|
Donald Trump. Mr. Trump. The Donald. Call
him whatever you want, it doesn’t change the fact that
he’s the sexiest thing women have seen on television
since Mr. Howell first opened his giant suitcase full of cash
on "Gilligan’s Island." I would have gladly
traded my coconut cream pie for that pile of bills back then
and I’m not ashamed to say I would do the same now. Hell,
if I had to I would have climbed into Lovey’s hammock
for a chance to roll around naked in all that glorious money.
And if I would whore myself out to Mr. Howell and/or Lovey
on a deserted island without a Tiffany’s in sight, you
can imagine what I’d be willing to do with The Donald
and possibly his girlfriend on the mainland. There’s
just no telling how many suitcases could hold Mr. Trump’s
money AND he lives in the center of shopping heaven –AND
he doesn't wear that stupid straw hat (although not a bad
idea). Either way, The Donald makes Mr. Howell look like …well
… like … um … some regular, goofy, straw-hat-wearing
guy without a lot of money. And who wants that? Nobody.
Straight, gay or sexually ambivalent, all women want to screw
The Donald – and I mean ALL women. Your grandmother wants
to nail him for chrissakes (honest, she does). And who can
blame her? Sure he’s completely and utterly physically
repulsive in every way humanly possible, but a girl can see
past a saggy ass pretty quickly if that saggy ass has a diamond
tennis bracelet attached to it. So to speak.
Flacid body? Big deal. Creepy smile? So what. Sinister eyes?
No problem. Freaky, helmut-ish hair? Um…ok that one is
tough to get past…let me think about it for a minute…
well…what the hell?
Let’s face it, there are millions of reasons to worship
The Donald, and it's those crisp, rectangular reasons that
make the thighs of women all across the nation quiver uncontrollably
on Thursday nights as they imagine riding his elevator shaft
all the way to the top of Trump Tower, because there is no
one dreamier than a man with a gigantic...helicopter. And
his landing pad ain't so bad either.
The bottom line is that the success of “The Apprentice”
had nothing to do with the premise of the show. I mean, sure
we all watched - but did any of us give a crap about even
one cast member? Locking a bunch of overeducated crybabies
in a badly decorated Manhattan loft and watching them participate
in glorified scavenger hunts between wussy kitten fights isn’t
great entertainment, folks. We watched because we wanted to
soak up the aura of power emanating from the man himself,
Mr. Donald "I-can-buy-and-sell-your-ass-any-time-I-want-to"
Trump.
We wanted to see inside his penthouse, fly in his jet, ogle
the gravity defying hooters of his attractive yet completely
vacant girlfriend. In a sense, we watched because (man or
woman) we all sort of want to screw Donald Trump - or maybe
his hot girlfriend. I dunno.
This is the vibe the producers should tap into during the
next run of the show: the American bloodlust for wealth. No
one really gives a shit who gets the stupid job, we just want
to get inside The Donald’s pants and see what the hell
he keeps in there. Okay, maybe it's just me but as my readers
know, I like to pretend I'm the "every-woman" who
can't afford to pay her VISA bill. Sex for power is what built
this great country of ours and we (I mean I) want to see that
reflected in our entertainment. Show me someone with chutzpah
enough to march into Trump’s board room and handle him
the way he so obviously wants to be handled. And believe me,
the man is desperate to be handled – almost as desperate
as we are to watch.
Next season don’t show us any more ass-kissing robot
skanks like Amy, the overrated prick-tease with really big
teeth or Heidi, the chain-smoking piece of trailer trash that
looks alarmingly like an aging drag queen. Instead, show us
some bad ass chick with a boob job and a skirt that barely
covers her ass. After a little lesbo action with that dyk-y
executive bitch Carolyn, let us watch as she jiggles her way
into the bedroom … er …board room and brings Mr.
Trump to his knees. We want to watch her ride the great golden
elevator to the penthouse suite and live happily ever after.
Or until she gets her first alimony check.
Isn’t that the definition of “Reality Show?"
Well, that and some hot tub segments…but that’s
not the point. The point is, if you’re going to whore
yourself out for lots of money, don’t hide behind some
“executive pursuit” bullshit. Own up to what you’re
doing, do it well, and let us watch so we can make fun of
you. Now that’s entertainment!
And if execs want to really bust ratings wide open on the
next “Apprentice” they should cast the Media Whore
herself. I mean, who better to ride the great and powerful
Wonka-vator than me? I’v certainly ridden my share of
much smaller ones for shorter distances - and for MUCH less
money. Call me, Donald – your coconut cream pie is waiting!
|
|
Above:
A grumpy Donald Trump right before giving Media Whore a spanking
SEND THIS ARTICLE TO A FRIEND!
|
|
