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Thursday, January 08, 2004


Ivanka Merely Won a Lifetime of Therapy Dept.

TODAY IS A red-letter day in the annals of both laughable toupees and megalomaniacal asshole real estate developers, as Donald Trump's inevitable foray into reality television, The Apprentice, premieres. The "winner" of this latest reality gauntlet gets a year-long, $250,000 contract to work for Trump Organization Company, an award only possibly surpassed in the reality-TV prize pantheon by receiving a gift certificate for Nicole Richie tying you off for six months' worth of horse hits.

So in the grand tradition of being first-to-press with 24-karat fun such as The Simple Life Drinking Game: Preemptive Strike Edition, I present to you:

The Apprentice Coke-Binge Game
$ Each time The Donald is seen pursing his lips thoughtfully in between dispensing nuggets of financial wisdom hard-won in the trenches of Midtown Manhattan, take one (1) bump. If Trump compares the real estate game to any bloodsport, such as the gladiator games or a cockfight, take another.

$ Each time one of the contestants casually drops a credential from a bullet-point on their resumé or mentions how degrading the menial tasks Trump assigns are for an MBA/Ph.D./DDS, etc., take one (1) bump.

$ Each time a perfect, lovingly-rendered Manhattan tableau (The NYSE floor, the Empire State Building, etc.) is marred by a stiff breeze causing Trump's improbably badger-like hairpiece to flap upwards like the resurrected merkin-creature is attempting escape, do one (1) line.

$ Each time one of the contestants or Mr. Trump himself quotes Gordon Gekko's Wall Street mantra, " good," do one (1) line of the eightball of the person to your right; if the quote is instead a smarmy paraphrase of the original (say, " very, very good" or "Greed is [bleeping] awesome"), do two (2) lines, then turn to the person to your left and natter on about how Michael Douglas stole the Gekko look from Pat Riley, how old and scary he looks these days, but he can't be too bad because he bones Catherine Zeta-Jones, and pause to be interrupted by someone who just knows that everybody knows that CZJ is ten years older than she claims since she's been doing British theatre since the late 60's.

$ Each time you think you've heard Trump remark to the most attractive female contestant, "Baby, with cans like yours you're going straight to the tip of the Trump Tower, if you get my drift!" and then justify to the camera that was the way he bagged Marla Maples, do three (3) lines and immediately two-way page your dealer with the following message: "Bring. More. Coke. Now."

$ Each time a female contestant cries in response to one of Trump's particularly misogynistic barbs he dismisses as just "tough love" or "how business works, sugar," high-five the tallest male MBA in the room, point accusatorially at a female co-worker (preferably a superior) who was once responsible for your forced attendance at a sexual harassment seminar, strut over to the stereo to crank up the Best of the 80's compilation CD, especially if it's playing "Safety Dance." Convince yourself that everyone agrees you totally fucking rock and would so totally win if you were on The Apprentice and lick all remaining residue off the cutting mirror. Pulling down your pants and wagging your junk is optional but encouraged.

About this site

This is the internet home of Mark Lisanti, a Los Angeles writer sometimes known as Bunsen. He is the founding editor of Defamer, a weblog about Hollywood, where he now serves in the nebulous capacity of "editor-at-large."
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