Well That Sh*t Was Fun

I was down in Los Angeles for the weekend, you totally could feel that, amirite? It was strange. Everything was in its right place.

usc1

I was at breakfast eating a lot of ham and eggs and mainlining some coffee than was infinitely worse than it is in Portland (sorry, Southland, they got that part right up there) and I was swiveling my head around to watch the UCLA game. I couldn’t take my eyes of the screen.

A cool alum-bro was sitting there in his Trojan shirt staring at me like I was a UCLA fan and giving me the smug look I’ve given a thousand Bruin fans who publicly admit they root for UCLA. I had to throw him a victory V before he realized I was just enjoying watching the vaunted #7 Bruins play some awful, awful football.

It was easy to pick on Hundley with all of his Heisman hype, but the truth is, he had very little to do with how awful the much over-hyped Bruin squad looked. I mean, one could critique him for not checking down enough, for being one-dimensional the moment his first option was gone, but that’d be unfair. One of the two Achilles’ heels of this team was glaring.

Their O-Line is awful.

They were getting worked by a Virginia Cavaliers (yes, Virginia Cavaliers) D-Line that is slower, smaller and weaker than probably any set in the Pac-12. They had Hundley contained save one long scramble. They didn’t fly off the edges, they just leaked through the holes in the porous UCLA line. They didn’t have to do much. They were in the backfield keeping Hundley largely in one spot, unable to scramble or check-down. They were sitting on Bruin running backs heads.

Which brings me to the second Achilles’ heel. UCLA’s skill positions are slow. I don’t mean that as a hater. I mean that as someone who just recognized that the #7 team in America could not get their wideouts open against a defense that’s not exactly sending ten dudes to the NFL.

Their RBs were getting stuffed in the backfield. They couldn’t get to the edge. It was crazy.

In the end, I saw two factions of Bruin fans after the game. Those that understand that maybe they O-Line can be coached up, but as they say, you can’t teach speed and their skill positions looked flat. And slow.

Screen Shot 2014-08-30 at 5.36.44 PM

The other fans said “good teams find ways to win” and “the defense scored three times” and both are true, but let’s be real. Their first QB got benched because he was throwing TO the Bruin defense. In a game the Cavs came into thinking no chance they compete, they benched their QB. Worse, the backup brought them back into the game. So the pick-6s were good, but it wasn’t exactly making an athletic play to snag one from Mariota from the hands of a guy wiht 4.3 speed. This was “oh, there’s the ball and oh, the Cavs are so weak there’s no one to stop me, oh thank god.”

Mazzone looks like a bad hire. Their recruiting classes look devoid of speed. When USC would get in close games with really, really mediocre teams. I knew we were heading for some losses. I’m sure they feel that way. Don’t really care.

Here’s why…

cody-kessler-ncaa-football-fresno-state-southern-california1-850x560

We looked awesome. We looked like I think I look when I am drunk standing in the mirror in a tailored suit. We can say it was against Fresno State, and it was, but Fresno State would be favored against more than the Virginia Cavs. They’d be favored against Colorado. Maybe Utah. They weren’t a garbage team. They were just not a great team.

But when you play a not great team (or a garbage team like the Cavs), you want to run the most plays in the history of the Pac-12 (which is totally mind boggling with Oregon and the amount of spread O played out west). You want to drop a billion points. You want your freshman to exhibit burning, elite speed and the ability to catch the ball in traffic (against a probable first round draft pick at CB). You want your freshman tight end to smoke a safety and leap a wall after scoring.

You want to score the most points your program has since 2005 when your team was the worst team in the NFC West basically.

It’s EASY and sometimes dangerous to make too many assumptions on the first game. UCLA won’t be THAT bad all  year (although my 5 loss projection feels pretty good right now based on their tough schedule, slow skill positions and Swiss cheesy O-Line). We won’t be hanging points like that on elite defenses either.

But.

Any time you do “the most of something” since “when you were good” it’s a good thing. Any time you show you have updated your offense and you out-Oregon, Oregon. That’s good.

Over 700 yards. Something like 37 first downs. Name it, we had it. And, wow. The freshmen. To every Washington fan that came here talking about their talent, etc. Sark + USC = people like Adoree Jackson and Juju Smith. Toa and Mama. Beasts of the SoCal Wild. 

b56ffe099520bacf92d804e0d9dd5062_crop_north

It’s scary in a way. Oregon runs less plays, they score faster. What I dug about our performance and our offense is that Sark explained it well. It’s just uptempo pro set with slight mods. It’s not the gimmicky get to the edge game Oregon plays until they meet a team big enough to dominate the clock (Stanford) or fast enough to take away the edges (SEC).

We just got the ball to a million people in a million places from the flats to the middle to deep on the edges. There was no area we didn’t drop the ball. Kessler had shades of Leinart, lobbing balls where our guys could get them, playing conductor to a symphony of speedy options.

It didn’t suck to watch.

I said earlier in the day all I wanted was some vibes that we’re going to get back to having fun, get back to scoring and enjoying it. Even with our penalties, we looked disciplined. It looked good.

Stanford might be a tough one, but I am excited to see it roll out. This is why Arrogant Nation was there during sanctions. In a week of adversity, the media doing anything they could to blow things out of proportion, a RB who couldn’t crack the starting lineup making awful accusations, we just came out and dropped points.

UCLA got it’s ass kissed and that apparently distracted them enough to be the ugliest win of the “big boys” on Saturday.

It would seem that this clown college might be good at eliciting smiles this season.

See you in the endzone.

-Bearfighter
*dictated but not proofread. ever.

CLICK HERE TO JOIN ME ON FACEBOOK

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER BECAUSE I TWEET PROFESSIONALLY

I’M ON INSTAGRAM @ZACKJEROME

4 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

And Our Hibernation Ends Again

Enjoy this moment, Troy. Really. Enjoy it. Stick around, I’ll remind you why.

As a freshman some terrifying 13 years ago (fuuuck), I remember going 6-6 and losing by a total of less than 30 points. I remember thinking we might be good. That we might have some good years.

I remember my sophomore year meeting Pete Carroll on the Row. I asked him how we looked. He sounded the same way he sounded when he won the Super Bowl. Like Uncle Pete. I remember thinking that I’d love to play for a guy like that. I remember wondering if he was right.

I remember taking a piss at the Orange Bowl after Iowa ran back the kickoff for a touchdown. I remember the overweight Iowa fan who made some mention of So Cal plus some vaguely homophobic slur. I remember telling him to meet me at half-time because it was going to get pretty shitty. Storm’s coming, homeboy.

I remember by the time I was back at my seat, we were figuring out new ways to embarrass the weak ass Big Ten. The dude never met me back at the bathroom. I assumed he had left early with the rest of the Hawkeyes.

I remember most of my time since then was realizing how bad the Big Ten is, at least where Troy is concerned. Penn State. Whack.

Michigan. Hail to the victors must be a song about us.

Illinois, oh yeah we played you too. Kinda forget for a second. JUICE WILLIAMS!

Ohio State, it was close at the Horseshoe when our quarterback was a freshman. It was embarrassing when you came to visit.

I’m probably forgetting a Big Ten team. Probably because they are mostly forgettable teams.

I remember spanking top ranked Auburn on the road. I remember spanking Oklahoma. I remember spanking Arkansas worse than any team every spanked them in their stadium a year after spanking them harder than any team ever spanked them in history. I remember that Arkansas team won their division in the SEC, don’t let them tell you that team with Run DMC was weak.

And then I remember the flood. The deluge of total and utter bullshit around sanctions. The shit we thought wouldn’t stick because the evidence pointed to a hard-to-prove infraction and then suddenly the punishment was indicative of far worse. A seemingly “failure to monitor” type penalty went full blown “lack of institutional control” and we got slapped with a hard backhand.

 

I remember wondering how the now dead guy from Miami made the ruling and didn’t live to see his school barely wrist-slapped for buying drugs, hookers and abortions for their players.

I also remember all the articles of our demise. I remember that even with four coaches, 30 less players and a nation of haters, we won ten games two times. Most our conference wish they won ten games two times in the last thirty years.

UCLA went 29-24 since we got sanctioned. USC went 35-17. Where was the structure fire? There’s been a few bumps, namely a couple losses to UCLA that in a way are great because it’s been a long time since I gave a shit about playing them. For all their hype, we still put them in a position to take a sloppy seconds trip to the Pac-12 Title Game and after they lost, enjoyed them petitioning the NCAA to give them a bowl berth despite being 6-7 only to lose the bowl game and finish 6-8, the worst team ever to play in a bowl. UCLA is the gift that keeps on giving. Can’t wait to see how they handle the pressure of people not thinking they suck.

I mean, for all the images of Matt Barkley getting knocked out of a game on a blindside sack, I pretty much can’t get past the 50-0 game that happened. A couple wins doesn’t erase that. Just like the John David Booty loss to UCLA was such a point of pride, but history forgets in a month we just came back and won another Rose Bowl in their stadium. Well, it’s kind of our stadium. Our oddly located one.

But let’s talk about what happened here during sanctions, our making lemonade out of lemons and pouring vodka into it. Well, bourbon for me, but you know…

I remember coming into prominence. I remember this stupid blog becoming a t-shirt empire. I remember hosting two pep rallies at Galen. I remember the high fives at the Coli, the shouts of “BEARFIGHTER” and the shots of bourbon offered by fellow Trojans.

They never did sanction the endzone. If a 7-5 record is sanctioning the endzone, Colorado should be excommunicated from having a football team.

In a time where UCLA ran no less than three ads proclaiming we were dead, we dealt them their worst defeat since electric lightbulbs and frankly had a better record then them in each year we were sanctioned or on probation. Sure, they have gotten back into the fray and I am for that.

But let’s keep it realer than a fart in an elevator. If UCLA had gotten sanctioned in the same manner, you think they’d go 35-17? I think they’d have had between 35 and 17 people showing up to watch them lose.

The sanctions are over, but we’ll still be short scholarships for now. And that’s fine. It’s fine because UCLA is getting a brief moment in the sun and using it to unveil new uniforms called “LA Steel.” They are draining the ocean from their basketball gym and they get their shot. They earned it, I guess?

Now we have Sark. That was Pete’s guy. The guy Mike Garrett cock-blocked while he was making things worse with the NCAA (even though they never had a real case and pretty soon those files will be unsealed, FEELS GREAT CAN’T WAIT). He’s upgrading the offense. He’s recruiting like an animal. We don’t have distractions in Kiffin, sanctions or frankly, Coach O. We’re just gonna play football and that’s pretty fun.

We get to enjoy revving up the war machine again. When you are on top for a decade, you let it get stale. You all read this, you all made me a cult figure at my college because it was pretty crazy how hard the NCAA came for us. But, four years later, who would you rather bet on? USC or the NCAA.

Hate to break it to you, but we pretty much won. Yeah, they need to bleed out. Yeah, they need to make changes and call them progress. Whatever. You hit like a toddler, NCAA. You barely bruised the apple.

The NCAA is so soft they literally acknowledge the championship we “gave up.” Why? Because they list co-champs all over their own website and since the AP never took our title away, it never got taken away. The people who took our title away literally acknowledge they were unable to take our title away.

#ARROGANT

So, here’s what’s going to happen as we climb back to prominence some time in the next five years, as we have in just about every decade since we created football (and don’t say the 1990s were hell, we won a Rose Bowl and that’s more than basically our whole conference has done ever).

We’re going to get our depth back.

There was a time where we’d offer full rides to players we didn’t necessarily want, but our rivals did. Mainly this was just to fuck them over. With no limits on offers again, this has started again. It is a vicious cycle for the Oregons and UCLAs and ASUs and Stanfords. We can offer to players we need less than they do and elite high school guys want to prove they can do it. Deep down, they know who puts the most players in the NFL (facts!) and how little our conference wins anything outside of Troy.

I mean, the last time anyone in our conference won a national title that wasn’t USC was in 1991. I was 9. I had never been to California before.

We’re the only relevant conversation in west coast football and while living in Portland has softened me to the Ducks, it’s also exposed me to the mentality of expecting the wheels to come off. You walk around Portland the day after the Ducks lose, it’s not anger. It’s not shock. It’s a feeling of “I saw this coming” and I had to move here to understand. How depressing is that!

That’s why Arrogant Nation is still better than bacon (kind of). It’s not just that we’re on top the most. It’s the fact we’re good at being on top when we’re there. And everyone knows when we aren’t on top, we’ll just get back there again. It isn’t fair. Blame the NCAA for that. They sure did their best to slow us down for a hot minute to the tune of 35-17. #rough

Enjoy right now.

Enjoy right now because we’re far from back, but we’re only heading that direction again. Anyone who tells you otherwise is ignoring a century-long pattern of taking breaks between winning. This time, our break was a bunch of winning seasons that the world considered failures. 35-17. MUCH LOSSES. SO FAILURE.

We’re almost through it.

Doesn’t matter what happens this year. It’s that we’re going to have a lot of fun soon. I won’t be convinced otherwise and neither will you.

I know how the story ends.

Happy fall returning.

Happy footballing.

Happy ups and downs.

In the end, we’re going to be on top again.

Whenever.

I’m just excited to go for the ride. You guys can be my DD.

CLICK HERE TO JOIN ME ON FACEBOOK

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER BECAUSE I TWEET PROFESSIONALLY

I’M ON INSTAGRAM @ZACKJEROME

26 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Final BachCap

I don’t think I can commit to writing about this final week in a normal way. I don’t feel a need to be linear. I think this season has been the worst since I have started watching this show. As some of you have noted, it’s been like pulling teeth to write about any of it. Andi is just slightly too smart to make too much fun of, slightly too put together to put down and so predictable it was like watching a romantic comedy unfold.

I miss Jake Pavelka pretending to like girls and having the occupation “fighter pilot.” I miss Ali making awkward moans and groans and having her extensions constantly look like they were being clawed out of her head. I miss Sean Lowe being a born-again virgin.

Andi is just that girl who went to law school, hasn’t quite figured it out and is dating the same kind of dude over and over. Literally, how many of these people do you know in your life. Some of you may be these people. AND THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT.

Just please don’t go on national television only to take us on a journey around the world so you can find the same failed minor league baseball player from your hometown that you could have found in any bar in Buckhead.

What did we even see? They worked so hard to give us a hook, from the guy who died skydiving to the creepiness of Nick’s scarf game. Blah.

I mean, even Hy, her father, who was great when he told Wapalo to eff off was subdued and kind of basic. I missed Desiree’s brother, I wanted to fly him in just to call Nick a little punk ass and challenge him to a milk chugging and arm wrestling contest and the winner pays for tickets to “dollar vodka red bull night” and “insert inland empire club.”

I enjoyed her sister who I just wanted to get into Bar Method and maybe tell her “I’m sorry you have to deal with this” because I am pretty sure she is the best choice in the family. She just doesn’t have the benefit of constant spray tanning, constant hair and makeup and the inflated sense of importance you can only get from having a coked up Chris Harrison ask you questions about your love life like they are questions about how to resolve the situation in the middle east. In real life, Andi’s sister is the good one.

There was something so serial killer about Nick the whole time, but it slowly got revealed more and more and more and more and MORE AND MORE AND MOAR AND MOAAAARRRR. I mean, honestly the guy looks like a dried up felt tip pen wrapped in the one available leather jacket in Wisconsin. He falls in love with girls in the way only guys who aren’t interested in girls do. He fell in love with the idea of loving a girl. Yes, yes a thousand times yes.

If you asked him his favorite episode of Sex and The City, he’d have an answer. For the rest of us, our favorite episode was the second movie because that meant it was finally, mercifully over. Like this season.

Gut check, can’t you picture Nick abbreviating all his TV shows when he mentions them on Facebook? Like SATC reruns! SYTYCD! I love TV! Then he gets mad at you because TV is “The Voice” to him and he hates you for not getting it. His abbreviations. Abbrevs. Brevs. Evs. Umbrella. Ella. Eh. Eh. O.

I think I just figured out Rihanna.

I feel like Nick Cage in National Treasure, but mainly because Diane Kruger is making eyes at me and Justin Bartha keeps texting me to hang out.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, there’s Crap Leinart. Or There’s Something About Dillon. Like, there’s nothing really wrong with him except he is the male equivalent of a basic bitch. He’s not a bro. He’s just a dude who’s been in so many locker rooms and on so many golf courses that he’s gone taste blind.

His favorite person? His dog. His favorite song? Insert 90s R&B slow jam. His favorite clothing? Shiny golf shirts pre mid life crisis. His favorite meal? STEAK, bro. Just kidding, tacos, but only if it’s Tuesday.

He’s the girl you are so excited is interested in you but then you are like you cannot come home to Mom.

And then when he got engaged he was wearing a suit that was three sizes to small. I didn’t know a man could look slutty in a suit, but he did it. It was so embarrassing. And he was sweating like he was getting kicked out of minor league baseball.

But I guess they are happy, can live in ATL, eat well and fade into a life of being overweight on golf courses. Or divorce. BUT, huge props to Josh for handling Nick’s slut shaming, which shall be the final rant of the season. But first, yes. Josh was a man for not caring. The only anti-dote to slut shaming is saying sleeping with someone doesn’t make you a slut. And it doesn’t. Andi may be a lot of things, but not a slut and we shouldn’t as a society say that about people. Period.

So, Nick was having his crisis and basically outed that they had sex, admittedly in the whiniest way ever. This is crazy because this show NEVER admits it. I mean, Ben Flajnik (who I drank with in Portland this weekend, sweet name drop bro) had his hook up referred to as “swimming in the ocean.”

Nick. I think you have more stuff going on. But in the meantime, note to self. Slut shaming a woman on national television does not increase the likelihood of more women trusting you with intimacy. Or ocean swimming. Sex. I’m talking about sex. Get a strategy. Start from “the opposite of everything you think you should do.”

I’m glad this terrible season is over. I hope Chris the Farmer gets it because I genuinely wanna see how he does. See you next year most likely… But first some housekeeping.

_________________________________

Thank you to my readers on Twitter (who know when I delay a post or cancel one)  and just my generally kind readers, but when you don’t write a for a couple weeks, relax. I don’t ask for money, I do this for fun. And it is fun, but when I get “shamed” on my blog, it’s a huge drag. Like when this happens.

I could not agree more. Sure, it’s a bit sad that I’m fired up over a (lack of a) blog about the Bachelorette, but I feel like a fool when I get excited to read Lost’s analysis and then there’s nothing for THREE weeks.

If something’s going on in your life, sure. But another very popular Bachelor blogger, Jen Frase, announced a few weeks ago that due to a family medical situation, she MIGHT not be blogging the rest of the season. And apologized. And thanked people for being great readers. Totally respectful to her readers who looked forward to her column every week.

Whatever, Lost. You’re deleted from my bookmarks. Off to read the other blogs who keep their commitments to entertain us!

How would you know what’s going on in my life? I’m sorry you don’t want to read anymore, but it’s okay. This is a safe place. A happy place.

I’ve always said my readers are my friends. My friends don’t consider the blog my commitment to them. And I don’t think it’s my responsibility to talk about when medical results, business commitments or family obligations kept me from posting about a show I only write about because it is awful. This is for shits and giggles, guys. You can always tweet at me and ask what’s up. Those of you on instagram know everything that’s going on. Sometimes, I am traveling and don’t get to see the show and by the time I do, it’s basically next week. Sometimes, life gets in the way.

I’ve been very consistent for no other reason than I enjoy it. For some six years now. Millions of reads and thousands of readers. It’s just for fun. Let’s let it be that.

So if I keep going, it’s going to be for my thousands of friends who just like reading the crap I write when I have something to say. And to the upset poster I quoted, nothing personal and thank you for reading. I didn’t mean to single you out (and still don’t). It was just a perfect example of the things that make this largely unpaid pursuit so frustrating sometimes.

And by that token, to my USC readers who allowed me so graciously to slip from structured coverage into freeform content last year, that’s why I love you. I’ll be writing this year to be sure, who knows how much or how often, just know that when there’s something to debate, the Bearfighter will be there.

Thanks for another season, hopefully it’s better next year and I want to write. I really enjoy your company.

Cheers!

39 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

BachCap Hometowns

First off, friends. Just check out Twitter. I was traveling for work, am I was moving into my own bachelor mansion, sometimes you just don’t have time, even for watching Andi get wasted and then writing run on sentences about her.

I finally caught up on the previous two weeks and actually was pretty TURNT UP for hometowns. Belgium and Italy had some intrigue and the people going home made sense. We even got to see seven infinity scarves from Nick. And Sean Bro tell a girl she was IN TROUBLE because she’d fall in love with him. Only to get sent back to the gym with no brotein shake.

I mean all that was good. Andi was hammered the whole time. She gave us a very traditional Bach Moment on her date with Crap Leinart when she wanted answers as to why she could trust him or nah and he basically was like YOU CAN and she’s like I FEEL ZO MUCH BETTER NOW ABOUT FEELZ. Who knew a man who looks like Matt Dillon did in Something About Mary post teeth enlargement could have this effect on a girl who went to college. There’s something about Chicklet Teeth.

Actually, between her baby teeth and his giant teeth, their kids would be okay.

So with all that goodness, I thought hometowns would be good. They weren’t. They were sweet at times, somber, honest…

Terrible for writing. Thankfully, Nick was first in his SWEET LEATHER JACKET and infinity scarves 2 thru 4. At one point he thru it on to walk her to the car. Betch. He was like hold on, it’s cold bae.

He is from Milwaukee which taught me last night that there are places that can make a life on a farm seem good.

Andi made some comment that she’d never been to a brewery before. Call me a snob (really, do it, it turns me on), but how is that possible. Atlanta has everything. She’s never been to a brewery? And then she smells the fermentation tank and they both sit there thinking it smells good. FERMENTING HOPS SMELL GOOD? Stop. Portland has more breweries per capita than anywhere outside of Munich and let me be clear. Beer is great, the smell of making it does not. We made beer in my friend’s kitchen one time and I considered the fact his wife did not leave him as one of the greatest gifts I’ve seen exchanged in matrimony. YOU SO FAKE, BABYTEETH™.

I aM mizpelting thz sntencz bkause of I dnt carez.

They went shitty dancing, drank shitty beer and had shitty conversation before going to meet all 200 of his siblings, all commemorated on a wall of photos I wouldn’t have believed in a Wes Anderson film. They were all nice enough but come on. If the Milwaukapocalypse started you know they would use the photos as inventory to remember who they ate.

Nick’s parents are his age, which is fun? Also, loved his mom in Swingers as the girl who Vince Vaughn gets her number and then immediately rips it up. That joke will take a while, but you will eventually laugh and well, that’s how I keep our marriage strong, internet. I just keep giving.

Look, Nick just sucks. He totally just got beat up a lot in high school or he was like slightly too short or something. He just never got the girl. He is not much of a villain. He is just a standard issue douche. Meh. Not worth getting riled up about. His hair is soft and so are his scarves. Andi would probably like sarong shopping with him at Neiman Marcus.

Off to Time Is A Fat Circle’s farm in Iowa where part of me hoped to see a weird antler adorned crime scene to complete my joke because this is my world, you all just living here.

Sadly, no. Just million dollar tractors and homes and great family and a cute plane dragging a cute understated XOXO type banner. Look, he isn’t even fat. This dude is my next Bachelor because I just know Andi doesn’t have it in her to move to a farm, but this family was awesome. I’m telling no jokes. They made me literally think hey, a farm would be fine. And I have a bar cart with four kinds of rums and I’ve spent over 75 bucks on bitters in the last month. I’m so yuppie that I judge people on how they make an old fashioned (or when they do) and I was like “fuck it, I’ll marry him and live on that fucking farm.”

I really like the guy. And you know why? Because he talks to women the way a man should talk to women. On a farm with no one nearby. KIDDING.

What I mean is he doesn’t give her answers, he gives choices. He can’t move his farm and so he answers her pretty damn honestly. You could raise the kids and enjoy the fact I’m a rich and kind farmer. You could go be a DA in Iowa. You could use your degree for something else. He’s going to get behind it and appreciate every day that she came to Iowa for him, because again. CAN’T MOVE A FARM.

Look, the family was great, the rest was great. I’d be his friend and when Andi blows it and picks Crap Leinart, he better be the Bachelor. We can actually root for this guy.

Enough.

Andi next goes to Tampa (that sucks, sorry) to visit Crap Leinart. She didn’t wear any pants and in the end we can play a guessing game or we can just notice SHE BARELY GOT DRESSED TO SAVE TIME LATER.

His family was nice enough, even his moron brother who isn’t that good at football. But even here, I felt bad for him. I thought the baseball thing was cheesy at first until I realized his family had him on some deep spiritual mission to promote the success of his younger brother. He wasn’t good enough and he had to push his brother. His failed dream constantly rubbed in his face despite being bigger, better looking, etc. For whatever reason, his brother had Zeus’ lightning bolt.

His only satisfaction in life comes from the dog who loves him best. Maybe.

Andi is so marrying this guy and it is so a mistake, but I understand why he is the way he is now and that’s enough for me to root against his brother in the NFL. Oh wait. 5th rounders don’t play.

Finally, we had Marcus who immediately stripped. He was super cool with his brother. His mother, even though she supposedly beat him, was one neon blue eyeshadow streak more than a totally chill seeming lady who the years have been kind to.

We all know Marcus went home. Richolas Goscage is defeated and it’s the wrong choice. He was graceful in defeat. I don’t feel like talking to him.

BUT.

Let’s talk about Chris Harrison pulling everyone over to talk about Adventurer dying. First, let me say the good part. It’s a weird “family that dates” kind of thing and so I get how a death messes with their heads. I have some trouble with the fact that these people only knew him for what, three weeks? I tried to come up with a scenario like if my college roommate left after three weeks and then a month later died. It’s depressing, but I don’t know. I get why Andi would be upset. It’s not fun to send someone packing or end on a fight and that guy dies. But still. The dude was on a quest to risk his life and thrill seek and this stuff happens. It’s sad, but he died doing what he loved and that’s no snark. He actually did.

Enough of that though.

Let’s talk about Chris Harrison’s “house.” WOWOWOW.

No rug, no paintings, coffee table guys think is rad (and doesn’t show leftover blow) and women would never let you buy… This is his chick killing den and we got a rare, rare glimpse into it.

Kind of like at the rose ceremony how we got a rare glimpse into the wallpaper they put in saloons when we saw Andi’s dress. It was like she was ducking a firefight between outlaws and the wall came with her. Yeesh.

She cut Marcus and a bit of my soul.

This episode was so somber in many ways, it was so different. I am ready now for next week. I am ready for the FAHNTAHSEESWEEETS.

Let’s get it together.

 

28 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

BachCap Week 4… And/Or 5

With the schedule returning to normal after a double shot of Bachelorette last week, we finally are getting to the point in the show that allows me to look forward to it. There are less people to remember, they start traveling to cultural locations that prove how uncultured you have to be to be considered for this show, they go to exotic locales where at least when they are saying things that make us all collectively dumber, they are half-naked and we can be judgmental about all of it.

This is like the playoff race. We’re done with the warm-ups, the early season gaffs. These are all potential playoff teams for the Divorce World Series and it’s time to take note.

The Traveling Meatsicle World Tour has what looks to be a windy landing in Marseilles, France until I realized these guys flew their on a Ryanair livestock puddle jumper from Heathrow. Yeah, right they’d pay for these guys to fly private unless the French government told them they couldn’t film inside the country and Harrison had to use his private coke smuggling jet to wing them in.

Okay. Maybe they flew private.

BABYTEETH™ has me wanted to rub a cheese grater on my face immediately as she must be contractually obligated to say “France” after any mention of Marseille, either because she was too drunk to remember where she was or the network’s faith in Americans knowing Marseille was in France is pretty low.

Either way, the French flag, a symbol of liberty and great charcuterie was flown at have mast. This was because the Bachelor is the worst thing to happen to France since Robespierre. Because BOOKS™.

Harrison shows up wearing a chain mail turtle neck just in case the Mountain comes back to life and he has to fight for Tyrion’s life. How many gram bags can he smuggle under that collar? Wow.

All I could think about is how Andi is one of those people that just go places in the world and eat the food and drink the wine and then feel like they now know something of a place, despite having no fucking clue where they really are, why it’s actually interesting or anything of the sort. Like Harry Potter is the first thing she thinks about when someone mentions London, despite that 90% of those stories take place in a fictional wizard castle you need to take a secret train to reach. The second thing she thinks about in London? It’s a tie between every Hugh Grant movie ever, even the ones where he’s in America because NOTTING HILL THO™.

First date goes to Crap Leinart who is STOKED™ to get a letter from a producer pretending to be Andi in French. We know it’s not from her because she can’t speak spanish, she can’t speak french. Really, her english is limited to getting drunk on dates and going STOOOOOOOOOP.

But seriously. Stop.

This date is just standard LOW TALKING™ in a tone that is pleasing to Andi, who despite saying he is a jock who is just her type and will likely cheat on her, she is like FUCK IT WINE and just gets hammered at which point, the tannins make he say “I DUN EVEN KNOW HOW TO OPEN MY EYES OR NOT LOVE YOU RIGHT NOW.”

He tries to tell us that he could still be playing baseball if he wanted, but instead he’s not. Don’t front. Those that can, do. I could still be playing as well. If Little League allowed me to sign up again. I get that you got drafted. But the fact that I am seeing you on a dating game and not in a Dodger game is all the proof I need that I WASN’T GONNA HAPPEN™.

Back at the crib, there’s a blank group date card, proving that these guys will OOH and AHH at anything. Even nothing.

The real news was when Panstapreneur, who still is apparently a thing, tell Marquel that the Social Media Marketer has called him a “blackie” or some version of racial comment. Marquel is the coolest person on the show and he takes this pretty well. At some point, I wonder why they even show this. It just points out the worst part of this show, that it’s a pageant of white folks bastardizing the concept of marriage. There are often complaints that there have no been more diverse Bachelors, or hey, even a same sex season, but in the end, there must be ratings somewhere that suggest the main audience only wants to see the sanctity of marriage destroyed by white people and the occasional sociopathic Juan Pablo.

Back on Andi’s date, she’s hammered and believing a bunch of bullshit coming out of Crap Leinart’s mouth. WHATEVER I LOVE YOU WHY CAN’T I OPNE MY EYYYYYES???

The group date is some weird miming thing that I just feel no need to comment on. They looked like morons. Andi barely dresses up because she is self conscious and drinking herself to death on TV, much like how Adam Richman one tried to kill himself with hot wings challenges on Man v Food.

Ellen DeGeneres hair Nick is a wet blanket on the date to prove he is ANTI GROUP DATES™ and I hear you man. But again. Come on.

Andi mimes “drinking” to end this terrible date, but mainly because she hadn’t had a drink in a couple hours, was starting to feel self conscious in that square full of French people.

The night date featured Andi trying to walk in heels drunk, which looked like she was snow-shoeing through the Ice Planet from Star Wars. Mrs. Doubtfire was more graceful in heels.

While she’s trying to walk places and not spill glass seven of pinot gris, Marquel is confronting Nick about the racism. Nick either lies or doesn’t lie, but either way Marquel is a good guy, way to good for this show.

On a less heavy not, pretty sure they had to blur Andi’s crotch because her wardrobe is SCANDALOUS™. Or she’s just drunk and forgetting the whole “if they aren’t pants, it’s just an open window” theory.

Time Is A Fat Circle seals his fate by telling Andi that Nick is a bad guy. See you later man. Good luck finding the man with green ears. Sean Bro does the same thing, except dressed like the girl from Willy Wonka midway through her transition into a blueberry.

While everyone else fights, Richolas Goscage goes in for the kill and does some of the best (read:worst) tongue kissing since Sean Lowe’s season.

Somehow, Pantstaprenuer gets the rose proving you can fail at life and win at this show. Keep dreaming.

Basketball Coach, or DeGinger Brody or just Homeland gets the one on one and they do the eat weird shit date followed by the LETSWATCHADISNEYMOVIE date and FUFUFUFU for it not being the Muppets.

No matter how bad the date was going, Andi got shitfaced again, potentially the shampoo effect, and ends up making out with him.

She decides NO to a cocktail party. Instead, she holds each rose like a glass of wine (or like Ricky Bobby’s hands when he’s interviewing in talladega) and then cuts Marquel, Social Media Racist and Possibly Dead Tall Guy.

Marquel is heartbreaking because he now knows racism = alive and well, at least on this show. Make him the next Bachelor. Prove you are better than this already.

Highlight of the show is Creepy Tall Guy who just says he’s head from multiple people NOT JUST GIRLS that he would make a perfect husband. And loves to make human bacon out of sleeping people’s faces. JAYSUS.

Next week, VENICE after Andi sleeps it off.

CLICK HERE TO JOIN ME ON FACEBOOK

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER BECAUSE I TWEET PROFESSIONALLY

I’M ON INSTAGRAM @ZACKJEROME

39 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

BachCap Week 3

Week Three and Four were combined for one of two reasons. The first was Chris Harrison went on an uncontrollable coke binge and he needed MOAR BACHELOR RIGHT NYOW™.

Screen Shot 2014-06-03 at 8.07.24 AM

 

The part where he talks about blow isn’t even the most cocainey part of this. It’s the general run-on nature of this post and the afterthought @tag. Please be the next Bachelor, man. Please. You would be like judge, jury and executioner. I would dedicate my life to spreading awareness of your program.

THE OTHER REASON™ they combined week three and four is probably to get Eric, the dude I KNOW IS DEAD (seriously, guys?) off the show because between Andi’s BABYTEETH™, her getting hammered in a non-fun way on every date and the fact there is literally a ghost on the show, this season has the lowest ratings ever.

Gentlemen may prefer blondes, but everyone prefers contestants that are still alive. It’s hard to watch.

Let’s just deal with Eric. I intentionally ignored this subject because it does not matter to the purpose of the blog. Every good joke I had about the situation was distasteful. Do I think the death of a dude who rejected his childhood where he was raised to not be allowed to drink alcohol or have sex reacting by infusing constant adrenaline into his life traveling to war zones, jumping off anything he could and generally taking risks whenever possible is tragic?

Yeah, but it’s not shocking. You can die crossing the street. You are more likely to die if you are on a quest to take risks. No one deserves to die, but Eric died doing what he loved. You don’t want to know my opinion on what he loved. The best jokes, the jokes you read the blog for, probably would offend you, mostly because they’d hit close to home.

I ignored his death because it wasn’t relevant to this show, where in the end, he was a dude who got sent home week four. I don’t watch this show to feel bad about anything. I watch it to feel good because I met my wife in civilian life. If I am supposed to feel worse for Eric because he was on this show, then I’d never get up in the morning with all the atrocities in the world from disease to genocide to dickheads that murder college students at UCSB.

Guys, any death is a tragedy. Not more so because they were on four episodes of a reality show pairing people together at a far worse success ratio than random chance. I’ve had cancer two times. I get it. Death comes for all of us. Valar morghulis, Game of Thrones fans. All men must die. Even extreme sports afficianados who vacation in Syria. Crazy, right?

Just know, since I punted on talking about Eric, some of my readers lost their minds thinking I literally did not know. Some just wanted to help. Some thought I was the devil.

Screen Shot 2014-06-03 at 8.03.49 AM

Screen Shot 2014-06-03 at 8.03.28 AM

Screen Shot 2014-06-03 at 8.03.18 AM

Screen Shot 2014-06-03 at 7.46.52 AM

So let’s put it to bed. Rest in peace, Eric. Glad you died doing what you love. May we all be so lucky. You didn’t deserve it. Hope your family recovers as best as can be expected and that you being off the show allows them to move on.

My wife may finally close the browser. I still expect Muppets.

__________

So anyway. Can we get back to being a dick? Perfect. Let’s bachcap. I’m gonna miss a lot because two nights is too much.

Her first date is with Nick, who is a bigtime frontrunner and also rocks the “Ellen DeGeneres hair cut” as Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist taught us (watch it again with someone you love). I think they went like hiking? I don’t know. Who fucking cares. She’s into him. He doesn’t bother me even at all. As Norah said when touching Nick’s hair “you’re soft man” and so is Nick.

The group date was fun because I got to hear some bad singing and also know Boyz II Men are still alive. And cool. So literally we also learned that washed up celebrities holding onto the early 90s are more socially adjusted than the traveling meat circus that is this show.

The worst part of this date for me was how Crap Leinart thought he could sing. I may be biased because I played in bands for almost two decades, but in fairness, I can’t fucking sing. Never stopped me from carrying a tune. It’s not that hard. Like, watching this meatsicles try to sing was so painful I literally opted to have my prostate checked during it to relieve the pain. That’s right. A gloved finger checking your prostate = MORE COMFORTABLE™.

Opera singer, who knows how to carry a tune, tried to achieve TOTAL VICTORY™ by singing on key and also using his patented DOUCHÉ VIBRATO™ and paid the price, which was confirming he’s exactly as toolbag as his Disney canine sidekick haircut.

Crap Leinart gets the rose for no reason beyond Andi is an idiot, says she knows better than to go for her exact type, and then goes for her exact type. Literally, if she was lactose intolerant, she’d have constant diarrhea from eating ice cream because she is basic as hell.

Pantstapreneur (do we even need a nickname) goes on a date where they dress up like old people, which is ageist, but again, not my cause. Keeping it super real though, Andi decides old people all have smoker’s voices and Parkinson’s. She was faking a hand shake. WORST PERSON EVER™. Seriously.

Even worse, he entire knowledge of old people is probably from the Notebook and she confused Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s. Good for you.

Rat Tail Hair Man and Opera Singer go home. Opera Singer cries like it’s the end of Billy Budd. You know. The Herman Melville gothic English language opera about responsibility and, um, sailors? Yeah. I’m 72 percent cultured. Buzzfeed told me.

Next episode….>>>.>.fweopfk[

The go to the most budget casino ever in Connecticut. I mean, how many better casinos did they pass en route to this one? In the end, these meatsicles decide to jump in the hot tub together and “air toast” to their BARELY KEEPING IT TOGETHER SEXUAL FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER™.

Emo Ed Burns gets the first date, which is Connecticuit’s famous DEPRESSING TRAIN RIDE™. He goes for the worst idea ever, the patented LOVE ME FOR SAD STORY™ offense, which never works. People like it when you lead with your personality, then tell them your sad story later. Like, wow, you are so well adjusted. I recognize he just went through this. Here’s an idea then. DON’T GO ON THE DAMN SHOW.

Worse, Andi had zero fucks to spare. The entire date was her waiting for him to ask her questions about her, just like with Wapalo, where the point wasn’t Wapalo being a dick. It was WHY AREN’T YOU FASCINATED BY ME AND MY INFINITE ME-NESS. In fairness (like I’m fair) Andi did cry, though maybe from lack of attention or because she was in a train with depressing faded polo green napkins and not on a helicopter. She was a pretty crier. Big win for the agency.

As I often do, I hope this sad guy leaves soon so he can heal, which he won’t on national television. PITY ROSE™ accepted. Dismissal: imminent. I mean, he had serious bitchy resting face (BRF™) while telling her this is the happiest moment of his life. Everything about everything I just typed was depressing.

Next there is a group WNBA date. Yep.

These idiots are getting schooled by superior female talent until it’s time for them to play each other. They have ROSEBUDS jerseys that the producers recycle for the other team by flipping some inside out. Way to put on the ritz, guys. Nothing screams “LET’S BALL” like sharpie numbers and wearing clothes inside out.

They show a montage of these dudes going at it, scoring buckets, rocking out. Then we see it’s 6-6 at halftime. They only scored 3 baskets a piece. That wasn’t a montage. That was the entire first half. WOW.

After one of the teams loses (as if a 6-6 halftime score on national television didn’t make them all losers), the music is super heavy. IT’S THE MOST DRAMATIC PICK-UP BASKETBALL GAME EVER.

I like the Basketball Coach and it was pimp that despite his argyle half zip he sunk a half-court shot. Andi seemed turned on by a male act of strength setting the female gender back another five years. My wife just closed the browser.

He could hit a half court J, but couldn’t kiss a turned on admirer. NEXT.

Ellen DeGeneres Hair is running away with this show. A nerd with game. Unstoppable.

The last 1:1 date is with the man who looks like the scrambled facial features of Nicholas Cage and Ryan Gosling. I give you: RICHOLAS GOSCAGE™.

This dude seemed like a prick in the house, but he seems super cool away from everyone. He has ZERO FEAR™ for an extreme rappelling down a building date. He’s basically hyper trained from all the action movies the Nick Cage part of his face was in. Andi is TRIPPING BALLS™ but he gets her to eventually rappel. I laughed genuinely at Andi when she was asked what her mother was like and she said “Nicer”. For a moment I forget I am rooting against her. And humanity.

He gets a rose and they dance to another country band I didn’t know was alive.

At the cocktail party, Andi decides to get shitfaced and wear a disco alligator carcass as a dress. She can’t even walk in it, especially hammered on dirty martinis. In fact, I’ve never seen a bachelorette get this shitty and emo on cocktail parties.

Eric had what I think was an even better exit than Andi did with Wapalo. Tired of being accused of being disingenuous, he basically gave Andi a bowl of TRUTH JUICE™. She’s the faker. She’s too drunk to hear any bad news. Eric goes off the show humble in his recognition that this won’t work. I am glad this was how he left the show.

Drunk Andi runs off to make sure everyone knows RIGHT REASONS™ because VODKA+WINE™ is a super-combo. Whatever, SHUT UP ANDI. Blood alco-ya’ll level: .09.

They don’t show a rose ceremony, instead trying to give a tribute to Eric. I don’t feel like commenting. Tough situation for everyone.

Hoping we can move on now. I am.

CLICK HERE TO JOIN ME ON FACEBOOK

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER BECAUSE I TWEET PROFESSIONALLY

I’M ON INSTAGRAM @ZACKJEROME

10 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

BachCap Week Two

Week two still falls in that part of the movie where ever character is speaking in sweeping explanations of the landscape, making classic dialogue and character development impossible. What’s worse, this is not a movie. This is a group of non-essential employees from various companies that are half-heartedly competing to loan a Neil Lane diamond to a woman posing as a DA before they breakup in a magazine your wife (or you) reads exclusively to deal with the anxiety of takeoff and landing on airplanes when it’s too early in the morning for a cocktail (although, I don’t buy into time=alcohol acceptability).

Time’s a fat circle, yo.

The meat popsicles arrive at the Bachelor Mansion and set the record for “most excited people ever to arrive in Agoura Hills” and I know. I was the president of Agoura High. There’s all this fruit in the kitchen and also a table full of apples, bananas too. One of the apples was bruised too. Below the eye. What happened last week?

Explorer gets the first date and HELICOPTER! I blacked out for twenty minutes because this was such a make-good for last season. We barely waited a week to be rewarded with our first aerial romance inducer. The love was flowing and so was this awful theme of “dudes wearing sweatshirts without shirts underneath them.” Look, just like Lululemon (you heard me guys in the Marina), just because you saw someone rock this in a catalogue doesn’t mean you can. It’s like spring in LA and you are fighting the season and worse, you are dressing like your mother let you pick your outfit. Nothing screams “you are going to need to remind me to brush my teeth every day” like wearing sweatshirts with nothing underneath. It’s called Northern Commando and unless it’s done by necessity, it’s bad form. It’s a devil-may-care look and you are doing it intentionally, which defeats the purpose. MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON YOUR SOUL™.

Date one tho…

It was pretty much the visual representation of the douchey thing all Southern Californians say to anyone regarding why it’s so great to live there, only I don’t know anyone who’s ever done it. Basically, “I can snowboard in the morning and surf in the afternoon”– and sit in 6 hours of traffic between San Bernardino and the PCH also. I mean it’s cool, but think of all the things you could potentially do in life. I mean, I could eat breakfast in the Willamette River and have dinner in Tokyo. I could kill a man and bury him in Kentucky and take a tour of the bourbon distilleries. I could expose myself to a bus filled with seniors on a Grand Canyon tour.

We can do a lot of shit. We don’t. We watch BAD TELEVISION™.

The part of this date that was not cool was Louie Vito shows up to give a snowboard lesson to BABY TEETH™ and it put Eric in the corner. He had been feeling pretty good about his CARELESS BEACH BACKFLIP™ earlier, but now a soprano-voiced, gnar-shredded was doing the one instructional activity on par with the perviness of teaching a girl to golf.

Later, a story about Syria and how he’d give that all up for a woman. He likes the danger. He likes the romance. He likes letting Louie Vito steal his thunder.

Date card shows up back at the mansion and every year the men get more like the women when they read each other’s names. More and more, the men selected are this horrible time capsule of men from the mid 2000s, the kind of people that still remember storylines from Entourage and probably cannot wait for the movie to come out. Dudes that somehow didn’t understand it is 100% manlier to spill half your burrito on your dress shirt and not care despite your girlfriend thinking it’s WWIII than to shave your chest hair and spray tan. If your grooming routine allows you to share multiple products with your wife, you probably need to club a baby seal and eat it raw and get in touch with what made our species Darwinize.

So, after about twenty minutes of dudes not knowing the difference between “bear” and “bare,” eventually they went to Laurel Canyon and Sunset (I guess Crescent Heights) and went to a night club where they entered to find Magic Mike breaking out. Honestly, have you ever seen straight dudes more excited about seeing male strippers? Look, I’m a 23rd Century Male. I’ve been to every kind of club from WeHo to Old Town PDX and I can hang anywhere and have a good time. I guess I’ve just never gone into a fist pumping seizure at the sight of men in kevlar stripping down rapidly to prove they are the dong police.

Most of this was fairly boring, but I’ll say a few things.

I learned from a man wearing a blazer with no undershirt that Firefighters are one of the most popular female fantasies. #noted.

SeanBro needs a mother figure in his life. He was wearing a tank top to show off his misguided attempt at what women are looking for in a body outside of Wet Dayclub in Vegas black out drunk on a mission to have a sorority “what was I even thinking #yolo” story. Better than the tank top was the fact he was wearing a ladies hyper-thin sweatshirt around his neck like an infinity scarf. Damn.

1401155263000-cowboy-strip

I thought making the dude who shaved his chest from the nipples down (ok?) do a Top Gun dance when he looks just like Goose was messed up.

But the highlight was Chris Harrison slapping that ass. For real. I mean, I know he blew a line of Angel Dust off one of these guys’ lower backs and I hate the producers for robbing me of that moment. But I love Chris Harrison and I think he’s hitting that age they depict in Viagra commercials, where he is in total command and he knows what to do with the problems in his life. Divorce? Drank. Host a bad show? Drank. Male stripping? Drank.

Sharleen was there with Dog Lover which was depressing because you never truly leave the Bachelor. But for context, it’s great that this Opera Singer had free time on a Tuesday afternoon to watch amateur male stripping without being paid. CAREER GOING WELL™.

Craig, who I dub OH SNAP! (because his face gets red any time he talks and he’s about to yell OH SNAP to start every sentence) was this season’s version of the person who blacks out at a cocktail party. I’ll give him this, he did it right. He ran into walls, shoved dudes telling them to fuck off, he went swimming and lost motor control. I mean, honestly he really brought it. He had to be restrained by the producers (also in infinity scarves-in spring-in LA). He was drinking Fireball, so I knew it was coming. It’s puke juice. And terrible. Whiskey already has the best flavor. Whiskey. If a man loves Fireball, date a different man.

What was most disturbing was how badly BABY TEETH™ took this. She was easily the second drunkest person at the party. She went into a WHAT THE EFF THESE PEOPLE AREN’T HERE FOR ME spiral in week two because one human was in the swimming pool. It took me right back to her getting mad at Wapalo not because he didn’t care about her, but because he didn’t lie and say he did. CONFIDENCE CRUSHER™.

She gives a drunk speech about FOR THE RIGHT REASONS™ and I took a shot of rum and ignored her and her goblin teeth. Side note, she’s on a mission to push up bra this season, yeah?

Also, worst extensions since Aly. Period. I think she yanked them out at some point. Like, fuck it bro. Just fuck it. Doesenteyevenmatter. Ezzaactly.

The former pro ballplayer – I dub him Crap Leinart – just swoops in and give her a lady boner. Good work. Big win for guys that don’t try hard everywhere. Andi says he’s the kind of dude she always goes for. Still goes for him. Consistent.

Next day they try to make Santa Anita look nice because these people weren’t worth the 50 dollar round trip to Del Mar on the Surfliner. Time is a Fat Circle was kind of a great dude. In fact, he’s not even fat. I’m just trying to peddle my wares here, people. Andi is not into him even a little bit, because like anyone on this show the goal is to make a failing choice, not a smart one.

At least at the end they are treated to signature RANDOM BAND™ of Linkin Park-looking guys that gave up and started playing what I call INOFFENSIVE PORTLAND BARISTA ROCK™.

While they do kiss, she goes ASS OUT™ and LEAN BACK™ which is the opposite of how she kisses Crap Leinart.

He gets a PITY ROSE™.

Cocktail party, OH SNAP! sings an awful apology. Andi gets drunk again and says “ya’ll” more and more with each shot of whatever. It’s her BLOOD ALCO-YA’LL LEVEL™.

Believe it.

Oh snap and some other dudes go home. Can we get down to ten dudes already and do this?

CLICK HERE TO JOIN ME ON FACEBOOK

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER BECAUSE I TWEET PROFESSIONALLY

I’M ON INSTAGRAM @ZACKJEROME

14 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

BachCap Week One

Welcome back from the mid-year break as we ride this last train into summer. Will this be my final season? Quite possibly. Then again, football fatigue and the holidays tend to make me miss this show. On the other hand, the fact they are doing Bachelor in Paradise this year to replace Bachelor Pad may be enough for me to cancel cable, grow out my Portland beard to political dissident length and possibly retreat to Forest Park and eat only beavers (take that non-sexually, please).

First and foremost, I missed the first fifteen minutes of this episode because upon realizing it was delayed to an obnoxious 9:30 pm due to the fact that Dancing With The Stars is still on television and presumably in the middle of some seven night finale event. Honestly, when ABC is gonna end a show, they drag it out long enough to sneak in a Lord of the Rings trilogy.

So I’ll assume they recycled some cop work images from last year, they met with her family and asked if her dad was more accepting of the fact this baby girl will be breaking hearts not vying for the love of a broken man with broken english, they showed how little she’s been eating since we last saw her and definitely fifteen minutes on her readiness to “find love” although as Heavy D and the Boyz said “now that we found love what are we gonna do… With it?”

And I’ll answer that for you. Spend a month in the tabloids until you get divorced, grow a huge instagram following for no reason, revel in strangers weighing in on your life and then ending up a trivia question or worse, continuing to go to Bachelor alumni events and After the Final Roses. GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN.

Andi and her patented BABY TEETH™ are back, they are moved into the mansion at a lighter weight than before and she’s talking to her sister who has an even more powerful jawline than her, but somehow I think she is a happier person. And her teeth are full grown, so big win for the agency.

They also debated which dress the guys would be more impressed by. Let me save all of you who date people who would consider going on the Bachelor time debating what will fly best wardrobe wise. Go with the one with the BOOB REVEALING™ technology, or the one that is generally just smaller or made of less overall fabric. I don’t want to be specific beyond less is more. Not more subtle. Just less. In actual square feet of fabric.

Total tangent. Every time I hear Patton Oswalt talk, I picture there is an animated rat cooking French food. Sorry, I just heard some Patton Oswalt and literally I hate this show so much I’ll take any diversion. Anyone giving out PROSTATE EXAMS™? I’m trying to find five minutes away from this blog and I quit smoking cigarettes.

With the condensed time line due to ABC SCHEDULING™ and PONZI SCHEMES™, we pretty much got right to the limo parade. I mean, like always, there’s not much to go on here at all and with a condensed episode, we barely got any time with anyone and I found myself in some negative integer space of caring so little that I might have cared a lot?

One dude said from the limo that Andi’s smile was devastating, but we knew that because of her patented BABY TEETH™.

One guy came out and went by the profession of Pantstaprenuer and unless he invented Chubbies, probably isn’t. Either way here is a picture of him in ugly SF Giants gear looking like GENERIC MARINA ASSHOLE™ who has self-confidence coming from his mother telling him he could be anything.

url

NOTE TO MOTHER’S. THIS IS WHY YOU CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS. IF YOUR KID CAN BE ANYTHING, HE CAN BECOME A #PANTSTAFUCKINGPRENEUR AND ADMIT TO IN ON NATIONAL TELEVISION.

One dude came out with mini gauge earrings, a killer decision that screams “I have BAD TASTE™ but also am not willing to go the distance to truly mutilate myself as a statement.” His name was like Tasos, which is close to tasso, which in Portland means thick cuts of bacon. This is the coolest thing about him.

Tasso8

 

Conversely, he may be some kind of Latin Warlock, making her do some weird ass ritual with a lock and a key and throwing something in a fountain. In two days, she goes into a coma and can only be woken up by true love’s kiss, which means she’s totally fucked because she is surrounded by contestants on The Bachelorette.

Then, the best doppleganger ever came out. Sean Bro. That’s a bro version of Sean Lowe who took so many roids he looks like a meat bowling ball. He has a face that screams “I’m so roided out that my chemical imbalance of testosterone could make me cry at any moment if someone eats sugar snap peas.” At any point in this butterfly’s transformation, did he have a single friends say STOP?

Screen Shot 2014-05-20 at 10.39.24 AM

There’s a surfer guy who if he didn’t get eliminated was going to be called ASS OUT HUGS™ because it’s like his crotch and whoever he hugs have reversed magnets in them. Try a little tenderness bro. Share your gift.

Some doctor gets the first creepy bachelor theme of the year for some fever joke. And then there’s the other guy with the ill-fitting suit (PARASUIT™) and I just feel like he stepped out of the movie Mannequin after being trapped on a backlot for years. Fuck both these clowns.

Emil, who wanted desperately to let you know to pronounce it like “Anal with an M”, which I am pretty sure was a Taking Back Sunday song, got cut and I am just pissed because he was a HELICOPTER PILOT. I mean, my god. Are we against fun on this show? Do we hate it?

Some hairstylist brought a lamp. Eff him.

Then the dude from Silicon Valley showed up, but he failed and had a radical tirade at the end of the show that was equal parts HURT SAUCE™ and FUCK IT, LET’S WATCH GAME OF THRONES™. I liked him.

A man who totally front ran and has trained for the show by being a world traveling explorer who likes extreme sports impressed early. I have no idea what would prevent a man like this from winning this show.

Okay…

Screen Shot 2014-05-20 at 10.48.10 AM

FAT MCCONAUGHY, TIME IS A FAT CIRCLE or DALLAS FRYERS CLUB. You choose. Alright, alright, alright?

Andi says something about being worried people would be disappointed with her being the Bachelorette which is the main difference between the mental defect required of a lady to be on this show compared to a man. Woman must be insecure she is an object of desire. Man must be convinced his previous problems with women all related to the fact there weren’t 20 competing for his junk and being flown around the world. It’s the system’s fault, not the fact you are a spray-tanning megalomanic.

Then Chris Bukowski, who I think was called Shitty Tobey Maguire or something (which is hard to do, Tobey sucks to begin with) decided to try and crash the show in a last ditch effort to turn his awful string of local magazine editorials in which he took douchey photos into something other than whatever he was doing before trying to stretch his 15 minutes into something like 3 years.

Some people went home. Let’s trim the fat. We’re back. God help us. FOLLOW ME.

CLICK HERE TO JOIN ME ON FACEBOOK

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER BECAUSE I TWEET PROFESSIONALLY

I’M ON INSTAGRAM @ZACKJEROME

 

17 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Some Words on Lon Rosen and Our Dodgers Non Mascot

I rarely write about the Dodgers. They are are one of the four chambers of my sporting heart. Other than making my voice heard about the racist treatment Yasiel Puig got last year from the media, I pretty much chilled out since GBM bought the team. They put money into the roster and the stadium. They stopped pissing on our proud legacy and you were starting to forget the smell of the McCourt era.

So other than being a prick on Twitter about their lazy marketing last year (A Whole New Blue, derp), I pretty much left it alone because no McCourt and a good on field product was enough.

But now the gloves come off and I need to burn it to the ground to save it. As I did with those that thought USC sanctions meant something, as I did with the NCAA and those who had no courage to speak up, I’m going to say it loud and clear.

I’m tired of the Dodgers’ marketing department playing us for fools. It’s unbefitting of the organization that integrated the game, employs Vin Scully and brought us an image like this at the time it was taken:

1963-koufax-rosboro-nw320

 

The Dodgers have added a mascot. We were one of three teams including the Yankees and Angels that did not have one. It made me proud the way USC used to sell beer at the Coliseum even though the rest of the sport quit. The Angels have a rally monkey and it’s clown shoes. I felt like the Yankees and Dodgers refuse to bow to this. I felt like if we keep putting a good product on the field, we keep celebrating Tommy and Gil and Jackie and Sandy and we listen to everything Vin says, we’re above it. We’re better than a mascot. We don’t have one.

But now, we do.

We have one, it’s terrifying, there’s more coming and Lon Rosen, the marketing whiz behind it is trying to get you to eat a shitpie by saying that it isn’t a mascot.

He said this that I’m lifting from Steve Dilbeck’s piece at the LA Times:

“It’s not a mascot,” said Dodgers executive vice president of marketing Lon Rosen. “It’s a unique performance character.”

A unique performance character? That’s what you are calling this thing?

Screen Shot 2014-04-08 at 2.36.31 PM

 

Tell me, Lon… What unique performance does this horrifying, androgynous creep show partake in? He’s got the wobbly underarms of a 95 year old overweight grandma, but none of the lovability, hugs and family recipes. His pupils are dilated from doing Molly in copious amounts on EDM night at Los Globos just down Elysian in Echo Park. He seems to be naked under his jersey, but has 3/4 sleeves.

But more than anything, he has a giant hair covered phallus coming out of his forehead. He has such a raging chocolate-dipped Balboa Island frozen banana rolled around on the floor of a busy salon that he literally must wear his baseball cap sideways.

Or maybe he was cleaning toilets with his face. You choose! Share your guesses in the comments field.

He’s terrifying a man and his daughter who probably didn’t ask this pedo-unicorn to join in. But the KIDS LOVE IT says Lon:

“The kids are wild about it,” he said. “They were all taking selfies with it.”

Oh, Lon. Kids going wild. Busting #selfies. Sometimes we take selfies with things because we’re making fun of them. Did you go through and read the responses when they instagram’d these selfies? Here’s betting Erisbel Arruebarrena’s minor league salary that at least one annotated it “posting this so you know who murdered me if I don’t come home from the game.”

Also, not to argue with the over 50 internet crowd, but I’m not calling it a selfie unless it’s just of oneself. If there’s multiple people in it, can it just be a picture? Unless Lon is implying this unique performance character is a ghost and therefore doesn’t have a soul and doesn’t count towards headcount in a selfie. In which case this is even more ridiculous and creepy. Or maybe not.

This is the same marketing and PR department that just said, somewhat by mistake in Australia, that they release news on their own website, not to the press so they can control the story.

This is the same group that bought an ad campaign with the tagline “Live. Breathe. Blue.” which makes so little sense it actually set back the LAUSD further than it already is. I mean, it’s just two random verbs followed by a Dodger-ish adjective.

I mean, I think they are telling us to live and breathe Blue. You need to breathe to live, so that’s already dumb. But throwing in periods?

In the comments field below, feel free to write your own advertising taglines! Verb. Verb. Adjective…

Run. Hide. Mascot.
Stalk. Terrorize. Mascot.
or…
Dance. Dance. Revolution.

Lon Rosen was quoted on the Dodgers’ website saying this about that tagline:

“Our new tagline encapsulates how each of our fans feel about the Dodgers organization. We feel it is a natural evolution of last year’s slogan ‘A Whole New Blue.”

Well, not each of us, Lon. I feel like the Dodgers organization needs the kind of visionary marketing that knows not to fuck with the things that make the Dodgers unique. Here’s a great marketing lesson. If you have unique attributes, differentiators with your competitors, it’s a great starting place to EMBRACE THOSE THINGS not REMOVE THEM.

The Dodgers are above mascots, uniform overhauls, gaudy stadiums water elements in center field, hideous alternate road jerseys (minus that one time we did the blue thing). We have Vin Scully. We have Tommy Lasorda. We have Sandy Koufax.

But now we have a mascot. Sorry. A unique performance character that kids love taking selfies with.

You can’t just change the words and pretend it changes what you are doing. You are destroying a differentiator between us and everyone but the Yankees, who are the most famous sporting brand in the history of people competing in uniforms.

Some of you will say I am blowing this out of proportion, it’s just a mascot (sorry, unique performance character). Only it’s not. This is a slippery slope. Lon’s adding more of these. He’s going to have them everywhere. And then who knows. They get rid of the Three Sisters to make room for something stupid. They remove Nancy Bea on the organ.

You remove enough differentiators and you lose your brand. I know a thing or two about this.

And If the LA Times and Sports Illustrated are beating me to the punch, then it is 100% a big deal. Stop killing who we are. One bad decision leads to another. We’ve all been to Vegas.

Anyway, maybe I can’t kill it. I need help. I need you all to bitch and moan on the internet and at the stadium so this goes away. It needs to go away, it’s never to late to admit you are wrong. Or  you hate good marketing. Or you aren’t sure what marketing is.

But let me teach Lon a little lesson in the internet. Since you are using “marketing speak” to avoid giving this Dodger mascot a name, it means there’s not a ton of SEO going on for it. It means that this idea is half-baked, half-pregnant and half-witted.

So, to help give Unique Performance Character (or Dodger Mascot) some SEO love, I’ve decided to embed him in a bunch of pictures with other people and events that people love as much as the idea of a Dodger’s Mascot and maybe when people image search for him (or her?), they will find my helpful guide to knowing how actual Dodger fans feel.

So, enjoy this gallery and tell your friends. We stop nothing short of a formal apology from Lon and the removal of Unique Performance Character.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) celebrating a Giants World Series win.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) celebrating a Giants World Series win.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Bernie Madoff.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Bernie Madoff.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and bearded antisemetic Mel Gibson.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and bearded antisemetic Mel Gibson.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Alex Rodriguez (A-Rod) kissing himself in the mirror.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Alex Rodriguez (A-Rod) kissing himself in the mirror.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and The Yellow King from True Detective.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and The Yellow King from True Detective.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Ben Affleck as Batman.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Ben Affleck as Batman.

 

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Jar Jar Binks.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Jar Jar Binks.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Justin Bieber.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Justin Bieber.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) soliciting prostitutes in Amsterdam's Red Light District.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) soliciting prostitutes in Amsterdam’s Red Light District.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Kimye.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and Kimye.

 

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and King Joffrey, Game of Thrones.

Unique Performance Character (Dodger Mascot) and King Joffrey, Game of Thrones.

So if it isn’t clear yet…

STOP MESSING WITH LOS ANGELES.

Stay golden.

CLICK HERE TO JOIN ME ON FACEBOOK

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER BECAUSE I TWEET PROFESSIONALLY

I’M ON INSTAGRAM @ZACKJEROME

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

It’s The End of The Juan As We Know It… And I Feel Fine.

I think this was the critical juncture. The strings of the marionette were exposed. I am not sure how to proceed. The Death-Eaters producing this show almost came out looking rosy. The Bachelor killed Chris Harrison’s high. The parade of former contestants got no screen time because this operation went FUBAR. This was Vietnam. It was hell.

But let’s be linear, even if time is a flat circle. If Harrison is the Yellow King, then Wapalo is just a creep making snuff films in the bayou.

AIJAIAIAIAIIAAIAI. St. Lucia. Ess perfect, man. I can’t listen to Wapalo describe anything anymore. In the morning, he gets his chilaquiles (I know, he’s Venezuelan, Twin Peak Fire Walk With Me already) and just goes “oooOOOOoohhh, I liiiikeeetttt” and makes a stupid face at you. That’s life. That’s what Crickets and JDLC are competing for. The loser goes home to heal, the winner goes home to bleed with a sociopath.

Crickets rolls up doing super aggressive even for her eyebrow and lip spasms as she talks about how “hot” it is that Wapalo is a Dad. Because nothing is hotter than a dude who was such a dick his wife left him and now he uses his child to keep women around after he has sex with them and shames them for doing so. So hot. Frankly, even as a straight guy, I’m so turned on it’s hard to see the screen.

His family comes out and frankly, they all seem pretty nice, even Rodolfo, who has to live with a homophobic cousin. Another cool thing is that their particular accents sound like Nacho Libre’s tag team partner Esqueleto. Close your eyes and listen. You can hear them saying “I don’t believe in God, I believe in science.” Need to watch that movie again.

Nacho-and-Esqueleto-1600-1200

 

What’s so weird though is that the family all unanimously say Wapalo is a dick who “runs” from relationships and is “hard” to deal with. Basically, they are here to smile and tell these girls to get gas at the next truck stop because this is going to be a bad scene from a horror movie.

Somehow Crickets is relieved about this, but mostly because she flipped the “I hear what I want” switch weeks ago. Folks, you know that switch. You’ve all done it. This is why you shouldn’t. Even worse, Wapalo’s dad says he’ll be her dad, which triggered all the daddy issues she has going on. Defcon 1, meltdown status imminent.

Nikki rolls in, this time with a conservative 70% of her boobs covered. She gets the same speeches from the family. Again, I hear what I want. I am surely the one to stop this sociopath from being so… Sociopathy. Wapalo likes kids because you can hug kids, smile at them, ask them random questions and they love you. He applies the same model to women, plus sex and besitos, and in the end, this is what is disturbing. He is great with children and bad with women because he thinks they are just older children you can have sex with.

Then a weird part. Wapalo seemingly says he loves Nikki. Given that it was whispered in aijaijai broken english and what happened on ATFR, it seems impossible. But we rewinded it twice. He said it. #headfuck

Back in LA, Harrison calls himself out on his use of “the most controversial season of the Bachelor ever” and I just kinda loved the guy for it. Sure, I call him an international drug trafficker, but I do that because I want to go on that journey with him. I’ll smuggle with him. It’ll be the best buddy movie since I Love You, Man and frankly the both of us can wear a suit like the desert misses the rain. You’d enjoy it more than this show or this blog.

Finally, a fucking helicopter. The more I think of it, the more I think they just held out on him. And I get why. The minute this rapey slut shamer gets a girl in a helicopter her tells her that he barely knows her but he “loves fucking her” which would be conjecture if Clare didn’t literally say it out loud when things go wrote.

Note to the show. Talk about sex. I get not doing it when things go great and being subtle. But when people are in the ocean boning and people are talking dirty in an helicopter, we need to get it. Having sex in the ocean and then blaming a girl for it and then later telling her he doesn’t know her but loves fucking her (his words, not mine) is a lot different than “swimming in the ocean and then saying some offbeat remarks.” That’s like saying the Nazis were touring Paris. #historicalreference #comaparedthisshowtoWWII

They skip the rest of this date, robbing us of the vacation we won’t get to go on this year and instead, Crickets opts to confront Wapalo, which is Sacramento for “talk shit until he says anything back and then blindly forgive him and explain impossibly how his non-statement removed all doubts.”

When she starts addressing the slut shaming, the going back on “no kissing” he just tells her “don’t blame me.” Marriage to this guy seems fucking awful. He just factually says “I’m listening” then says “I’m just being honest” and then tears your guts out. It’s like the Ricky Bobby move where he says “with all due respect” and then talks mad shit thinking if you say “with all due respect,” fucking fire away bro. This guy is so much worse than even how we’re explaining him. Most girls on Women Tell All hated because he didn’t pick them. He’s so much worse than that.

He just plays their song, lip syncs and she magically forgives him and then besitos fest 2009.

Every time I think Clare is going to be the hero, she just tumbles back down the stairs drunk.

Nikki rolls to her date in at least 1/3 of a bikini (gracias, besitos) and tries to get any assurance from El Sociópathíco about what he’s feeling, but he at this point just doesn’t care at all. He has abandoned the mission. I felt like maybe all the crying when girls would leave, the crying that made him seem so enduring, was really just the shedding of tears of people leaving his cult.

clare-crawley-bachelor-finale

Nikki asks what’ll happen when they don’t have private beaches to go to. His response was he’ll watch TV at home. She says not all the time. He says that sometimes he’ll watch baseball at his office. Sometimes he’ll beat you. And sometimes when you write him a heartfelt note, he’ll just make out with you instead because besitos make the world go round.

I knew the final proposal event was going to be bad because they played no music and beyond a quick ring shop, Neil Lane didn’t trot his freaky botox face out. Wapalo was like, fuck you, I’ll hold a ring but I either give it back or pawn it. Fuck you Neil Lane. Neil Lane was at the damn grown sexy douche wedding. If he doesn’t make a cameo, it’s because shit was gonna hit that fence.

Clare gets off the meat wagon and Wapalo let’s her flagellate before killing her. A little gumption from her and she refuses his affection, which was smart because he says he was “glad he didn’t pick her,” confirming he is that guy many of you have dated who just hits it and doesn’t have the courtesy of quitting it. He just doesn’t study for the tests, pay attention in class, or do anything to act like he cares until you settle for being a small, meaningless piece of his small, meaningless life or you get out on your own and he can blame you for it. Which helps with the next girl. He has a daughter, you know. He can’t be picky enough. It’s for Camila.

Girl readers. Sorry to out guys. But keeping it real, this is a real thing. It’s a real thing to have your insecurities fed off of and your natural competitive nature taken advantage of. Wapalo is a pretty normal variety of super turd. There’s one in every public bathroom. He’s not the devil. He’s just proof that women aren’t any different than men when you don’t listen to what a boy says because he’s hot. Sound familiar?

douche

douche

Clare just drops the line and we heard it. Wapalo is the dude who disses you and tells you he likes having sex with you. She snaps and peaces out and I liked her for a minute. The live audience cheered. It was like when Will Smith punches the fucking alien in Independence Day. People went crazy.

Nikki comes out and gives Wapalo her heart and he says no ring, no nothing. Which would be fine if not for what happened on ATFR.

Opera Singer, while right, was just so “fuck off” because he seemingly wanted her which gave her this holier than thou right to talk about him like she was smart enough to turn him down. Only she made out with him on national television. She gets credit for not being the kind of person who doesn’t see through a reality television show, but I mean, let’s be real. In the end, Wapalo wasn’t marrying her either. He just wanted to see if he could seduce a smart girl and then do the same shit to her. Her folly is thinking she’s special. He’s a sociopath. He’s the only star of his play. Even Andi, our new Bachelorette with the tiny razor teeth still wanted Wapalo to tell her she was special. It started with venom, but then it was more like “so why didn’t you want to know about my life?”

clare-bachelor-finale-w352

Because you aren’t special and he doesn’t fucking care. This show unintentionally got into the world of REAL dating and I don’t know if I like it. Fucking Chris looked like he was going to cry sitting next to Des. Sean Lowe, who is the biggest celebrity whore on earth, wanted to beat down Wapalo.

But it’s for not adhering to this show’s fucked up hilarious fantasy vision of Hunger Games courting. And that’s okay, but now we have to look behind the curtain.

It’s a world where your insecurities are used against you as weapons and asking for truth in the world leads to heartbreak. This trains people to pull the wool over their own eyes as if being alone was so terrible.

JUAN PABLO GALAVIS

I am very happily married. My wife is my best friend. We’re equally comfortable eating fast food on a road trip as crossing off every Eater 38 restaurant in the country. We’re gross together, we dress up together. We argue, we’re allowed to say whatever we want. We’re not perfect. But we’re allowed to be ourselves. We make business decisions. We’re a little company that sells love (and reasonably priced knock off Pendleton blankets).

This show is famous for creating a system that is less effective than randomly finding a spouse (which is incredible considering the divorce rate). But this season, we saw what happens when the real world finds its way into the fantasy suite.

What we got this time wasn’t a closeted airline pilot or a “born-again-virgin” or any of the other weirdos that join this normally funny traveling cheap chardonnay road show. This year we got a standard issue, dime a dozen douchebag.

sweet infinity scarf

sweet infinity scarf

His accent fooled us. His looks made women do anything to ignore the signs. His daughter made it seem like he cared. His crying at sending girls home made it seems like he had feelings.

But this kind of douche is in every bar in the country and he’s spending more time on his abs than becoming the kind of person a girl might want to be with. And thank god for him because it’s the Wapalos of the world that allow dudes like me to get wives like I have. I’m not perfect, but this guy is the one-word nightclub of humans.

He said on the show that people hide behind computers and throw stones. We’re not hiding, pal. Happy to invite you to Portland and chat about it. And this picture:

rs_634x1024-130806112054-634.JuanPablo4.mh.080613

 

And this one, you starfucker:

rs_600x600-140106091808-600.Juan-Pablo-Galavis-Cameron-Diaz-Instagram-jmd-010614_copy

 

I’m the first to criticize this show, but Grown Sexy had it right. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. You went on this show TWO TIMES. You want the attention. You want control over Nikki and you told Harrison you had some surprise, but then reneged on the show. And you pissed off Chris Harrison and that sucks. Just like this picture:

juan-pablo-682x1024

 

You are a dime a dozen and shame on you and shame on America for expecting anything different. The whole thing is so bad. Bad enough even Chris Harrison said he was glad to be moving on.

That makes two of us.

Next year, let me write the story arch. Let me pick the Bachelor. I’ll fix it. If the Bachelorette doesn’t make us all jump off a cliff. I’ve never gotten so many “FUCK THIS SHOW” emails, tweets, etc from fans.

The helicopter is in your court, Bachelor.

CLICK HERE TO JOIN ME ON FACEBOOK

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER BECAUSE I TWEET PROFESSIONALLY

I’M ON INSTAGRAM @ZACKJEROME

 

20 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized