Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Bach This
Another season of "true love" and "amazing" and "fairy tale" and "dreamed about" and "cliche" and "trite phrase" and "baloney" has passed, and now I'll have to cast about for a new reason to log on and indulge in weekly snark sessions about strangers. Woe is me.

Yes, last night was the season finale of The Bachelor. The cute thin 14-year-old blonde girl won. The other cute thin 14-year-old blonde girl lost. Much angst and woe abounded.

After the show, I learned some interesting,uplifting and life-affirming information.

The star of this season is not just a prince. He's a prince who markets massage products for pets.

Yes. For pets. I wasn't able to determine whether the products come with mood music and GHB or if you have to buy those separately.

Producers of The Bachelor explicitly discriminate against people with physical disabilities. See #8 on their list of eligibility requirements. I guess I kind of knew this, because there's never been a deaf girl or blind guy ("In order to truly get to know you better, I need to use my hands. Can you please remove your shirt?") or even someone with a stutter or poor depth perception. Though, interestingly enough, being socially retarded doesn't seem to hamper a person's chances one little bit.

It's a wee tad bit disappointing to know that now I have to cancel my plans to nominate my sister for the show, given her total disinterest in skydiving. Wouldn't that have been the coolest Christmas gift ever?? Granted, she doesn't meet the age requirement, but come on, Mary, think of the adventure!

The producers also don't want felons or those with restraining orders against them. (See #7.) Which effectively cancels out most of the other people I know. And I am truly stung by the unfairness of this rule, since it means I can't get the $5000 finder's fee.

Once again in the eligibility requirements, if numbering has anything to do with relative weight, then it is more important, in the eyes of the producers, that you are not a political candidate for anything, anywhere - not even relatively low-level positions like dog catcher or Vice President - than that you are not a violent felon.

This one I already knew, but it bears repeating. Chris Harrison is a genius. Here's a man who has found a way to ride the wave of The Bachelor through several years and countless meltdowns and catfights, not to mention narrating Wife Swap and God knows what else, and yet by hosting these shows rather than appearing on them he gets to look mature and aloof from all that silliness, while being married and having a couple of kids and generally not being fodder for his own shows.

I tell you what, if Bill Kurtis ever needed to take a break, Chris Harrison could appease me in the meantime. (And please, I beg you, don't threaten that he will ever die, because a world with Bill Kurtis narrating crime shows is just a world not worth recycling for.)

Though I was amused by one line in his bio: "He also had the opportunity to cover hard news stories, including the 1995 tragedy at the Federal Building, an event which profoundly affected his perspective on life and career." Note that they didn't specify just how it affected him, though the proof is in the (love) pudding... he went from hard news stories to The Bachelor.

See? Genius.

The only thing that would properly fill the void of The Bachelor until the next season (and, might I add, based on the preview, the next stud-in-training is a horrendous egomaniac with a low enough body fat percentage that it's likely impacting his menstrual cycles - I already despise him, which should make for good snark) is a good, rousing season of Temptation Island. Fox Network take notice.