(Author’s Apology: Y’know, I had this discussion last week with a friend of mine, who frequents these parts, about the current state of things in Burnettopia. He was of a mind that this season blows beyond compare, whilst I played the role of champion. “No, no!”, I said. “This season has been great, aside from the occasional quitter!” Well friends, the drugs wore off, and I now see this season for what it is; complete and utter c-r-r-r-ap, interspersed with random overshares of personal baggage. Hell, the people who are actually on this show are jumping like rats off a sinking ship.
I was wrong, and you were right…and you know who you are.)
Now before we get started, there is something I want you to remember. It’s from seasons past, but as this entire exercise is just an excuse for these MO-rons to vanquish their demons and to make the voices in their heads focus more on why they haven’t found gainful employment and less on why they chose to trust someone they don’t know from Adam and subsequently lost the one chance they’ll have to not have to flip burgers until they reach retirement age, I’m hoping you’ll take the journey with me. You see there was this little challenge once upon a time. It was one of those gross food thingies. Only this one was the worst of them all. It involved rotting fish carcasses covered with flies. Remember that one? It’s starting to come back to you? Remember a little girl who surely lied about her age to get on this show named Neleh? She weighed about 85 lbs. Soaking wet. Remember her? She lost out to the Invisible Woman? Yeah, that one. Well, anyway, as you may recall, she bested our boy Rawb in an immunity showdown. And if memory serves, our boy Rawb spent the better part of the next 10 minutes blowing chunks all over national TV. Remember that? Well Rawb does. Rawb wants you all, my beloved Survivor audience, to forget about that. After all, Rawb is strong. Rawb is virile. Rawb always gets the girl. And yet Rawb was bested by a 14-year-old Mormon chick, and looked like a total wuss in the process. All-Stars, to our boy Rawb, and especially in this episode, is all about redemption folks. But we will remember, won’t we boys and girls. Oh yes, we will remember. So every time you hear him thump his chest, know, my people, that it is all about this.
Just wanted to get you all in the right frame of mind. Are you ready? Me neither, and yet…
Chalupa won the Double-Stuft Reward/Immunity/Take your Opponent to Lunch Challenge—big surprise—and got to party on Al Czervik’s yacht. Kathy was picked to come with, and was subjected to the kind of spastic behavior that makes the folks who make Ritalin salivate. Still, it beat the torturous MacBeth-meets-Machiavelli machinations in her own tribe.
Speaking of which, Lex, seeing his opportunity to claim Scotland Maudlin Maudlin for his very own, hatched a plot to slay the Cowboy King. Using Jerri’s grudge and Shii Ann’s puppet-like existence, he blindsided the Colbster and sent him out to stud.
11 are left, who will be humiliated tonight?
Full Moon over Maudlin Maudlin, Night 19
Our gal Kat (she fit in just-like-that) returns from the S.S. Feedbag to find an empty camp. She stumbles around in the dark, like a drunk co-ed in a slasher movie (shrill piano music, and all), calling out to her tribe. They’re still out, listening to Jeff’s latest bullshit New Age advice, so she does what any sensible person would do alone, in the woods, in the middle of rainy season. She decides to start a fire.
No sooner does she get a fire ablaze, then a torrential downpour begins. Now she has to rip siding off the shelter to Jerri-rig (that is to rig something in a completely worthless, half-assed, and, quite likely, diseased way) to keep it from washing out faster than “Forever Eden”. All the while she regales those of us who can’t remember the prologue from 5 minutes ago with what has transpired in the last 24 hours. (Nice editing job, Burnie.)
Mostly, she’s just pissed that she spent the day doing things that normal humans in everyday life do…like eat…in a room…with a ceiling, and now she’s in the middle of a rainstorm in a crappy camp. Gawd, you’d think she signed on to live outdoors with no amenities.
Finally, the happy bunch returns, and, much to Kathy’s disappointment, don’t hug her.
Kathy (confessional): Gosh. The other tribe couldn’t keep their hands off me. What’s up with that?
Well, let’s see. Your tribe has been in a depressive funk since about Day 2, while your adversaries have been routinely kicking your tribe’s tail. They just won a day on a luxury yacht (which apparently has an open Ecstasy bar), while your homies had to go get grilled by camera-hog Probst, ice one of their own, and then come home in the rain to sleep in a wet pile of clothes. You do the math.
As they sulk around the fire, they notice that Colby left his hat behind. Only it’s framed in a way, with the thunder and lightning and rain, to make it seem like the camp is haunted by the Ghost of a Texas Ladies Man.
Shii Ann: I guess we should mail it back to him.
Now that’s responsible. Completely obtuse and unnecessary, but responsible. You could, and I’m just riffing here, flip it to someone on the crew to take it back to the production camp, but maybe if you put little hearts and smiley faces on the box and enclosed a “Sorry we had to shiv you in the shower” card, he’d appreciate the personal touch. Don’t forget to use Priority Mail.
This, however, segues nicely into some reflection on the challenge whore.
Kathy (confessional): Colby was holding us back. I mean I know he was really strong, while Shii Ann barely has the energy to hold her head up anymore and all Jerri does is inject the tribe with a Dr. Kevorkian sort of “positive energy”, but we never amounted to much because of him. He was always like “I don’t trust you guys,” and what’s up with that? I mean aside from us almost voting him out when he went Dicque-tatorial, and me wearing Shii Ann like a belt from sun-up to sun-down, and Lex doing pretty much the same with Jerri, I can’t see why he wouldn’t trust us. And now that he’s gone, Ethan’s gone mental.
Mogo Mogo, Day 20
(Cue shot of Babushka Ethan, rocking and staring into space. The tribe is in the shelter reminiscing about their favorite place: Tribal Council.)
Shii Ann: He didn’t even turn around or anything. (It must’ve been the tears in his eyes.) I would’ve been like “you got me” to Jerri after all those ‘things’. I may have even thrown in a ‘Paaardner’ and one of those fake gun-with-your-hand gestures and a wink, what with being a cowpoke and all. (Riiiight. Because we all know how much dignity you went out with in Thailand. And you saw it coming.)
Ethan (confessional): Oooh. Don’t I feel silly…and paranoid. Not only was Colby fooled, but I was fooled, and really it was the “me” fooling that I’m feeling silly—and paranoid–about. I thought I was close to Lex, but it’s clear he’s out for himself this time around. How selfish.
Well that’s it then, I’ve checked out, left the building, gone on mental vacation, and I’m not letting my personal items out of my sight. Hey! Did you hear that? It sounded like Clarence. You guys wouldn’t bring him back to eff with me, would you?
Jerri (confessional): **cackling like a…what’s that word? Y’know the one that rhymes with ‘bitch’?** Well, my work here is done. I can die now. I. outlasted. Colby. Neener, neener, NEE-ner. Knock, knock. You hear that Colby, it’s the herniatic bellboy taking away my baggage.
My Survivor closet is clean. (First of all…eww. Second of all, it may be unoccupied presently, but it’s going to take a whole lot of procedures ending in ‘oscopy’ to make it clean.)
The sun shines bright on my ol’ Chalupa home, Day 20
The Chaluparettes go to retrieve the Treemail. Initially it looks to be the bottle MB has sent for Rawb’s soul, but it turns out to be a note summoning one of them to Maudlin Maudlin. (Besides, we all know MB’s gonna get stiffed on that deal. Rawb has no soul.)
Alicia: Take the bottle, break the bottle, read the instructions, follow the directions, and, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, don’t forget to take the pen.
Amber (confessional): Ack! One of us might have to stay over there. Not me, of course, or Rawb, or anyone important like…well not me and Rawb anyway.
The tribe decides to draw straws for the chore. Jenna draws the short straw.