Palau: May this Never Happen Again.

Here we go with another epic Survivor! This program is a guilty pleasure of mine. Let the games begin.

Episode 1

...starts with a tour of the islands, their beauty, and history. Like we won't see any more of that in the ensuing episodes.

The contestants row in like Viking slaves. All row that is, with the exception of one big-haireed woman who seems content to watch the others from the stern, like Nefertiti of the Nile. She turns out to be a Vegas showgirl. And sure, I can mix metaphors with the best of them.

The race to the beach for immunity ends, and we have had out first glimpse of the survivors. It appears Burnett has reliably included all "groups:" the deep-drawled southern male, the effeminate hairdresser, the butch-cut female "civil rights" attorney, and the always adorable collecton of young, well-racked babes for visual relief. It will take a while to get to know this crowd.

They begin their search for water, shelter, and fire. Janu the showgirl climbs a tree while a black chick eats a bug. Coby the hairstylist gets lots of airtime. Is that because his gay butt is gone, or because we need to get to know him as a power player? Who knows. Who cares.

Host Jeff Probst arrives at the beach in all his muscled glory, perhaps scouting for his next date. He holds a surprise vote that consists essentially of picking the good kids for kickball. The last two unpicked are gone. And it's less interesting than that admittedly lame description. This is Survivor reduced to playground politics.

Voted out (or more accurately, not voted in) are a young spike-haired stud and a freak show singing schoolmarm, who annoyed me to no end in the first five minutes - I can only imagine what living with her would have been like, so it seems more an act of self-preservation than game strategy. The gay hairdresser predictably bursts into tears as they disappear.

We now have two tribes of nine, living together: Ulong in blue, and Koror in brown.

The first challenge is - wait for it - AN OBSTACLE COURSE! Jeff Harrell gets tired of these things and so do I. Anyway, over the river and through the woods they go. Yadda yadda yadda, lots of wardrobe malfunctions and assorted chaos later, Koror wins immunity and claims the power of fire. They also get to move to the beach that Jay is bringing down the aisle on his tray.

Then, disaster. The idiots of Koror dump their canoe on the way to the new beach and lose their fire. The only thing worse would be fainting into the fire and burning your hands to a crisp like that dude in Australia - imagine the standard of care at Palau General. This incident will likely only get these clowns a wry Probstian grin and all-knowing nod of the head.

Meanwhile, Ulonga tries to figure out who to vote off. Unsurprisingly, attention seems to focus on the tattooed, pierced pincushion of a woman who was the last one picked for dodgeball.

Tribal council looks like the set of McHale's Navy, with WWII era gun emplacements rusting in the background. The southern guy cracks me up. "Hail yeah!" he says, in response to a Probst query about his relative IQ. "Dumbass!"

The voting begins, and it looks at first like Tattoo Angie is toast; in a not-so-surprising twist, however, the overbearing and obnoxiously bossy lawyer Jolanda is given the heave-ho. She thinks it was because she was the oldest, but I think it was because she was louder and more annoying than Angie's tattoos.

Next week: The Survivors are scared by rats and lightning.