The finale featured a face-off between the final two contestants, Brady - an attractive yet previously unconfident gentleman, and Kosmo - a Latino version of Brady. I’ve never seen so much crying on a reality TV show. Every time somebody got voted off, all the guys were sobbing their eyes out. It was like they were a brotherhood of socially awkward gentlemen – kind of like when I went to the Libertarian National Convention back in 2002. This was basically a Trekkie convention, just substituting the Vulcan “live long and prosper” signal with the peace sign.
Anyway, the best episode of “The Pick Up Artist” was last week, when Brady hooked up with a stripper. That was seriously the entire goal of the mission – to land an exotic dancer. That he did. He now has oral herpes, but the mission was, in fact, accomplished.
This week, during the finale the two combatants were judged on their abilities to teach another awkward gentleman how to be a pick up artist in just 7 hours. The hilarity was uncontained, although one guy did get a “number close,” and was told, “if you don’t call me and I see you again, I’m gonna be so mad.” That, my friends, is a definite I.O.I. (indicator of interest). The terms alone I’ve gleaned from the show are just magical.
Kosmo eventually won the contest and celebrated by, well, more crying. He now has $50,000 in prize money and will travel the world with his teacher, Mystery, and Mystery’s minions J-Dog and Matador – more than likely all birthnames, I think – picking up women of all nationalities. More power to them; I just hope they remember VD is universal.
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