You've Got to Miss Martha After This Connecticut Contest!
Bottom line: I'll watch the show through to its end. But I won't tape it for posterity.
"Wickedly Perfect" had so much Martha Stewart, withOUT the Martha. Some things, like certain orgasms, just cannot be faked (tee-hee). But it was a hoot to watch, thank G-d. And who can expect to top Martha? Madonna? Clinton? Joan Lunden? The debut, though ipso facto erratic, was a good thrill and a good reminder that some of our so-called evils aren't so evil after all.
SPOILERS ALERT!!! (This means I tell you some of the stuff that happened.) Two teams think they're lunching in an orchard, but they're actually there to gather as many apples as they can.
That was brilliant, because of our commercialism bias: the teams then had to use up ALL the apples they gathered so vivaciously. They would have been better off picking only a few. But the excess would look stunning for one of the two groups.
The one team, The Crafty Beavers (prurience?), created a "medieval" table (a judge's term) out of the apples and excelled with the candied apple with the invitation. That tickled the urban "poo-poo" judges, including the creator of the Gay-guys-as-women phenom, "Sex and the City." The other team, Team Artesian, crafted a ho-hum display table from middle-America, ca. 1983. SAD. The first team, en masse, had the spirit of Martha Stewart.
Remember, Martha reputedly uses "masculine" business tactics: pitting one executive against the other so the loyalty stays with her.
That works fine with the reality show phenomenon; Martha again is ahead of the pack.
It will be fun to see the folks unfold, the designers and chefs, the carpenter and the conceptualizer. And all of it under the campy glare of hostess Joan Lunden, who we may now add to the ranks of announcers solemnly swearing "and one of you will be voted off tonight." Tom, who is first to go, was a cute lunatic of neurosis and failed despotism. His squash-apple-tarragon soup lacked flavor and good presentation. He didn't stand a chance against the all-gal team he alienated at the last minute with the world's longest save-me speech......
Wit ain't jack to the shopper on the street.
We cackled cruelly when he was unanimously ousted.
BTW, can Martha watch this stuff in the pen? The 20,000-square-foot estate, the pretentious flutter of decor, renovated studios, and red shawls -- it all smacks of faux-Martha.
Never was a great pretender more missed!
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