Sure, I signed the contract promising not to speak to the press before the finale, but that was before they made me eat yellowjacket larvae and tango with Rue McClanahan.

As of this publication date, I'm still in the running to become America's Next Top Human.  And the chatroom pundits have it right: my prospects don't look good.  Seriously, what are the chances of the middle-aged white male "Perv" running the table against Viola, the Big Beautiful displaced New Orleans mother of five, Eric, the Minnesota farmboy, Antigone the New York poetry chick, Kelli the professional cheerleader and Ryan, the uncloseted gay?

Frankly, if it hadn't have been for the immunity I earned from my soufflé, I would have totally been sent home in Week 7 after the swimsuit debacle.  But, as judge Pia Zadora told me after the standup comedy competition, "that's why they call it a reality show.  One moment you're up, the next moment you're down."  And, let's face it, with $1million at stake to start your life over with, who wouldn't strap in for that roller coaster ride?

What is not part of any reality I know is the systematic manipulation and character assassination targeted at certain contestants.  Is Karl Rove exec-producing this thing now?

If you've been watching faithfully, you know what I'm talking about.  In Week 9 Bill Gates was the featured guest judge for the entrepreneur challenge.  We were broken up into two teams and given $10 with the task of turning our "start-up capital" into $100.  As project leader for VentureWinCorp, I had to think on my feet.  We needed  some kind of labor-intensive business; we're in Los Angeles; and a car-wash just takes water, soap and rags.  By the time DynaProVestCo had sold three cups of their "gourmet lemonade," our team was coiling up our hoses.

"Scoreboard," right?  You'd think I'd be riding high after showing off my business savvy?  No. Not on America's Next Top Human.  What the audience took away from my triumph in the episode was:  Toby is a pervert who stood around watching busty Kelli wash windshields in a wet, clingy tanktop.  It must be true... it was on TV.  There was the shot of me looking intently off-camera at something.  Then a cutaway to a drenched Kelli sudsing up a Mustang.  Then a shot of me giving a thumbs up to the camera.  Never mind that those images didn't occur in that sequence or even within an hour of each other.  "What is reality?" the philosopher asks.  Only the editor knows for sure.

To compound matters, the audience was treated to the requisite talking-head commentaries afterward, where contestants rehash what we'd just "seen."  Instead of reflecting on the glorious victory of CapitalWinCorp and the pathetic humiliation of DynaProVestCo, producers prompted the other players to discuss my "innappropriate," "unprofessional," and "icky" behavior.  I "made Kelli do the sudsing" according to Eric.  "Let's hose down those headlights," Ryan recalls me saying.  And Kelli just seemed embarrassed by the whole thing.  "I'm a cheerleader. I'm used to guys staring at me," she shrugged.

Cut to my team's Red Lobster victory dinner.  We enjoyed a nice meal together and celebrated our team work.  But of the hour of footage shot, what clip made it to air?  Antigone chiding me: "Sure, you pass Kelli the rolls first.  You want to get in her pants."

Now, did I think guys would pay $20 to have their cars washed by a hot girl in a tank top?  Yes.  But that's not lechery, just the kind of good solid business sense that drives American enterprise.  Just like when a network spikes the ratings with a sexy subplot, it's not that they're pornographers; they're businessmen.

But if it hurts my chances of winning (not to mention subjecting my kids to merciless middle school taunting) that cuts right to the legitimacy of the show.  If America can't have faith in reality television anymore, what are we left to believe in?  Scripted fare?

So keep watching, America.  Root on your favorite contestants as they hail cabs in Tunisia, try to hit a Roger Clemens fastball and sing Phil Spector standards.  It's going down to the wire, the pressure is mounting and we've all come too far to give up now.  But, ultimately, only one of us had the talent, drive and determination to earn the title "America's Next Top Human."  ...Or maybe the judges just wanted to get into her pants.

By Toby Muller