Well, I haven’t played this silly game in a while. But I am hurting for new ideas, so let’s live-blog Survivor again. If there are new any readers that weren’t here for my previous Survivor blogs, things can get a little vulgar and raunchy, depending on how much gin I have had and the attractiveness of the Survivettes. The big improvement this season is the replacement of the old Handspring PDA with a new MacBook. The TiVo is ready to go, and the gin and tonic continues to sit in its place of honor at my right hand; maybe if I do this again, I will upgrade to Tanqueray. Sorry I missed the first episode last week, but what the hell. Off we go again.
The show starts with a summary of last week. We learn, essentially, that the Asians are worried about stereotyping but perform bizarre healing rituals anyway, the Hispanics are used to the tropics, the Blacks want to get busy, and the Whites are already pissed off. Yeah, the tribes have traditional Survivor names, but I refuse to acknowledge them due to the absurdity of dividing them by race in the first place. The Blacks fail to win immunity, and vote out the first loser of the episode. They inexplicably pick their strongest member.
Before we get any farther, let me say that I am sorely disappointed in CBS. How dare they present this program in 4:3 format. This shit is made
We return on Day 4 to find the blacks are struggling for fire. Weren’t they just at tribal council, where they lit their torches? What the hell happened to that? They look thoroughly disheartened. Eventually one of the sistahs, Rebecca, gets things rolling. You go boo!
Over to the Amigos, who proudly proclaim that being a “good worker” is in their blood. And they seem to be correct, scoring fish and clams for food. Interjection: I forgot how bad these early “getting to know you” episodes are. This nonsense is all talk and no action, which makes for challenging blogging.
We learn that amigo Christina is a cop that has been shot on duty. Not an unattractive cop, either. I start thinking about some good uses for those handcuffs, but it is way to early for that nonsense - all in good time, my friends. Let me just say now that I hope Christina goes a long way in this game.
Fellow tribe member Cecelia is described as a “risk consultant,” whatever that means. In any case, I am sitting here imagining the risk of her falling out of that bikini top she is barely wearing.
Like the amigos, the asians have set up a chicken trap, which catches two birds. Yul bonds up with a lawyer, who he trusts because she does non-profit work. For me, I don’t really trust people that work for free, because they are by definition up to something else. But they are both Korean, so they have formed a sub-tribe. Koreans aligning against other Asians? I wonder what Nancy Pelosi would say about that.
Meanwhile, white boy returns from Exile Island, to find No. Progress. Whatsover. And he is pissed. I must say, though, that the white chicks are very cute. Except maybe Roller Girl, who has way too many tattoos and knotty looking hair. Cute, yeah, but just too edgy for my taste. As if the taste of a graying, 46 year old widow is of any consequence to anyone that matters in this world. I decide I need a new drink, maybe even a double. Picard: “Make it so.”
A big belt, and it’s back at team Amigo, Billy spends the day doing, well, nothing. His buds spear fish and collect coconuts, which Billy happily consumes. The amigos are not happy with this effort. Again, please: a little less talk and a lot more action.
The faith healing continues over at team Asia, as a wizened nail salon owner beats the living shit out of a young girl to help her cure a headache. Amazingly, she seems to appreciate the treatment. That night they agonize about us viewers not getting their racial jokes. Has it not occurred to them that faux asian faith healing is the worst racial joke of all?
Finally, treemail promises a reward and immunity challenge. Finally, some action! The amigos are talking about losing on purpose, so they can evict Billy pronto. Wow, that’s a new one. Losing. On. Purpose. Old Billy must be even worse than we are seeing to justify that kind of action. Or Ozzy is more conniving. One of the two. Who knows which, but really, who cares?
Today’s challenge is a memory game coupled with a traditional Survivor obstacle course. Probst reads an inane narrative of Captain Cook’s voyages, and off they go, collecting game pieces on the course while tied together. The action is riveting. Riveting, that is, if setting rivets consisted of staring into space for hours on end. This is some bad television. And the amigos really seem to be throwing this thing. In the end, the asians win, and the amigos lose. They lose on purpose, and Billy knows he is toast.
On Exile Island, Yul follows the clues and searches for the immunity idol. Clouds blow by, Yul digs, and I am bored silly. More gin, Kurt? Why yes, I think I will, thanks. Against all odds, Yul finds the idol. Whoopee.
Back at team Amigo, Billy and Christina are trying to figure out how to block Ozzy’s grand plan. She plans with Cecelia, who is another pretty sharp babe I must say. But that said, can you tell I am fading here? This show, and hence this post, sucks. Sucks. Out. Loud. I will try a few more episodes, but if this doesn’t pick up there is no way I am going to make it for the whole season.
Tribal Council finds Amigo at the silliest looking fake boat wreck I have ever seen. It looks like they dragged it in from Disney World. The tribe snarks at each other, and Billy professes his love for Candace, who we have barely seen on the Pallor tribe. One wierd moment, that, and not lost on Probst. He can’t believe, two people in love in four days, and they rarely even see each other? The tribe members are skeptical, too, and the votes are cast. In the end, Billy is gone, apparently Christina couldn’t flip Cecelia. I can barely contain my enthusiasm.
Next week: An Octopus, and a flirty Survivette. Now that's some bloggable action!
Now, the last thing I am going to say about these racially divided tribes. All the participants speak perfect American English. They are all thoroughly American,
in attitude and culture. The idea of dividing them up by eye shape and skin tone is patently absurd. The act of doing so demonstrates to me how much more we have in common as plain Americans than as ethnic-Americans.