Amateurs with Knives

By now you’ve probably seen the train wreck that is Hell’s Kitchen. We’re now up to the sixth season of what is supposedly unscripted television.

Supposedly.

I’m not going to rehash a lot of it out here because I was forced to endure two hours of morons in a kitchen. But not just any run-of-the-mill moron. They’re morons with a dream — a dream of becoming an Executive Chef of another one of Ramsay’s failing restaurants, Araxi.

Let’s not rehash this out in some sort of play-by-play event where I break the episodes down for you. Let me just tell you this:

Comparing Hell’s Kitchen to Top Chef is like comparing Flava of Love to The Bachelor. All Ramsay needs now is to cut himself off at the knees and hang a gigantic, tacky clock from his neck.

And don’t forget the gold teeth.