So much has happened in the 10 interminable months since our last online offering from the Bachelor School curriculum: We've opened satellite campuses in Studio City, in a defunct Yogurt Odyssey stall in the Arizona State University student union food court, and next door to a modeling agency in Manhattan's meatpacking district that charges aspiring beautiful people $500 per "portfolio submission" (i.e., e-mails to ads in the back of the Village Voice seeking "open-minded masseuses"), to maximize our reach into the places where hopeful contestants obviously need our educational services the most. We've explored a promising international partnership with the reputable bride-importation concern AnastasiaDate.com. And, in an effort essential to the ongoing success of both our flourishing academic institution and the Bachelor franchise itself, we've had our best minds deconstructing the tragic and completely unexpected dissolution of Ben Flajnik's ForeverUnion with Courtney "The Model" Robertson, the greatest competitor in the history of televised dating shows. It is only through noble failures like these that we can improve the quality of our product, and, ultimately, the human species itself.
Prince Harry Is Out of Control: En route to Las Vegas the ginger prince "had two things in his sights: vodka and women." And I'm all out of bubble gum. "The trip was like The Hangover, only without the monkey." That's The Hangover II; The Hangover had a tiger. "He was naked for a long time at the party. He kept spilling his drinks and dancing. He didn't seem to care what he did." But after photos leaked online, the British monarchy expressed their extreme disapproval. "Harry was pressured to delete his secret Facebook account, on which 'Spike Wells' could post ginger jokes on himself and interact with pals." Spike Wells LOLs. The party binge started on Necker Island for Richard Branson's son Sam's 27th birthday. "The plan was just to sunbathe, swim and get drunk. With the booze flowing, Harry lived up to his wild kid-brother rep, doling out kisses and sloppy hugs." A friend says, "Harry's a funny drunk, but he always seems a bit vulnerable." Perhaps he's been thinking about his mother Princess Diana, as it comes up on her death's 15th anniversary. "Dirty Harry" has had a trail of scandals, including brawls with photographers, reports of using racist epithets, and his famous 2005 Nazi Halloween costume. Harry may have been trying to "force the queen's hand all along" with his recent nude billiards antics. "Harry has been making a case for a redeployment to Afghanistan, which he worried the palace would deem too dangerous. He's definitely going now. The royal family will want to redeem his image. This sort of move is very clever. Clever like a ginger fox."
As a television show, The Bachelorette has depreciating returns. At first there are a couple dozen delusional dudes around to point and laugh at: This season, we had a goateed bar mitzvah DJ, a millionaire mushroom farmer, and a dude who carried an ostrich egg around to symbolize … well, to be honest, it was never 100 percent clear why he was carrying the ostrich egg around, but that was the beauty of the show in the early going. It was a spectacle. Last night’s three-hour finale wasn’t a spectacle, it was two people making the most important decision in their lives in the least appropriate manner. While the finale provided the formatted resolution it intended when Emily the Mom accepted Jeff With One F’s proposal, it still left a lot of questions on the table: Will they actually get married? Will Arie the Race Car Driver Who Slept With a Producer be the next Bachelor? Will Jef and Emily’s wedding get its own TV show? Will jeweler Neil Lane get his own TV show? What’s up with Jef’s hair?
To address the questions still unanswered, a special Monday edition of GRTFL, with two GRTFL Top Fives, was in order. On to the scores:
Look, I’m smart enough to know that I’m not smart enough to understand all the implications of the breakdown between DirecTV and Viacom. But I would like to point out that one of the results of the breakdown in their negotiations, the fact that I no longer have Viacom channels in my living room, is un-freaking-acceptable. I don’t care how much you charge me, DirecTV — I will pay anything, absolutely anything, to get Real World, Snooki and JWOWW, and Love and Hip Hop Atlanta back in my life because “We have to get me some damn TV. I need my channels back.” You hear me, DirecTV? This has already gone to a weird place. On Thursday night, I considered reading a book.
Here are the leading scorers from a week that really put a spotlight on what is hindering The Bachelorette this season: Emily Maynard can’t carry this show.
In an effort to keep up with some of the larger issues in the media, every month Grantland Racial Issues Correspondent Andrew Ti will be rounding up some of the biggest questions to hit the Yo, Is This Racist? inbox.
Ashton Kutcher and Jason Biggs: Indian Edition
May kicked off on a surprising note: A company actually backed down from some racist shit they did. Early this month, Popchips, America's favorite brand of literally unidentifiable food-style snack product, put out an ad featuring Ashton Kutcher playing a Bollywood producer named Raj, basically doing the laziest possible character based on Indian stereotypes. The ad was actually pulled from the Internet, but this news clip contains enough of it to get the gist.
