Sausage Fest on Zombie Island: It’s all guys bunking together, bonding like shepherds on Brokeback Mountain, out on Zombie Island tonight: Matt, aka Dr. Jesus, beautiful Mike, Ralph, known to we as Mansweater, and now Steve. It’s like the Retirement Village edition of Delta House in Animal House.
Mansweater figured that, since the jury is mostly Viva Zapata losers, if one of the three Zapatans on Zombie Island can be The Resurrected One, he’d be a shoe-in to win. Maybe, but first he’d have to get around Dr. Jesus, Superstar, and he’s the one with work experience at being resurrected. On the other hand, Easter was two weeks ago.
But no one wants to be back at the hotel compound when the Navy SEALS come for Russell.
Natalie had a crying jag just because. We understand. It was a double-length Tribal Council, and she was up way past her her Beddy-Bye Time. She was overtired and over-excited. We knew there’d be tears before bedtime tonight. Maybe now, she’ll sleep through her two o’clock feeding.
Natalie is the youngest person ever to play Survivor. In fact now, at Day 30, she’s been on Survivor for half of her entire life.
Product Placement: it’s a product placement day, just putting you in that product placement mood, starting with product placement treemail. I decided that, since I don’t see a penny of Palin’s Pimp’s product placement fees, I would sell my own, Replacement-Product Placement Products. So the players got an Acme Doowacky, with 42 trillion gigawhomps of rhinoplasty. You read that right. 42.
Along with inviting all to the Quad-Doofus Tournament for Resurrection, the Acme Doohicky had moving cave paintings of Natalie’s Mom pretending to be missing her. Andrea-or-Ashley’s dad was next, but he couldn’t remember which one was his daughter, so he said “hi” to both. Then Phillip’s, aka Big Chief Numbnuts’s, sister was on, beaming with the special joy with which his family members always glow whenever they know he is safely in another hemisphere. Rob’s Loved One on the Acme Face-Showing Device Thingee was his sister, since Amber has too high a fee for Reality show appearances.
Grant’s Loved One was his brother-in-law. Is it me, or is that reaching? Where’s Mrs. Grant, the hussy? For Heaven’s sake, I’m as qualified to be Grant’s Loved One as his brother-in-law. I Love One him long time.
As if this wasn’t nauseating enough in the tribe, The Squawking Dead over on Zombie Island also got Acme Countenance-Transmitting Grelboings, so we were subjected to yet more people going emotionally nuts when seeing for the first time in a month people they normally go six months without seeing. I haven’t seen my brother-in-law in decades! Do I even still have one?
These were supposed to cheer people up, but Mansweater’s Significant Other back at the sty had to break the heartrending news to him that two of Mansweater’s chickens had - yes! - died! Oh, how fowl a deed is this? For heaven’s sakes, man (Man? Right? That is your species, correct? “Correct” means “right”.), he’s got to go out right now and fight a four-handed duel (we don’t get it either) for his life, and you drop that dead chicken emotional bombshell on him? Are you insane? Mansweater will be haunted by the specter of his two dead chickens, and possibly by one of Chief Numbnuts’s ancestors as well, while he battles for his life.
Mike had never gone 30 days without an email from his mother before. I know just how he feels. My mother died before email was invented, so I went for a whole century without ever getting an email from her, so I never had the pure, innocent, golden joy of deleting my mother’s emails unread, or of “accidentally” forwarding to her some really repugnant porn. Mike, I feel your pain.
Dr. Jesus Superstar pretended with all his might to be overjoyed to see his brother on the Acme Magic Hand-Sized Gizmo, but I wasn’t fooled. His heart was ripping in two with abandonment issues and unloved feelings from the humiliating and unmistakable snub. Yes, I said snub! After all The Doc has been through on His behalf, Jesus didn’t even bother to show up to be Dr. J’s “Loved One.” Cold, Christ, cold.
Zombie Island Quad-Doofus Tournament for Resurrection And Car Show: The first thing Jeff “Indian Giver” Probst did was repossess the Acme All-Purpose Doomsday Machine-and-Can Openers. It was like spending Christmas at Joan Crawford’s house.
The winner of the “Duel” would get to spend time with his Loved One. Jeff said: “It is a four-person duel, first time we’ve had one of these.” That is because there is no such thing as “a four-person duel.”
Simple, typically tile-phobic, challenge: the players have to smash four tiles with metal balls. First one done gets “Love From Home.” The second one done gets Indifference From Home. The third one done gets Hate From Home, and the fourth one done goes Home.
After Mansweater’s first wild toss, Jeff said: “Very close.” Well yes, it landed in the same country as the tile he was aiming for.
Just to be clear on this, for me to be rid of Dr. Jesus Superstar, Steve has to beat him. Or, pixies must fly out of my butt and sing Bohemian Rhapsody in Yiddish.
After Mike had won Love From Home (I volunteered to be his “Love From Home,” but they rudely insisted on using someone he knew. Favoritism! And then it turned out to be his Mom who showed up to give him “Love From Home.” Ew. Greek Tragedy time!), when it was down to Dr. Jesus and Mansweater having one tile left each, while Steve had, I think, more tiles left than he started out with (Five? How could he have five?), Steve clearly gave up, and was just tossing the ball without even attempting to aim it. Is that how they come from behind in the NFL? What a washout Steve was in Survivor.
This is the second time Dr. Jesus stayed alive in the game, but didn’t come in first. It looks better and better now for Mike being the Zombie who will return. (and I am certain now that that return will not come until the finale.) Mike will make one fine looking Zombie.
Ah, but Jeff had one of those evil choices for Mike to make: He could have time with Mommy, or he could let Dr. Jesus Superstar spend time with his brother, filling in for Jesus, who is on location in Vegas, and unable to get away for the shoot (He can’t be in two places at once now can he? He is only one Holy Trinity, you know!), and allow Mansweater to spend time with his “Buddy” Ronny.
“Buddy”? Is that what they’re calling it now, to keep the Mormons from outlawing it? Last week Mansweater said he was not a gay man, to the relief of every gay man and male farm animal on earth, but now he and Ronny are just itching for some fine man-neck hugging, if Mike wants to curry potential jury votes.
(Don’t read too much into Mansweater not having any relatives show up. The family of wolves that raised Mansweater wanted to be there, but they are illegal to import into Nicaragua.)
OR Mike could let everyone there except him have love from home, or whatever it is they have in Chief Numbnuts’s tribe. Had I been in Mike’s shoes, it would be an easy choice, if a poor shoe-fit: I couldn’t stand my mother.
Jeff asked Mike to take us through his mental steps, and Mike sent my respect for him plummeting as he began babbling about the Bible, and Jesus, who couldn’t even be bothered to come down and be Dr. Jesus Superstar’s Loved One, saying that the most important of the Commandments was to “Love your brother as you would love yourself.”
1. I’ve seen The Ten Commandments with Charleton Heston several times, and I played the Egyptian Mother of Moses opposite Steve Reeves’s Moses in Torah! Torah! Torah!” myself. And “Love your brother as you would yourself” isn’t even one of them.
2. Loving your brother the way you love yourself is still illegal in 37 states, and heavily frowned-on in most of the others, the exceptions being in certain parts of the deep south.
3. Mike has been spending too much time trapped alone with Dr. Jesus and his evil pink Bible. We’ve got to get him away from that brain-robber!
Mike chose to “[give] up your love with your Mom,” which I assume means they will now hate each other for the rest of their lives. Welcome to my world, Mike. Mike also chose to give up Dr. Jesus Superstar’s Love, and Mansweater’s “Buddy Love” (Wait! That’s a Jerry Lewis character! I imagine Dr. Jesus Superstar saying: “It’s okay. It’s not like he’s Jesus. It’s just my kid brother. He always follows me around, now all the way to Nicaragua.”) Jeff: “And you’re giving it to the six people who single-handedly decimated your tribe?”
Okay Jeff, class is in session. There will be a test later.
A. They did not “single-handedly” do anything! “Single-handedly” means one person doing something alone! They six-handedly (or 12-handedly to be really accurate) destroyed the tribe.
B. This is the third time in two weeks you’ve said Up Tempo “decimated” the other tribe. I let it go by twice. No more. “Decimated” means to be reduced by a tenth. When the Romans “decimated” a village, it meant they lined up everyone, and killed every tenth person. At the merge, if Viva Zapata had five people, and they were then decimated by the other tribe, they would then have four-and-a-half people. What Up Tempo did to Viva Zapata was to obliterate them.
Jeff, words have actual meanings. A “duel” is a contest between two, and only two. Any more players and it’s not a “duel.” An “island” is a bit of land entirely surrounded by water, not just “Another Part of the Forest” (though that is a wonderful Lillian Hellman movie.), “single-handedly” refers to something achieved by one person acting alone, and being “decimated” means being reduced by a tenth. Don’t just invent pretend meanings for words. You speak for a living. Learn the language you’re employing.
Did Mansweater’s “Buddy” Ronny say: “I love you” to Mansweater as he left? Sounded like it to me when I played it back four times, though the others were talking over him. Ronny is nicely built. He’s too good for Mansweater.
Well the important thing is, Grant got to see his brother-in-Law.
Mansweater was pissed off that he didn’t get to spend time with his “Buddy.” Mansweater said: “I think it was kind-a stoopid.” Yes, culling five potential jury votes, vs culling two potential jury votes, or no potential jury votes is so stupid. That’s what larnin’ ‘rithmatic’ll git ye.
Mansweater: “That’s something he has to live with.” Yes, giving up spending time with his mother to let six other people be happy is something that will weigh on his conscience like a ton of feathers. Oy, the guilt! How could he be so not-selfish? That anti-cad! That counter-bounder! That not-even-a-cur! His inner-Ayn Rand will be torturing him for doing the nice thing! Bastard! No neck hugs fer ye!
Mansweater: “If I’d-a been in his shoes, I’d a spent with my mom.” And his mom would have said: “Whose shoes are those? Are you stealing shoes again? Give them back, young man, right this minute!” Oh and Mansweater, Ronny isn’t your Mom; he’s your “Buddy,” and his neck longs for the scratches and abrasions only your own personal steel wool bestows on his fair flesh.
Dr. Jesus Superstar expressed gratitude for not-winning. We are all grateful when he loses. His reason was that he would not have done The Christian Thing, and sacrificed time with his annoying little brother so that others could have joy, as Jesus would tell him to do. That’s okay Doc; we knew you were a hypocrite as soon as you told us you were a Christian.
Mike then explained to Dr. Jesus that the reason God made him the winner was so that the others could have their family visits. Dr. Jesus was deprived of his win this time because God foresaw his craven selfishness. I thought God was busy in Pakistan, but I guess he gets around, and Survivor is apparently His Highest Priority. Mike, I was liking you up till now. Please shut off the God Chatter. You know why you won? You have better aim and calmer nerves under pressure. It’s your military training. Nothing to do with “God.”
Watching the Survivors show their Loved Ones and Brothers-in-Law around camp was every bit as fascinating as spending Christmas Eve with a family of strangers. Oh boy, Johnny got an electric train. Who is Johnny? What is a “train”? Where is the “Fast-Forward” button? At least at a stranger’s Christmas party, there would be food. And no Chief Numbnuts.
I saw Grant and his Brother-in-Law handle each other a good deal more in one clip than I have ever handled any and all of the brothers-in-law I’ve had over the whole of my life. He’s a brother-in-law; he’s the guy you never get around to talking to at Thanksgiving, unless he needs money, and then he corners you.
Natalie’s mom, who is not Albert Einstein, was telling her infant daughter that God was watching over her in the game. Her also? How many horses is God backing in this race? Is this legal? What does the Nicaraguan Gaming Commission say about Divinely-Fixed TV Game Shows? How many contestants is one Deity legally allowed to control the fate of? And why are so many players this season Sky Pilots? I’ve seen more intelligent people slinking out of midnight screenings of Atlas Shrugged, Part One, dressed as their favorite characters, and sticking needles in their own eyes “to make it STOP!”, than I’ve seen on this show this season.
Chief Numbnuts’s visit with his sister (whom I suspect was also his prom date), “empowered” him. Oh lovely.
Hearing Rob get weepy as he talked about how much he wanted to win it was too over-the-top for me. Rob, I don’t care how much you love your kids; blah, blah, blah. I care about: will your tribemates ever figure out that they need to blindside you or they are all doomed?
Rob’s more immediate goal is to make Andrea-or-Ashley the next evictee, for, you know, reasons. One big reason: She’s not Rob.
Immunity Challenge: The stairway set for this challenge could be seen from space. It looked like it needed a chorus of 20 singers and dancers to come strutting down it, belting out some Irving Berlin or Gershwin song, and cake-walking up and down the steps.
The players had to fetch “puzzle steps” (Like in “Ballin’ the Jack”? Those steps were always a mystery to me.) And build their staircase on the stairway, and ascend to Survivor Heaven and win Immunity.
This challenge was less fun than that musical number would have been. It had much of the excitement of watching Amish farmers raising a barn while on meth-amphetamines.
Okay, Chief Numbnuts had not taken any speed. He was plodding. This chore, I mean challenge, involved a lot of running up and down steep steps, in 100+ degree heat, so players were getting seriously winded indeed, but without Laurel & Hardy totting a piano up and down the steps, it just wasn’t funny enough.
Okay, Rob Haters, admit it. Rob deserved winning this one. That man was spent! I haven’t seen a man that spent since Errol Flynn at the end of that three-day weekend we spent “accidentally” locked up together in his wine cellar. The cork wasn’t all that got screwed.
If Rob’s winning state had been any more altered, he’d have reverted back into a young William Hurt. (Which, come to think of it, isn’t such a bad idea.) Anyway, that is “going all out,” and giving it your all to win. Not NFL Steve’s lame little, WTF, tosses as he gave up in his challenge. This was Rob in 110 degree heat, working himself up into a near-stroke, to win Immunity, when he has a still-secret immunity idol in his pocket! If Rob wins this season, he has earned it.
The plan is a simple one. Andrea-or-Ashley votes for Chief Numbnuts, and everyone else votes Andrea-or-Ashley. What could go wrong? What could use up three or four minutes of time and desperately try to drum up a little suspense? What is the Capital of Nebraska?
Big Chief Numbnuts to the time-filling post! He points out a wasp hovering over Andrea-or-Ashley, ignoring that this girl has “W.A.S.P.” written all over her, and takes issue with how she moves her arms. Or, since the WASP was a White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, I can only assume it’s Numbnuts replaying his peculiar version of The Race Card.
Chief Numbnuts now revealed his “strategy” was to make himself the villain, so every one would want to take him to the end. “It’s brilliant strategy” he assured us, as he gloated over his guaranteed-to-lose-the-million Cunning Plan.
Numbnuts got all hissy-fit over the fishing nets being tangled. If I were him, I’d want all nets anywhere near me tangled up, because I’m sure men with nets chase him a good deal, and if they don’t, they should.
So Rob had to reconsider his decision, or so we were led to believe.
Tribal Council: Andrea-or-Ashley felt 100% confident she was not going home tonight.
Chief Numbnuts admitted he was lame at the challenge, citing his age and the heat. He longed to have a challenge that displayed the upper body strength he had “went I went in the army, at 29...” Chiefy, that was 23 years ago. You win this show because of who you are, not who you were two decades ago. I’ve been hoping for a challenge where my body of 20 years ago is time-warped onto me and I show what I can do!
Jeff basically asked everyone if they felt safe still or not, and everyone was sure someone else was tonight’s patsy.
But as always, Chief Numbnuts was in a world of delusions special to him, blithely missing the winces and laughter on his tribemates’ faces as he said stuff like: “I think everybody knows me to be, you know, the Senior Statesman,” Yes, they all noticed the statesmanlike way you accused Steve of being racist for noticing you were crazy. “I’m a guy who leads by example.” As in “Don’t do what I’m doing”?
Chief Numbnuts said his Cherokee great-great grandfather, whom I believe is now on The Jury, would tell him: “You’ve done everything right.” I think he’d ask about the big metal birds in the sky, but I think his most-likely comment would be either: “What are you wearing?” or just the simple, classic: “Ugh!”
Oh gee, the fake Will-Rob-decide-to-vote-out-Chief-Numbnuts,-who-is-doing-exactly-what-Rob-wants-him-to-do “suspense” sure was purty. Andrea-or-Ashley, like totally surprised, like, wow, is off to the arms of the man she betrayed. True love. Cheers darlings.
To read more of Tallulah Morehead, go to The Morehead, the Merrier, or buy her book, My Lush Life. Also, you can read Little Dougie's contributions to the newly published book Creatures of the Night That We Loved So Well: The TV Horror Hosts of Southern California by James Fetters.