Sympathy for Mr. Boston

Is this a meritocracy or what? Does a man who puts the honest work into a task not deserve a fair grab at the brass ring?

I'm talking about Mr. Boston.

I'm talking about a double standard... or at the very least, declining standards.

New York is keeping on such dimwits as 12-Pack, Chance, and Whiteboy around -- but no love at all for Mr. Boston? That dude won in every way a guy could possibly win in a single episode! First, he scores huge points with the little girl party thing, and then he made mad-crazy romance with New York on the date he earned out the former. Then, in the boxing match with that wiry little malcontent Chance, he got the shit knocked out of his nose and took it like a man.

And his reward? New York gave over medallions to lesser men. Mr. Boston, you are out. Out-zo. Out-erino. Out-ington. Out-a-palooza. The Greater Out-Ford Area Chamber of Commerce Annual Potluck and Community Raffle held for thirteen years running in the Our Lady of the Sacred Outs Church basement.

If I know a thing or two about VH1, it's that their shows are all about HEART. Big, dedicated, beating HEART. The hero wins, the good guy gets the girl, the bad guy is vanquished, the one chick horks a huge loogie all over the other. There's no reason to see a good man take a fall just so a gay stripper like 12-Pack can move on. And seriously, how many more episodes will it take for Chance to stab someone with a lobster fork?

I'm just saying that a mistake has been made, and it took until the first commercial break of Studio 60 to get over it. I spill some Strawberry Quik on the carpet for you, Mr. Boston, my homie no longer here.

In the end

How could Flav not pick Deelishis? She has constantly proven herself to be a lovely and level-headed young woman, well educated and well spoken. There was some heady competition on "Flavor of Love 2," but Flav made the right choice. How he let New York in to the top two is mystifying, unless he was ONLY searching for good TV -- but Flav, dawg, it's all good TV. You could have had Buckwild Becky and Like Dat in the top two, and we still would have watched. Brigitte Nielsen could have been on top of the brass dinosaur shooting flaming arrows with a crossbow at Toasteee, and we still would have watched. Actually, that scenario would have made the show even better.

And to end the show in Belize -- great choice, VH. You've thusly sold me and my wife Redd Snappah on an all inclusive to that beautiful country. If only New York (who is from Utica, by the way, and not the metro area as she might have you guess) could have ratcheted down the drizzama at the end, when Flav picked Deelishis, and walked her anger off with a last stroll around that bomb-ass resort in Placencia. I'd yank chicken entrails at a soul-food joint to earn a clock from Flav if it would get me a night at that seaside retreat. He'll, I'd clap my ass for Warren G. if it would have gotten me a date aboard the Queen Mary in Long Beach.

In summation, the hero of the fall T.V. season is the bomb-diggity Deelishis, a.k.a. London Charles. The show turned to something it was unintended to be -- sincere and sweet -- every time she got the camera. Good on you. Meanwhile, New York (a.k.a. Tiffany Patterson), there is a date with Nicolas Cage waiting for you in Pismo. Sorry about the hair plugs, but he'll be just about all the crazy you could possibly be looking for, in the personage of a wealthy Coppola scion.