TELEVISION WITHOUT PITY Recap: “The Road to Stardom with Missy Elliot”
Our favorite snarky website is recapping “The Road to Stardom with Missy Elliot.” Head on over to check it (and all their hysterical show recaps) out at: www.televisionwithoutpity.com.
Get On the Bus, Gus!
By Potes | Season 1 | Episode 1 | Aired on 2005.01.05
Missy Elliott! She’s one of the hottest-selling female artists of all time! She’s also an established record producer; a five-time Grammy award winner; star of many cool and trippy videos featuring large quill pens, giant puffy suits, and cornfields; and lollipop enthusiast. And now, inspired, we might assume, by the multiple threat that is Tyra Banks, Missy is star and producer of her own reality show, which is a search for “America’s next music sensation.” And what with Fantasia Barrino burning up the airwaves, I’m not sure if America might be sensationed-out by now. But Missy is looking for “an all-around artist who can not only perform, but write original songs as well.” Something tells me that this bodes well for lyrics featuring the words “baby” and “boo.” Out of thousands who auditioned, only thirteen performers were chosen to go on tour with and “be mentored” by Missy. The winner will receive a recording contract with Missy’s label, Gold Mine Inc., a released single, and $100,000. Not too shabby. A cute Missy, wearing an Adidas hat and sitting on a stool, tells us, “But you gotta be hot. ‘Cause if you ain’t hot, then it’s not goin’ down. Heh heh.” Oh, Missy. Why did you have to win my love forty-five seconds into the show?!? It makes it so hard to retain my objectivity.
Missy says that some of the contestants had talent. At this, we see the supremely untalented-seeming Matthew singing a song about dancing to his song, and Brooklyn rapper Frank B., who comes out with the kind of amazing lyric “If you ain’t in charge, I’d like to speak to your boss/ I’m like a dentist, you should watch me, I can teach you to floss.” That must be from the song “Once Daily,” which appears on the album, Spit Into My Sink, Yo (Good Hygiene Ain’t for Suckas), which he released under the pseudonym of “Oral B.” Missy then says that some of the contestants just gave her a headache, and should have stayed home. We see a rather husky girl whose size 3xx shirt says, “Ain’t no shame in my game,” rap about her love of Fruity Pebbles. Whatever, Missy. Fruity Pebbles are totally delicious and arguably superior to Pebbles of the Cocoa variety. Let the girl sing. There is also a guy who wears a necktie and does some song about chickens. Missy just shakes her head.
After the auditions, Missy — whose weight-loss method can be summed up by one tidbit of advice: “Eat lollipops constantly” — and her manager, Mona Scott, brought an unspecified number of finalists to New York City. Missy tells us that, to be a star, in her mind, “You have to have some kind of talent.” I think one Mrs. Kevin Federline might have something to say about that. Missy says that you also have to be original, to be a leader and not necessarily a follower, and to have drive to overcome the obstacles in your way. At this, we see bits of the contestants performing in the finals, some of whom seem reasonably good, and some of whom seem kind of terrible. In the end, the thirteen chosen were: Akil, age twenty-three, from Jersey City; Deltrice, twenty-three, from San Francisco; Melissa, nineteen, from Plymouth, Minnesota; Eddie, twenty-five, from New Orleans; Cori, twenty-one, from Orlando; Matthew, twenty-five, from Orlando; Jessica, twenty-three, from Chicago; Heather, twenty-two, from Boston; Marcus, twenty-four, from Houston; Frank B., twenty-one, from Brooklyn; Nic, twenty-nine [”guh? Get a job, grandpa!” — Wing Chun], from Aliso Viejo, California; the improbably named Yelawolf, twenty-four, from the improbably named Rainbow City, Alabama; and Nilyne, from Plainfield, New Jersey.
The announcer tells us that these contestants have no idea what they’re in for. On the road to stardom, the competitors will learn what it takes to transform from unknown to superstar (read: breast implants, or nebulous criminal connections), and will receive advice from Missy and other top producers and performers, including Madonna. Well how do you do, Madonna. They’ll have their desire to succeed pushed to the limit — drama! tears! — all for a chance at superstardom. Only one will make it on The Road to Stardom with Missy Elliot. ARE YOU READY? The credits finally roll, and Missy tells us in no uncertain terms to get on the bus. Why thank you, Miss E., I think I will.
New York City! The contestants enter Missy’s tour launch party. Missy walks in next to her ginormous bodyguard. The whole thing looks very dimly lit and thus fun. Missy tells us that she chose the best thirteen performers to go out on tour, and so she thought she’d throw a little party for them to “loosen them up.” How great is that? This show is already so much cooler than American Idol. At the AI party, you’d have to contend with Simon Cowell plucking one errant chest hair, Paula Abdul falling over again, and Clay Aiken berating servicepeople for being unable to find a green maraschino cherry for his Shirley Temple. Here, you get to bump ‘n grind with Missy and meet Busta Rhymes. I bet the snacks are of high quality, too.
Missy tells us that it’s time to let the contenders know what’s up. She walks in shadow to the area of the club reserved for the contestants, and strikes a dramatic pose with her lollipop, to a mild round of appause. She is wearing a pinstriped suit jacket and matching cap. She says that she decided that she should bring a mini-entourage of three of her dancers wherever she goes. From Missy’s introduction, their names appear to be Holly Hymen, Ebony Nipples, and Ol’ Thang. Or O-Tan. Or Oh Dan. I actually have no idea what her name is. And the second one I think is actually Ebony Nichols, but Ebony Nipples just works so much better with the whole scheme. And, quite frankly, I believe that this little entourage provides some good circumstantial evidence for the “Is she or isn’t she?” debate that may one day take place on the forums. Missy says that the dancers help her to “decide a lot of the decisions.” I bet it goes something like this: “Tell me what you think, Holly Hymen.” “Well, Miss, I think I might need some help from my friend Ebony Nipples, if you know what I mean.” “I think I do. Get me another lollipop, Ol’ Thang. And put on some Luther Vandross while you’re at it.”
Missy congratulates the contestants for being able to go on tour with herself and her entourage. She says that they’re going to have a lot of fun, but that eliminations are a part of the game. The last contestant standing will get a recording contract, a video, and “make some Céline Dion money.” Somewhere in Vegas, Céline cackles in Québecois. I imagine it sounds something like “Eh eh eh, mon dieu!” Missy gives each contestant a laminated VIP tour pass. She says that they had better eat, bathe, and sleep in the laminate, because they won’t be able to get on the bus without it. I can’t wait until someone gets wasted and can’t find his or hers. “Eh eh eh,” I will say. And with that, Missy takes her leave.
The contestants continue to frolic at the party, which also features some scantily clad female dancers. Nic talks about what a great opportunity the thirteen contestants have. The contestants dance with Missy, who, if I may say, has a somewhat infectious smile. I am kind of hot for Missy. I don’t know how I can compete with Ebony Nipples, though. Melissa says that she feels like she’s the baby of the group, but that she’s not intimidated. Yelawolf says that he has a wife at home (a woman who runs with the Yelawolf), a two-year-old child, and another kid on the way, so winning this competition is major for him. Well, if it’s so important, he might have put more thought into the stage name. I mean, come on. Yelawolf? [”Women of the world: don’t marry men named things like ‘Yelawolf.’ It just encourages them. And they should die alone, without propagating another generation of dumb douchebags.” — Wing Chun] Nilyne appears to be having quite the time, and says that the contestants are getting cozy and having a little “champagne with the campaign.” Maybe that’s where John Kerry lost it. Not enough champagne. Nilyne — who is about two inches tall — talks up Nic, who says that she is a firecracker, and is “bananas.” He says that he’s “not turning down nothin’,” but is “still taking résumés and stats.” Nic the Dic, heretofore you are named. And I know that you will live up to that moniker in the minutes to come.
Matthew calls himself a “crazy Christian.” Oh, here we go. And I have no beef with anyone who is devout and/or proud of their religion. However, history has shown that Crazy Christians can sometimes bring about bad things, such as the Crusades, and the outcome of the 2004 presidential election. Matthew says, “My belief is that God’s gonna take me where I’m gonna go. How far I go is how far He wants me to go.” And in Matthew’s case, I think this usually plays out as “God must have really wanted me to go really, really far up that guy’s ass.” You keep rationalizing, Junior. Frank B. says that he’s an Italian stallion from Brooklyn, which is what makes him distinctive. Oh, tell it to Vinny Barbarino. He says he’s not there to make friends, and will do anything to win, which is his greatest advantage in the competition.
Missy returns to the group of contestants with her friend Busta Rhymes. Busta says that the competition will determine who “can really hold it down for real like real superstars do it.” And just to warn you, this is not the last time that the word “real” or any of its variations will be used in the show. Akil says that the first rap he ever learned was a Busta Rhymes rap, and he is clearly a bit in awe. And I love Akil. He reminds me of all of the guys I went to college with. Except for the gay guys. So Akil reminds me of 20\% of the guys I went to college with. (I went to Vassar.) Akil plays the guitar, and the rest of the contestants sing and freestyle a bit. Matthew interviews that he doesn’t rap, but that he took a shot at freestyling. He actually does a decent job and is both kid-friendly, with his lack of cussing, and queer-friendly, with his overall being. He says that the singing/freestyling session was fun, but also offered a chance to size up the competition. Jessica says that her first impression of Matthew is that he looks like Justin Timberlake, and that she’s not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. She says that she questions his persona. E.g., he needs to come out of the closet, and quick.
Akil does a little freestyle and is quite adorably wearing a suit and tie. He says that in his heart he’s a pacifist and looks up to Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr., but that he’s also “got a little bit of Malcolm X” in him. Deltrice sings and sounds absolutely terrible. She says that she is a diva because of her look, her attitude, and the way that she carries herself. I’m sorry, but she looks like a vampire crack whore. She is singularly terrifying. Deltrice is sizing up Jessica as her major competition. Jessica sings, and we can see why she is a threat. Girl can carry a tune. She says that she grew up in the Southside of Chicago. And I had a “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” joke all ready to go here, but then Jessica continued, “I was inspired by drug dealers, prostitutes. Those were the type of people around me that I thought were successful because they were living a better life.” And there is something about the fact that she is genuinely talented and sounds so deadpan and sincere when saying this that makes me temporarily unable to snark. I’m sorry, everyone, for I feel like I’ve let you down. But in her little freestyle, she sings, “I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready,” in such a meaningful and convincing way that I am somewhat overcome by actual like and respect…for a reality-show contestant. I’m sure it won’t last.
Heather, the white girl rapper, says that when she gets onstage, people always expect her to sing. Then when she busts out her mad rhymes, they say, “Oh my gosh, I didn’t think that was going to come out of you.” That is because people don’t believe that a human being with the power of speech could reach the level of inarticulate suckitude that she possesses. She says that being a white female rapper, you have to prove yourself over and above what everyone else does. I feel that way being a white female recapper, y’all. The man’s got me down, but in reverse. Frank B. says that he wasn’t feeling Heather, and that she didn’t feel natural to him at all. And this might come off as sexist claptrap, except for the fact that Heather is just awful. More freestylin’ and singing ensues.
The contestants get a sweet limo ride to their new home, which is the “Presidential Suite” of an unidentified hotel. They are duly impressed. Nilyne and Nic the Dic are hanging out on one of the beds and eating. And for those of you with dirty minds, they are eating food. For now. Marcus — the big fat contestant, whom one forum poster astutely dubbed “Newben” a.k.a. “Sorry 2005″ — says that they look like they’d make a good couple. He totally wants some live Playboy Channel action in the Presidential Suite. Matthew says that he doesn’t know what everyone else is doing, but that he’s tired and wants to go to sleep (e.g., “There is no one here who God deems worthy of my reverent buttfuckery, so I might as well hit the hay.”).
The clock shows that it’s 4:13 AM. Jessica plays some of her original songs for Heather and Deltrice. Heather says, “We were all blown away by each other.” And I think the “by each other” part might be a bit of an exaggeration where Heather’s meager talents are involved. Heather says that she grew up in a very strict environment as the daughter of a pastor. She couldn’t even watch VH1 or MTV, and could only listen to gospel and Christian music. Jessica says that a lot of people might judge her character by who she is on the outside, but that they don’t know what she had to go through. She says that she’s had to be strong since she was seven years old because there was nobody to protect her, and she had to protect herself. She says, “Do you know what a crackhead is?” Heather goes, “Ha. We had a couple.” I’m sorry, but “We had a couple”? Like, “We went down to the shelter one day and got ourselves a couple of crackheads. We followed Bob Barker’s advice to get them spayed and neutered, but then they clawed the hell out of the curtains, and also stole all our money.” She’s such an idiot. Jessica says, “Think if that was your mother. Not your sister, not your cousin, not your auntie.” Deltrice adds, “Your proprietor.” And, quite frankly, I am impressed that someone would be able to raise a child, be a crackhead, and own a store all at the same time. Jessica says that people judge her on the outside but they don’t know what she’s been through, and that God is shining her through the Road to Stardom. She says, “People can look at me and be like, ‘Hmmmm,’ but then when I open my mouth, they ain’t got nothin’ else to say.” I’m sorry, but I love Jessica.
In the other room, Akil plays the guitar and Melissa sings somewhat capably. She says in her little Minnesota accent that her parents are going to be very proud of her, and that she’s happy that she’s gotten this far so that she can prove to them that she can be successful in the realm of music. Cori says that she is tired and is excited to sleep, but also excited to see what’s in store for the next day. Cori even looks annoying. Nilyne and Nic the Dic share a bed. She says that he’s a pretty-boy Casanova, that there’s a lot of sexual tension, and that they’ll “see what happens.” Nilyne is quite small, and also quite possibly a whore. Commercials.
It is 7:54 AM. The contestants are awakened quite inhospitably by a large bald man. He yells at them to get up and opens all the curtains in the Suite. The guy explains that he is Steve the Road Manager. He has served as road manager for Run DMC, Jam Master Jay, Mariah Carey, and Tupac, to name a few. [”Were I a road manager trying to prove my credentials, I might avoid naming artists I’d worked for who’d died untimely deaths.” — Wing Chun] Steve says that he is there to help and guide the contestants, and to provide them with information. But, he says, he is not there to be a mother, babysitter, or best friend. He’s there to make sure that they get places on time. He is a Hard-Ass, and don’t you forget it! Marcus looks on and thinks, “I could sho’ go for a jelly donut right now, Mr. Steve.” Missy explains that every artist needs a road manager to keep him or her on schedule. Steve tells the contestants to go downstairs and get on the bus.
The contestants board a sweet tour bus that features huge beds and giant velvet paintings of Missy Elliot herself (artist: Ebony Nipples). They make themselves at home, which is clearly a mistake. Steve the Hard-Ass enters and says, “What are you guys, kidding me? I didn’t say this was your bus.” Oooh, burn! He says that this, in fact, is Missy’s bus, and that they’d better never get on Missy’s bus without explicit permission. Holly Hymen always has the type of special permission, I’ll bet, that mere mortals like myself only yearn for. Steve the Hard-Ass tells the contestants that their bus is coming. The Double Dutch Bus (so dubbed in the lovely forums) rolls in, and is covered in graffiti. Missy says that when you start out, you should be glad you even have a bus, and don’t have to walk barefoot from Atlanta to Toledo like she did back when she was a youngster in the blizzard of aught eight. This sets an important precedent from Missy, which is basically a complete lack of sympathy. I like it.
Nilyne says that the contestants thought that the bus was ugly, but were ready to work with it…until they walked inside. And the bus looks pretty awful. Duct tape holds everything — including the engine, I’d wager — together. Eddie, who has been a bit of a missing person until just now, says that the bus was filled with chewing gum, deodorant, and spit, and that the bathroom smelled like manure. Deltrice says that she’s never experienced a scent like that in her life. Honey, cup your hands in front of your mouth and blow. I don’t know, I just have a feeling about that. Newben says that it’s dirty, stinky, smelly, and funky. Yelawolf says that he loves their bus, that it’s got character, and that it represents his career situation right now. And Yelawolf is kind of okay. Except that he named himself “Yelawolf,” which is a hard hole to dig out of. The contestants clean the bus. Nilyne says that they now expect the unexpected, and don’t know what’s going to happen.
The bus pulls up to S.O.B.’s. Missy explains that a lot of talented people got their start at S.O.B.’s. The contestants walk in front of a panel of three judges. Mona Scott introduces herself. She says that, for those who don’t know who she is, she is the president of Violator Management. And she does look as if she might be prone to violating the youngsters, I must say. She’s a bit of a plumpernickel — doughy and dry. I bet people call her “Mona the Moaner.” I bet Missy calls her that, especially. Her company manages such talent as Busta Rhymes, Tweet, 50 Cent, and, of course, Missy Elliott herself. Mona introduces the judge to her right, world-renowned producer Dallas Austin. And for the rest of the recap, I insist that you call me Pittsburgh Philadelphia. Dallas has worked with TLC, Monica, Boyz II Men, Michael Jackson, and Madonna. Cori says that she was in awe, and would love to work with someone of Dallas Austin’s caliber. The other judge is the legendary Miss Teena Marie. Mona explains that Teena is a three time Grammy nominated artist, a singer-songwriter-producer, and an inspiration to most of the R&B vocalists of today. Eddie explains that he was trippin’, because he grew up on Teena Marie. Teena remains silent, but communicates through her dark glasses that she just wants to be your lovergirl. She also would like to rock your world.
Mona says that the three judges are on top of their games, and are waiting to see if the contestants are on top of theirs. One of the first rules of being a true entertainer is that you always have to be ready for an opportunity when it comes. Mona tells the contestants that their opportunity just came. The contestants look scared. Commercials.
A short promo tells us that Top Model 4 is coming in the spring. But what if I don’t want Missy to leave!?!
When we return, Missy explains that the kids will be given a challenge designed to remind them to expect the unexpected. Mona tells them that she wants to see them go onstage and give it their all. Missy says quite adorably that the contestants are going to have to earn their spot on the bus. Deltrice is worried, and looks more like a crack whore vampire than ever. She says that it’s real now, and that the group all tries to be friends, but it’s a competition and in the end, someone has to go home. It’s the standard reality-show refrain, really.
Nic the Dic is first. He gets onstage wearing a towel on his head, with a baseball cap over it. Mona says, “What’s with the towel,” and the other judges kind of snicker. Nic the Dic explains that they had to “make something happen” because of “life on the road.” I would say that he has about third-grade speech comprehension skills. Mona says that life on the road is about being ready whenever and wherever opportunities present themselves. She tells him to do something original, and something that she’s never heard before. He does a little rap about bringing some girl home. Mona stops him after a short while. She and the other judges express some disbelief that he kept the hat on after they said that it looked stupid, and basically tell him once again that it looks stupid. Mona says, “The last thing I want is just to be irritated every time you walk in the room.” Ha! Nic says that the audition was “unexpected, to say the least,” and that Mona was like a little shark waiting to see who was going to step up. It’s too bad that he doesn’t realize how much he sucks.
Cori is next. She hails from Orlando, and I get the impression that she is a theme-park entertainer. Her moves are very Kids Incorporated. Well, I guess it worked for Fergie. If only Martika had tried hip-hop. I think that Cori is dreadful and annoying, but the judges think that she’s a confident entertainer.
Melissa is next, and I must take a moment to say, “Girl, what are you wearing?” She has on some big, college-y tie-dyed shirt and frumpy pants. And she stands about 4′9″, so this look is all wrong. Melissa says that she was very nervous. She sings a song about feeling happy and sad, and also bad. Well, that’s original. Mona tells her that she needs to conquer her nervousness. Teena says that she felt like Melissa’s singing was pure. Mona says that she’s young. The implication, I believe, is that she’s too green.
Next up is Deltrice. She has some pitch issues, and takes some really loud breaths. Her song is about partying, and throwing her hands up and getting it started. Again, very original. Dallas asks her if she’d rather be a writer than a singer. Subtext: you can’t sing, and also are quite unattractive. And, I may add, you have a small moustache. Deltrice says that writing is equally important to her, and that she’d have no problem being a writer.
Matthew is next, and sings a song about wanting to sing, and how he got support to do his thing. Mona stops him and tells him that he lost it, and thus lost her. Dallas says that he has good tone and control. After dismissing Matthew, Mona says to the other judges that he was an example to her of someone who is credible. Intriguing.
We are now treated to Nilyne. She sings a song, quite lispily, about someone being wrapped up like a gift for her on Christmas day. The chorus goes something like, “I got a boyfriend! You complete my world.” She’s fair to middlin’. Mona says that everything about Nilyne — her look, lyrical content, etc. — is very “now,” and that she doesn’t have a timeless quality. This is a very astute observation. And I must say, it’s kind of refreshing to hear a critique that goes beyond “Dawg, it was aiiight. You know, you did your thing.” Nilyne interviews that she knows she didn’t do her best.
Next is my boyfriend Akil. Mona tells him to do whatever he does best. He asks if he can get his guitar. Mona tells him to perform with no props. Akil does a little beatboxing and then raps, and is not as impressive as he could be. Dallas says that it seems like Akil’s guitar is his tool, and makes him more special than everyone else. He tells him to strap the guitar to his back and have it with him at all times. Akil interviews that the judges told him that his guitar was like a security blanket (aww! My little Linus), and that he didn’t handle the situation as well as he could have. He says that his anger got the best of him, which just goes to show his humanity. Okay, I see how Akil might have the potential to get a little annoying. And also, he doesn’t seem angry at all. I think his version of angry is something like “I can’t get my guitar? Oh, well, I mean…okay.” I am trembling from the fear and raw intensity! The revolution is here, Malcolm X!
Frank B. takes the stage and sucks it up real bad. Dallas says that he doesn’t believe Frank, and that Frank doesn’t seem real. Frank admits that he wasn’t good, and says he hopes that they don’t judge him on “one little freestyle.” Well, given that this is the only challenge they’ve had thus far, I think it’s safe to say that the judges might do exactly that. Much like Hermey the Elf, Frank B. was much sharper when he rhymed about his true love of dentistry. Frank laments his suckitude to the other contestants in the holding room. He says that he is embarrassed. Akil commiserates, and the rest laugh. I admit this with a bit of shame, but I kind of like Frank.
And then, Jessica. Seeing her alone up there on stage, it strikes me that Jessica is what in another era might be termed a bulldagger. She is awfully butch. She sings a ballad about being able to make someone love again. Her voice really just has that quality that makes you listen and focus. She’s soulful. Dallas says that he is taken aback, because when he saw Jessica he expected her to drop some rhymes like an emcee (e.g., bulldagger), but was then struck by her voice. He says that she has great tone, and he believes what she sings, and that she can “turn it on” when she performs but is kind of mousy otherwise. Mona says that it’s important to be able to turn it on, and Teena says that she was feeling Jessica’s song. After Jessica leaves, Dallas says that, much like Aretha Franklin and Mary J. Blige, you can hear in Jessica’s voice that she’s been through stuff, and uses her music to let it out. The others agree.
The full moon arises and Yelawolf takes the stage. Aooooooooooooo! He raps something about moonshine liquor being delivered by old folks, and the earth crying. Teena says that he could be more confident, and that some of his content was real deep. The years of doing coke with Rick James have taken their toll on Miss Teena Marie. Dallas asks him to freestyle, and Yelawolf admits that his freestyle is weak. Mona says that he should never say the words “can’t” or “no” in a situation like this, and that, “If this is what you want, then you can do whatever the hell we ask for. That should be your attitude. And I shouldn’t have to tell you that.” Moanin’ Mona! I would not want to cross her, except maybe for Missy’s love. Yelawolf interviews that he has to spend more time freestyling.
And speaking of being bad at rapping, Heather is next. She performs an original composition and is met with a moment of resounding silence. Always a bad sign. The judges question whether or not she’s real, and Heather expresses her disbelief about this to the other contestants. Yelawolf questions Heather’s skills in an interview, and says that Heather is really new and doesn’t know much about hip-hop. I fear that Heather is a plant just to prove to us that white girls can’t rap. Which, quite frankly, we kind of can’t. Gee, Road to Stardom, thanks for reaffirming the internal gynocaucasiorappophobia.
Fat Marcus is next, and sings a song with a totally original “love you/above you” rhyme. It might also have a line about flying without wings. Dallas says that he can tell Marcus is sincere, and tells the other judges that he believes Marcus more than anybody else so far. The others have nothing bad to say about Marcus, and probably are silently thinking that he is a good candidate for Missy’s patented lollipop diet.
Then there is Eddie, who I keep forgetting about. His rap is very fast and I have no idea what he’s saying. Mona actually agrees with me, and tells him that articulation is important.
Back in the holding room, Nic the Dic says that he doesn’t care if any of the others go home, as long as it isn’t him. Frank B. calls Nic a character. But he says “character” in a way that lets you know he means “asswipe.” And Frank B. has a point. Also, Nic still hasn’t taken the towel off of his head.
The contestants reconvene in front of the judges. Mona tells them that this was their first challenge, and that, for one of them, the tour ends tonight. The judges will deliberate and present the two weakest performers to Missy, and she will decide who will be eliminated. Mona dismisses the contestants, who get back on the bus. Commercials.
When we return, it is night. Mona, Dallas, and Teena sit on Missy’s fly tour bus and deliberate. Missy explains that she instructed the judges to look for all the qualities that one would expect a superstar to have. Mona says that, as much as she likes him, Frank B. was the least engaging. Teena says that she found Nic annoying, and Mona says, “Does he not know that he cannot rap?” Ha! Dallas says that Nic’s ego is so big that he doesn’t know. None of the judges is feeling Heather, and Teena says that her personality is way too hard and contrived. They agree that she is confident, however. Dallas says, “What do you think of Yelawolf,” and the way he says “Yelawolf” implies that that is the stupidest name he’s ever heard. Tough talk, Houston Abilene. Mona says that she’d like to see how Yelawolf can develop. Mona says that Cori has the attitude, stage presence, and charisma, and that you might overlook the fact that her vocal abilities aren’t tight. Ha! I kind of love these judges. They’re mean, but their hostility is grounded in substantiated fact. The contestants sit in the bus and worry.
Steve the Hard-Ass tells the kids to get off the bus. They face Mona in a dimly lit parking lot in the middle of nowhere. It looks cold out, too. Mona tells the contestants that, normally, the spotlight is something that an entertainer covets, but that tonight, a spotlight means that a contestant is up for elimination. She says, “Spotlights please!” The spotlights swirl around and around, eventually landing on Frank B. and Heather, to the surprise of no one. Mona tells them that they will each get to meet with Missy and plead their case, and then tells the rest of the contestants to get back on the bus. She wishes Frank and Heather luck.
Heather says that she felt confident, and like she belongs on the bus. Frank says that he expected this, because he wasn’t on his A-game. Heather enters Missy’s bus and is greeted by Missy and her pussy posse. Missy asks Heather to explain the judges’ critique. Heather, to her credit, does not seem fazed. She says that Mona thought Heather’s performance was fake. Heather explains that her raps come from her heart, and that when she raps, “all this stuff just comes out.” She then busts into a little spontaneous rhyme that goes, “I gotta keep truckin’, can’t let my shit stop/You and me, oooh! Now that’s some hip-hop.” Missy becomes momentarily entranced by her red lollipop, seemingly forgetting that Heather even exists. She then comes back to the present and says, “Mmm, okay, hip-hop. Let’s see…You know, uh, maybe, a Big Daddy Kane record?” And that, my friends, was the sound of Missy Elliott calling bullshit. It was lovely, wasn’t it? Heather says, “I wish.” She is so through. Missy decides to humiliate her even further and says, “A Salt N’ Pepa record?” Heather goes, “Uh…Salt and Pepper…” And I’m sorry, but I have absolutely no street cred, and in fact probably have more Joan Baez albums in my collection than hip-hop records in total, and even I could bust into “Here I go, here I go, here I go again/Girls, what’s my weakness? Men!” To not be able to quote “Shoop” is to be a Communist. [”I’ve also seen Ellen DeGeneres bust out that whole song. What is it with lesbians and that song?” — Wing Chun] Missy asks Heather when she got into hip-hop, and Heather says it was seven or eight years ago. Missy says that Heather should know something off of one of Jay-Z’s first albums. Heather says, “Yeah,” and the supremely Machiavellian Missy says, “Rap it.” Heather, of course, can’t. Missy asks Heather if she has any final words to convince them that she should be on the bus. Heather says that she has the drive and can work hard. Heather interviews that she knows she messed up, but seems strangely unfazed.
Frank B., whom everyone calls “Frankie,” enters the bus. Missy notes that he has his knapsack. She asks if he thinks he’s hotter than Heather as a performer. He says yes, but that he was off today. She tells him to rap something and see if he can keep her attention. He does, and she says that he must have had a bag of Red Bull, he’s so energized. Missy, all the while, retains her calm composure. Frank says that if he goes back to the bus, the other emcees had better watch out, because he’s going to compete like an animal. Missy tells him to shake that monkey. I must confess that I’m not entirely sure what she means. She dismisses him. Frank says that he knows he wasn’t on his A-game, and that whoever gets picked is Missy’s choice.
Missy and her girls face Frank and Heather in the parking lot. Without a trace of emotion or sympathy she says that she had to come to a decision. She says that Frank knew where he messed up, which is a good thing. She then says, “Heather, I feel like you’re going places…just not with me.” HA! She kicks Heather off the tour, and tells one of her girls to get Heather’s laminate. Missy would not even soil her hands by touching Heather’s laminate herself. Frank wishes Heather luck, and returns to the bus, amidst applause from the other contestants. He says that he liked Heather, but that if she got picked over him, he was going to give up rap. That, my friends, is what you call an empty threat. The buses pull away from Heather, leaving her stranded in the dark parking lot. That is so absolutely cruel and perfect. I love this show. Heather says that she’s going to keep going, and doing her thing, and that we all had better look out. Oh, we’ll be looking all right, Heather. Just not at you. And we certainly won’t be listening.
Next on The Road to Stardom: Fights! Tears! And Missy lays it on the line, looking hot all the while. Melissa cries that she’s messed up her life. Boo hoo!
And then surprise! While the credits roll, Missy gives us the basis of her decision. She says that the judges told her that Frank was iffy, but that she thought he stepped up, and that if he keeps improving, “he’ll be around for a minute.” She says that Heather was a sweet young lady who tried to bust out the tough-girl raps. Missy does a quite hilarious imitation and says, “Okay, Heather, you’re trippin’ right now.” Missy says that Heather just wasn’t convincing. More accurate is that Heather was convincingly bad. And with that, the show ends for good. Until we meet again, Missy. Until we meet again.