Thursday, November 17, 2011
If I Were That Angel
Messengers of God, heavenly beings from beyond; Angels are everywhere. They whisper in our ears, they flicker the bedroom lights off and on, and, occasionally, they threaten to shake up reality shows like a snowglobe. Whether on Ghost Hunters or in that familiar butterfly fluttering near your window, Angels are a crafty bunch - but then again, winged creatures have always been up to no good. Just look at Talos, the giant winged man of bronze delivered from Zeus to protect Europa and the island of Crete. On the surface he sounds like a man of the people, a protector of society, but if pissed off he'll hurl giant boulders into the sea and giggle at the splashes they make. Or let's look to our fairy friends - delicate and graceful, exquisite and playful. You might be able to smoosh them with your thumb, but those little scamps will hide your car keys and steal your pharmaceuticals in the blink of an eye. Junkies, the whole lot of 'em! In my vast and extensive research of all things mythological, I have never come across a bespectacled gangly fop masking himself as an angel. What would we call this creature? Gingerellus? Freckelopia? Perhaps delving deeper into this prankster's psyche will provide a clearer more accurate picture of what exactly we're dealing with here. Let's recap, shall we?
In the thick of night with the gentle buzz of the insect people to keep us company, a dead-eyed goofy grinned man with pockets full of poker chips and the finest sativa arrives on Rhode Island (Redemption Island). "I thought we were supposed to be the final 3", he smirks. You see, "final 3" was the heart of the 3+2 x the circumference of a coconut shell divided by pi minus the square root of the number of teeth in Mary Jane's (Jim) mouth plan. The plan was fool proof (proof that fools exist). It should have worked! With one hand down his pants and the other fondling his own tendrils, Ozzy sighs and burbles, "I hate to say I told you so." Well, clearly you don't hate it enough not to say it. Douche of the D'ouchervilles. Meanwhile, Keanu (Keith) is sitting stiff-necked and straight-backed saying nothing to no one and having no bearing on anything anywhere. Too bad the insects kept up their nocturnal opera. I'll bet in the blackest depths of silence with nothing but Keanu sitting in a corner, we'd be able to hear the gentle clicking of his robot parts. I'm not just talking about a pacemaker here. I'm talking about intricate wires and metal thingamabobs working in tandem to keep this "man" a functioning being. If Pinocchio, Edward Scissorhands, and that creepy pieced together baby on American Horror Story had a hot threesome and produced a child, it would be Keanu - only without the eccentric personalities of his three fathers. Charmless, witless, dull. *sputter sputter kerplunk*
Over at Tuna Tartare (Te Tuna), with hands pressed firmly together in a namaste, Coach tells the remaining Tunas how Mary Jane is the most dangerous type of person. He may look welcoming and accommodating on the outside, but when you stare into his dead black eyes, all you see is a swirling abyss of Jacks, Aces, and one-hitters. A man like that will peek at your cards and bogart that can, man. It's best that he's out of the family for good. But amongst the encouraging words and the uplifting sermon, a gentle nagging tugs at Coach's heartstrings. Rule #37: A person at the bottom of an alliance better not feel like they're at the bottom of an alliance or stones will be thrown, the people will revolt, and it'll be anarchy. Coach tries his best to reassure his disciples of the importance of unity and trust, but one lone Mrs. (Whitney) isn't falling for it. Through a mass of tangles (and a sullied wedding dress), the Mrs. wonders how smart people can be so stupid. Perhaps there's something to that. I myself wonder how a smart girl can secretly get married, go on a national tv show, bump uglies with a robot, and think she can keep it all a secret. You're right, Whitney. How can smart people be so dumb?!
A new day dawns and with it, an ancient mystical dance of delights. The waves crash and the wind blows gently as two men juggle suns and shoot the clouds with their pointer fingers. This meditation in motion is grace personified - If "grace" is a herky jerky freckled lad dropping suns and shooting his own foot with an imaginary bow, but grace nonetheless! Steady, constant, flowing, Tai Chi promotes serenity by connecting mind and body and, let's face it, Coach is a pretty serene guy whereas Cochran is a jumble of nerve endings swaying in the breeze. Cochran admits to drinking the "Coach Kool Aid" in order to inch his way up the elimination pecking order, but I think, deep down, young Cochran actually enjoys picking up a few tips to lower his stress levels. Neuroses only gets worse if left unattended. Yet, amongst all the peace and calming whale music, Coach stares hypnotically at the sea and voices his concern for the coming days. Albie is acting super squirrelly and Brandon is running around giving everyone "HATZ" tattoos which leaves Coach wondering if maybe he'll be blindsided down the road. Upon hearing this news, all that energy harnessed and all that inner calm achieved from the morning meditation goes flying out the window and anxiety once again cradles Cochran like a fluffy warm comforter.
Anxiety aside, we've got a duel to get to. The Three Stooges enter the arena, but only one will emerge victorious. The winner will continue to live on Rhode Island while the other two will become our first members of the Jury. For today's challenge, you must stand with your arms outstretched and hold two poles against an overhead board. The last one to keep his poles erect stays in the game. "Erect". *sigh* It's so obvious who's going to win. Survivors ready, go.
While Cochran sits twitching, the challenge begins and those loud mouthed freaks observing start to pick favorites. Can I just ask why those knuckleheads are bothering to cheer from the stands? Rancher Rick who seemingly has a daily word quota starts hollering for Mary Jane to excel while Mrs. Whitney throws her garter and bouquet in Keanu's direction. What the hell is going on here? Don't pick sides. Don't risk pissing off someone still in the game. Let those duelers duke it out and keep your traps shut in the meantime. Players look for whispers and hints of reasons to distrust one another. Rancher Rick burping out a "Yeehaw" for Mary Jane would be reason enough for me to vote his ass out. Rooting for duelers has always bothered me. Look, you voted those people out and they're pissed off they're in the position they're in. Just let it lie until you know for sure who's coming back into the game. No need to ruffle any unnecessary feathers.
Alright, so back to the duel. We've got Keanu and his mechanical parts beginning to rust in the dewy air while Mary Jane's squishy biceps are starting to give way. With one inhale, our resident pot dealer is out and off to peddle his wares elsewhere. After a minor battle of the poles, Keanu's wires cross and he's out as well. Ozzy stays alive. Grreat. Just what his ego needs - another win.
It wouldn't be an Ozzy win. however, without another smug Ozzy soliloquy. It went something like this, "I'm in the best place possible. I get stronger everyday on Rhode Island while all you suckers continue to starve. You should see my hair cascading down my back when I emerge slowly from the water with my spear in hand. Too bad the ladies can't see it for themselves. *beats on chest* I'll eat you. All of you." Um, what? Slow down there Ozzy. This isn't Foursome (VERY NSFW). The duel scene ends with Mary Jane slipping Dimples (Jeff Probst) another one of his cockamamie plans for a "Secret Double Redemption Island". Dimples takes one look at the resin covered blueprint and tosses it into the fire. You're done Mary Jane. Go, already!
Instead of peeking in on Tuna Tartare after the duel, we continue to follow Ozzy in all his winningness to observe his daily life on Rhode Island. He awakens with the sun and proceeds to spend his days visiting various ports of call and eating the finest fish the South Pacific has to offer. Marlin, tuna, barracudas - all of them leap out of the water and into Ozzy's awaiting arms. Mermaids lurking on majestic reefs beckon him closer inviting him to search their "caves". Long languid days of food and sex... It's like Sandals Jamaica for crying out loud - all inclusive, rum punch by the pitcher, and a colorful buffet every night. It's a place to refresh, rejuvenate, and relax. Those suckers back at Tuna Tartare wish they had the stamina and island savvy that Ozzy has. *eye roll* So while those Tunas are sucking tiny droplets out of a coconut, Ozzy is throwing Ones at the goddesses of the sea and wondering how he'll ever eat all of the bounty the ocean has generously laid at his feet. I'm sure you'll find a way, Ozzy. Actually, please eat some more so we don't have to listen to you tell us how great you are. Maybe you should consider a daily word quota like Rancher Rick. Just a thought.
Back at Tuna Tartare, Rancher Rick moseys on over to the fish nets, picks one up with the spur of his boot, and tosses it back into the sea upon seeing that it's empty. Foodwise, things are getting dire for the Tunas. I don't mean to butt in or anything, but in the past when starvation has become an issue throughout history, people ate each other to stay alive. Alive. Edna offers nothing more than a flimsy chicken wing so why not take a bite out of burly Brandon or a nibble of a robust milky gal like Sophie. You don't have to kill them per se, but protein is protein.
Huddled together under the rickety shelter, we find Dawn Dawn the soccer mom all puckered up and ready to kiss some ginger ass. She's seen how the other tribe has embraced Cochran with open arms and now she wants a little bit of that love for herself. No sneaky hints or veiled suggestions needed for Dawn. No thick clouds to wade through with this one. After telling Cochran she regrets not tattling on him, she comes right out and tells him, "I'll do anything to stay in this game." With a lift of his eyebrow and a slight adjustment to his spectacles, Cochran wonders to himself if maybe hooking up with Dawn and swooping down with flapping wings to rescue her might be his best move after all. Dawn and Mrs. Whitney are certainly searching for an angel to save them. What if Cochran were that angel? It's another one of those highfalutin metaphors we've come to know and love from Cochran. Anytime a chance to label himself sneaks out and presents itself, Cochran snatches that bitch up with ferocity and cloaks himself with it. I don't pretend to understand it, but it seems to make him feel better to have a label and a place in this game to call his own. *shrugs shoulders* Okay. Just, ugh, don't save Dawn or Whitney please.
And this brings us to the big Immunity Challenge. Come on in guys! For today's challenge, Survivors will balance a bowl of rice on their heads while racing across a course of teeter totters to fill a container. If your bowl falls off or if you touch it, you have to go back to the beginning and start all over again. First person to fill their container and raise their whatever wins Immunity. Survivors ready, go.
The challenge begins and with one ginger step forward Cochran loses his bowl. Coach and Albie spill their rice shortly thereafter and I'm a little stunned. As a man who's probably spent hours balanced on one leg on a perch somewhere, I thought Coach had this thing in the bag! It turns out his head must be pointy or something. Who is excelling however, is Dawn. A few weekends wrestling with some moms at Filene's Basement for the last pair of culottes while balancing her purse on her head has served her well. That flat-headed Brandon also seems to be cruising over the teeter-totters with muscular-calved Sophie right behind him.
And it will continue to be those three who lead the charge for the entire length of the race: Pancake-headed Brandon, feisty shopper Dawn, and ruddy-skinned Sophie. Back and forth, back and forth they go. It'll be a foot race if someone doesn't make a big move soon and that someone turns out to be our sturdy med student. With her balls swinging to and fro, she scoops up an enormous amount of rice piled inches out of the top of the bowl and makes her way to the finish. Dawn scurries by with a few grains here and there, Brandon pours some syrup on the top of his head, and Sophie trudges on. She reaches the finish and we all wonder if her big ass bowl will be enough. Guess what? It is. SOPHIE WINS IMMUNITY!!! Oh and one more thing, there's a lemony twist tonight at Tribal Council. Dawn snatches the word "twist" out of the air and stuffs it in her purse next to her balled up Kleenex and coupons. That "twist" is her hope. That "twist" could be her salvation.
Back at camp, Cochran checks in with Coach to make sure that Dawn and Mrs. Whitney are indeed the next two on the chopping block. He has a sneaking suspicion that there will be a double elimination tonight and before that paranoia starts to bubble up to the surface he needs to check that everything is copasetic and that his safety isn't an issue. Coach gives him a side-eye glance that says "Duh", but Cochran isn't near satisfied yet. If either Dawn or Mrs. Whitney wins that second Immunity Challenge, it's curtains for the young lad. Some pacing is in order - stat!
Cochran isn't the only one in panic mode. Dawn and Mrs. Whitney are definitely feeling the heat and together they quickly make plans to approach Albie. Mrs. Whitney, in all of her newfound twangness (I swear that wasn't there back at episode 1 - maybe marriage brings it out in her), thinks Albie is indeed the raht guy to help her. Brandon's too creepy and who knows what the hell Rancher Rick is up to. Albie is the only one who seems to have his head in the game. I, however, think it's because Albie is the only single guy left. Marriage schmarriage. Whitney wants to party!
So with Cochran lurking creepily on the sidelines, Dawn and Mrs. Whitney make their pitch to Albie. Wooden Albie (is he related to Keith?) mulls over the proposition and begins to consider his long game. Perhaps saving Dawn and Mrs. Whitney would be a good thing. It would surely gain him some Savannah (Savai'i) votes on the Jury as well as appease Cochran and move him up the ranks a smidge. Plus, Albie can finally get rid of that tissue paper Edna once and for all. It infuriates him that a cornflake like that is still in the game. I don't know. Keeping around someone like that until the end - someone you can definitely beat both physically and mentally might be the way to go. I mean, come on. Let's get real. No one is giving Edna a million dollars. Why surround yourself with formidable forces when keeping those barnacles Edna and Rancher Rick until the end would bode so much better for you? Can you imagine a final three with Edna, Rick, and Albie? *throws hands in the air* No contest! Then again, I'm incredibly lazy and the path of least resistance is sometimes the most appealing.
Whether Albie makes this giant move isn't really the issue anymore. What is the issue is that Coach has been hiding in a nearby bush listening to him scheme and plot with Mrs. Whitney! Coach is a man of intuition and as we learned at the beginning of the episode, something sinister has been tugging at his gut telling him that things are awry. Oprah calls it a "whisper". That gentle gnawing in your nether regions that tells you danger is afoot. Not everyone knows how to listen to it. Some people ignore those whispers to the point where they become a scream (usually your scream from not realizing your neighbor was trying to murder you all along and you should have gone ahead and checked the Sexual Offender Registry like you always meant to). A whisper is nothing more than your intuition. Kim Basinger once said, "I feel there are two people inside me - me and my intuition. If I go against her, she'll screw me every time, and if I follow her, we get along quite nicely." Clearly, Coach has a little Kim inside of him that has served him well. We all need a Lil Kim now and again.
If Albie had a Lil Kim he'd know that Coach is wise to everything he's plotting. Coach is in the trees, under the chess set, and behind the tree trunk you sit on... he's everywhere! Like one of those kreepy Kardashians, you can't shake him. Albie continues to plan, continues to scheme, and tries with all of his might to convince Cochran that his time amongst them is running out. Spindly Cochran manages to rile himself up to the point of saying he's way more valuable than Edna. I'm not sure about that. Edna licks a teardrop from a coconut and is full to Spring. She's much less strain on the camp's resources.
To make this new plan work, the defectors will need another vote. Off to the woods they go where they find farmhand Sophie moving logs or raking leaves or doing whatever it is she does in her downtime. Albie reiterates that Edna is useless. She's not only hogging Cochran's #6 spot, but she's a vote for Coach in the end. Sophie scratches her head and thinks about the proposition that's being laid out before her. That sneaky Albie is showing his Cyndi Lauper true colors more and more. The thing is, those true colors just happen to be Sophie's true colors. I see your true colors shining through... Sophie doesn't care for that feather sprite Edna either. Apparently, Edna drives her crazy. Is it the fact that all she needs is a palm leaf for a blanket or is it something else? Other than the Mikayla kissassness of yesteryear, speckle dust Edna has been pretty mute for the run of the show. All of this back and forth and jibber jabber makes Sophie the swing vote. The question is, which direction will she swing?
This brings us to Tribal Council where Dawn wastes no time pleading with the Impalas to use her and Mrs. Whitney. No offense lady, but you're good in challenges and I guess you're somewhat likable. You're Jane 2.0 and not one person on Impala should use you or your tangled friend. Dawn can talk about the low men on the totem pole all she wants, but that Mormon is a threat. She not only threatens the pleasure one feels from an alcoholic beverage, but she threatens the Impalas ability to get votes. Cut her loose, I say!
A wide-eyed Cochran who hates hearing the phrase "number 7" admits that now is the perfect time to make a big move. Dimples feeds off of this and needles the poor boy mercilessly, "You're number se-ven! That bugs you, right? You hate that, right? We're here, you're SEVEN. One, two, three, four, five, six, SEVEN. Seven, seven, seven!" Cochran keeps his cool and assures Dimples that he already has a fistful of plans all ready to go for the next few Tribals. It's funny all these plans... Dawn sort of initiated them, Whitney put them into motion, Cochran thinks he's the mastermind, Albie swears he's the one in charge, and now Sophie is the one they all depend on. Too many people, too many factors, too many cooks in the kitchen. The only ones not dipping their willies into the pie are Coach, Edna, Rick, and Brandon. From afar, that's an alliance of some solidity, with some weight. It's half way flimsy, sure, but you need only look at everyone's agendas to see where the true loyalty lies.
In the end, all the bravado and all the dick swinging was for naught and Dawn is the 11th person voted out of Survivor South Pacific. We only see one vote for Edna which means the defectors pussied out at the last minute. I wonder what happened? Who changed their mind first? Nevermind all the wondering because we've got another Immunity Challenge, bitches!
The rumors are true, it's a double elimination. After a quick little quiz about survival where Mrs. Whitney and Sophie battle it out over the poisonous truths of the South Pacific crab, SOPHIE WINS IMMUNITY... again. Is Sophie a new dark horse we need to keep our eye on? She's proved to be smart, husky, loyal, and someone not to be trifled with. I think I like her. She's careful when she needs to be and busts ass when her life depends on it.
So, again we vote and this time is no different from the last. Whitney is the 12th person voted out of Survivor South Pacific. An elimination during the week of a secret marriage scandal is almost poetic, don't you think? Now she can look forward to Ozzy eating her. Wait, what? So, what did you guys think? Did you want Albie to succeed with his plan? Are you surprised they chickened out? How will Cochran move up the ranks now? Do you think Dawn can still get pregnant? Comment it out bitches and have a great day! Next week is Thanksgiving and it's a recap episode so the blog will return on December 1st. See you then. Have a great Thanksgiving everyone!