So tonight is the Top Chef finale. Oh what? You thought it was last week? No, last week was the first half of the "two-part finale." We are so sick of this stupid stunt.
By definition there is no such thing as a two-fucking-part finale. Finale is originally an Italian word for the last section in a piece of music. In television, a finale is the last episode of something, and when it comes to competitive reality shows, the finale is where the winner is crowned. Project Runway doomed us by stretching out this horrible season with the same gimmick, but we can't really blame the Lifetime show, because they steal everything from Bravo, a channel that loves this tactic so much that we got a "two-part reunion special" for the Real Housewives of Atlanta.
The earliest record we can see of a two-part fauxnale was back in 2001 for The Mole, so this tactic has been long with us. It's even leaked into other scripted shows like Monk and House and even movies like the final installments of Twilight and Harry Potter, which will be cloven in two like devil's hooves.
What Top Chef has done is completely inexcusable. In the first part of the fauxnale, there was a challenge and one of the chefs was eliminated. You know what that's called? A normal fucking episode. If you want to get fancy, the penultimate one. It is finale-adjacent, but it is not a finale. And if you don't get to participate in the final challenge, then you are not a fucking finalist. Sorry, Jen, you made it far, but not far enough.
The show is trying to get everyone to tune in because they hear "finale" and even if they haven't watched the show all year, they might want to see who wins. But then you tune in, and there's not even a winner. That, and you have to wait a whole week before you even see who the winner is. That is some stupid bullshit ploy, and we will not stand for it. Next thing you know, you'll only have to watch the premiere episode and then a 15-part finale. Everyone is a finalist! Oh, except the loser who got voted off first. But now he's the 16th runner up!
We want a single winner standing on top of pile of bloody, crippled corpses. Until all the bodies hit the floor there is no finale. Everything else is just foreplay. We love foreplay, don't get us wrong, but if we take some floozy home hoping for the big event and all we get is a quick handy and kiss goodnight, we're going to be pissed off and not call her back. So remember that, slutty reality show marketers. Wipe that lipstick off your face and start acting like ladies.