• ABC
• "No hay llanto en el beisbol."

I also have a very strong suspicion that Courtney, who talks a lot about the indelibility of her "shit list," actually has a sheet of paper somewhere covered with names scrawled in excrement.

So, we're in Puerto Rico and LOOK! Ben's wearing sunglasses. Whoop ... OK, that was short lived. Ben hates not squinting as much as Emily hates keeping her pursed lips in the middle of her face where they belong. (See picture, bottom right.)

Nicki, who I thought I liked because she looks like Susanna Hoffs if Susanna Hoffs was a soap star but then realized I don't like very much at all, gets the first one-on-one date, which makes Courtney angry. And when Courtney gets angry, it looks like her skull is going to explode through her tightly drawn, shiny face-flesh. Like, even more so than usual.

So, Ben and Nicki take a helicopter (a doi) to San Juan, and as they're strolling around — making awkward small talk, no doubt — it starts to rain. At first it seems like Nicki doesn't process that it's raining. Then she turns into this part of this movie.

They use the rain as an excuse to buy some authentic Puerto Rican costumes: an authentic giant tampon costume for Ben and an authentic penniless-slut-wearing-a-giant-handkerchief costume for Nicki.

Now, did anyone hear what Ben and Nicki were talking about when they were sitting outside the church while the wedding was going on? I sure didn't, because all I could see was that the person whose butt was floating above Nicki's left should had the most intense, painful-looking wedgie I've ever seen. I bet I didn't miss much.

OOOOH. A thing I like: Nicki calls Ben "Bin." Just like Ashley called him "Ban." Like he's a deodorant.

Group date time! The date card said something about diamonds being a girl's best friend (or, like, exactly that) and Emily seemed to think that meant they were all going to get diamonds. NO YA BIG DUMMY you're playing baseball. After the fishing date, my friend Ally and I are pretty sure that these aren't just goofball competitions to entertain the dullards who watch the show (hey, that's me!), and that Ben is actually choosing a mate based, at least somewhat, on her athletic prowess and ability to provide food for her family in the wild.

Best parts of the group date ...
— Chris Harrison shows up to explain the rules of the game, but mostly to stress how important it is that after the game the girls leave their sweaty panties somewhere he can find them.

• Courtesy of FX
• "I'M NOT CALLING YOU A PAWN, BUT THIS *IS* A PAWN SHOP: Pruitt Taylor Vince and Timothy Olyphant

“Harlan Roulette” opens with Limehouse grilling up a heap of savory meat as Ava visits to broker a meeting with Boyd. They seem to go way back and quip about Ava shooting her husband at the dinner table: “The shame of it was wastin’ all that ham.” Segue to the bridge that, I take it, separates the local African-American enclave from the rest of Harlan. In a classic pulp-crime image, Limehouse and Boyd’s team face off across the bridge in the glare of their respective headlights. Limehouse shrugs away Boyd’s claim on Mags’ moolah, as well as Boyd’s offer to off Dickie Bennett, and says that he figured Boyd needed help with his other problem — i.e., the big heap of rotting marijuana. Boyd withdraws, lacking a move, and clouts Devil for refusing to burn the pot before they drive off.

Raylan and Winona are still talking about buying a house, but duty calls, and Raylan joins a state trooper roadblock to find Wade Messer (James LeGros), the guy who handed him over to Dickie last season. Wade's riding in a truck full for stolen goods, but he and the wheelman get while to the cops and try to turn around, only to topple the truck into a ditch. Cue the wah-wah trombone.

• ABC
• He's used to doing this with his bare hands.

Here was a lede I was working on for a recap of last week's episode ...

What did everyone think of the sequel to "A River Runs Through It," entitled "A River is Still Running Through It: On the Lures of Love?!" Personally, I thought it was poorly acted. But the editing was impecable.

Seriously though, when I committed myself to this series in an intimate beachfront ceremony in the Caribbean, wearing a simple sleeveless, silk shift dress, the waves lapping at my ankles, I never, ever imagined that I'd eventually have to watch people fly fish. Isn't it crazy? To make people watch other people do something that has to be one of the most boring activities in the world, even for the people physically doing it? WAKE UP I'M TALKING TO YOU.

I just threw up my Subway reading that. Believe it or not, it tastes even worse on its way out. But what I've decided is that I'm not going to blame myself for struggling to make something interesting out of something that's been really uninteresting. Instead I'm going to blame Ben.

I blame Ben because he says things that aren't true. FOR INSTANCE, on his date with Rachel — nostril piercing, smokers voice — he said he thinks they have "good chemistry." That is absolutely false. They talked about squinting. They both squinted, and then they fucking talked about squinting. Also, why does Ben refuse to wear sunglasses? Granted, a Cro-Magnon-esque forehead protrusion must provide some shade, but this guy is just forever squinting.

THEN, Ben emerges from the date thinking it went well because Rachel "opened up," a thing she talked about having trouble doing. Ah, but, see. Talking about having trouble opening up does not equal actually opening up. Ben's mistaken.

Anyway, at the root of Ben's saying things that are untrue is the fact that he generally has nothing to say. At the root of that is the fact that he's extraordinarily boring. At the root of that: the fact that he's not Bentley. Now, there's a guy who had things to say and was willing to say them even if they were horrifying. I believe I called him an "unapologetic sociopath," and I meant that, but in such a good way (see, I say what's on my mind too; MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN). If Bentley was the Bachelor, I'd watch four-hour episodes. Four times a day.

ALRIGHT. It's not Ben's fault that he doesn't subsist on the tears of bowlegged dental students the way Bentley did (he subsists on animal carcasses). Also not his fault: the producers are setting up dumb dates.

I won't belabor what a boring idea fly fishing was since I already tried and failed, but, like, how 'bout the San Francisco bikini skiing date? HOW WACKY! S-s-skiing in San Francisco?! WHAT'LL THEY THINK OF NEXT? When people look stupid doing a thing that's so obviously stupid, making fun of them is stupid.

AHHHHH. And who the fuck is Clay Walker?? Besides a country singer who writes lyrics, like, "I didn't know you were gonna be in the bar when I walked in ... 'til I walked in." I guess that's all we really need to know about him.

IS THERE STILL HOPE FOR THE REST OF THE SEASON?