Previously on The Not At All Amazing Not Really Quite A Race: Rawb and Ambuh stole Debbie and Bianca’s non-blue taxi, which led directly to Debbie and Bianca coming in last for the leg. Well, actually, it was the part where after losing their taxi, which they just found out about last Tuesday night, Debbie and Bianca drove aimlessly about Chile for something like 14 hours, that led directly to Debbie and Bianca coming in last for the leg. And “stole” is kinda unfair, since Rawb and Ambuh actually bought Debbie and Bianca’s non-blue taxi. Which, come to think of it, might actually have been blue.
But I digress. Fancy that. So after stealing or buying Debbie and Bianca’s non-blue taxi, Rawb and Ambuh, along with the rest of us, drove through the Andes, which was pretty fuh-reakin’ awesome and I think we’ll all do it together some time, yes? And we went biking and/or white-water rafting, which as I recall led to a whole lot of whining from someone — a Debbie or a Bianca, I’m guessing — about how she almost just died in a rafting accident. And then we went to eat meat. A whole crapload of meat, some of it organ meat, and some of it ribs, and some of it the snow-frozen flesh of a soccer team whose plane crashed. At least, some of us ate meat. If we were smart like Rawb, we didn’t eat the meat, and we talked people behind us into not eating the meat, and it worked. It didn’t work on the whinging little priss Patrick, though, and we were treated to an extensive argument between Patrick and his mother over him being a little quitter before he got to work eating the meat, while the ill-fated Debbie and Bianca finally found Argentina and Debbie wolfed down the organ meats. It wasn’t enough to save their entirely too-perky first-to-last asses, though, because they were the last team to arrive and Phil was sorry to tell them that they had been eliminated from the Not Really Quite A Race. Eight teams remain, which team that has never appeared on Survivor will be eliminated next?
Roll credits and commercials:
I have to comment on these credits. They suck. They suck mightily. They’re way too freakin’ cliched and cutesy and they make me want to bash the brains out of every team except, stunningly, Rawb and Ambuh, who are of course the only people in these credits who aren’t posing and posturing and generally making asses of themselves. This extends especially to Ray and Deana, who are shown performing some sort of martial arts ritual before standing in profile and staring threateningly at the camera, and also to Ron the Dumbass Former POW and his Lard-Sucking Former Beauty Queen partner Kelly, who are pictured in a field surrounded by flapping American flags, and of course to Lynn and Alex, two of the most overdone heinously campy self-absorbed homosexuals in the history of overdone campy self-absorbed homosexuality. I have concluded that my mission in life is to beat Jerry Bruckenheimer to death with a stick, take all his production budget, and actually do this show right.
Where the hell was I? Credits? Oh yeah,
And we’re back.
Phil explains to us patiently, around his ridiculously oversized man-breasts, that we are in Argentina, at some ranch. Phil is wearing a shirt that appears to be polyester, and that clings ludicrously to his disgusting boobs while falling slack around the rest of his torso. Phil is, without a doubt, the worst-dressed reality-show host in all of reality television. I hereby command all of you to write to CBS and offer to become fashion consultants for TAR, because even if you have no fashion sense whatsoever, you’re better-dressed than Phil.
I myself? Have a pretty good eye for color and fabric, but my clothes tend to ride funny because of that whole “being a fat bastard” thing.
So we’re at the pit stop, which involves a whole lot of brak about why pit stops exist and what the rules are and why people have to rest and eat and poop and stuff. It also involves some low-quality foreshadowing, to wit: “Can Blonde Joan Crawford and Her Incredibly Prissy Son climb out of last place? Can Rawb and Ambuh overcome their incredibly brilliant move and resume putting an unholy whipping on the rest of these no-account dworks on their way to a victory limited in degree only by the producers’ unshakeable tendency to bunch everyone up in the Shanghai airport?”
In case you’re wondering, the answers are, of course, “Hell no” and “Duh.” Here’s the true summary version of what’s going to happen, in case you’re not one of my fans: Rob and Amber kick everyone’s a$$, and do so smartly and with flair. Everyone else is a complete idiot loser moron. The worst of these, for the moment, are Joan and Prissy, but there’s plenty of room for certain other teams to be mired in despair until their elimination, most clearly the Old Farts and the deeply disturbing Ray and Deana. I make the Final Three as Rob and Amber, U and Joyce, and probably Brian and Greg, although a lot of mistakes can happen over six or seven legs of this not-quite-a-race. Like, for instance, watching the show.
But back to previouslying: Phil does point out that Rawb and Ambuh’s “unorthodox tactics continue to alienate the other teams,” which is another way of saying “Rawb and Ambuh are the only reasonably intelligent people ever to have been cast for this show.”
So Lynn and Alex, who are cloying, nasty, delusional bitches who, if they were one percent as funny and entertaining as they think they are, would still be a long way from either, depart the pit stop at 3:49 AM. Now, when a leg kicks off in the middle of the night, as this one does, there’s gonna be some bunching, and today will be no exception. We are, it seems, to drive ourselves to yet another ranch, where we will catch the next clue bus.
Lynn and Alex are very proud of themselves for beating Rob and Amber in the last leg. They further the cause of low-quality foreshadowing by telling us how they earned their “huge lead” and they’re determined to keep it. Don’t you hate it when the producers tell you the order of finish in the first five minutes of the show?
Uchenna and Joyce depart at 4:07 AM, which tells us that Lynn and Alex think that 18 minutes is a “huge lead,” except it doesn’t, because Lynn and Alex were talking about their lead over Rob and Amber, obsessed as they are with their own self-loathing over their worship of Rob and Amber, who of course deserve to be worshipped. But I was talking about Uchenna and Joyce, who are rising in my personal estimation with every passing moment. There was some ooky stuff from them early in the season, stuff that tended to lump them in with the usual run of uninteresting mid-folk who tend to populate TAR casts, but they’re reasonably intelligent, gently funny, perfectly nice people who are running a pretty good game. Uchenna is a pretty powerful guy, and Joyce is no wimp, and they’re growing more likeable as the show wears on. They are excited about being in second place, and that’s an admirable attitude, there. We’ll discuss attitude more and more as this vomitation of words and thought progresses. And I am getting closer to making up my mind about them, in a good way. Yes, yes, you care deeply what I think.
We’re back to the catty bitches for a moment, who tell us again, as they drive recklessly down a South American highway laying on the horn and calling everyone with the temerity to be on the same road as them vile names, that they’re hours ahead, and that they hope to get on a plane ahead of everyone else and widen their insurmountable lead. Remember that whole pain thing associated with foreshadowing, the thing I was telling you about in a summary of something or other a while back? Get yourself some Advil, darling reader.