American Freak Show (7 page)

roll
(
v
): To congregate or travel with a particular group or person:
Let’s roll to Brooks Brothers to cop some of those phat noniron dress shirts!

shorty
(
n
): Little person or kid. Most often means an attractive female. [Note: not to be used to describe a “little person” in the technical sense—they’re very touchy and ornery.]

slamming
(
adj
): Fantastic, really good or extremely attractive, stylin’. [
N
ote: have some fun with this one, gang, and drop the “g”—as in “slammin’ ”! [See also
phat
.]

sucka
(
n
): One who is easily fooled or manipulated. [Note: to better understand our African-American audience, rent
I’m Gonna Git You Sucka
. A spot-on depiction.]

sweat
(
v
): To harass, bother, or worry:
Stop sweating on me! It’s totally gross! Yuck!

tight
(
adj
): Everything’s going well, all’s in its place, feeling good, as it should be—like a good pair of pleated khakis.

trip
(
v
): To overreact or act irrationally:
Hey, don’t trip over that extension cord, playa!

wack
(
adj
): Bad, detrimental:
Yo! This Hip-Hop Glossary is the opposite of wack! As a matter of fact, it’s fresh and totally krunk! The management at BNO just made it rain with knowledge, suckas! We’re currently Audi 5000! (The slang meaning—we’re not leaving in an Audi sedan.)

TRUE STORY . . .

“I AM THEM”
Woman calls 911 to report own drunk driving

The ethics of drunk driving are pretty clear-cut. Contrary to what your old man says, booze does not “help you focus” while driving (that only works for bowling and billiards). But what would a freshman ethics student do with the case of the forty-nine-year-old Wisconsin woman who called 911 to notify police that there was someone out on the road driving under the influence, and that someone was her?

The driver had knocked down “7 or 8 brandy and Cokes” at various bars around Neillsville, Wisconsin, before she got behind the wheel to head home. Apparently that journey was not going well, so the woman took it upon herself to call 911 about a drunk driver on the road. Here’s how the exchange with the emergency operator went from there:

Dispatch: You behind them?

Drunk Lady: No, I am them.

Dispatch: You am them?

Drunk Lady: Yes, I am them.

Dispatch: Okay, so you want to call and report you’re driving drunk?

Drunk Lady: Yes.

Dispatch: Are you still driving right now? You want to stop driving before you get in an accident.

Drunk Lady: Yes, I will stop.

The Drunk Lady pulled over and waited for police to arrive. She failed field sobriety tests miserably before telling the officers about the brandy and Cokes. She blew a healthy .17 and was arrested for drunk driving.

Yes, driving drunk is objectively bad—no two ways about it. But do we as a society ignore the good deed that followed? Does it count for nothing? Do we throw the sinner out of the church for good?

Or do we reward her brave decision to right the wrong? Whatever happened to redemption? Can you imagine if we had left Ted Kennedy on the ash heap of history after his traffic troubles? Perhaps Drunk Lady will also go on to become one of our greatest United States senators. Who can say for sure?

Ethicists, and drunk drivers, will debate these important questions for generations to come.

Chapter 7
The Bachelorette: A Vote for Love

One beautiful woman looking for the man of her dreams. Twenty-five creepy politicians vying for her heart. This is . . .
The Bachelorette: A Vote for Love.

I
’m your host Chris Harrison and this is the season finale of
The Bachelorette: A Vote for Love.
Tonight, after 12 weeks of laughter, tears, and unforgettable rose ceremonies, Heather will make the most difficult decision of her life: which of the two remaining political creeps will she choose—and which will be sent home heartbroken like 23 men before him? Before we hand out the final rose, let’s go all the way back to
D
ay
O
ne to hear why our bachelorette came here looking for love.

“My name is Heather, I’m a 27-year-old technical business relations consultant from Lake Oswego, Oregon. I’ve been in some really bad relationships, so I’m definitely here to fall in love and find someone to share my life with. My grandmother always told me that the best way to find a meaningful relationship is to become a contestant on a reality television show. So here I am, Nana.

“I guess I’d say I’m attracted to powerful men. Especially elected officials with complicated private lives and deviant sexual habits. My last relationship was with a member of the Lake Oswego City Council. We broke up after he was fired for downloading Malaysian scat porn on a government computer. It broke my heart to lose him that way.

“I’m hoping and believing that one of these 25 amazing men is the One. I’m looking for love. If I don’t find it here, I don’t think I’ll find it anywhere.”

Let’s bring her out on the biggest night of her life—ladies and gentlemen, say hello to Heather. You look absolutely stunning. How are you feeling?

“Wow. Honestly, I feel sick to my stomach. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. No one prepares you for the fact that you can fall in love with two different creeps at the same time. My night in the Ikea Fantasy Suite with Governor Spitzer only made this harder. Ugh. I’m so confused right now, Chris.”

There is no question you have a very difficult decision to make. Two successful, freaky politicians, and only one rose. This promises to be our most dramatic rose ceremony ever. I know I’m contractually obligated to say that every week, but this really is huge.

Heather, before you make that choice, the guys made one final pitch for your heart. They asked me to pass along these personal video messages. The first one is from Mark, and brought to you by Buffalo Wild Wings.

MARK, 50
South Carolina Governor

Hey, Heather. I can’t believe this is all ending. What a magical journey. I don’t even want to think about the possibility of not being with you when this is over. I thought I had found my soulmate in that Argentine lady until I met you. Plus, the commute to Buenos Aires was becoming a real bitch. So you are my soulmate, Heather. A lot of guys would be afraid to use a douchey term like “soulmate” in public, but Mark Sanford doesn’t care what anybody thinks. You are my soulmate. Soulmate, soulmate, soulmate!

Of course my first reaction when I saw you was, Wow! She’s super-hot. God’s telling me not to do it, but my heart, and my dong, disagree with the Man Upstairs on this one. I’ll admit, I hoped you’d get a chance to see that dong I just mentioned because when I go tanning, I brown the whole bird. Also, I thought, she’s really gonna get along great with my four boys. This person could be my soulmate, and she’s got great haunches for hiking.

But it wasn’t until our group date that I truly fell in love. The moment you grabbed my hand and kissed me while we all were out deep sea fishing is one I’ll cherish forever. I felt bad for Gary Hart just sitting there awkwardly and for my friend John Ensign hurling over the side of the boat, because they’re both super-cool guys, but for those few magical seconds, there were only two people on that vessel: Mark and Heather. “Magical” is a pretty douchey word, too, I guess, but if telling you that you are my “magical soulmate” makes me a douche bag, then I guess I’m a complete douche bag.

As I’ve told you, Heather, I will move to Oregon with you in a heartbeat. My term as governor is up and here’s a news flash: Columbia, South Carolina, is a hellhole. I love God, but I’m afraid he forgot to shine his light on Columbia. Good Lord, is it bad. The farther and faster I can get away from there, the better. Plus, I need to get away from my ex-wife. She scares the s**t out of me. That woman is a Lifetime movie waiting to happen. You’d fake long trips on the Appalachian Trail, too, trust me. She’s terrifying. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but I have my bags packed already. If you screw me over here tonight, I’ll probably just go stay on my buddy’s couch in Myrtle Beach ’til this thing blows over.

Before I go, I just want to leave you with one of my all-time favorite quotes. It comes from Dr. Meredith Grey on
Grey’s Anatomy
. She said to McDreamy, “Pick me. Choose me. Love me.” So I ask you, Heather, to pick me, to choose me, and to love me. Oh, man. I hate that I’m crying right now. I should probably tell you up front that I might do something drastic if you don’t pick me—I’m in a weird place right now. Just an FYI. Love you, doll. You are my soulmate.

Powerful stuff, Heather. How you feeling after seeing that?

“Well, he’s definitely a giant pussy—what man quotes
Grey’s Anatomy
and uses the word ‘soulmate’ that liberally? Sometimes I wonder if he’s gay. But there’s something very endearing about him. Kind of a dim-witted Southern charm. His is a unique brand of creepiness.”

No question about it. A lot to think about there, but right now let’s turn to the other man fighting for your affection tonight. This personal video message comes to you from Eliot, and the good people at Listerine Breath Strips.

ELIOT, 51
Former New York Governor

What’s up, Heather, you tasty little tomcat? It’s me, Grendel. Grrrrrrrr! Sorry, America—little inside joke there. I’m gonna be honest with you, Heather, I didn’t come here looking for love. Some of my advisors thought it would be a good move for the ol’ career rehab. That Client 9 business set me back a bit. The idea was that I’d look to the public like a man who knew how to love and respect women and not just a creep who likes to have hookers step on him with stilettos while he’s tied to a medieval torture rack. I just liked the idea because I figured there’d be some primo twenty-something ass involved.

Well, a funny thing happened on the way to career rehab—I fell head-over-heels for a nice little slut named Heather who doesn’t mind dressing up like Princess Leia for “the Luv Guv.” I trademarked “Luv Guv” by the way—full line of energy bars and crotchless panties on my Web site. Little plug there.

So when did I know this was something special? I guess it was that first night when we were in the hot tub with former Florida congressman Mark Foley—thank God you unloaded that freak, by the way. He didn’t seem terribly interested in you as he chugged champagne alone while sitting directly on the high-pressure jets, so I made my move. Even by my standards, we got pretty kooky that night (hint: Ping Pong balls plus instant gravy equals fun). But I knew you were a different kind of broad when I pulled out my money to pay for our night together. You pushed my hand away and said, “You don’t have to pay. I’m not a prostitute.” Do you remember what I said, Heather? I said, “Really? You could have fooled me with that gymnastics routine. I didn’t know whether to bang you or give you a perfect ten.” We shared a good laugh over that and then I said, “But wait, seriously, this one’s free?” I feel like that was a big moment for us.

From there, things only got more amazing. I don’t kiss and tell, but let’s just say our one-on-one date in a hot air balloon definitely broke some FAA regulations. Ah, screw it, I’ll just say it: Heather stuffed an apple in my mouth like I was a holiday pig, hit me over the head with a sandbag, and sodomized me with a zucchini. Whatever happens tonight, we’ll always have that day. No one can take that away from us.

Then there were the little things that really started to add up. We realized that we both love, love, love Michael Bublé, we both keep vegetable peelers in our bedside tables (what are the odds?!), and we share the same safe word (“Beowulf!”). When you screamed that at the top of your lungs on that fateful night, I realized that some greater force of destiny had put us in that steam shower together.

So here’s the deal. I’ve had fun, you’ve had fun. If you want to take this thing to the next level, I’ve got some ideas. What if we hijacked a plane and had sex in the cockpit before turning the aircraft back over to the crew peacefully? I’ve always had a hijacking fantasy. Just throwing it out there. Heather, I know this sounds corny, but I don’t want to hijack a commercial jet and have sex in the cockpit with anyone but you.

So pick the right guy. Do you really think that other hick is going to give you the marathon humiliation sessions you ache for? Let’s get weird.

Wow. Heather, you’re crying. Why?

“I can’t do this, Chris. It’s too hard. This isn’t fair. I wasn’t totally sure Governor Spitzer was here for the right reasons, and now I know he is. He wants to hijack a plane and have sex with me in the cockpit. I wish my grandmother was still alive to hear that.”

I know how tough this seems, Heather. It feels like a big deal right now, but, honestly, these relationships don’t last, so don’t get too worked up about the decision. Our success rate on this show is like 8 percent. The over/under on you and the guy you choose here is 3 months and most of the guys on the crew here are taking the under. I don’t mean to undermine the entire premise of the show, but you really could just flip a coin.

“Chris, I feel very deeply for these two men. Please respect that.”

Okay. I’ll remind you of that deep love in 3 months when you’re living alone in Studio City auditioning for cat food commercials. Let’s get on with it, Heather. The decision is yours. Will it be Mark or Eliot? Two creeps, one rose. Gentlemen, come on out.

“Thanks, Chris . . . I think. God, my heart is pounding out of my chest. We started this journey with 25 of the creepiest, sex-freak politicians in the country and I honestly believe I have the two creepiest of all standing in front of me. Just think, you were both considered stars in your political parties. I mean, Jesus, Mark, they wanted you to run for president. And look at you now.

“I have come to love you both over the last couple of months in different ways. Mark, you are a beautiful romantic. Eliot, you are a demented sadomasochist. I’ve learned so much from you two disgraced politicians. Mark, your tedious stories about outdoor adventure taught me patience. Eliot, your floggings taught me how to enjoy pain. I want to thank you both with all of my heart.

“This is the toughest decision I’ve had to make since Eliot made me choose between the gimp mask and the horse bit in the Ikea Fantasy Suite the other night. Or when Mark made me contemplate a choice between jumping out the window or stabbing myself in the neck with a letter opener when he started talking about being my soulmate again. What a pussy.

“As hard as it’s been, I’ve made my decision. Ahhhh, I can’t do this.”

Take your time, Heather. We’ll drop in some of that super-dramatic piano music in postproduction to fill the silence. Whenever you’re ready, you may choose the man with whom you will spend at least the next month of your life.

“OK, I’m fine. Deep breath. Do it for Nana. All right, here goes: Eliot . . . will you accept this rose?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, Eliot, I am. Will you accept this rose and love me forever?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down there. What’s the safe word again? Beowulf! I want out! You really thought I came on a TV show to find a girlfriend? Puh-lease! I’ve got enough problems. I don’t need some stalker wannabe-actress, reality TV contestant in my life. This was just sex, honey. Plain and simple. Mark, she’s all yours there, Latin lover boy. Take her up in a hot air balloon. It’ll blow your mind. I’m out.”

Wow, this is uncomfortable. Heather, would you like to give the rose to Mark instead? You have that option under the official
Bachelorette
rules agreed upon at the Geneva Conventions.

“No, actually. I’m gonna run, too. My laundry’s been piling up. Plus, Mark is a douche.”

Sorry, Mark. Looks like it’s back to search the long Appalachian Trail of love for you. Please gather your things and leave.

Well, historians will most certainly look back at this finale as the most shocking and dramatic in
Bachelorette
history. Please join us in the fall for an all-new season of
The Bachelor,
when we finally just cut the pretense and round up a bunch of strippers, put them in bikinis, pump them full of pills and vodka, and let them wrestle in tapioca pudding for the heart of a single dad. Good night, everyone!