Brotha Corupta

Brotha Corupta

Mrs. C, her sister Maryanne, and myself spent this weekend in Atlanta for a funeral.  My brother, the Judge, and his wife, Stewart, live in Atlanta, so we intruded on them in between wake and funeral.  Not the best of circumstances for a visit, but at least one positive out of a sad occasion.

Mrs. C’s sister felt as if we were staying at a bed and breakfast.  Their home is lovely, beautifully decorated, and Stewart makes sure everyone is fed and taken care of.

On the final night of our stay, my brother suggested watching a movie that had been nominated for several Oscars.  There was some hemming and hawing among we visitors.

The problem?

It was Monday night, the night of the three-hour finale of “The Bachelor.”

My brother and his wife are not typically fans of any TV, never mind “reality TV.” My brother is a big sports fan and they also watch movies on Netflix and probably the news, but they are not the type of viewers who would typically get hooked on Reality TV.

I had resigned myself to a movie, figuring we could watch the finale through the cable “On Demand” feature.  Mrs. C was prepared to suck it up as well.  Maryanne, who had only met my brother and his wife at our wedding, is not a shrinking violet…she expressed her opinion.

“Movie?  Tonight is the Bachelor finale! You can watch a movie anytime.”

She then went on to fill them in on the drama of one man taking many weeks to sort through 25 women to finally propose marriage to one of two finalists; and there was a hint of an historic and controversial ending.

Stewart, the sweetest southern lady that you would never want to get on the wrong side of, closed the deal.

“That sounds like such fun, we can watch a movie any old time.”

My brother reluctantly agreed.

We watched the show, and the Bachelor who had professed his love to both finalists, which is a no-no for the shows protocol, let the loser, Lauren, down very poorly and then picked, Becca, as his fiancé.  The show ended with everyone pretty much disliking the Bachelor. 

There was a catch that there would be more on the show Tuesday night.  The hint was that the Bachelor was going to break up with the winner and go back to the runner-up.

It is a riveting show if you are a somewhat shallow TV addicted person as myself.  I think the more sophisticated audience of my Brother and his wife watched just to be hospitable.

Tuesday night, Mrs. C and I were home watching the final episode from the bedroom.  Sure enough, the Bachelor broke up with Becca in the most uncomfortable 20 minutes in TV history, and he chose Lauren who had agreed to take him back.

The show then went live, and the Bachelor met up with Becca to answer some questions and add another ten minutes of really uncomfortable TV.

After Becca and the Bachelor met on the couch, I got a call from Atlanta.

“Joe, Stewart and I stepped out for a snack and we missed the meet up.  Did Becca and the Bachelor shake hands, hug, or just nod uncomfortably?”

“There was an awkward hug.”

“Thanks, I can’t believe we missed that, bye.”

My older brother taught me many of the things in life that a boy cannot learn elsewhere, he may have given me my first cigarette (or I stole one from him I don’t remember).

I think for the first time, I was the corruptor and not the corruptee.