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Survivor: Vanuatu - Episode 100, Part 9 Summary

'Chasing Ami Second Thought, Just Let Her Go' By landruajm
Original Airdate: December 12, 2004

First off, thanks giant huge gobs to Kimmah for sharing the fun here and allowing me to continue the tradition of monopolizing the Survivor Reunion Show summarizin’. Kimmah’s a good egg that way. Which is not to say that she’s misshapen.

As you know, we’ve had many a Jiffy Reunion Show entrance over the many seasons of Survivor. Let’s see, there was the time he blew up the Statue of Liberty. And there was the time Unterseebootkapitan Matt dropped him off on the docks in Brooklyn before coming about to torpedo the Queen Mary. There was the time Jiffy rode the subway to Central Park and almost didn’t get there because he got distracted by a transvestite hooker who turned out to be that “chick” Aaron from…geez, was it Marquesas? Beats me. And there was the best of all, the time Jiffy caught a cab in front of Madison Square Garden, which was, as I definitively established at the time, a fake because even undereducated Iowans know you can’t catch a cab within three blocks of Penn Station. And of course, there was the whole cabin boy gig, which is probably just best forgotten, hmm?

So what do we get this time? A whole bunch o’ stunt doubling, that’s what we get. Starting mighty soon after 10 PM Eastern time on Sunday night, while the Redskins are still in the middle of making several million people in this media market think they have some mathematical chance of offing the Iggles, Jiffy starts to hack his way through some fake underbrush with a machete. You can tell it’s fake because you can clearly see “Made in Taiwan” on the undersides of some of the leaves. Jiffy is, of course, carrying the Tiki Medieval Kaniggit Helmet of Fate as he mauls the plastic growth.

Yes, “mauls the plastic growth” will henceforth be code for something over on OT.

Earlier in the evening, that is to say previously, on Survivor, we had a bunch of vomitorious horse doody, which you know both because you read my post to that effect on the East Coast thread, and because being polite and respectful, you have, before reading this, perused Kimmah’s very fine summary of the Survivor finale episode, which if you are too stupid to find pretty much right next to the trash you're reading now, you may find by clicking here. Said horse doody consisted of a lot of whinging from confused morons who seemed to forget that they were playing a game for

One. Million. Dollars.

But I’ve used that schtick before, and I’m really not feeling like going and finding the old Dr. Evil image, so you’ll just have to use your imagination to complete the joke for me, mmkay?

So the whingers and whiners and morons and self-absorbed fvckwits who populate the Survivor jury do their whining and moroning and whinging, forgetting entirely that what separates them from the two apes sitting on the Logs of Finalism is that they lied too, they just weren’t as good at it, and fortunately for all that is good and right and holy, the two mulletheads on the Logs of Finalism are inclined to remind them thereof. So all is good and right and holy.

Except it isn’t, because now at a few minutes after 10 PM Eastern time, while we’re most emphatically not watching what we know to be a losing cause over on ESPN, we’re watching Jiffy hack away at plastic plants with a fake machete, because Lord knows Mark Burnett isn’t dumb enough to put a hot gameshow hosting property like Jeff Probst into close proximity with any sharp objects. I mean, look at Jiffy’s girlfriend.

Ba-dump-bump. Thank you, I’ll be here all week, please tip Kismet.

Yeah, that’s right. Kismet, who doesn’t even exist around here any more, is getting a shoutout, and you’re not. Whimper appropriately.

Mmkay, mauling plastic undergrowth by the light of the full moon, check. Propeller airplane, check. Taking off from a grass landing strip, check. Hokey Indiana Jones red line on map thingie tracing route to Los Angeles, check. Fake paradrop executed by stunt double, check. Jiffy pretending to paraglide in front of a blue screen, check. Jiffy’s stunt double riding a motorcycle to CBS Television City, check.

Ayup. It’s a reunion show, all right. Oh, and “check” stick reproduced courtesy of Fester Enterprises, LLC, a Delaware corporation.

But I need to note that at this moment, when the show aired, I was on the phone, as I am wont to be during moments of high Survivor drama, with my friend TechNoir, who observed the following: “Christ, he’s wearing a German helmet.”

I think that’s a small price for him to pay to turn Julie on, don’t you?

So Jiffy enters the studio set to the usual screams from the usual live audience. And the usual live rendition of something resembling a Survivor theme. It’s all the usual usualness as the sun sets over L.A., yessirree.

So yeah, it’s the usual trained-monkey entrance, with Jiffy acknowledging the audience as he usually do, and we finally focus on the final two, one of whom is in a mullet and the other of whom looks like Meat Loaf, and I’d just like to note that I was the first one to point that out, back in my summary of episode 2, which you might find here, if you were so inclined.

And Jiffy reads us the votes we’ve already seen, two of those being for Chris, and two of them being for Twila, and we teeter briefly on that edge of pseudo-suspense, even though we and Chris and Twila and the whole damn cast and everyone in America, including those who’ve been paying no attention whatsoever to this season, know perfectly well that Chris cleaned Twila’s clock, and there’s the usual hugging and rejoicing and family-humping and suchlike, this shared with a bunch of truly scary-looking people who are apparently Chris’ kin, and we cut to a town in Ohio where everyone either wears a mullet or looks like Meat Loaf, and we go to a fisheye-view of Jiffy, who’s way too damned close to the camera, and a slew of Jiffy-brak as the cast cavorts and hugs and pretends to like each other in the background, Jiffy braking on with his usual list of not-terribly-incisive questions, all of which are even more painfully obvious than usual this time, after this wretched season (from a game-play perspective—I actually hold that it was a pretty entertaining season, entertainment-wise), and I’m pretty sure that we’re headed off to sell some merchandise, aren’t you? Yeah, we’re into


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