Monday, December 19, 2011

I Fulfilled The Requirement

My knees. My poor poor dirtied bruised knees. All this praying, all this repenting, all this kissing of dirtied sandalled feet. I've forgotten what it means to stand and move around by tits... I mean, my wits. After the soul searching and sacrificing of my beaded conch necklaces, I know one thing for sure - God doesn't care about Survivor. He doesn't care about your good deeds and he most certainly doesn't care about your sacrifices. He's too busy appearing in pancakes in New Mexico or waiting to hear his name called out at the BET awards. So now that we've learned where God's priorities lie, I'm taking a stand. I forbid anyone to invoke Him anymore on any of my reality shows. I am drawing the drunkenly squiggled line in the sand. No more God! *thunderclap in the distance* Instead, I want Pagans. Naked nature worshippers in velvet cloaks dancing under the full moon. Satyrs, nymphs, and fairy folk. Let the wind dictate the order of the day. Let the rain be our baptism. Sex under the stars, intention as our prayer, energy as our life force. Drum circles and pan pipes. Incense unfurling lazily up into the night sky. This is the Survivor of tomorrow. Why settle for one curmudgeonly God who doesn't know what the hell He wants half the time when you can have an entire pantheon of Gods and Goddesses to suit your every whim? Witches V. Druids. The most powerful spell wins. Let's recap, shall we?

We begin our final installment of Survivor: Bible Thumpers on Rhode Island (Redemption Island). Lil Hantz arrives in a fit of giggles and announces, "I got blindsided! I gave Albert my Immunity Necklace, but I got blindsided! I still love him though." Ozzy scratches his curls curiously and wonders if he'll live to see tomorrow. Clearly, a lunatic has entered his homestead, his Pleasure Dome, and it might behoove him to sleep with one eye open tonight. Brandon smiles one last crooked smile before crawling under the covers and curling up next to Ozzy. He whispers, "I love you man. God loves you, brother." Ozzy stares blankly for a smidge, but in the end decides that he's too tired to object. Besides, he's got a tailor made duel with his name spray painted on the side of it to win tomorrow. Beauty sleep comes first.

Back at Tuna Tartare (TeTuna) the mood wants to be merry. It's trying to be jolly. Instead, Coach is all twisted up in anger over Albert's lies at the last Tribal Council. His jury politicking is embarrassing at this point and that lie he told about young Brandon being safe... well, that was just cruel and unnecessary. Coach is done being made a fool of in this game. He quickly shoots a dragonfly with his pointer finger and tells us that now is the time he puts his foot down. Now is the time he puts a stop to Albert's all too transparent shenanigans. Albert listens to Coach in stony silence. Eventually he replies, "I uh I never uh meant I uh umm." Coach quiets Albert with a "shhhh". He's been officially humbled. Deep down inside I sort of hoped he'd been hobbled instead.

And this brings us to the Ozzy Lusth duel of Ozziness. Today, our Ozzys will climb up a giant pole and sit there for as long as they can. The only rule is that Ozzy cannot touch the top of the pole. Other than that, it's an Ozzy free-for-all. The Ozzy that wins this final duel will rejoin the game. Ozzys ready, go.

Our Ozzys grip their poles like horny sloths and the challenge has officially begun. Ozzy Ozzy begins to fidget early as he shifts into a pseudo standing position where he hangs on using only his pinky toes. Conversely, Brandon Ozzy sits stoically, unflinching. I can only assume he was deep in prayer in that moment. Then, like clockwork, we hear it. The familiar cries of a man desperate for votes. "Way to go Brandon! Come on brother!" It's Albert. Creepy, lackluster, ass kissing Albert.

The challenge continues yet Brandon sits comfortably. Out of the stillness we hear a slapping. Slap, slap, slap... it was perverse in it's slappiness and I thought to myself, "No! He's not really doing what I think he's doing, is he?" Turns out I'm the only pervert at the challenge as the slapping was merely Ozzy's thighs and palms climbing up and down, up and down the pole. I swished away the filthiness in my mind and crossed my fingers while I hoped for the best, but it wasn't to be... OZZY STAYS ALIVE!!!

Surprise, surprise. Ozzy wins the Ozzy Lusth challenge of Ozziness. Brandon put up a good fight, but he didn't stand a chance. Brandon seems ok with it though. He's happy for different reasons. Jubilant, if you will. He's open to God now and that's all that seems to matter to the young lad. He's a weird quirky dude with a storage unit of skeletons, but his unwavering persistence towards blind faith was quite a thing to behold. I don't pretend to understand it, but I hope the kid finds whatever it is he's looking for. Could it be that he wants what all of us to want? To be happy. To be loved. *shrugs shoulders* Eh, fuck if I know. Go treat yourself to a CHURRO tattoo Lil Hantz. You deserve it. Godspeed.

Back at Tuna Tartare, everyone is going through the motions of welcoming Ozzy back. Painted on smiles and outstretched hands mime goodness, but beneath the surface bubbles uneasiness and sorrow. Albert declares, "I want to beat his butt!" I'm sure you do Albert, but all in good time. Wear your finest to the Reunion and who knows? Maybe Ozzy will put out.

Coach pulls Ozzy to the side and genuinely congratulates him for an amazing run. Coach assures Ozzy that he's not going anywhere and that if Coach wins Immunity, he'll give Ozzy his Hidden Immunity Idol. *smacks self in head* No! No Coach, no! Ozzy eyes Coach suspiciously and isn't sure he believes the dragon slayer's promise. He says he wants to be in the end with Coach (yeah right), yet he's having a difficult time trusting his intentions. I don't know. Coach is a pretty genuine guy. I think when he says things in the heat of the moment he truly intends to follow through. His inner Coachness bursts with chivalry and loyalty. You know deep down he's dying to leap onto a horse in a suit of armor and rescue a damsel in distress in those moments. It's those whispers in time that get Coach in trouble though. It's easy to make promises when you're high on the mountaintop, but when you're back in the murky swamp of despair, they're sort of hard to see through to the end.

And this brings us to the big Immunity Challenge. Come on in guys! The first person to build a stack of cards while balancing an enormous board with one hand will win Immunity. Sophie smiles to herself. She just happens to have a book at home called House Of Cards For Dummies. In between studying for finals, dissecting frogs, and not hanging out with friends Sophie'll whip up a playing card deck mansion complete with a circular driveway and a swing set. Looks like she's got this challenge in the bag. Survivors ready, go!

Sophie works quietly and quickly. She's constructs the floor beams, puts in the dry wall, and is preparing to erect some Corinthian columns when, oh shit - she's out of cards! "I ran out of cards!", she whines. Dimples shrugs his shoulders and says, "Yeah, uh card management is part of the challenge bitch." At least that's what I heard him say. Tight lipped and angry, Sophie now starts a card shanty town. Meanwhile, Ozzy and Coach are neck in neck although moving fairly slowly. Rancher Rick and Albert have yet to lay the base boards. I don't know what the hell they're doing, but don't hire either of these guys to build you a deck. Not only will it not be sturdy, but it'll probably be a decade long project.

Sophie's shanty town begins to shape up nicely when all of a sudden - splat! Fighting back tears and cursing the "For Dummies" franchise, Sophie screams, "Pick up my pieces Albert! Stop what you're doing and pick up my pieces!" Sure, Albert's house is only a half a centimeter high, but who the hell does Sophie think she is? Albert stares blankly at his house for a few seconds and then peeks over his shoulder for a look at Sophie's pieces scattered in the sand. It was just long enough for Dimples to make a spur of the moment executive decision. "Albert can't help you Sophie. This is an individual challenge," states Dimples. We all knew Dimples made that up on the fly, but I'm glad he did. Every once in a while, a know-it-all needs to be kicked back to reality. It's good for the soul.

So no matter how much Sophie bitched and how many different elevations she tried, she just couldn't build her house of cards fast enough. In the end, it came down to Coach and Ozzy. Through hands shaking like crinkly leaves, Ozzy places his final piece and... OZZY WINS IMMUNITY!!!


Back at camp, Sophie is devastated that she lost that challenge. She did what the book told her to do. She studied. She practiced. How could she not have won and set a precedent for all future Survivor House Of Cards (oh please, you know we'll be seeing that challenge again and again and again). So while Sophie is busy beating herself up, Albert is busy in panic mode. He goes around the camp whispering, 'It's Rick, right? We're getting rid of Rick, right?" Coach nods yes. The more he's thinks about it, the more he thinks a good ole boy like Rick could actually win. I couldn't disagree more. The good ole boys (like J.T.) win only if they're also good at challenges. Rancher Rick is a pebble on the beach. He's a leaf on a tree. He's an extra that fills an empty space. I'd like to think that no one in their right mind would award someone like that one million dollars.

Ozzy, however, thinks that Sophie is the one to get rid of. He didn't like the way she talked to Albert during the challenge. Plus, he's been hearing a lot of shady things about Sophie. During recess yesterday someone called her stuck-up. Albert listens to this and nods. Maybe they should get rid of Sophie instead? Albert scurries hither and thither, to and fro. What to do, what to do. He needs to know who they're voting out asap because it's imperative he lays his list of prepared compliments onto that person before they depart. Votes, baby!

Rancher Rick moseys through the camp, across the beach, through the trees and he catches a whiff of something in the air. Something that isn't exactly right. Has a horse gone lame? Will the corn be ready to harvest? Those things, I do not know. Maybe Coach knows. "Hey Coach, am I safe tonight?," Rancher Rick asks. Coach swats at an imaginary fly as he sharpens an imaginary arrow. "You thirsty Rick? I was uh just gonna go get some water down uh thataway," Coach replies. Then Coach shoots his arrow into the air and runs to chase it. Rancher Rick strokes his beard and thinks to himself, "Now, that was odd." And that's it for Rancher Rick. He's reached his word quota for the day.

This brings us to our first Tribal Council of the night. Brandon skips in with the Jury all bright eyed and bushy tailed. The boy is glowing. He's not grimacing like those other Bitter Bettys. Albert starts off by saying he should stay in the game because he's valuable to have in competitions against Ozzy. Ozzy laughs heartily and rolls onto the ground in a fit of giggles. "You think you can beat moi?! Ha! I'd like to see you try. Besides, Sophie is a spoiled brat and I have a final two deal with Coach. So there!"

Sophie jerks her head sideways. A brat? She's a brat? Since when?! Ozzy continues, "I've been hearing things, Dimples, and I don't like what I hear. All she does is sleep and hang out. To hell with her!" Sophie listens quietly as her lower lip starts to tremble. She's hurt and confused by the accusations. Sure, she's quiet and sure she likes to roll her eyes whenever the fancy strikes her, but that's just who she is! Ozzy gives her the hand. He doesn't want to hear it. This paradigm of perfection and fairness doesn't want to hear how someone else might be socially awkward at times. He's much too busy climbing palm trees and skinning sharks to associate with snotty brats.

Through a constant flow of tears and a hiccup-y voice, Sophie wonders why she's even here at all. She should have never come in the first place! *smacks self in head* Oy vey. Sophie is many things, but spoiled brat wasn't really a phrase I had ever associated with her... until this very moment. When this whole bruhaha started I thought that perhaps Ozzy was being a little harsh. Could it be that there really is something to his accusations? Clearly we missed a lot in the editing. Well, none of it makes any difference anyways because Rancher Rick is the 16th person voted out of Survivor South Pacific. We bid you adieu Rancher Rick. We hardly knew ye. Like seriously, who the hell are you?

Back at Tuna Tartare Ozzy can smell victory. He can almost taste it. His Plan B is to win. That also happens to be his Plan A. Well, let's just say creativity isn't Ozzy's forte. Neither is lying or acting or being humble or being likable. Meanwhile Coach is all bunged up over Ozzy blabbing his big mouth back at Tribal Council and he needs to figure out what the hell Ozzy is up to before they proceed in this game together. Ozzy adjusts his nether regions and says, "Um I've been burned in the past, man. I've been stabbed in the back. It's like impossible for me to trust people in this game, dude." Coach, being the sentimental guy that he is, buys it and is heartbroken to hear about Ozzy's plight with trust.

Here's how I see it. There are two ways to break someone's trust: out of necessity and out of malice. Coach broke Rick's trust out of necessity. It was a self preservation thing that he thought was right at the time. It probably wasn't the correct choice in the long run, but it surely wasn't done out of malice. Coach doesn't have evil intentions towards Rick. Hurting Rick's feelings hurts Coach's feelings. Conversely, there's Ozzy. Going into that last Tribal Council and blabbing to everyone that Coach confronted him with a final two deal was pure malice. It was completely unnecessary (and, knowing what we know now, was probably a million dollar mistake) and designed to make Coach look bad to the Jury. If anyone should be questioning anyone's trustworthiness, it's whether or not Coach should trust Ozzy and not the other way around. All Ozzy has to do is get to the final three. That's it! If he gets there, he's a millionaire. The problem is that he likes swinging his dick around too much. The guy can't, for one second, keep his trap shut and ride this bitch out to the end. He always has to get in the last word, the last dig, the last neverending nauseatingly verbose speech. Imagine how different things might be today if Ozzy had actually kept the secret he was supposed to keep.

And this brings us to the second Immunity Challenge of the night. Come on in guys! It's the same final challenge we see every season. Race through some cockamamie obstacle course, collect five bags of puzzle pieces, and the first person to complete their puzzle wins Immunity. Survivors ready, go!

Ozzy, Albert, and Sophie fly out of the gate like bats out of hell while Coach gets his armor stuck in a net and topples over. Leave your sword with Dimples, Coach! Our survivors race hastily through this obstacle and that. Bag after bag is collected as Ozzy, Albert, and Sophie manage to stay pretty tight with each other throughout. It was when Albert starting intentionally or unintentionally trying to teeter Sophie off of the net obstacle that things started to go awry. Sophie yelled, "Stop shaking the net Albert! And pick up my damn pieces!" while Ozzy cruised on through to the lead.

With his five bags in hand, Ozzy gets to work on the complicated puzzle. It's a puzzle unlike one we've seen before where the brackets are jagged and movable. Ozzy is flummoxed as to where his first goes and before we know it, he's blown his entire lead and Coach and Sophie are now working on their puzzles. I don't know what happened to Albert. Sophie probably pummeled him to death with her bags of puzzle pieces. *shrugs shoulders* Oh well.

Sophie manages to get her first piece locked in and it turns out that once you get your first piece in, the others fall into place as well. A panic stricken look of horror overcomes Ozzy's face so, naturally, I freeze framed it and danced around the room wearing nothing but a party hat and chaps (in honor of Rick). When I pushed play again, Ozzy locks his first piece into position, but it's too late. Sophie has too big of a lead and SOPHIE WINS IMMUNITY!!!

Through gritted teeth and blank eyes, Ozzy congratulates Sophie on her win but knows deep down inside that this is the end of the road. Everything he's accomplished and all he's worked for is about to crash down around him like a... well, like a tumbling house of cards. *does a Charlie Chaplin kick in the air* Meanwhile Coach is regaling Sophie with the most prestigious award ever in existence. It's the Dragon Slayer Medal of Excellence. Only a few are given out every few years. It's like that Swedish award everyone thinks is so important. Only this one is for knights, ninjas, charlatans, and anyone else who likes to wear jodhpurs and weaponry. Albert watches with envy and finally comes up with a phrase to contribute to the ceremony, "Ozzy is like a real live villain!" Uh, ok. Thank you Albert. Shouldn't you be in a corner doing your best Mr. Collins impression (name the book Mr. Collins comes from in the comments and you're a big weiner).

And this brings us to our second Tribal Council. Ozzy starts off the conversation by blaming that blasted puzzle piece. It was the puzzle piece's fault that he lost! And now it will torture and torment him for the rest of his life. Coach nods in understanding. He knows how it is to come so far and then fall short. Ozzy doesn't want to hear it though. All he wants to know is if Coach still plans on taking him to the finals - he promised him you know. Did you hear that Jury? Coach promised Ozzy to go to the finals.

It's the same old same old with Ozzy. All this hand waving and wild gesticulating for sympathy from the Jury. Dude, you already have their sympathy! Focus on the people who matter now - the people who have the power to take you to the end. You can't expect Coach to reward you with a vote for Albert if you keep throwing him under the bus like you're doing. Had Ozzy just been nice to Coach, had he just sucked it up for once and hidden his arrogance away... Had he done those things I might not be sitting in a punch bowl of glitter right now because OZZY IS THE 17TH PERSON VOTED OUT OF SURVIVOR SOUTH PACIFIC!!! *throws glitter in the air* I may have glitter in places where glitter doesn't exactly belong, but who cares?!? I can't wipe the smile on my face no matter how hard I try. Ding dong, Ozzy is gone!

Alright, let's just fast forward to the part we care about... the final Tribal Council. *thunderclaps in the distance* Or, what I like to call: The Airing Of The Grievances. A Festivus for the rest of us.

All of our ducks are lined up in a row and it's time for the opening remarks. Albert, please go first.

"Um so I'd umm like to say what a pleasure it is to know all of you beautiful people and might I say, you're all looking gorgeous today. This is the ultimate social experiment. It's a game about people. It's a game about me and it's a game about you. A higher power brought us all together. Thank you for being a part of my experience. Vote for Albert! Peace!"

Alrighty then, Sophie you're up.

"I'm just going to cut to the chase. A) I held my own in the challenges. B) I strategized well. C) I may not know who any of you are, but we've all become valuable friends. Therefore, according to the syllabus, I have fulfilled all of my Survivor requirements."

Coach, your turn...

"Gosh, I can't believe I'm here now next to this mystical fire under this magical night. I truly thought this game was made for Ozzy. Over the years, I've laughed, I've loved, I've cried, and I've grown. I'm not a perfect man, but I am a changed man. The first time I played this game I played with arrogance. This time I played with love. I opened myself up to you and now I carry you all deep within. *Dimples shifts uncomfortably on his log* Thank you for being inside of me."

Dimples turns the floor over to the Jury and Ozzy is up first. Hair like Pippi Longstocking, shirt unbuttoned just so. Ozzy sticks his neck out and says, "The good news is this game isn't decided. The bad news is no one wants to vote for you." Ozzy takes a deep breath and points a long and filthy (seriously, where has that thing been?) finger at Sophie, "You are a privileged selfish brat!" Next he turns to Albert, "You were in the right place at the right time!" Finally, he turns to Coach, "Coach, do you think you played honorably?" We all know what Ozzy wants to hear. Hell, even Coach knows what Ozzy wants to hear. Ozzy wants Coach to sit there and say he was dishonorable and... that's exactly what Coach does. He tried to play honorably, but when at the crossroads difficult decisions had to be made. Some went back on his word and others didn't. Hey, it was a good answer. It was honest and eloquent.

Mary Jane (Jim) is up next and he dead eyes weren't quite so dead anymore. He addresses Albert and asks him one simple question - Why shouldn't the Coach or Sophie win? The caveat is that he's not allowed to answer with a compliment. Albert replies, "Good question! Wow, I like the way you think." The Jury (and myself) erupts into a fit of giggles. I wanted Mary Jane to stop him right then and there because he totally broke the no compliment rule, but Mary Jane let him continue. Albert claims he carried Coach to the end while Sophie can't make friends to save her life. No offense Albie, but if you stopped to count your Survivor friends on your hands you might find that you only need one finger.

Candy-apple headed Dawn goes next and she wants to know why Sophie aligned with Coach and Albert. Sophie starts off by saying that she wishes she was man. I mean, I always thought she looked like a softball player, but I never thought she was full on Chaz. Sophie continues saying that the men in the game seem to always get young girls to follow them around. To her, Coach was like one of those young girls. Upon hearing this, Coach swings his sword out of his pocket and beheads young Sophie right then and there. Young girl indeed!

Rancher Rick goes and with a swing of his lasso, he catches Coach by the neck and yanks. With a gentle "Yeehaw" under his breath. He ties his lasso to a runaway horse and just watches as Coach's bony body hits the rocks and trees surrounding Tribal Council. Satisfied, Rick tips his hat to everyone and moseys back to his seat.

Brandon is up next. "God, let us pray, Jesus, God, holy spirit, hallowed be thy name." Coach, being fully able to speak "Brandon" at this point in time answers, "You should be sitting up here Brandon. Thank you for raising the bar of the game." Brandon replies, "Praise be to Jesus!"

Then he turns to Albert, "Did you know I was going to get voted out? Answer yes or no."
Albert: "Um well I..."
Brandon: "Answer yes or no."
Albert: "But I just wanted to say that I..."
Brandon: "I said ANSWER YES OR NO."
Albert: "I know, but can I..."
Albert starts to cry.
Brandon lifts his shirt up to show Albert his new tattoo. It says, "AMSER YES OR NO!!!"
Albert sighs in defeat, "I don't know."
Brandon: "Thank you. Jets fo' life!"
And then he smacked his chest twice and ate an enchilada.

Whitney goes next and in between twirling her hair and making obscene finger gestures to Keanu (Keith), she hollers, "Albert yer sleazy!" She pops some gum and wrestles with a bubble while thinking of her next question. "Sophie yer conderscendin'!" That's it. That's all Whitney has to contribute. Thank you Whitney.

Tiny flitting dust particle Edna goes next and boy is she a breath of fresh air. It's Downy with Febreze! Edna schooled us all in that moment. She spoke of manipulation and history and religion and the vikings and the Romans. We learned about the Moors and the Ottoman Empire. She brought history to life and breathed common sense into this ridiculous game we all love. The gist of her dissertation is that people get duped. All of us. Me, you, them, they, everyone. We get duped yet that's life. And then a breeze blew in and she disappeared. I wondered to myself where that Edna was for the run of the game. I could learn to love that Edna. Fare thee well fairy sprite.

Keanu walked robotically up to the podium and this was his contribution, "Coach, why didn't you play the Idol?" Seriously? It's ok Coach, I got this. Because he didn't need to you freak! Keanu moves slowly back to his seat while Sophie shouts, "We faked how we found the Idol!" And that's when the tide turned for me. I hated her in that moment. I truly truly hated the desperation in her voice, the urgency of her plea. It was cowardly and tattletale-y all wrapped up in an undesirable ploy to win. To watch Brandon's reaction, I'm not even sure he understood what she was trying to say. All I know was that it wasn't a moment one can be proud of. The neediness of it was nauseating.

Last up we have Cochran, young Cochran. Cochran sees the game for what it is. He knows it's a cool move if you can trick people and Coach, indeed, tricked him. Cochran can't hate on that. He can only respect it. However, the word "honor" is where Cochran gets a little confused. The word was used so much this season that it's sort of lost its meaning at this point. Coach agrees and says he's tried hard to do the right things. But when you try and try and try not to screw up, what do you think happens? You screw up and you do the wrong things. Coach made a mess for himself that wasn't easy to get out of. He knows it, but, better yet, he can acknowledge it.

Solemn inspirational music plays in the background and we're whisked away to the live reunion. The votes are read and it's neck and neck between Coach and Sophie. "COACH, SOPHIE, COACH, SOPHIE, COACH, SOPHIE." I was sure Coach had this. I was positive! "SOPHIE, SOPHIE." Como what? "SOPHIE IS THE WINNER OF SURVIVOR SOUTH PACIFIC!!!"

Ugh. Does anyone know how to get glitter out of lady parts?

Well, ain't that a kick in the vag. I don't dislike Sophie per se, but I definitely didn't want her to win. I think since day one I've been rooting for Coach all along. He's a quirky eccentric guy who quotes obscure philosophers and probably collects daggers from the French aristocracy. I don't always agree with him and believe me, the God stuff makes me bonkers, but I like the guy. What can I say? Maybe I see a kindred spirit in him. Best of luck to you Coach. Might I suggest a collection of Tai Chi DVD's in your near future?

So that's that. Are you guys pleased with the outcome? Who were you rooting for? When you saw Sophie dance with her check did you die a little bit inside? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

If you've enjoyed what I've done this season, please click on my PayPal button and show a girl some love. Have a wonderful holiday season everyone and a happy new year. I'll see you back here the 2nd week of February for my first impressions of the new cast. My first Survivor One World blog will be posted February 16, 2012. Be sure to friend me on Facebook and follow me on Twitter for updates whenever I post on a new blog. Take care bitches!

Thursday, December 15, 2011

The Pleasure Dome

Father God, oh Father God, I beseech you to guide and protect me through the act of writing this blog today. In Jesus' name I pray. Heavenly father, no offense or anything, but why are you such a camera whore? I mean, seriously. You created the heavens, you created the seas, you created the mountains, but that wasn't enough for you, was it? Now you have to poke your giant bearded head into all of my shows and wave your craggly finger around in all of our faces. Stop it, just stop it! You're probably like, "It's not my fault. Those Survivors keep paging me!" to which I say, "I guess you have a point", but still... Surely you're busy sometimes, right? I mean, you can't possibly be everywhere at once all the time or... can you? Ughhhh! Alright fine, whatever, you win. God - 1, Lala - 0 Let's recap, shall we?

Under the cover of night we begin the slow winding down of our South Pacific tale. The alliance of five created way back when on day one is now the last alliance standing. All five have survived and they're very pleased that they've accomplished exactly what it is they set out to do. With smiles on their faces and whoops filling the night sky, the final five link arms and dance under the stars. Pan pipes, tambourines, bongos... the whole shebang! Merriment personified. That is, until Lil Hantz remembers who is really responsible for all of this. With a megaphone in one hand and a crucifix in another, the short stocky balding man climbs up on a log, waves his arms frantically, and shouts, "Let's pray! Let's pray!" Ugh. Sophie rolls her eyes in the darkness and our remaining Survivors solemnly thank season 23's real star for getting them this far in the game. All seems peaceful on the outside. All appears soft and fluffy. But really there's a Judas under the surface. It's Albert. Blank faced, monotone voiced Albert who thinks he has this entire game wrapped up. His big plan this week is to get rid of Sophie. Well, if it's like any of Albert's other plans, Sophie will be just fine.

After a fitful night's sleep, a new day dawns and Albert is ready to put his "Get Sophie Out" plan into motion. The thing with Sophie is that she's dangerous. She wins Immunity Challenges, she's smart, and she's well spoken while Albert is kind of a bumbling figure in the background. While he's spending all of his time down in his lab surrounded by beakers and bubbling pots of colorful liquids trying to come up with various formulas to win, Sophie is actually mingling and becoming friends with the remaining Tunas. So, with a new formula in his pocket, shifty-eyed Albert approaches Rancher Rick and says, "Um so yeah I see the two of us going to the end together." Rancher Rick silently nods while Albert thinks to himself, "I've got this thing locked up!" You see, Albert thinks that Rancher Rick is the least dangerous in this game. He's not strategic, he's not winning, and he does little more than feed the cows day in and day out. In Albert's perfect world, he'd like to go the end with Rancher Rick and Coach. This self-proclaimed "rogue" (ok Sarah Palin) is under the impression that ass kissing for jury votes is actually aggressive game play. Maybe it is. *shrugs shoulders* Who am I to say? Maybe transparent weasel wear does indeed fool people. I have no idea. Maybe the emperor really was wearing new clothes.

And this brings us to the big duel between that decimal point, Edna, and god of the sea, Ozzy. For today's duel, Survivors will race to complete a slide puzzle. Once the puzzle is completed, it will release a hatchet. Survivors will then use the hatchet to chop a rope and release a bag of colored cubes. Once the duelers have their cubes, they must stack them so there are no repeating colors on any side. Survivors ready, go.

The duel begins with tiny-armed Edna struggling to push the puzzle pieces into place. With biceps the size of marbles, she moves at a snail's pace while Ozzy has already completed his puzzle and chopped down his rope. Edna giggles to herself as Ozzy tears into his bag of cubes and I can't for the life of me figure out what's so freaking funny. Even Dimples yells at her to focus.

And then, on cue, on time, like clockwork, Albert starts hollering tips to Edna from the stands. It took me a second, but then it finally hit me. He's helping for votes! In the past I always assumed that he really didn't want Ozzy to win, but now it's as clear as gin. Albert helping the losers on Rhode Island (Redemption Island) is his way of making a last minute favorable impression on them. I don't know if the other Tunas realize what he's doing, but they too begin shouting instructions to Edna and she's finally able to finish the puzzle and move on to the cubes.

With a seemingly huge lead, Ozzy has almost all of his cubes stacked. Cool as a cucumber, without a care in the world, Ozzy twirls his mustache and contemplates where to put his next cube. Meanwhile frantic laser point Edna is flitting around like a drunk fairy. She heaves the cubes up onto the table and inevitably that interminable Albert leaps to her aid. "Green! Green! Move the green one!" Then Sophie starts shouting, "You have too many blues!" Rancher Rick hiccups, "Howdy pard'ner" as Brandon bellows, "Pray on it!" It's a cacophony of craziness which, most likely, only serves to make Edna even more scattered.

With an entire row of reds, Edna shouts, "Jeff! Jeff! Check me!" Dimples does a 'Pfft!" with a flick of his wrist as Ozzy finally begins to feel the heat. We see it in a flash, a mere glimpse, but it was there. That unmistakable moment of panic across Ozzy's face where it dawns on him that he's not the unbeatable king of the world. It was only there for a second and we'll probably never see it again (which is why I freeze framed on it and threw glitter around the room for a good half hour), but I'll always have the memory of its existence. After the panic leaves and Edna gets rejected, Ozzy blazes forward and boom, bam, done... OZZY STAYS ALIVE! Grrr.

(For the record, I knew 100% that Ozzy would win. Despite the trickery promos and my dreams of an upset, Ozzy updated his Facebook last week with one simple sentence that pretty much spoiled the entire duel for me. He said, "Good luck Edna." Now, knowing what I know of Ozzy (that he's an arrogant dick), that was about as spoilery as spoilers get. It was the equivalent of pointing a finger and laughing at Edna for even trying to beat him. I demand the Survivor Council of Spoilers fine him eleventeenth million dollars and make it a law that he can never appear on the show again.)

Back at Tuna Tartare (TeTuna) the mood is bleak. Everyone is bummed and downtrodden. With heads down they kick the sand and sit in silence. The silence is finally broken when Lil Hantz creeps up to Albert and checks in on the strength of their alliance. Albert assures Brandon that their alliance is solid and that they'll both be going to the end with Coach. Wait a tic, hold up. Didn't Albert tell Rancher Rick that he wants to go to the final three with him too? Hmmm *strokes chin* I sure hope no one finds out. *giggles to self* With carefree arms swung limply behind his head, Albert whispers to Brandon that they need to get rid of Sophie next. Brandon nods excitedly and assures Albert that they'll totally be going to the end together. They've got God on their side! With an alliance partner like God, nothing can go wrong. *thunderclaps in the distance*

Meanwhile Sophie is lying supine in the shelter worrying about Ozzy. He's over in his Rhode Island Pleasure Dome fattening up all the losers before they skip on out of the game. Sophie worries that he's not only spreading his seed far and wide, but that he's gathering a few Jury votes along the way as well. She tells Coach that they have to send Brandon to Rhode Island next. A) Brandon is a loose cannon weirdo and B) Brandon actually might be able to beat Ozzy and take him out of the game once and for all. Sophie pitches her plan to Rancher Rick who then tips his hat and mutters, "Sure lil lady."

After a four hour nap, Albert rises and begins to put one of his many plans into motion. He approaches Coach and pleads with him to see how much of a threat Sophie is. Coach, however, knows what the real deal is - Albert is uncomfortable knowing that Sophie is smarter than him. She's not the quiet little mouse Albert thought she was and now Albert must destroy her. Through meditation, prayer, and shooting arrows at the sun, Coach is thinking and seeing more clearly than he ever has in his life. He knows what the dilly-o is. He knows the secret agendas burbling beneath the surface. Whether it's his Kundalini or his Katra, Coach is embracing his inner voice, his inner self, his inner calm. That inner Coach-ness is telling Coach that if they keep going the way they're going, Brandon will win this game hands down. Albert stammers in protest while Coach coolly chuckles to himself and says, "You don't understand how the Jury works. It's a totally different animal."

Speaking of animals, here comes Brandon. "What are you guys talking about? You talking about me? What are you planning? Did you make a new alliance? Honor, integrity, God!" Coach peers through hooded eyes and tells him they were talking about the Jury. Brandon lifts an eyebrow and says, "I don't think so sonny jim." Oh no he di-in't! Coach leaps up out of the hammock and grabs Brandon by his tattoos, 'Don't you bully me! Stop acting like Russell! Don't you know it's rude to interrupt people when they're talking?!" Brandon's lower lip starts to quiver as he says, "That wasn't very nice what you said about Russell." Coach collapses back into the hammock in the lotus position and reluctantly apologizes. Brandon hangs his head in shame and quietly says, "Please give me a hug man." Clearly, Brandon doesn't realize how hard it is to untangle oneself from the lotus. Regardless, Coach sighs dramatically and rises to give Brandon a hug. Brandon nestles his face in Coach's chest and whispers, "Sorry."

Coach steals away by himself, or so he thinks, to tell the camera (and us) once again how the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. No matter what Brandon does or says, he'll always have that Hantz blood in his veins. Meeting the young lad's father last week has only made Coach all the more certain of what his next move has to be. Then, out of nowhere, Brandon leaps out of a bush, "Peek a boo! Want some coconut?" Coach mimes vomiting and says, "I can't eat anymore fucking coconut." Brandon drops the coconut into the dirt as he curls up to Coach and whispers, "Cheer up brother. God has it all under control." He's a lost little lamb now, this Brandon. A meek and weirdo shell of the misogynist he used to be. I miss the squirrelly lustful Brandon of yesteryear. At least that Brandon had thoughts of his own - dirty, filthy, whoring thoughts filled with nipple clamps and ball gags, but thoughts nonetheless! This smaller, thinner, chaste thing we have before us now would happily follow Jim Jones into the afterlife. Christ, he'd be the one filling the cups for everyone and shooting the syringes into the kids mouths.

And that brings us to the Immunity Challenge. Come on in guys! This week Survivors must climb a massive wall and collect bags of puzzle pieces. With each bag they'll go further up the wall. Once all the bags are gathered, the pieces will be sorted into pairs. The pieces that don't fit into a pair will reveal a number code that they will then use to unlock a box and raise their flag. First person to raise their flag wins Immunity. In addition to Immunity, players are also competing for a Reward of pizza and garlic bread. Survivors ready, go!

Brandon and Rancher Rick fly out of the gate and nab their first bags before anyone else even makes it up the wall. Sophie and Coach get their bags next with Albert lagging somewhere in the distance. Brandon, with feet like a spider monkey (or Satan) continues to dominate the challenge grabbing back after bag after bag. Rancher Rick manages to stay hot on his heels and I think we're all pleasantly surprised by our resident cowboy. Sophie and Coach manage to stay neck in neck with each other while Albert awesomely somersaults down the wall into a pile of bones on the sand.

Hunched over and with his low center of gravity, Brandon climbs higher and higher up the wall to retrieve his final bag. Miraculously, Rancher Rick is still in this as he too begins to work on his puzzle. Coach follows them in third, but Lil Hantz is on a Hantzian roll. The pattern of the pieces looked like a fetching tartan plaid to me, but it somehow managed to make sense to young Brandon as he quickly matches up the pairs and heads back to the top of the wall. Coach heads up the wall as well, but it's too little too late as BRANDON WINS IMMUNITY!!! Could it be that God is on Brandon's side after all? Wouldn't that be a kick in the vag?

After the appropriate 15 minutes of thanking Jesus for his win, Brandon ends his assault on the heavens with some gangsta taps to his heart and then a fist to the sky. I mean, I'm sure God listens to hip hop, right? Anyhow, Brandon is now forced to pick someone to eat pizza with him. I thought, without question, that Brandon would pick Coach. After the whole hammock fight, I figured he had a lot more sucking up to do, but no! He picks Rancher Rick to join him. He swears it wasn't a strategic decision, but honey, that was all strategy. Rick isn't in Brandon's final three alliance. That was an Albert move if ever I saw one.

Back at camp Sophie is musing over how the worst case scenario happened today. In a quick tete a tete with Coach, they agree, just as he's slithering into their area, that sneaky Albert needs to go next. Sophie rises as Albert sits and under the guise of wanting to smell the pizza, she steals away to go tell Brandon and Rancher Rick that Albert will be going home next. Rick throws his hat in the ring and agrees wholeheartedly. He tells Brandon and Sophie how earlier Albert approached him to make sure they were going to the end together. Listening to this, Brandon's ears start to blow steam and his head starts to turn purple. He yanks bite after bite off of the pizza crust and wonders to himself if he's been duped all along. Can it be true? Has Albert been making other deals behind his back? What about honor and integrity?!

Mid digestion, Brandon asks Albert if he went up to Rancher Rick and tried to make a deal yesterday. Albert stutters and stammers, "Umm uh I uh never uh turned against you." That right there should have been a big red flag to Brandon, but as Brandon is about as adept as reading people as Helen Keller would have been reading this here blog, Brandon drags Albert to the center of camp and defends him to both Rick and Sophie. Albert says, "Yeah! I never said nothing bad against Brandon." Rancher Rick shakes his head slowly back and forth and says, "Well now that's just not true. You told me yesterday you wanted to go to the end together." Albert points and cries, "Liar!" And then a 3 foot wooden nose grew out of his face. Rancher Rick throws his cowboy hat in the sand and says, "You lyin' out yer ass! Don't you lie to me!" *bites fist* Punch him, punch him!

Albert stutters some more and it finally dawns on Brandon that maybe his best good friend here isn't telling the truth after all. Brandon says, "You just told me you didn't make any other deals!" Albert replies, "Imma uh I um I... why is homina homina his word uh better than mine?!" Meanwhile Sophie is sitting on the sidelines giggling to herself much like I was giggling into my gin fizzy. I had bubbles up my nose and some drool on my shirt, but I didn't care! Finally that insufferable Albert is caught in his own web of lies. Awful though he may be, he's not dumb. He knows he has to somehow get Brandon back over on his side in order to maintain safety for tonight.

At home I laughed and I laughed. I thought to myself, "Good luck with that sucker!" and then I dipped my breasts one by one into my awaiting bowls of glitter. There is no way that Brandon will forgive someone for such deception, right? Right?!? Wrong. Never has a moral compass been so wonky. I can never find true north! And now I'm stuck at the nexus of the universe wondering which way is up and which way is down... with glittery ta ta's no less!

So while Brandon sits whittling either a pitchfork or a scythe out of a giant piece of driftwood, Albert begs Brandon not to close his heart to him. Oh puh-lease. But, you know what? Albert is totally speaking Brandon's language. That heart crap is right up his alley. But it's when Albert says, "You're making me look like a bad dude" that the deal is cemented. Brandon blurts out, "I'm not voting you. In fact, I'll give you my Immunity necklace." Then they collapse together in the sand to pray. *smacks self in head* Someone come over here and wash this glitter of my boobs. Scrub really hard because I don't want a trace of that shit left behind.

Brandon then goes marching over to Coach and tells him that God spoke to him and dropped some game advice on him... "Yo Brando! What's up buddy? Dude, you gots ta keep Albs in the game yo. And while you're at it, give him that necklace you got. Werd. Peace out." Rrrright. Brandon prays that Coach understands his decision and he knows that Coach would never vote him out, would never do anything to hurt him. Coach just sort of sighs and if there was a thought bubble above his head, it would read: ARE YOU SHITTIN' ME?

Brandon insists that this is what God wants them to do. Coach quickly corrects him and says, "No, this is what God wants you to do." Oh ho ho! I like that. Sneaky, sneaky. Coach says he'll need some time to pray to God himself and see what the ole guy upstairs has to say. "Uh, hello God?" A booming voice bellows, "Brandon! Brandon! Brandon!" "Ok cool, thanks." Coach looks up satisfied and says, "I know what I have to do now." And there you go. The power of prayer.

And this brings us to the latest episode of the Bellevue Diaries... I mean, Tribal Council. With no hesitation Brandon blurts out, "I want to give my Immunity Necklace up." Dimples' jaw hits the floor and Cochran starts giggling over on the Jury. Coach strokes his beard furiously as we hear the plop plop plop of Brandon's tears hitting the sand.

And this is where we finally find out about Brandon's checkered past. You see, he was in the Jets or the Sharks but when it came time for the big fight number no one showed up and he had perform a solo. It was embarrassing for the young lad. All of those finger snaps and leaps all by himself. He wasn't prepared for that. So, ever since then, he never dances alone anymore. And that's why he's loyal to a fault - to a giant stinking festering fault.

Dimples listens to all of this and says, "But Albert is your competitor!" Albert interjects with, "I've always believed that there was a higher purpose to this game." Oh. Shut. Up. Just sit there with your necklace and shut up.

Dimples then asks Albert if he'll take off the necklace right now for Brandon as a show of good faith, as proof of this "higher purpose". Albert frantically glue guns the necklace to his skin and says, "Uh I don't think God wants me to do that. I'll hang onto it." A pained look of defeat covers Brandon's face as he admits that he is no longer at peace with his decision. The struggle, the turmoil, within this kid is unreal. I still maintain that he was never medically sound enough to be on this show in the first place. I get what he's trying to do. I see that he really believes that he's doing the right thing. The problem is, along the way, he's getting taken advantage of. And when all of this is said and done, he'll emerge more damaged, more bitter, and more closed up than he was when the game started. So, we bid adieu to young Brandon as he is the 15th person voted out of Survivor South Pacific.

So, what did you guys think? Is Ozzy earning votes over on his Pleasure Dome? Did Coach totally fake talking to God? Will Brandon beat Ozzy in the duel? Who do you want to win Survivor South Pacific? Comment it out bitches and have a great day! If you've enjoyed what I've done this season, I ask that you please click on my PayPal link and show a girl some love. I'll meet you guys back here on Monday for my final blog of the season. See you then!

Thursday, December 8, 2011

I Spit On A Million Dollars!

Dreams. Those fibrous threads we try to cling to in the night. Those highfalutin megamogul monstrosities we jot down in our visualization journals. Dreams give us purpose, something to grapple towards. Maybe it's a lover in a pirate shirt, maybe it's a job with six figures, or maybe, just maybe, it's to play the world's greatest game and became part of our pop culture lexicon. Whatever your dreams may be... stroke them, fondle them, nurture them and then pray to God that a giant uncircumcised penis doesn't come along and take them all down like Tokyo. Just as quickly as dreams can be dreamt, they can be crushed. Crushed like crackers, smooshed like spiders, flushed like goldfish. We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams, but, you know, just be sure to hide your sheet music and dream catchers from sloth-footed monkey boys. Let's recap, shall we?

Through the jungle thick where the insects sing and the predators lie in wait, a gangly bespectacled lad approaches the gates that read "WELCOME TO RHODE ISLAND" (Redemption Island). All shoulders and concavity, our unlikely hero nudges a mass of sleeping curls and hiccups, "Hey Ozzy." With a swish and an eyebrow raise, the night air fills with "I told you so's". "Cochran, Cochran, Cochran," sighs Ozzy. "The only way to avenge this heinous act is to vote for me to win," he declares. Cochran smooths a wrinkle out of his sweater vest as he tries to hide the crimson anger creeping up over his cheeks. How dare Ozzy just assumes he'll lose the duel?! For all Ozzy knows the duel could be two middle aged women sitting in chairs waiting to be massaged. Pfft!

The next morning at Tuna Tartare (TeTuna), amidst the wandering flies and diminishing spirits, Rancher Rick is slow roasting a sock to perfection. They're out of food, the fish aren't biting, and sometimes, just sometimes, a Hanes will have to suffice. A dirty faced Lil Hantz looks on glassy eyed as he prepares the morning prayer. Once all of the "in Jesus' name we pray" have organized themselves just so, he calls his fellow brethren in to take part of what appears to be a daily ritual. Look, let's cut the crap, shall we? What if a Jew was on that tribe or *gasp* a Muslim or, let's say, a level-headed atheist who breaks out into hives when confronted with weirdly unabashed religious people? It's not the fact that these chuckleheads pray that makes my ass twitch, it's the fact that everyone else on that tribe is blindly going along with it. You can't tell me that Sophie, Albert, or even Rick prefaces every move they make in their lives with a goddamn prayer. If one day Sophie awoke and said, "You know what Brandon, today I prefer to pray alone." and then scurried off to meditate or do some sun salutations by herself. In the spirit of Christianity she'd be heave ho'd out of that tribe faster than a blink of an eye. Brandon wasn't requesting everyone come join prayer time. He was demanding it. Just once I'd like to see someone say, "You're not the boss of me!"

So Brandon summons the sheep and all come a'runnin' - all except Edna. Since Edna is number 6, she's suddenly lost her religion. Or, maybe she never had it in the first place and was just kissing ass to stay in the game. Who am I to say? Suited up in her sensible single-breasted blazer and hands firmly pushed in her pockets, tiny crumb Edna stands alone while the tears begin to fall. She feels duped. She feels like a second class citizen. Look Rosa Parks, you're not a second class citizen. Sit your ass firmly down in your bus seat and refuse to give up. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't there still an Immunity Challenge around the corner? Stop assuming you're going home. Stop expecting others to carry you to the end. Fight to win and secure yourself your own spot in the final three. Survivor is deception or... at least it used to be back when it was good. Nonetheless! This isn't a handholding game to the million. Now go nibble on a coffee bean and find whatever miniscule spark it is that you have within you to fight. Tree Mail! Harness your chi. Visualize a positive outcome. Hey guys, tree mail! Tony Robbins once said, "Beliefs have the power to create..." GUYS, I SAID TREE MAIL!!!

Oops. Sorry Edna. We have to cut this short. Uh, good luck and don't let the man get you down or whatever. It's Sprint family phone time!

The tribe pushes dust particle Edna into the ground where she gets lost in a pile of leaves and rush to surround the new Sprint phone. As I am not on Sprint's payroll, that's the last you'll hear about them from me. With a few pushes of some buttons, we see glimpses of Rancher Rick's cowgirl, Edna's nano-sister, Sophie's dad, Albert's mom, Coach's brother, and Brandon's father. We'll see more of these strangers later, but, for now, it's time to duel.

It's a duel of opposites. On one side we have sexually potent Ozzy who's impregnated every crab from here to Seoul and on the other side we have a spindly fop who's probably allergic to wheat. For today's duel, Survivors will use grappling hooks to retrieve three bags. Each bag contains a ball and when all the bags have been retrieved, you'll use one of those balls to solve a table maze. The winner stays alive while the loser is out of the game for good. Survivors ready, go.

The challenge begins as Cochran grapples his own foot and dangerously wraps the rope around his own neck. Meanwhile, Ozzy throws with precision and starts reeling in bag after bag after bag. Sensing Cochran's struggle, Albert shouts pointers from the rafters and our ginger underdog begins to make some headway. Nails in mouth and straw in gin, I watched with bated breath as Ozzy used his sizable lead to slowly maneuver his ball through the table maze.

Not so fast Sperminator! What's this? It's Cochran and he's all caught up! He hurls his ball into the table and with some herky jerky shoulder dips, slides that bitch on through towards the final hole. *peers through hands* Ozzy's heart begins to beat a little faster as it dawns on him just how embarrassing it'll be to lose to a string bean like Cochran. Maybe it was pressure or self doubt, but Ozzy's ball falls to the ground and now he has to start over. *throws glitter in the air*

Cochran, perhaps filled with an overwhelming sense of relief and anxiety, also fumbles his ball and it's back to the start for him too. *clutches pearls* The tunas are freaking out, my gin is almost gone, and it's a matter of millimeters separating these two men. Millimeters, people! Cochran has no time to waste as he swings his table maze back and forth, back and forth. He's at the end, the ball is there... just one gentle little nudglet in and... PLOP! The ball, like so many other things in life, fall into the wrong hole and *UGH!* OZZY STAYS ALIVE!!!

Still, with the excitement and the experience coursing through his veins, Cochran is thrilled to have just been there. He got to hear Dimples say "Come on in guys!" and he was actually one of those "guys". I get it. I get the majesty of it all. I, too, would tinkle a little if Dimples ever said, "Lala dominated that challenge!" (Let's face it, that's totally what he'd say to me while he draped a necklace of hermit crab shells around my neck as I won Individual Immunity for the 6th straight time.) So despite the mistakes, the hiccups, and the loss, Cochran is grateful and psyched that he got to live out his dream. He came into this game awkward and unsure of himself and now he's leaving it still awkward, but filled with a little thing called pride. The pride of a man who did what so many people probably told him he couldn't do. Enjoy it Cochran for now you enter the world of reality groupies. They have faces like muffins and more cats than any one person should ever own, but they're out there. Godspeed.

We bid adieu to Cochran, but we say hello to blood. Blood relatives, that is! First up is Sophie's dad, Thurston. Thurston! Sophie embraces him and then firmly tells him that she wants fresh made banana bread. Well, I want gin flavored lip gloss, but we can't all get what we want now, can we? Edna's sister Debbie sprinkles in next and seems alarmed by the Edna before her. Maybe it was that "SECOND CLASS CITIZEN" sign Edna hand stitched onto her button down shirt. *shrugs shoulders* Then we meet the fabled Pete Wade. I don't know why he's fabled, but Dimples seems shocked that Coach actually has human kin. Maybe, like me, he expected a knight or ninja to come riding in on a horse. Next up is Katie, Rancher Rick's wife. *dims the lights and puts on some Barry White* Bowm chicka wow wow. Rancher Rick embraces his cowgirl and begins to knead that ass! Squish, squish. Right up the crack. Right in there. Save that diddle for later cowboy. Albert's mom Annie trots in next and *yawn*. Whatev. She unfortunately got sandwiched between an ass grab and a freak show. Luck of the draw I guess. Finally, we have Shawn, Russell Hantz's brother and father to the weirdo kid we've gotten to know over that past 85 weeks. They cry and embrace in silence and it's odd. Very very odd. Question marks popped up all over the place as I tried to imagine how many pickles Shawn has gotten Brandon out of, how many dead bodies are buried on the outskirts of their land, how many babies have their college tuitions already paid for...

Now Ozzy has a big decision to make. He gets to choose three Tunas to spend time with their loved ones. Ozzy goes ahead and chooses Albert, Coach, and Brandon. Are they going to circle Samoa on a yacht? Do they get to enjoy a feast at the base of a waterfall? No. They get to go with Ozzy back to Rhode Island. What?!? Why? First off, that just flat out sucks as a Reward. Secondly, why is Ozzy involved at all? Why does he get to hang out with the Tunas? It's unfair and possibly game changing. I don't like it one bit.

Of course my suspicions were right. I can smell a lie like a fart in a car just like I can sense when something hinky is afoot. Once at Rhode Island, Coach wastes little time ushering Ozzy into the shelter where he tells him that the two of them plus one more would be the perfect final three. He cements the deal with an "As a Christian man...". Apparently, if you encounter Coach in a back alley wielding a sword, wearing a Zorro mask, and he says to you, "As a Christian man I'll only pillage a smidgen of your village", you can totally trust him. Personally, I think it's too dangerous to take Ozzy to the end, but Coach has the warrior spirit whereas my spirit is one you might find in a bottle. If he's going to win this game, he wants to win against the best. I, however, would take Edna and then resurrect the poet laureate Semhar and make her haiku muttering ass sit next to me at the end. Who cares how you win a million just as long as you win it!

So while Coach was busy making warrior deals, young Brandon was regaling his father with tales of how his Christian ways will impact the entire Survivor viewing public. "Daddy, I'm telling you, Imma gonna change the way people think about the world. I spit on a million dollars!" The color slowly drains from Shawn's face as he asks, "Then what are you here for?" Whacko Brando replies, "I'm here to set an example for Christ bro." To set an example for Christ. Christ, that ne'er-do-well who goes cow tipping at night, steals from his parents change drawer, and thinks lascivious thoughts about half naked women. Yes, if anyone in the world needs a lesson on morality, it's that troublemaker Christ. To look at Shawn while he was listening to the mad rantings of his lunatic son was to watch the mental wheels spin, the brainy cogs and pistons pumping and lubing (or whatever it is they do) into action.

With Brandon fancy free and leaping with the Lord, Shawn sighs to himself and knows what he has to do. He's done it before. Oh, so many times before. When that Mathlete was found behind the gym with a black eye and his underwear over his head, when the choir girl had her maidenhead stolen away after the Christmas pageant, and when the neighbors Yorkie turned up pawless that one time... Shawn did what any dad would do. He greased some palms, kept it out of the court system, and shipped Brandon off to yet another high school.

But here, out on an island in the South Pacific, there are no other high schools! This is it. Not only is Brandon wasting the opportunity of a lifetime, but now he's a Calvinist to boot! "Everything is predestined, " he assures his father. Knowing his time is running out, Shawn kicks it into high gear and does what no other family member has done to date - he plays the game. Sensing that Coach is in somewhat of a leadership position, Shawn pushes and cajoles for him to take Brandon to the final three. Under the guise of handshake, he slips some twenties into Coach's hand and gives him a look that says, "There's more where that came from." What Shawn doesn't realize is that this isn't Coach's language. Something should have been dipped in blood and a sword definitely should have been involved, but a fistful of sweaty greasy money just reads as icky to Coach. Now, had Shawn brought some papyrus, some Sun Tzu, or maybe Tai Chi'd with Coach in the sunlight, a legitimate deal could have been made. Instead, Coach just felt a little dirty all over and then laughed to himself as he realized that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all.

And now we arrive at the big Immunity Challenge. Come on in guys! For today's challenge Survivors must keep moving across a giant puzzle board. When you land on a puzzle piece, you flip it over, and then it's out of play. When you're stuck with nowhere to go, you're out of the game. Survivors ready, go!

The challenge begins with a metaphor - Dimples making a Coach-like metaphor about how the decisions you make early on in this here little challenge can effect the outcome of the game - like in Survivor! Tada! Dimples receives a nod of approval from the dragon slayer himself. Those nods aren't easy to get I'll have you know so when you get one, wrap it up and save it for later. I, myself, have received a nod from Coach and that little love nugget is sitting in a hand carved mahogany box under my bed, but I digress. For the most part, the challenge is uneventful. Flip, flip, flip go the pieces. Yellow to purple. Buh bye Albert. So long Rick. Later Sophie. It's a civil display of sportsmanship until, of course, Brandon gets knocked out and then whispers with the softness of a jackhammer, "DID YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE? I WAS TRYING TO GET EDNA OUT!!! WE CAN CONTINUE WITH OUR PLAN TO SEND HER HOME CUZ THAT'S WHAT JESUS WOULD DO."

Through stutters and hands like crinkly tissue paper, Edna talks about missing some beach meeting early on in the game and how that's the reason she's where she is in the grand scheme of schemes. *vomits* Oh, excuse me. Did I get any on you? Edna, doll, stop blaming everyone else for your lot in life. Get your head in the game, win, and then you have nothing to worry about. In case you haven't noticed - this challenge was built for you... YOU! Nothing heavy to be lifted, no races to be won, no hills to climb. Just step here and here and here. Why, it's almost as if the challenges were shuffled with YOU in mind. *sigh* With tiny fists of anger and little poots of steam burping out of her ears, Edna's agitation was too much for her to bear and COACH WINS IMMUNITY!!!

Back at Tuna Tartare, Edna goes back to doing what Edna does best - being everyone's water bitch - like that will save her now. She toils and boils and filters and bottles. Frantic and shaky, she quenches the tribe's thirst while they all sit and glower in Brandon's direction for being such a dick back at the challenge. Rancher Rick shakes his head with disapproval and we begin to get an idea of exactly where his moral compass lies. Ass caressing - A Okay! Kicking a defenseless puppy dog - bad news bears. I agree Rancher Rick. A little ass caressing never hurt nobody.

Perhaps getting a sense that his tribe is less than pleased with him, Brandon apologizes to Edna and hopes that she appreciates how transparent he is. Like that makes it all better. It doesn't work like that Brandon! Apologies don't absolve you of your sins. Edna equates it to cheating on your wife and then buying her a diamond necklace to make it all better. I see her point, but what if the diamonds are like really really really big? Never mind. So Edna isn't buying what Brandon is serving and instead she uses his cockamamie logic against him. She marches right up to Coach and tells him that the honor and integrity he preaches day in and day out cannot be found in one, Mr. Brandon Hantz. Finally! See, this is what I wanted Edna to do all along. Like Cochran, she doesn't have strength on her side, but she has logic. The only problem is she spent a little too long wallowing around in all that self pity when she should have been planning her attack. Waiting until the 11th hour is cutting it a smidge close.

Coach is intrigued by everything Edna has to say, but for some reason the fear is that Brandon will go to Rhode Island and beat Ozzy. Really? That's the fear. Weird. So Edna continues her "Brandon Sucks" bar tour and now she makes her appeal to Albert and Sophie. She's making all of her bullet points, she's heavy handed with the "honor and integrity" arguments, cites Mikayla as a victim of Brandon's lunacy, and even offers to eat a piece of poo if she has to. That last little nugget aside (nugget, ha!), I get what Edna is saying. The honor and integrity thing is a farce at this point. Being chained to a loose cannon just because weeks ago you promised to be loyal isn't honor or integrity. It's bitchassness is what it is. Honor and integrity would be to dump his ass and get him into Bellevue the second they have a bed available. A little Depakote/Thorazine cocktail never hurt anyone... much. In the end, Coach advises Edna to go to Tribal Council and see if her arguments have influenced anyone. "Wait and see" is risky, but what else can she do?

And that brings us to Tribal Council. Immediately, Edna launches into the problems with Impala's (Upolu) mantra. You can't have honor, loyal, and integrity with a court jester like Brandon running around pointing at girl's boobies and humiliating harmless wispy women for no good reason at all. Brandon listens with heavy eyelids and says that Edna has probably misconstrued everything he's ever done and said in this game. Dimples bursts out laughing, throws a rotten tomato at Brandon's head, and then pulls out a flow chart outlining all the times that Brandon has lied, humiliated, and weaseled his way through this game. Again, Brandon apologizes. That's all he needs to do you know.

"I'm sorry."
*doves fly overhead*

Sophie declares that today is the day loyalty ends and I was sort of pumped for an upset, but it wasn't to be. Edna is the 14th person voted out of Survivor South Pacific. So, what did you guys think of last night's episode? Who will be number 5? Will Edna beat Ozzy in the duel? Can Coach win against Ozzy in the final three? How badly do you think Rancher Rick's wife's ass is bruised? Comment it out bitches and have a great day! If you've enjoyed what I've done here this season, I ask that you please click on my PayPal button and show a bitch a little love.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

I Really Want To Trade Sperm With You

There's a delicate balance that wrestles with itself in the mind of a genius. An internal struggle. An eternal struggle. The tug and pull between insecurity and arrogance. By definition, the two couldn't be more different, but when they exist in tandem the world just got a little bit more interesting. Ugly and pretty at the same time, you can't take your eyes off of a person sparring within. One minute they can conquer the world. The next they're crumpled in a corner dodging prying eyes. Marilyn Monroe had it. Tortured writers have it. "Am I worthy?", they ask. "I am!", they reply. "Wait, are you sure?, they ask again. Teeter totter, teeter totter, up and down, back and forth, the audience at Wimbledon. Highfalutin to self deprecating in a nanosecond. From a distance it's all very charming, but up close, sharing the same quarters, it can get a smidge exhausting. Crazy is only fun when you don't have to touch it, when you can poke at it with a pole and watch it squirm from a safe distance. Sharing a bed with it is another story entirely. Will he kill you in your sleep or want to trade sperm with you? No one knows, but maybe we can try and find out. Let's recap, shall we?

We continue our fetid tale under the cloak of night. Our peaceful leader Coach is glad those Savannah (Savai'i) ne'er-do-well's are finally gone. Good for nothing troublemakers born into the wrong tribe. Now, it's just the family... and their adopted child Oliver... left. The Brady's may have had good intentions, but Oliver never fit in. Too many syllables, too much effort. So while it's more homey now and the guest linens and towels can be put away, the adopted one knows he's still in precarious waters. There are families and then there are families. *thunderclap* The Waltons were a family, the Cleavers were a family, but the Manson Clan was a family. *thunderclap* Oh sure, Squeaky and Sadie and Patricia and Leslie like to sit around the campfire singing folk songs while making technicolor trails with their fingers, but they also like to kill and smear blood on the walls. Cochran knows this. He knows it's only a matter of time before he and his unborn child are caught in the crossfire of a phony race war. What is a spindly bespectacled lad to do? Tell uncomfortable tales of yesteryear, that's what!

It's not like he can fish and it's not like he can shoot one of his imaginary arrows into a woodland creature for dinner. Instead, Cochran will use his powers of gab to climb a little further up the family ladder. With the six chosen ones gathered in a circle, Cochran regales them with tales of crank calls and ding dong ditching. 5th grade was a banner year for the freckled fop. His hormones were kicking into gear and gentle stirrings of he-didn't-know-what began to tickle his nether regions. All he knew of sex at the time were those cross section drawings labelled in Latin and what's fun about that? Nothing! What is fun though is calling schoolmates on the phone and whispering, "I really want to trade sperm with you." Trade sperm? Trade. I'll give you mine if you give me yours. Ah, youth! Reliable farmhand Sophie listens from the sidelines and it makes perfect sense to her how the Savannahs might not have cared for Cochran's company. There's that underlying odor of trying too hard. He's trying to delight, he's trying to charm, but it's coming off a little creepy and weird. She takes her frustrations out on a piece of wood and hacks that bitch to death. See? I told you the family can kill.

I don't know if it was the flying wood chips or Brandon crouched in a corner furiously praying for all of the sex talk to go away, but Cochran decides to call a tribe meeting using the immortal words of one Mr. Dimples. "Come on in guys!", he hiccups. I don't know what the hell Cochran was thinking, but his seratonin levels were clearly on an upswing as he tells the Impalas (Upolu) how, without him, they'd be nothing. Plus, it's his birthday in a few days. So, pretty please keep him in the game for just one more week. Sophie snorts to herself and decides that she doesn't owe Cochran bupkis. It's his own fault he defected from Savannah. Albert, however, thinks Cochran is making a valid point. Of course Albert thinks it's a valid point! Albert's modus operandi from day one has been to get Edna out of the game. The only problem is he's never managed to do it himself. Full of ideas but never solutions, Albert wonders if maybe keeping Cochran is the way to go. In Albert's mind, Cochran will never win this game and since Edna probably won't vote for Albert anyways, why not keep Cochran around for a little longer? Here's the thing: Albert has one thing on his mind and one thing only - stacking that Jury with votes for himself. The only problem is that when you put all of your attention on the Jury, the game right in front of you, the one in your lap, blurs and becomes an afterthought. Plus, Albert is about as stealthy and covert as Phillip Sheppard.

This brings us to the big duel. We have candy apple headed Dawn, married lady Whitney, and the interminable Ozzy. Who the hell do we root for? For today's duel, Survivors will balance ceramic dishes on the end of a long wobbling arm. The more dishes you stack, the more difficult it is to keep stable. When you're dishes fall, you're out of the game for good and you join the freaky freakies over on the Jury. Last person standing stays alive. Survivors ready, go.

With tight lips and a furrowed brow, Ozzy places plate after plate with the gentle touch of a sniper. Meanwhile Dawn, tired from all that sexy time with Ozzy the night before, yawns and jostles her pole. I don't know exactly what Ozzy did to our soccer mom (anal), but her wobbly legs couldn't withstand the weight of all those plates. With a loud "Motherfucker!" (they blurred her mouth so I can only assume that this is what the Mormon shouted), Dawn is out of the game. Shortly thereafter, with a lick of her lips and her nerves all a jumble over her pending divorce, Whitney too drops her plates. OZZY STAYS ALIVE!

Before leaving, Dawn farts out some tears and applauds for herself. Now her weirdo Mormon children with glassy eyes and plastic smiles will have the courage to make pipe bombs. At least that's what I think she said. Who knows. I was distracted by the fact that her no nonsense haircut now weighs more than she does. It was Whitney's turn next and she twanged out something about something, but do we really care? Nope. That leaves us with Ozzy. Ugh. "I'm excited to go into the duels and beat my enemies. This is what I do best. I'm getting stronger everyday. Look at me up here perched in this tree. This is how I'm going to win the game." *clicks rifle* Bang!

Back at Tuna Tartare (TeTuna), feather sprite Edna is getting ready to do some laundry in a bucket. She asks everyone if they'd like her to boil their soiled underthings, but Albert just rolls his eyes and says, "Survivor isn't outclean." No, you're right about that Albie. It's also not outsleep, outrest, outnap, or outdouche. Very satisfied with himself for coming up with "outclean", Albert collapses back into his hammock and says they should leave the housework to Martha Stewart. But Martha Stewart isn't a member of this tribe, Albert. She busy counting her billions in one of her many houses in between sipping cucumber water, planting Cyrtochilum Monachicum, deboning a duck, and spinning freshly shorn alpaca yarn. I'm not sure what it is that Edna did to anger Albert so, but picking on her for doing a necessary daily chore seems a little trite. I understand you're angry that she's made it this far, but, I don't know, why not do something about it rather than sneering like a disgruntled 13 year old girl?

Perhaps Albert heeded my advice or perhaps he got bored counting up all his votes because out of nowhere he rises from his slumber and hijacks Edna's laundry. With a pfft and a scoff he takes the laundry stick and vows to stir better than that dust particle Edna can stir. Albert will stir with force. He'll stir with purpose. He'll show this tribe once and for all that Edna is expendable. With one hand on his hip, Albert pokes and prods at the bubbling linens. Poke, poke, jab, jab. Splash! *sigh* He poked the linens, the bucket, and the giant vat of scalding hot water all over the entire campfire. The fire! Fire represents life you know. After a quick scan for onlookers, Albert gingerly drops the stirring stick and slowly tiptoes away. It's not his fault if the water leaped out of the bucket on it's own accord. It's that Edna's fault for doing laundry in the first place.

Edna returns to camp to find the embers sopping wet and her laundry lying in the dirt. A tiny little spark went off above her head in that moment and then with a gentle breeze it was gone. You might have missed it if you weren't watching closely enough, but that was Edna getting angry. Coach remarks that Albert probably hasn't done a drop of work in his entire life when, all of a sudden, Rancher Rick moseys on over and says one word. Just one single solitary word. One perfectly shaped word. Precious. Rancher Rick thinks that Albert is precious. In fact, all this time Rick has silently referred to Albert as Prince Albert. Don't get your hopes up because I doubt Rancher Rick was referring to the piercing, but it's charming, no? I had no idea Rick thought anything about anything! It turns out that our grizzly cowboy doesn't think much at all of that lazy Albert. Join the club.

Just when we were finally getting to know Rancher Rick a little bit, he rides off into the sunset and we're left with Edna in a frantic state. Like a fly trapped indoors, she buzzes this way and thataway trying to find someone to set her free. Maybe Coach can be that someone. She asks him point blank if she's going home after Cochran. Coach solemnly replies in the affirmative. Edna demands to know why and Coach says that it's simply time for people to go. A teepee, a woven blanket, and a long pipe would have apropos accountrements for this scene. He wasn't just "Coach" in that moment. He was Chief Coach. Once Edna finally floated away, Chief Coach wonders if perhaps there's a way to keep both Edna and Cochran. Neither will vote him out. This is definitely something that needs to be thought about a little more. Perhaps a walk with his spirit guides will provide some clarity. *packs peyote into pipe*

And now we arrive at the Immunity Challenge. Come on in guys! For today's challenge, Survivors will toss sand bags. The first three people to land three sand bags will move onto round two where they'll use a giant sling to fire coconuts at targets. The first person to knock down all of their targets with the coconuts wins Immunity and a spa day complete with a shower and a massage. To hear Dimples go on and on about all the essential oils and "working out the kinks", I wondered to myself if perhaps this massage didn't come with a happy ending. Visit any massage parlor in Samoa and I guarantee you'll find a standing biweekly appointment for a "Dimples". Survivors ready, go!

Let me just start this by saying that I hate the phase 1 and phase 2 competitions. Too many good people get knocked out for not doing something stupid quickly enough and then we're left with one or more undesirables in the running to win. I want endurance. I want dangerous obstacle courses. Swimming, running, jumping, leaping, drowning... that's what I want. How the hell am I supposed to cleverly recap, "Coach tosses a bag, Sophie tosses a bag, Brandon tosses a bag." Toss, toss, toss, burble, burble. Sophie, Prince Albert, and Rancher Rick will move onto round two.

Prince Albert and Rancher Rick quickly get into the groove and begin to connect with their targets while Sophie narrowly swipes Dimples' hat off his head. All shoulders and thighs, Sophie chokes and it's clear that she has no chance of winning the challenge. Prince Albert and Rancher Rick stay neck in neck until the very end and I hoped against hope that our man of a few words would finally pull out a win. Alas, it was to no avail as ALBERT WINS IMMUNITY.

Chest puffed up, Albert feels very proud of himself. He gets to pick someone to join him on the massage and after a speech about loving everyone in his family and grand sweeping gestures hither and thither, Albert picks Coach to join him. Not so fast though sonny jim. Albert then asks Dimples if he can take one more person with him. Dimples curtly tells him no. While erecting a cross and preparing to climb up on it, Albert asks if perhaps he can give his massage to someone else. While waiting for an answer, he pulls a crown of thorns out of his back pocket and places it atop his own head. Dimples looks at him sideways and decides to let him give away his reward if he wants. Albert kicks the sand and makes a big production of hemming and hawing. "Aw shucks. If one of you can maybe give a starving selfless soul some food next time for me to give to the poor, I'd greatly appreciate it. I choose to give my reward to Cochran because not only am I buying his vote, but it's his birthday in a few days." Cochran stares at the piece of tracing paper, Albert, and says he's only ever massaged his mother before. Dimples and I giggled in unison and while that was all funny and good, I was more interested in the limp noodle of kissassness before us now. This gummy bear in a sea of jawbreakers. We see you Albert. We get what you're doing and SO DOES EVERYONE ELSE!

After a spa day where untouched places were finally touched, where the water was scented with jasmine, and where a birthday boy is not really a birthday boy, Cochran pulls Albert aside to thank him for the massage. Albert clutches his pearls and tells Cochran it's no never mind. Sure, he's going home next and Albert would like his vote on the Jury, but don't be silly and go making a big to-do about the selfless generosity bursting forth from his heart. Cochran again stares through the loin cloth, the basket of Easter eggs, and the Birkenstocks to say, "Oh and by the way, Rancher Rick calls you Princess Albert. Take care." Ha! Albert's face twists up into a mushy pretzel and only when he catches himself does he reply, "I'm thrilled he's calling me Princess. Rick is as sharp as a bowling ball." Some bowling balls are very sharp I'll have you know. Back in the medieval days, bowling balls could kill. Take heed, Princess.

Cochran knows what he has to do now. He has to use the Princess thing against Rick and try to save himself. First, he approaches Edna. He tells her how he told Albert about Rick calling him Princess. In response, Edna twirls on her toothpick legs and eats that shit up. This is the moment she's been waiting for. The moment where she can stop being number six. She tells Cochran that they need to talk to Coach as soon as possible. They find him strolling in the open air clad in a fuchsia and white lei. His skin is clean and his hair is freshly rubber banded. Serenity is written all over his face until Cochran blurts out, "I told Albert that Rick calls him Princess!" Coach inhales deeply and crosses his arms at his waist. Not a word is spoken. Not an eyelash flutters. He stands in stoic silence with a blank look on his face. How he proceeds in this very moment will determine the rest of the game. Shakespeare said something about a tide coming in the lives of man. If you take it, you get fortune cookies. If you don't take it, you'll end up in that movie Misery. I might be paraphrasing a little. Give me a break, I'm working without a DVR today. So, the big question is whether or not Coach wants his legs hobbled. We'll see.

This brings us to Tribal Council. Coach is surprisingly candid in saying that the possibilities for tonight's vote are endless. A new scenario seems to present itself every hour. Cochran chimes in and admits to being part of the scrambling. It's the charmingly neurotic Cochran at first. He smiles crookedly as he admits that the Jury will be thrilled to hear that he's the target tonight. But then, in a flinch, he sits up a little straighter and pronounces, "I breathed new life into this game." *smacks self in head*

Sensing that Cochran was hogging up all the air time, Albert mumbles something or other that had nothing to do with anything. Coach interrupts and praises Cochran's courage. Over on the Jury, Mary Jane's (Jim) eyes promptly get stuck into the top of his skull and he falls over the log he was sitting on. Keanu's (Keith) robot parts started sputtering and Whitney began throwing wedding rings at the remaining Tunas. Lots of anger on that Jury! Awesome.

Through the crackling fire and the seething Jury, we hear a tiny whimper. It's Edna and she's crying. We don't know why she's crying, but if she's not careful she'll drown herself with her own tears. It turns out that Edna is sad that she's number six. There's an easy way to remedy that Edna - WIN AN IMMUNITY CHALLENGE. There you go. Problem solved.

And then, while Edna is busy wiping her face with a postage stamp, Brandon jumps to his feet and says that no matter what he's voting Cochran out tonight and next time he's voting out Edna. It's all black and white! There's no grey! After his declaration of certainty, young Brandon collapses into a ball on the floor and begins to cradle his own head. At first we couldn't tell if he was suffering from a migraine, adjusting a barrette, or what. It turns out that he's in the full blown throes of sin. It has him. It's running through his veins and invading his soul. He wants to do wrong things! He's human, but something stronger lives inside of him. (see above photo) The tears begin to fall and it's very clear to everyone that something is seriously wrong with this kid.

Dimples pretty much points at Brandon and laughs while Cochran, with nothing to lose, says that talking to Brandon about strategy is like telling him that Dimples' shirt isn't blue. The fact that there isn't a blue in the world bluer than Dimples' shirt last night makes the comment all the more amusing. It's so blue that it makes regular blue blush. Royal blue is ashamed to be in a room with that shinier dimplier blue. Albert & Sophie jump in and agree that Brandon is the absolute worst person to talk strategy with. I checked in on Brandon to make sure his face was still attached and from what I can tell he hadn't torn it off yet. As a matter of fact, he sort of seemed fine with everything. Maybe he didn't quite grasp what was unfolding before him.

Well, let's not worry about that now. We have bigger matters to tend to... it is with great sadness that Cochran is the 13th person voted out of Survivor South Pacific. I'm a little bummed about this one because even though I pick on him a little, I actually like the guy. He lasted much longer than he should of and his shenanigans were always entertaining to watch. So, what do you guys think? Are you sad Cochran is gone? Does he have any chance whatsoever of beating Ozzy? Will Brandon murder the tribe as they sleep? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!