Celebrity Apprentice: A Regular Greek Tragedy

The Celebrity Apprentice: S12E06: "Party Like a Mock-Star"

It is a travesty of justice. A tragedy in which good and evil lurk behind the grinning and the grieving of the masks.

Aubrey O' Day, you are the travesty in question.

Like an extra for The Hunger Games scenes set in the Capitol, she perverts beauty to possess a semblance of it. She cries out to the world that she is the best, but to make it true she first must destroy her betters. She sees them and in her rage she gains her strength.

And so this is my sorrow.

Sorrow like a sickness steals through me when I see Aubrey, with her slices of blue geode hanging from her neck, talking of brand messaging and intimidating ESL beauty queens with her angry blue gaze. Aubrey, you are dressed like a clown yet no one is smiling.

Pomtini as big as Crystal Light, you admitted that this was your concept.

Patricia, why did you not remember?

Dayana, Universe Goddess, you cannot stop smiling. In the genetic lottery of life, you have already won so many times over. You sit atop the undeniable riches of your bones, your skin, your eyes, your good sense, and even having only a tenuous grasp on this clunky Germanic tongue, you can say, "It was her ideas six times, but we only won twice."

Women, how do you forget? How do you forget the battles that you fight, you lose? The general who leads you is blind, her flaming hair flares out from a head full of ashes.

Debbie Gibson, in the fire of your vanity you are consecrated. If the spirit left you the moment you stopped singing of Pomtinis, that would be enough. It was all you ever wanted, to sing again. To be heard again. To let the crisp edge of your voice hit the note like the edge of a blade as you say "guilt-free pleasure, Crystal Light!" and your eyes are wild with remembering. The ghost of your youth marries you to the music and yet the consummation is empty. You embrace the clothes of a lover long dead, you smell the sweet perfume, and you are grateful. I will not chasten you.

The lateness of the rug man shamed Theresa. She had made a promise, and the promise was half broken. The streets of New York loomed around her, too tall. In Jersey, a table would have been upon the floor. The silverware would have been jostled in Jersey, where her brothers and cousins and in-laws are reflected, each face a mirror upon a mirror of family that she knows. But she is smaller in New York, the fealty of countless generations will not bow to her. The rugs came late, and she was shorn of her pride before her team. The broad eyes that stare in two directions did not see help coming from either horizon. She was humbled this day.

The two most beautiful women intertwined their fingers as Aubrey O'Day shamelessly pretended to weep. The wheels were turning in the thick painted potato of her head as she prepared to face Trump.

Her arguments, once presented, were mentally polished from crude sentiments, shivs she had carved in the prison of her mind. Next to her, Patricia and Dayana locked arms, locked eyes, like sisters parted only a little by time, the beauty reflected, the beauty admired. In their common language they spoke, an understanding that if they would lose, it would still be okay. They could only lose in the eyes of Aubrey O'Day, who saw only the present goals, and begged to stay mired in her diseased self image, her stagnant bath of self love. They would not stoop to conquer her. Her victory to them was as weightless as a butterfly, compared to the pyramids of glory each of them have erected in the hearts of all who know them, who have seen them in this show.

There is no more damaging human dynamic than the relationship between Lisa and Aubrey. Patricia sees it, and she throws herself from it as a bird throws itself from a tree when the ground trembles with an earthquake. The depth, the dark, she will not comprehend it.

Lisa mocks, pulling the mask of her face into furrows of scorn. And yet when she walks in the world, the face hangs limp, slack, like an un-ironed dress. She only knows the value of her expressions when she uses them to wound. It is a flag hoisted above the mutinous army of her rage, unthinkingly hoisting the colors out of habit, not pride.

Patricia is gone, you did not deserve her. Perhaps she was tired of the fight, perhaps she was embittered by the smallness, the narrowness of perception. As plutonium slept underground when cavemen made tools from rocks, so too did Patricia's talents sleep below the capabilities of her teammates. They have yet to comprehend her loss.

Also—I absolutely loved it when Clay said, and I quote, "You know the minute that girl came out of her momma's choch she reached for the stripper pole. Can I say that?" Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that by halfway through Celebrity Apprentice, Clay Aiken would be my favorite. But he totally is.


QUESTIONS:

– Which party would you rather have attended: the peach beach or the pomtini Debbie Gibson revival?

– Who the f-ck drinks mocktails?

– The men's party was kind of like a frat party on a dry campus, right?

– Is Aubrey evil or just vain?

– Who is your favorite Greek poet?

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MR HALL ......DO YOU LOVE YOUR MOTHER YOUR SISTER IF YOU HAVE ONE I DONT REALY KNOW...BUT I DO KNOW YOU SHOULD NOT TALK TO A LADY LIKE YOU DID TONIGHT...............I AM GOING TO SAY A PAYER FOR YOU MR. HALL..THIS IS JUST A SHOW...I AM GLAD YOU GOT THE MONEY ...BUT SHE DID HELP YOU GET IT . SHE JUST WANT TO HELP YOU WINN.....SHAME ON YOU..GOD SAID TO TURN THE OUTHER CHEEK .......YOU AND CLAY ARE WRONG........I DONT KNOW WHAT TO THINK ..I DO KNOW THAT GOD LOVES YOU MR. HALL....I DONT THINK I WANT TO WATCH THIS SHOW NO MORE YOU TUCK IT TO FAR THIS TIME ......SOME ONE THAT IS SAYING A PAYER FOR YOU MR.HALL.....AND CLAY I DONT LIKE YOU NO MORE SORRY YOU ARE SOME ONE THAT IS NOT A TURE PERSON YOU KISS UP TO THE WEAK .......I HOPE YOU AND MR. HALL WILL THINK BEFOR YOU SPEAK AGAIN WHEN IT COMES TO A LADY A MOTHER A SISTER ....GOD IS FORGIVING AND SO SHOULD YOU TWO.....SHE IS SOME ONES SISTER AND SHE HAS A MOTHER AND IF HER FATHER IS LIVING HE SHOULD KICK YOUR BUTT...JUST SAYING......I KNOW IF IT WAS MY SISTER I WOULD NO MATTER WHAT SHE HAS DONE IN THE PASS HOW ARE YOU TWO TO JUDGE.LINDA COLLINS
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Pure literature, Lily!
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First...I absolutely adored this review! LOVED it!



Second...regarding Clay..I know right?! Who knew that Clay Aiken was just this awesome?! I mean other than the Claymates. He has a bit of quiet wit that I so identify with and find so enjoyable.He's the bright and shiny hope over a season that makes me cringe. I. Cannot.Stomach. Lisa!!! Or Aubrey for that matter! They carry on about how they are the ones that come up with every bloody concept imaginable (which is due to them them bullying and outtalking and blatantly ignoring everyone else's ideas) and then they never take the fall for it. If you are going to come into the boardroom every week and give a brash diatribe laced with disdain, mockery, and crudeness directed at half of your team, claiming to be the brains behind the whole operation...than you should be held accountable for the multiple times that said operation has failed! I think the majority of the women (Patricia and Tia for example) are getting to the point where they just don't even fight much anymore just so they can get the hell out of there and I can't say that I blame them!



-It's all the rage in day-care!



-It so was. And yet it was so much more fun than that snoozefest on the ladies side. I like the men. I root for the men. Clay Aiken for the win!



-Why choose one when she fits both so wonderfully?!



-John Stamos
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Clay became a real favorite of mine when he gave a verbal smack-down to Lou Ferrigno.

Both parties looked real fun, and I'd probably have gone to the women's if I had to choose, though I, too, question why I'd want to drink these 'mocktails'.

As for Aubrey, she's not evil, though her dissing of Debbie is getting old, and she's clearly not so much sick of her songs as she is jealous that Debbie was 10x the star she ever was. But she's so gorgeous you can't hold it against her for long.

Anyway, next time maybe also recap the winning team? There's humor to be mined there, too.
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This is the greatest episode recap in the history of television. There is no competition. There is no question.
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Boy. Black and white takes the sting out of Aubrey's look.
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My fave Greek poet is Pomtini of course.



Gosh not since Star Jones have I despise someone as much as Aubrey. What a vain, deluded Capital B. And yet she is smart and she plays the game like the Trump likes it to be played even though he still has no idea who the heck she is supposed to be.
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HOOORAY!!!!

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