They Love New York, but She Loves Their Money
They Love New York, but She Loves Their Money by Roxanne McDonald
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Not that she admits it, but a whole episode of “I Love New York” centered on money-making potential says otherwise. |
I don’t know which I enjoyed more, the contradictions or the cameo appearance of the disgusting Omarosa, but episode 3 of “I Love New York” got into the ridiculously greedy and the absurdly aligned with other reality TV (like, ahem, The Apprentice?).
The show opens with a kind of bully and the 97-pound weakling comic ad of the sixties and seventies: of all to compare themselves to each other, Twelve-pack and Bonez strip to the waist and show off abs and such. It is kinda cute that one of the other guys actually counts Bonez’s
abs, defined as they are. And it is sweet that Bonez is humble. Mom loves him, you know, because he is religious, and New York accepts him. In fact, both women consider him “the total package”. Hmmm. Okay.
The comparisons continue as the men are prompted to prepare portfolios that depict their earning potential—for New York needs a man who can bring home the bacon. Many are clueless (but pretend they’re not) about graphs and charts and resumes and all, but Pootie is most creative: he reverts to grade school behavior, steals a bar graph from Twelve-pack and when confronted, says, “Your name wasn’t on it” and admonishes him that he should know better since in school if your name isn’t on your paper someone can steal it (?) I never realized the copyright issues were than involved for third-graders, but, okay.
Of all the suited men and promising pitches, Pootie’s is of course the most failed, and for some reason, though he is most inept, Omarosa ironically praises his honesty (that is wrong on so many levels, as you know), and Mom (now called Sister Patterson) takes Pootie to dinner as a consolation.
Pootie is all shaky and jonesing like, and Sister P. cuts the diner dinner short, taking him back to the house where she reports there is a problem and he really needs to go and get help. (Earlier, evidently, Pootie had had issues in the boyz’ quarters, had fainted, had fallen, etc.). Pootie resigns to go someplace, sit down, and talk to someone, so the implications are that he is mentally needful of some shrink help.
Meanwhile, the winner of the mock boardroom competition, T-Weed, who has insisted he is worth one hundred million (what?) and who has met his match when the only one who is as repulsive a liar as he calls him on why he wears cubic zirconium instead of diamonds. But T-Weed not only wins the dinner with New York, he confidently offers up a release signature, so Sister Patterson can do a credit check.
At the Elimination ceremony, T-Weed is called out for the bogus reports, and he merely shrugs in interview that all they have to do to discover his real worth is take his ATM card, look in his wallet. So he is carrying the hundred mill on him? It is one bank and can be accessed with a
four-digit pin number? Hmmm. It all seems so complicated. Not.
Buh-bye to T-Weed, who gets smoked. Best of luck, I suppose, to Pootie, who poots himself right out the door. And goodbye to the one who impresses them most, for even though Bonez is the nicest and sweetest, New York comes up with an excuse that rivals all the other fake answers and responses of those she dumps: she doesn’t want to “corrupt” Bonez. Oh, please. It’s not you, its me, she lies.
And surprise of surprise, while Chance’s bad boy image still makes her hair frizz, Boston hangs in again—this time for taking her aback with what he shows her is the way they kiss back east. WoW! Maybe he should be the White Boy of her dreams.
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