
“That’s the multi million dollar question.” “we don’t know.”
GMA asks America: Did the bachelor make the right choice?
50% No 50% Yes.
That is telling, isn’t it?
America is as passionate as warm soup.
If a 1,000 years from now, this is all space aliens find in our time capsule of existence, I shudder to think what Gronk and Grolek the Martians will think.
“No wonder they exterminated themselves with smart phone radiation. Their brains were no bigger than a final rose episode.”
Life’s Crazy™