America's Next Top Model Cycle 12 Recap: Доброе утро, дамы, вы готовы служить Ваш Славные лидером?

Let me preface this by saying that I would very much like someone to create a Soviet propaganda style poster of Tyra, hands on hips, staring determined into the distance, with the caption “You want to be on top?”

If you could do that for me I would be eternally grateful.

Last night’s episode was really a study in how rich people earn the resentment of the working classes. Things started off innocently enough, with Celia pretending to be the horse she had as a girl. Her impression was tinged with sadness, suggesting a glue factory end for Horsie.

This horsing around, sweet and innocent, was quickly swept under by the wave of dark insidious class warfare that precedes Natalie every time she enters a room. The girls had been having an impromptu Thanksgiving Dinner, a reminder of how communities celebrated their collective achievements back before iPhones and Ayn Rand. After everyone had consumed their three mouthfuls, the group peacefully combined their efforts in the clean up. Except for Natalie, who claimed her blood had been too thickened by the chicken to assist at the moment, but she would be right there. A paltry excuse, my Palo Verde Princess. She heard the masses rumbling in the kitchen, using the crude unintelligible slang that is their dialect, and tried to justify it as humor. A joke! She cried. But the hardworking plebeians knew better.

Which is when Natalie’s true colors came out. “I’m sorry your neighborhood is not as nice as mine” she said, implying that their bitterness was formed from jealousy. “I just can’t talk to them, it’s impossible” she said, sweeping aside their criticisms as the sickened idiot ramblings of lead poisoned peasants.

Of course, Aminat talking, at all, did not help her point. “She’s prettier, she’s taller, and she’s skinnier. She thinks this makes her better than us.” Well, darling, technically it does. In Tyra Country, that is.

Having spent sleepless nights pondering the inherent injustice of the genetic pecking order, the girls then went to their first challenge. Paulina, a striking example of Mother Russia’s native bloodlines, had the enviable task of teaching the girls to move their facial muscles and vocal cords in some manner resembling emotion. “Every day in modeling is an audition” she announced. Think about that. The girls practiced saying lines to each other, which led to Aminat screaming everything, because the only emotion she’s ever known is the anger and fire of the culturally downtrodden. Or because she’s a flat limited mean personality who I seriously have come to hate. Then, after everyone did miserably, Paulina brought out her secret weapon, Clay Aiken! Sadly, boyfriend and baby were not in tow.

Pho then inexplicably said Clay Aiken was “pretty much a genius”. What?

The girls had to act out a scene of capitalistic arrogance with Clay, in which most of them sucked harder than Stalin’s death squads. Celia did well, because she’s not an idiot. And London did well, because she comes from a family of actors? Who the hell is London? First she was a street preacher, now she’s descended from a whole family of actors? Also why are her legs expanding at such a rapid rate, is she pregnant? London is a mystery wrapped in a headband wrapped in shorts wrapped in a mystery. Clay then won my indifferent allegiance forever when he said Tahlia’s suckiness was due to “laziness and insecurity.”

After the teach, which London won but then couldn’t fit in any of the clothes they gave her, Glorious Leader Tyra deployed one of her fem-bots to spy on the earnest students.
McKay’s little montage where they showed her being made up was incredibly creepy. It made me fear for the futures of our little fashion farmers. Her facial muscles seemed to have been frozen by overuse of bad foundation; her eyes radiated nothing but the empty wiring and diodes behind them. She awkwardly tried to coax the suspects into conversation, of which only Tahlia was stupid enough to fall for.

All of this was in preparation for The Commercial. America’s Next Top Model needs to embody the virtues and ideals of Our Glorious Leader, The Easiness, The Breeziness. Because of droughts this year, the girls actually got Teleprompters, which is INSANE. And yet they still failed to impress the Caucus. Celia was dressed up as an evil school marm. Allison smiled, and tried to move her face, and yet still couldn’t get an Amen from the judges. Tahlia whined, because that is her secret power. And then Aminat walked in front of a high window, and all I could think was “jump, you lispy frog! Jump!”

At judging, Our Glorious Leader was especially cruel. Only Celia, in her awesome silvery dress of special communist power, was able to charm her. Natalie managed to downplay her upper classiness by not being as good, and so the Leader kept her in hopes of converting her to the cause and thereby maybe getting some more sponsors. Revolutions need rich people. Allison was kept solely for entertainment purposes. And finally, finally, finally Tahlia was sent away, repeating under her breath "I will work harder."

Then all the girls repeated the motto of Our Glorious Leader:

"All models are equal.
But some models are more equal than others."