Thursday, April 21, 2011

Racial About Rice




Wang Chung Kung Fu is the most highly developed branch of martial arts. Dating all the way back to 1983, the most adept and open-minded individuals are chosen to study this ancient art of combating not only one-hit wonders, but Eastern-inspired rattan and leather armoires named Julie. The Wang Chung Kung Fu practitioner must not only train his heart, spirit and mind, but he must be able to pair skinny ties with pleated pants in appealing fashions. After years of meditation, body alignment and making fetching feathered caps using only a wayward sparrow and some twine is the warrior ready to leave the dojo and be a man. His ability to blend into his environment makes it extremely difficult to anticipate his approach, but when he does attack (by leaping in jaunty circles) your best method of defense is to do nothing at all. Wang Chung Kung Fu is a nonviolent hallucination that, sadly, only the practitioner is aware of. No one ever gets hurt and no punches are ever thrown. It's a neurological conflict that takes place when someone forgets to turn down their thorazine drip at night. So while Wang Chung Kung Fu is indeed rare and highly specialized, simply call your local mental health facility and someone will come forthwith to remove the crazy person wearing your underwear and spearing your goldfish. Let's recap, shall we?



























We continue this increasingly boring Nicaraguan tale on Rhode Island (Redpemtion Island). A sad and forlorn pony is no longer happy with his circumstances. What was once light and fluffy is now dismal and bleak. His God has blessed him with lovely cascading flaxen locks of spun gold and a rippling rock hard tum-tum of tan-ness, but still the pony grieves. In the still of the night, Pretty Pony (Matt) closes his eyes and asks God what in the sam hell is he supposed to do now? He's not happy here on Rhode Island anymore. He's done everything Jesus has asked, but nothing is going according to plan. Maybe it's for the best that he goes home instead and serves his Savior that way. Once he is sparkly and clean and back at school studying Medicinery and Christiagraphy he'll regain his focus and be able to spread the word of the lord much more effectively. But here, on Rhode Island, he feels so useless, so ineffectual, so broken. He continues to beg God, out loud and on camera, to set him free and let him prance with the other ponies, but God replies only how God knows how to reply - with another mystery. Out of the darkness enters Lawyer Dave who announces himself as, "Murphy. David Murphy." Is that like Bond. James Bond.? Grrreat. We have another covert agent to keep an eye on now. Well, let's hope this new one drinks lots of martinis and bangs hot chicks rather than using his own urine as invisible ink to send letters back to Langley. Lawyer Dave and Pretty Pony begin to discuss the upcoming duel and in doing so they rouse that afterthought of a player, Mike, out of his slumber. Together the three decide that a duel must be imminent. A three person duel isn't the norm - on Rhode Island or in Ancient Capua - but sometimes it must be done. So, like Crixus and Spartacus chopped off the head of Theokoles, I hope that Lawyer Dave and Pretty Pony will chop off the head of Mike. I mean, let's be honest, he'd be just as talkative without a head as he would be with one.





Back at Murlonio it's time for some breakfast. The remaining Zappas (Zapateras) are enjoying a meal of rice and fish while off in a corner a giant man begins to burble. With a sewing needle, thread and a brand spanking new feather, Phillip is talking to himself in the only language he understands - gibberish. "Ah homina homina homina inda guru nana flata enchilada empanada ixnay on the upidstay aussie aussie aussie oy oy oy." The Cuddler (Steve) looks around the camp self consciously wondering if anyone else is witnessing the same mental breakdown he's witnessing. To his surprise no one is batting an eyelash. Mascaroni (Andrea) is dutifully doing her chores, Tattalie (Natalie) is taking copious notes in her little notebook and Assley (Ashley) is busying herself with being useless. Oh sure, a man is sitting in a beach chair surrounded by 20 or so dead hummingbirds and knitting himself a feathered shawl, but that's status quo for Murlonio. Nothing to see here. Just go about your day. The Cuddler scratches his head and wonders if maybe he can get some Omarions (Ometepes) to open their eyes and see that Gary Busey himself has infiltrated their camp. It's the only chance he and his Zappas have of sticking around in this game.







So while The Cuddler is figuring out a way to stay alive, Wang Chung Kung Fu master Phillip sits on the side of a cliff and meditates. "Benzo oooloo gaftoo, oooh la, oooh la, rah rah, ah ah ah, roma roma ma, gaga oh la la, want your bad romance." It turns out in addition to being a member of the Subway Sandwich Club and a high scorer on Ms. Pac-Man, Phillip Shephard is also a lifelong student of Buddhism. If there's one thing that Buddhism teaches you, other than that your mother could have been that spider you just flushed, it's that your spirit is interconnected to every single living thing including the Tathagata. Oh phooey! There's no way in hell I'm connected to Gwyneth Paltrow and you can never ever ever convince me otherwise. The Tathagata, however, is the name the Buddha gives himself in scriptures. According to Phillip, the Tathagata can manifest as anything. You just have to be open to receiving it and recognizing it for what it is. For Phillip, the Tathagata is any feather he can find. Whether he's in the feather section at Michael's or at a cock fight in someone's basement, those feathers are manifestations of God and must be immediately made into hats. Once his Buddha feathers are made into charming chapeaux, Phillip can speak with his ancestor Jesspum (last week it was Jessup) Harring and discover how to proceed in the game. This week Jessica told him that his bond with Rob is one of truth and honor. Then he said something about a circle of trust and I wondered to myself how many times Phillip has actually seen Meet The Parents. I'm thinking it runs on a constant loop along with Hot Shots! and Austin Powers The Spy Who Shagged Me.



Back at camp, a crotchety ole leather boot strap is hungry. Julie is very excited by how much rice the Zappas have left so she's decided, along with The Cuddler, that they should eat as much of it as possible. Did you ever see that movie Alive? A soccer team crashes in the Andes mountains, sees a plane fly overhead and assumes they're getting rescued. Without thinking about how long it may take for rescuers to reach them, they go ahead and eat all of the very little food they had available to them. In the end, they ending up eating each other - literally - they eat each other! Look, all I'm saying is that when you're stuck in a situation where food isn't the least bit plentiful, it might not be the best idea to shove your entire inventory down your leathery trap. If the Zappas eat all of their rations now, the Omarions will be forced to devour Julie and I'm thinking she tastes a little bit like stale beef jerky and a broom handle.






Phillip, hiding in a foxhole he dug right next to the campfire, peeks out and begins to mark in his mud wall exactly how many scoops of rice Julie eats. Once he has all of his intel, he races over to Rob to report his findings. Why does Julie get seven scoops when he only gets two?!? First off, I saw his bowl during the crispy rice fiasco. Phillip did not have two scoops. He had an entire bowl. Secondly, he's one of the main culprits in insisting that the Zappas keep to themselves and don't mix with the Omarions. He drew that line in the sand last week and refused to even entertain the idea of a conversation with them. You can't have it both ways Phillip. Either you chat with the Zappas and let them sleep under your tarp when it rains or you ignore them and forfeit your right to their rice. It's as simple as that. Of course, if a feather showed up at the bottom of the cooking pot, we might have to have another conversation about how Jessplo, from beyond the grave, wants you to have that rice. But, until that happens, shut your trap and stop being a little tattle tale bitch like Tattalie.







And this brings us to Rhode Island where the entire Mauritania tribe (that's Murlonio according to Phillip) is there to witness the duel. Pretty Pony, Mike and Lawyer Dave are marched in for all the crowd to see. Right out of the gate, Pretty Pony says, "I never knew strangers could hurt me so deeply." *sniffle sniffle* Tissue please. I don't like to see my pony sad. I want to see him shiny and resplendent not bitter and resentful. I wanted to explore this new downtrodden side of my pony some more, but Dimples stormed ahead and went right on explaining how the duel is going to happen. Each player will be given 150 wooden tiles to build a house of cards. The first two to reach 8 feet will stay alive. The loser is out for good and becomes the first member of the Jury. Upon hearing this, Pretty Pony smirks and lifts his chin to the Omarions looking on. It was subtle, but it was there. A teeny tiny hint of pride and smartassness eeked out and we now know that if Pretty Pony gets put on the Jury, he won't vote for the best player, he'll vote for whomever didn't do him wrong. Well, Philip has one vote I guess. Survivors ready, go.







Lawyer Dave, the mayor of Legoland, takes his time building a structure that will stand up to gale force winds and possible hurricanes. Mike, on the other hand, just makes one wooden box on top of another and before we know it, he's already at 6 feet with Pretty Pony about a foot behind him. I quickly became very nervous for Lawyer Dave and started hurling dominoes and chess pieces at my tv screen. As the governor of Checkertown, I expected Lawyer Dave to smoke those other guys! Instead he was making sure his design was earthquake proof and wouldn't leak radiation. While I appreciate the thoughtfulness, just build the damn thing already!






Stack, stack, stack, build, build, build. Mike has one more level to complete but comes dangerously close to knocking down his entire structure. After repeated tries and leathery queefs from that motorcycle jacket Julie, MIKE STAYS ALIVE!!! We're now down to Pretty Pony and Lawyer Dave and I'm struggling a little bit with whom I want to stay in the game. On the one hand, it's the pony. On the other hand, Lawyer Dave talks shit to Phillip. I couldn't decide so I covered my eyes and hoped that Mike would maybe, fingers crossed, get struck by a bolt of lightening. Sadly, that didn't happen and PRETTY PONY STAYS ALIVE!!! Bummer. I'm sad to see Lawyer Dave go at this point in the game. He was one of our last hopes for some solid game play. Personally, I think the title of "Puzzle Master" was a curse. I don't know if he gave it to himself or if someone on his tribe gave it to him. All I know is that when he returns to Parcheesiville, his head will be hanging low and the citizens will be hurling dice at his cranium. Godspeed Lawyer Dave. Hopefully, we'll see you back in another season.







After the big duel, the tribe returns to camp and it's rice time! The Omarions are so stoked to eat their rice that they sing a little ditty while Phillip's limbs flail akimbo and we all get a peek at his ball sack. Mascaroni heads to the rice urn to begin cooking only to discover that what was once rice is now maggots! Uh oh... there are vampires in the tribe now. Michael, Michael, Michael... Clearly, Kiefer Sutherland showed up when everyone was gone and turned the lo mein into worms and the rice into maggots. The last fire will rise, behind those eyes, black house will rock, blind boys don't lie... Jami Gertz wasn't the only one all upset about it. Phillip was furious! After Mascaroni painstakingly separated the maggots from the rice, she wanted to store the remainder of their diseased rice in the Zappas urn. Now, I'm not a fan of the Zappas at all, but I'm with The Cuddler on this one. No fucking way are you putting your maggot rice into my urn. Maggots are born from eggs and while I'm sure Mascaroni did a bang up job pulling out the maggots themselves, there's no way she got out all of the microscopic eggs. Phillip thinks this sort of negative response from the Zappas is very telling and now he's somehow seen inside of their blackened evil souls as a result. No, you dumbass! Wouldn't an agent of the government have some sort of forensic knowledge about maggots? They didn't crawl into the leaky urn. They were born there!





So now Phillip Sheppard is very angry with how the Zappas refuse to help him save his rice. They're being unreasonable, they're blatantly breaking the rice law of the land and, if he could, he'd build an underground prison and arrest them for breaking Article 6 Section 2 of the Constitution Of The United States and the rice pinky swear. The Cuddler questions Phillip as to why he didn't ask to share the urn earlier before dumping the rice on a filthy towel. Phillip doesn't want to hear anything like questions and logic and reasoning. Instead, he wants to claim everything in that camp that he has a right to use. Oh sure, the Zappas can't sleep in the shelter or share the pillows or sleep under the tarp or cross the line in the sand, but Phillip is allowed to put his meaty paws on everything whenever and however he wants. Tattalie loaned him a whole gross of Post-It notes and now he's going to go around and label everything as his own. As soon as the Zappas leave their urn alone, Phillip will steal it, smack a Post-It on it and never again will the Zappas will be able to use it. Well, according to The Cuddler, that's all just crazy talk.








Phillip hears the word "crazy" on the wind and that teeny tiny brass diary key that was holding the lunacy part of his brain tightly shut breaks apart and a whole lot of verbal diarrhea leaks out... "I'm a very reasonable person to deal with. I know I am [a lunatic]. That's the one thing you never want to forget with me. You need to keep that in your mindset. That's your perception. Anytime somebody of a uh uh uh of uh my color gets up in one of your faces then you feel like I'm crazy." That's verbatim right there. Undoctored Phillip Sheppard. The man who stalks the Predator, the man who uses tiny seashells for earpieces, the man who radios to Goose whenever he has a private moment has just turned the word "crazy" into an all out Survivor race war. Rob and Grant listen from a distance and gasp in horror. Mascaroni crosses her arms, puts her head down and quietly walks away, Assley continues to pick the nits out of her armipts and The Cuddler replies lazily while lying supine in his shelter. I kind of love that he didn't even bother to stand up to argue with Phillip. Meanwhile, Phillip was beating on his chest saying, "Wang Chung Kung Fu expert right here!" Whatever Phillip. It's time for your Depakote.








What I'm more interested in is how Phillip, the filler of stereotypes, then proceeded to tell Survivor's 7 million or so viewers that all black men eventually self destruct and then go out and shoot stuff. With his finger he bang, bang, banged a borage of bullets through the screen and killed us all with his stupidity. As if that wasn't bad enough, he went back to his beach chair, sans feather chapeau, and started talking to himself about how one day everyone will be on their knees begging him for rice. No Phillip, we won't. We may be on our knees, but we won't be begging for your rice. We'll be begging for you to agree to the labotomy you so desperately need. Some people have been labotomized without cause - Frances Farmer, R.P. McMurphy - but I think it may turn out to be a beneficial thing for you Phillip. Just folllow Nurse Ratched down the hall and she'll take care of you from here on out. And, if for some reason, it doesn't work out, we'll do to you what the Indian did to McMurphy - smother you with a pillow.


The bickering continues and Phillip starts his whole "I'm a Chief Federal Agent" speech again. It used to be "Former", then it was "Special", now it's "Chief". I think next week he'll be "Princess Federal Agent". So there was Phillip yammering on, "White folks this... black men that... crazy, crazy, porcupine, jelly toast." The Cuddler spontaneously salutes him and I had to applaud in that moment. Finally! Another person to stand up to Phillip's bullshit. Steve is still a waste of space and adds nothing to the game, but I'm sick of everyone letting Phillip get away with all this crap he believes in. There he sat, beached on his chair, shoveling rice into his mouth (Hey! Where did he get that rice?), blurting out the N-word twice while not one person said anything in response. It turns out that Phillip's logic is that since he's never been in jail, he's not crazy. I know plenty of people who have never been incarcerated, but who are fucking cuckoo for cocoa puffs - Gwyneth Paltrow, for one.

This brings us to the big Immunity Challenge. For today's challenge, Survivors must build a multi-stage puzzle wheel. First, all nine tribe members will race to release a circular puzzle piece where they will then solve a puzzle inside of it. The first six to finish will proceed onto round two. I HATE challenges like this for Individual Immunity - the ones where a group proceeds to round two and then a smaller group proceeds to round three. I'd much rather they just did Endurance Challenges from here on out. They did it last season and it was exciting and awesome - remember how Jane kept winning? Anyhow, the six who continue on will then solve another puzzle to complete the wheel. First person to finish wins Immunity. Survivors ready, go!









The challenge begins and it's pretty funny. The Survivors have to run in circles around a podium to release the first part of the wheel. Phillip, scared of jostling the cranks and levers in his brain, gently tiptoes around his wheel while Rob flies so fast all we can make out is his gold medallion blowing in the wind. Mascaroni takes the lead and starts her puzzle first. Grant and Leatherface are right after her with Rob, Ralph and Assley behind them. Assley falls on her ass and that was cool, but all in all it was kind of a boring part one. Rob finishes first while Phillip tried to coerce his pieces into getting into place. When that didn't work, he started punching them in with his fists. And when that didn't work, he shot them all to smithereens with his pointer finger. Rob, Leatherface, Rooster, Mascaroni, The Cuddler and Grant proceed to round two.







Round two is literally people standing there solving puzzles which is about as exciting as watching someone play Solitaire. Very little visual appeal. Blah, blah, blah... Rob and The Cuddler are neck in neck and ROB WINS IMMUNITY!!! According to Dimples' twitter last night, The Cuddler was one second behind Rob. Too bad, so sad. His only hope to keep the Zappas together is to get two Omarion's to join them in voting out Phillip.







Back at Murlonio, the tribe is once again eating more rice. That satchel Julie tells us that the three Zappas will be voting out Phillip and she sure hopes someone from the Omarions will join them in that vote. Does she approach Assley who so clearly hates Phillip? Does she tell Mascaroni she'll never write her name down? Nope. Instead Leatherface goes and steals Phillip's shorts off the laundry line and buries them in the dirt. Now, the Nicaraguan water supply is tainted and there are an awful lot of Latin children talking to grains of sand and making feather skirts. That desk organizer Julie says, "Phillip's right, it's war." and war it was! Phillip notices his shorts missing and begins to interrogate all of the members of the tribe in a very calm and methodical way. "Did YOU take my shorts off the line! Well then, they must have gotten up and walked away then! They were right there a second ago. I can play that game! I can play that game! You're from the big house, right? You're from the big house." What "big house"? The one you saw in the distance out of the tiny window of your padded cell while you did a 5150 at Cedars? What the hell is he talking about?





Anyhow, Phillip doesn't have his shorts so instead he straps a few more feathers to his head and hangs a buff over his johnson. With a machete in hand and a purse over his shoulder, he paces the perimeter of the camp daring any and all unicorns, dragons, satyrs and chupacabras to start with him. He's trained in the top military facilities in this country. He's got the purple heart, the Congressional medal of honor and the Top Gun trophy. If any ligers or leprechauns out there want to fuck with him, now's the time. Bring it on!






Unfortunately, there was no time to fight any of the mythical creatures inside Phillip's head because now it's time for Tribal Council. Sandal wearing Lawyer Dave enters as the first member of the Jury and the first order of business is: where are Phillip's shorts? Without hesitating Phillip blames his missing pantaloons on The Cuddler. Due to his vast training at Langley and watching Meet The Parents 200 times, Phillip is confident that The Cuddler is the one who stole his shorts. He's also very mad that the Zappas are eating all of their own rice without his consent. The Cuddler says that as the Zappas numbers dwindle, the amount of rice allotted each person grows. They're going to eat it all and if they're forced into cannibalism then so be it. Dark meat is tastier than white meat. Be careful Phillip.





Mascaroni says she's frustrated with the maggot-y rice and then The Cuddler spills everything about the n-word riddled convo that took place back at camp. Dimples clutches his pearls and is stunned. This isn't a DMX album. This is Survivor! Backpackface Julie chimes in and says how Phillip threatened them with Wang Chung Kung Fu and then the fit hit the shan. Phillip got mad people were calling him crazy, his dad went to a grocery store, 1968, Richard Pryor, Jeff Probst isn't a woman, ring dings, beanbags and pillow cases. I don't know what the hell he was talking about, but it was neverending and it's almost not even fun anymore to try to recap it. I can just list random shit and it would make about as much sense as Phillip does. Potted plants, milkbones, guitar strings, beach towels and a carpet runner. There you go. That's what Phillip said.







So, digital clocks, handsoap, branches, marshmallows and colorful swirlies... Leatherface fesses up to stealing the shorts and Julie is the the 11th person voted out of Survivor: Redemption Island. Burble, burble, bleh.





So, what did you guys think of last night's episode? Quite honestly, I'm getting a little annoyed with the direction this season is heading. Phillip monopolized probably 80% of last night's episode. There's no strategy to cover and everyone I like is going home. On the one hand, I want Phillip to be voted out already, but, on the other hand, I know I'll have nothing to talk about it if he goes. What do you guys think? How much longer do you want Phillip to stay? Without Julie around anymore what will I carry my make-up case and sunglasses in? Are you surprised Ralph spelled Phile instead of Fill? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!





If you like this blog and you watch The Amazing Race, please check out the Bitchy Amazing Race Blog.





Also, all Survivor photos in this post were blatantly stolen from the Facebook Group Survivor Seasons. I usually try to swipe them from CBS, but those bitches won't update their photo section. So, thanks Survivor Seasons. Sorry about that whole theft thing.