Welcome to my summary of episode four of the show that airs on CBS on Tuesday nights at 10 PM Eastern. You refer to it as TAR. I tend to refer to it as The Not Particularly Amazing and, Come To Think of It, Weíre Not Really Very Sure Itís Actually a Race, but Iíll stick with TAR because TNPACTTIWNRVSIAR is sort of unwieldy and doesnít translate well from its native Sanskrit.
By the way: Iím phoning this in. I just got back from England. Iím sick as a dogóI will have this computer keyboard disinfected before I use it again, and in fact may have my self disinfected before I use me again. I had to put a beloved cat to sleep yesterday, before the show aired. Iím working two jobs, both of which are making demands that do not correlate with physics as we know them. No, really, I donít make this stuff up. My life is a swirling nasty mess of stress and horror right now, although my sex life is super, thanks for asking.
I mean, not to go all Dr. Philophile on you, really, because you know me perfectly well and you know that Iím not about that sort of maudlin tripe around here. ďHereĒ being OT, which is where I actually live. I just visit these Basher thingies from time to time.
But I have no idea why I watch this show, which causes me to visit this Basher thingie from time to time. I mean, itís not like anything that Mark Burnett doesnít produce doesnít suck, right? As I have noted before, this here not-particularly-amazing thing is a Jerry Bruckheimer production. Yeah, Jerry Bruckheimer, the guy who made Cuba Gooding scream about money, the guy who made Johnny Depp a lisping syphilitic pirate, the guy whoís usually off blowing things up. So why isnít he blowing up contestants on this show? Or turning Phil and his curvaceous manmaries into a lisping syphilitic pirate? I like that one, come to think on it, donít you?
No I don't. That was a trap, you sick weirdo.
Actually, I do know why. Itís because Iím fascinated with blue taxis. But they donít have those in London. Theyíre black, which doesnít require me to put in font coding. Okay, Iím starting to ramble. Maybe this is a normal Landru summary after all.
So yeah, this summary? One ringy dingy, two ringy dingies, have you reached the party to whom you were trying to speak? Settle in. This summaryís gonna suck like a Jerry Bruckheimer production.
Previously on the show that airs on CBS on Tuesday nights at 10 PM Eastern: Patagonia. Mud. Short persons running in the night. Bickering at the airport, because this batch of contestants is a particularly pushy, obnoxious, rude bunch, even for TAR contestants. Mass stupidity. Our weekly dose of adventuresomeness, in the form of paragliding. Phil tearfully informs that old guy whoís still bleeding from the last episode of this crockery that I was in a position to watch, and his dumba$$ daughter, that they are the last team to arrive and that they are to be fed to gauchos, served rare with a raw egg broken over them, and that they suck almost as bad as the Argentine national futbol team, which just lost to Brazilís B-team on penalty kicks after having been tied in stoppage time, setting off a wild celebration among the largely Brazilian population of a suburb embedded in my media market which, in case youíve forgotten, is vastly superior to your media market, unless youíre one of my homies, who arenít getting shoutouts because Iíve given those up for Lent, or youíre a certain Blowhevian named relative to a certain object that orbits the Earth, who also isnít getting a shoutout because Iíve given those up for Lent. Although if I hadnít, sheíd certainly be getting one. Which she isnít.
Oh, and Landru misses two consecutive episodes during his trip to London and comes in cold to write an EP4 summary after copping an upper respiratory infection and a recently deceased beloved pet. Not that heís bitter about it or anything. No, for bitterness about writing TAR summaries, see my famous blue taxis summary, which was, as I recall, written the night that Kathy OíBrien peed on John the nurseís hand on the beach in the Marquesas and someone else got to write the summary for it. Iím sure someone will look up a link for you. But here? No, no bitterness. Just the credits and some:
Red and blue cars confusingly named people who appear to have a relationship in which one of them purchases things for the other, for WalMart; an irritated woman and an animated white-clad he-man, not that thereís anything wrong with that, for Mr. Clean; some model, for an Olay product that traps you in a reverse feedback time loop and causes you to become younger, until you were never born at all; Denzel, for Denzelís latest flick which appears to really sorta suck, which will not keep Satanís Little Helper from her usual state of being a heartbeat away from dumping me to go madly hump away on Denzel; people enjoying themselves immensely while on Adkins, for Fridayís; and CBS, including Rob Lowe and Joe Pantoliano for a bad new show, affirming CBSí latest marketing policy of getting bigger and bigger stars to do suckier and suckier shows, and some shilling for contestants for the next rendition of TAR, which I donít particularly understand because the casting for TAR appears to consist of building a base of two or three beautiful couples and then stacking the deck with freaks, geeks, and people who were reviled on other CBS reality shows.
And weíre back.
Weíre at some pit stop in Patagonia, which is in Argentina which has, as I just mentioned, a particularly bad national futbol team at this particular time, not that they bother to tell you on TAR that Argentine futbol players whinge and cry and dive and wheedle for red cards and penalty kicks and generally carry handbags, which they lift comically as they cringe to avoid speeding futbols that might otherwise hit them in the testicles they donít have.