Free At Last

Boy, a lot can change in a week.

When last we left off, fucboi Demario was coming back to talk to Rachel for a second chance or whatever. Now, so much goes down this week, both on and off the court, that I’m tempted to just skip this part. There were oodles of snitching; Col. Mustard continued his all out assault on decent posture; Whaboom and Stupid Blake both go home, but were they in cahoots the whole fucking time??????

The thing is, Rachel so thoroughly fillets Demario that I would be doing you, the reading public, a true disservice to not pay it a few sentences.

Demario shows up with some tired ass lines about how he was caught of guard and he’s gonna learn from pain and shit. Rachel then cuts him off and is like, “Cool, I hope you got something out of this cuz I’m not about it.” She dismisses his lame ass, but not before hitting him with this top 10 withering look

boibye

Boi. Bye.

The rest of the rose ceremony was the more or less the culmination of the ol’ Blake vs Boom feud of the past two weeks. They go back and forth over some bullshit. Whaboom makes up a spot of nonsense about how Blake has a crush on him (cuz dudes liking dudes is fucking hilarious, right?). Shit was so fucking stupid. There was more mud slinging and snitching by both parties, until at last we hit the rose ceremony.

In a turn that I was not expecting for a few more weeks, our dear ‘Lorette Rachel sent home not only Whaboom, but Blake as well. We were treated to a montage of them both talking about how much they hate each other before Blake decides to interrupt Whaboom’s interview and tell him just how much he hates him.

This kicks off a several minute shit storm full of gems like this:

Whaboom: It’s not about winning, it’s about the world brother. And you have no idea what the world means.

Blake: You’re the Whaboom clown, I’m the nice gentleman.

This whole situation has been so juicy from the start, but this ending felt a little too good to be true.

And now folks, get your tinfoil ready, we’re about to take a trip down conspiracy alley.

Blake and Whaboom have been working together the whole time

Exhibit A: Remember how Blake said he lived with Whaboom’s ex waaaaaay back when last week? Well, that description left more than a little out. Whaboom and Blake were on a reality show called Ex Isle where people live with their exes and and apparently Blake was a single brought on to tempt Whaboom’s former fling.

Exhibit B: During their rant-off, Blake talks about how he and Whaboom live in the same town, while Whaboom repeatedly mocks Blake for his job of being a trainer.

Exhibit C: aka the Smoking Gun

No way are those bros beefing. They know too much about each other, they’ve already appeared on TV together one time,  and look at these two motherfuckers just hanging at this party and having a fucking blast with their stupid friends. Here’s what I think their plan was all along:

Whaboom would act the fool. He’d increase his brand exposure and be all over TV and stupid internet blogs about the Bachelorette. Then, Blake gets to slide in and play the good guy, looking out for Rach. He then maybe has a shot and Whaboom gets his 15 minutes. They both go home happy. Problem is, they forgot the golden rule:

Don’t be a snitch

Rachel didn’t have time for any of that bullshit and rightly shut it down. Praise be, we can all move on with our lives (until they both are inevitably on Paradise at the same time).

First date of the week was a group date on Ellen. She asked the bros a bunch of questions, they had to strip in the audience, usual shit. Two takeaways from this date, Alex (who couldn’t name any bands other than Coldplay and the Beatles) moved up the leader board with his candor and abs, and Fred (who had been a camper when Rachel was a counselor way back when) acted like a little boy and got sent home.

I feel for the dude, I really do. He was super in to Rachel and she just couldn’t see him that way, but bruh, this fucking dude asked her if he could kiss her. Come on man.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, they had to hit the poor bastard with this fucking elevator shot as he’s being sent home

ooph

Look at how tight that is. And the harsh ass lighting. Come on, editors, give the poor schmoe a break. You can see like every pore on his face.

This was followed by a one on one with Anthony (who I’m pretty sure has had no screen time until this week) where they rode horses down Rodeo Drive and into the fuggin’ stores.

Quick pause, can you imagine being so rich that not only can you shop at all these bougie places, but you can then let your horse shit in em and just laugh about it? “Clean my horse’s shit you fucking store clerk peasant” is a level of rich I didn’t even know existed till this week.

Rachel and Anthony have chemistry, etc. The date is nice. They buy dumb clothes. By far the best part is all the people seeing Rachel and getting hyped about it. At one point, some dude yells, “IT’S THE ONE ON ONE!” We are all that dude.

The rest of the episode is more or less consumed by Col. Mustard (Eric) and all of his drama. Before I get into the nitty gritty, I have some sad news for everyone. Because this dude doesn’t know how to sit properly, I’m gonna have to bust Col. Mustard’s ass down to Major. He’s been demoted. From here on out, Col. Mustard will be known as Major Hunches. I mean, just look at this shit

This dude must have severe back pain. My neck hurts just looking at that. Look where his shoulders are, relative to his head. Fuck man. And that’s why he had to lose a rank. We can’t have a Colonel running around here looking like that. It’s bad for morale.

So we get a group date with a bunch of Rach’s friends (aka bitches from Nick’s season) and they take the fellas mud wrestling. This is Cuckolding Kenny’s time to shine, as it is literally his job. And the dude puts on a show. You can tell he’s a good worker by how he got the other guys to go along with it. If he doesn’t win it all (hell even if he does) WWE should hit him up just for that untapped WWE/Bachelor crossover appeal.

During this date, Raven (runner up on Nick’s season, best known for having never had an orgasm) asks Bryce, the transphobic firefighter, and Leigh, the wanna be Richard Spencer, who they think isn’t the best fit. They both say Maj. Hunches, presumably because he’s been bitching all episode and has apparently never been in love.

Another aside, I reallyhate when people say that type of shit. Love isn’t some kind of meter that you fill and once you get to a certain point, it’s love. This isn’t the goddamn Sims (although if it was, you best believe I’d be stealing pool ladders and watching motherfuckers drown). You dictate what is and isn’t love to you, cuz it’s subjective as hell. End rant.

So Bryce and Leigh lightly throw the Major under the bus, Raven tells Rach, Rach tells Major, Major gets mad them. Really, he gets mad at Leigh, because, frankly, Leigh is being a giant fuck. He trashes on Major, but then keeps saying he loves him. After the 30th time, Maj. Hunches asks Leigh what does that even mean. And it’s a great question. It seems like a fairly transparent attempt to get away with talking a lot of shit by couching it in some fake ass bro-love, but what do I know?

This beef continues into the next night (after Maj. Hunches gets the group date rose) at the cocktail party and finally blows up with Major yelling at Leigh about how his name is in his mouth, yadda yadda. The ep ends before shit gets good, so I imagine we’ll start next week off with a bang.

Before I let you go, I need to run one more theory by you.

Take a look at the picture below. What the fuck is that on Maj. Hunches’ face?

wtf

Occam’s Razor would have us think that it’s the fuzz from a new hoodie that Maj has carelessly worn before washing, but what if there were another explanation?

What if Major Hunches is a fucking alien and that’s some weird alien goop oozing out of his human head. Think about it, the dude claims to have never experienced love and has no idea what to do with his body. Not only is his posture crap, but this is how he hugs

dat-hug

Tell me that dude is human. I fucking dare you.

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