Survivor Guatemala: Episode Two Tic-Tacs, Caddyshack, “He’s a Hogeboom!”
by Gothmog

Well, here we are, me writing and you reading my first ever summary for Circle Of. Let’s get a couple of things cleared up before we start, k? First, I’m writing this summary for one reason and one reason only: Landru told me I had to, and when Landru says dance, you dammit-Jim, bend-over and gimme-a-shot-of-Kool-Aid dance, Nimrod, no questions asked. Well, actually, there is another reason. As you may or may not be aware, I teach in a Cathological environment, and if there’s one thing we do well there, it’s abuse. So secretly, I’m hoping that my efforts here will result in a serious bitch-slapping several months from now. But there will be plenty of time for that later. For now, I dance.

Second thing: unlike TJ (you all DID read his most excellent recap of Episode 1, did you not?), I’m not well versed in pictures and html, so don’t expect some fancy-schmancy high-falootin post with lots of graphics. To paraphrase Hamlet, the matter of my summary will be filled with words, words, and more words. The purtying-up of this thing right tchear is due mainly to the patient coaching of Landru, TJ, Diamond, and Tech, the last of whom was nice enough to flash her teacher for me, and she don’t just do that for anyone. No indeedy.

Third, I suppose that, this being a Circle Of Production and all, you will be expecting some corpse-fucking. Because you think that corpse-fucking is what we’re all about. Well, I for one refuse to participate in such frippery. I am so much of an Anti Corpse-Fuckist that I have purposefully forsworn even using those words in my summary. No sir, you won’t see any corpse-fucking here, you preverts. Now on to matter (words, words, words) at hand.

Last week, Jiffy introduced us to the Mayan Event with a surprising twist—a couple of Survivors from a previous season will get an extra chance to win the million, and their names don’t rhyme with Goobert. Yes, we are reunited with those lovable losers BobbyBobb Johnboy and Stephenie. They are there, Jiffy explains, as full-fledged tools, ready to impart their great wisdom from Palau. Under their guidance, these new tribes will learn the tried and true tricks of the trade, such as how to vote off your strongest competitors first so that you never miss a tribal council, how to make a commode even Home Depot don’t love, how to reach the merge so that you have the other tribe right where you want them (dominating you 9-1), and generally how to suck so bad that America can’t help but fall in love with you. In other words, getting advice from them is sort of like asking the Wrigley family how to build a World Series winner.

Welcome to the Jungle, folks. We got fun n’ games coming up, but first we have to see them bleed. After 11 miles, some battles with trees and monkeys, and a variety of camera cuts in a failing attempt to fool us into thinking the race is closer than it actually is, Hokum wins reward. Their dream of a decent campsite, however, is in ruins. Stephenie, looking for the positive in Yeccha's loss, is psyched to be on a tribe with heart. Whatever, Tin-Man. Your pathetic excuse for a tribe in Palau had a chick with heart tatooed all over her freaky body and you voted her smarmy ass off for looking at you funny.

After busting some guts to win the reward, Hokem shows their guts--literally--when they're found to have a serious dehydration problem. Now bear with me for a second while I tell a side-story here about dehydration:
Back in my formative years, one of the very first movies I ever saw in a movie theater was Batman—the one with Adam West and crew, before it had been Burtonized. There’s a scene in the middle of the movie where the Penguin aims a ray-gun doodad at a bunch of people from the UN arguing with each other in different languages. One by one, he “dehydrates” them—removes all the water from their body and reduces them to what looks like a pile of tic-tacs. While they CONTINUE friggin arguing, for crying out loud. I mean, if people all around me were being turned into tic-tacs, I would definitely take notice. Even if we were all Tower of Babel-like.

So I get out of that movie, and the very next day, my mom tells me during my afternoon romp, that I better drink a lot of water if I want to avoid getting dehydrated!!!! You mean this movie was for real??!! I had nightmares over the next few weeks of being “dehydrated” without warning. What a cruel world. One minute, you’re playing tag with your friends, and the next, BAM. You’re a pile of tic-tacs. Which reminds me: on more than a few occasions, my friends and I were observed adding water to large piles of tic-tacs. Just. In. Case.

Let’s see, where was I? Oh yes, the dehydration. And the spewage. Who indeed could forget all that Ralphing we were subject to last Thursday night. The Regurgitation. The Blowing of Chunks. Some of which occured even before Pres. Bush gave his speech. Blake was the major barf-fly, but Judd and Bobby BobJon were also seen hurling. (But let’s not say any more about Bobby Hurling, because it’s too close to a name which would cause Landru to gouge out his eyes with a spork.) Nurse Margaret handled triage for Hokum, and Yeccha won immunity. Hokum took advantage of an unarmed man and voted Jim out of the tribe. And that's all just last week. Whew.

Cut to opening credits, which are worth a review because we still don’t know the cast very well yet. TJ gave you a pretty good run-down last week, but because of some litigation problems with the pansy-asses at CBS, I was unable to steal download the same photos. So you'll have to be satisfied with these close approximations.

Batting for Yeccha:

Gary, landscaper with the social skills and finesse of Carl Spackler; someone who gives lie to the notion that a Quarterback is the position for a player with some brains. Believes he'll kick some serious ass in the challenge of How To Read a 46 Defense, especially if Margaret plays man-free coverage;




Brianna, who trained for the grueling test of Survivor by hawking make-up; hopes to capitalize on her Survivor fame by starring in a long series of Wild-On videos, after stints in Maxim and Playboy;





Jamie, who looks to be a couple of steps short of a Mayan temple. He has a twin brother named Ramie. Now you know you’re not off to a good start in life when you’re a guy named Jamie and you’re known as the twin with the more normal name;




Rafe, famous Brown student, who is more gay before 9 am than most people are all day. So flaming he makes Oscar Wilde look like Dick Chaney. Just begging for someone to make fun of his hair-do, under the heading “Rafe of the Lock”;




Brian, another fine representative of the Ivy League, whose high school once voted him Most Likely To Be Given A Swirly On Survivor;




Amy, tough-talking Cop from Bawston, who makes me wonder just how someone who looks so remotely like Laura Linney could possibly be so not hot;




Lydia, a fishmonger, which is Shakespearean code for—I’m not making this up—a bawd; whose strategy consists of trying to get as far as possible before her tribemates recognize that she’s short. And old;





Stephenie, who has a virgin’s chance in hell of actually winning this thing, which isn’t to say she won’t get lucky, since EPMB is already working the editing machines overtime to persuade America to give her a separate million in the next Survivor: America Can't Give It To Rupert This Time, on the condition that she marries Bobby Jon Bobby Bob-Jon-Boy and bears him many muscular and determined children (credit Landru for the last two lines, as if you couldn't tell); and



Morgan, who, as a Magician’s Assistant, wins the award for Most Contrived Profession ever, and we’ve seen some real winners here on Survivor, starting with Amy “The Barista” Cusack.






Over at Hokum, we have:

Brandon, smart-assed rancher from Kansas, who got onto Survivor because he owned a cool-Indiana Jones-type hat, and EPMB really goes for that rugged Eco-challenge type. Not to mention the ego-challenged type;




Danni, a tomboy with the uncanny ability to recognize 2nd-string Quarterbacks from the 80s, and whose lips are so big she could french-kiss a moose;










Blake, oddly a model-type—they never seem to get any of those on this show—who wasn’t in Guatemala 10 minutes before he was already back-stabbed...by a tree;





Brooke, hmmm...sorry, drawing a blank. Are you sure she’s on this show?;








Judddd, a professional doormat with a name that rhymes with Robbbb, and an IQ to match;





Margaret, a nurse who is so mothering she might as well just whip out her teats;






Jim, crusty ole ex-marine who, in a cast of mostly 20-something white folks, represents “diversity” (more on that in a moment);




Cindy, anti-social zookeeper who feels more comfortable around animals—especially monkeys—than people, which means she’s bound to form an alliance with Judddd;




Bobbybobb JohnnyJon, who is bigger ‘n Jesus, and almost as cute besides.






And with that, we head to:

Commercials: Trailer for Just Like Heaven, which I liked the first time I saw it, when it was called Ghost; Visa Check Card, with a useless exercise in hyperbole; Healthy Choice frozen dinners, featuring Mr. Doofus Mom, because dog knows, men can’t do anything right when it comes to parenting; Sears fall fashion with a hot model—since when did they become cool?; British Airways, who, when we asked “So, how much for Paris Hilton?” thought we meant a hotel. Oh, and? do they actually think anyone watching is going to grab a phone and say, “Oooh, I wasn’t thinking about Mumbai for my next family vacation, but now that it’s only $619, I’m SO there.”; Oil of Olay Moisturizer, and yes they did just call you old--with pimples even; Promo for NUMB3RS, a show about a fantasy world where math geeks are cool.

I'm being followed by a Fore-Shadow. (Fore-shadow, fore-shadow)

Before we start, let’s test our Survivor knowledge: What is Mark Burnett’s favorite story-telling devise, designed to make us think this show actually has some literary merit? Everyone get the correct answer? Of course you did; you all read the section header. Well-done, and have a tic-tac on me; Don't worry, I have lots. (Just don’t add water. Trust me on this.) Seriously, you’re all smart, well-edumacated people (of course you are, which is why you get your Survivor Summaries here at Circle Of), so you know all about EPMB and his belief that, if you don’t have the time to invest in a full hour of his megalomaniacal creation, you can get everything you need in the first ten minutes. Which only makes us wonder why we keep subjecting ourselves time and again to the Full Sixty (as opposed to the Full Monty, which will come later, pixelated—see, even I can play the foreshadowing game). I don’t know what your masochistic reasons are for watching the whole thing week after week, but you already know that I’m all about the bitch-slap. Especially if it’s self-inflicted.

So, as we go through the next few scenes, let’s count the foreshadowing. Just for amusement, and because I believe in running a gratuitous reference into the ground, we’ll pop a tic-tac for each one.

We begin this segment, naturally, with Bobby Bobb John-Boy who realizes he ain’t on Walton’s Mountain no more. And I know that’s in West Virginia and not Alabama. I just wanted to throw in this arbitrary WV reference to amuse my Maryland friends out there. Anyway. BBJB is tarred, TARRED, I tells ya, of the whole Tribal Council scene, and he’s fixin for it to change. (Cha-ching! There’s tic-tac #1, Don Pardo). Margaret yakkity-yaks about what an emotional toll TC was. Are you shitting me, Hotlips? You had the easiest vote in the history of survivor—old guy who’s a gimp besides—and you can’t handle the “emotion”? Sheesh, you probably would have had 2nd thoughts booting Grandma Moses. AND Jim even voted for YOU, you clueless twit (as opposed to Loretta Twit). No wonder everyone’s heaving in your camp; you make me vomit.

Meanwhile, Yeccha is having a love-in and singing Kum Ba Yah. They rag on other team, talking about how underwhelming they were at the immunity challenge. Like we don’t know who’s going to tribal council this episode. (I believe that would be tic-tac #2, Wink.) Jamie takes stock of his tribe and notes the diversity: they’ve got a bum, police officer, magician’s assistant, fishmonger, gay guy, and landscaper. Oh yeah, that’s diverse all right, and don’t you just like how “gay guy” is listed among all the other professions? What do you wanna bet Jamie is Republican. Although, if that truly were the case, he would have added a Black, 2 Jews and a Cripple to his diverse list. Then we turn to Gary, whose sole strategy seems to be based on nobody recognizing him as a former star athlete. (Well, “star” in the sense that the ‘Boys do in fact have stars on their helmets.) Since this is only the 2nd show of the season, and he’s already brought this up 27 times, I think that’s worthy of another tic-tac, don’t you, Vanna? Stephenie gleefully exclaims that they’re like a family, and she hopes they can keep that together for a long time. (And what do they win, Johnny? Surprise, surprise, it’s another tic-tac. In fact, give ‘em two—one for the foreshadowing, and another for the irony. EPMB takes irony seriously as well; it is among his more pressing concerns. And that unnecessary pun was there just for you, Tech. Hope you have your cloak on.)

Tree-mail comes, and at Hokum, Blake can’t drink, can’t breathe--what do you do? (But I’m getting ahead of myself; Adam Ant will come later in the episode. This foreshadowing thing is starting to get to me.) Margaret is worried about Blake: something is not right. Thanks for that update, Miss Clavel. Danni wonders if Blake is--and I’m not making this up--“gonna be able to do it?” Oh I’m sure, with an offer like that, he’ll rise to the occasion. Brandon suggests that Blake just “man-up.” Heh heh. Anyway, we’ve heard enough in the foreshadowing department. By now, we’re all aware that Hokum will win reward, with Blake taking point, and later on, immunity, sending Yeccha to tribal council. The Tic-tacometer has gone through the roof, and we’ve eaten the whole box. Water, anyone?

Rafer Madness

The reward challenge involves retrieving lots of bags (insert Thailand Jan joke here) on a web-like course made from ropes, nets, ramps, pulleys, and ladders: in short, any odds and ends culled from Jiffy and Julie’s bedroom. The winner will get some bait and tackle (Jiffy/Julie bedroom joke, redux). Now, before I get to the actual event, I have to insert here what I think is the most annoying thing about the challenges: Jiffy's commentary always uses the same damn sentence structure: Name, followed by a Participial Phrase. Oh, you noticed that too, eh? Well, you will now. For those of you not named Kimmah out there, a participial phrase is a phrase that begins with a participle. There, glad to clear that up. Oh, you want an example? Well, listen to Jiff: he’ll say things like “Jamie (name), making quick work of it (participial phrase)” or “BobbyBobb JonJon (name) trying (participle) to hang on.” That’s all he says. Over. And over. Would it be too much to ask for a main verb once in a while? So what’s the big deal, you ask. Why does this drive me bananas? Well, you know who else speaks exclusively in the Name-Participial Phrase construct? I’ll give you a hint: “Danni! Making Copies!” Every show, in every damn challenge, I keep expecting Jiffy to say something like: “Danni! Going strong! The Dan-meister! Dan-a-reeno! Danna-lanna-dingdong!”

With that aside (yeah, like you’re ever going to be able to watch another challenge without thinking about this--one of the many services we provide here at Circle Of) lets hoot and holler at the contestants playing Spiderman. Oh it was indeed humorous to hear Jiffy exclaim: “Cindy, right on top of Brian.” Like that happens a lot. Well, with a girl, I mean. And we did enjoy a chortle at Judddd taking the first of many headers into the net, and we’re not talking soccer. Plus, I loved it when Jiffy talked about the toll of four days with no water—forgetting that by now, both tribes have had their flint and water for at least a day. Nope, there isn’t exactly any water emergency anymore, Glennie.

But we all know that the single biggest highlight of this fiasco of a challenge was Rafe trying to get up that ladder. A couple of things about this. First, you’d think that Rafe would have some mounting experience by now. And second, after this pathetic showing, does anyone buy for a SECOND that Rafe is actually a Wilderness Guide? Well, you might be thinking that perhaps he is referring to “The Wilderness," the name of a Gay Bar he can point you toward in Salt Lake City, but you’d be wrong. It just so happens that, through the thorough researching and scouting for which we here at Circle Of are famous, we managed to find a brochure for Rafe’s Wilderness Guiding services, which is reproduced here, with no other comment necessary. Who knows, maybe he expected to fly up that ladder. At any rate, as we already knew from the foreshadowing, Blake leads Hokum to victory, or to use Jiffy syntax: “Hokum! Winning Reward! The Hoke-meister! Hokem Horns! Hokerama!”

Commercials: Chevy trucks, offering a special 1.9% financing on every tank of gas; Circuit city advertising a tv on tv—which is sort of like that videotape of installation instructions for your VCR; Sprint, showing some culture from India as a subtle reminder of where your calls to their help-desk will go; Trailer for Chicken Little, which I liked the first time I saw it, when it was called A Bug’s Life (and which the last word spoken in the trailer is—and I’m not making this up—“tic tac”!) Promo for CSI: Hogwarts; another for Criminal Minds, in which the producers had to ask Mandy Patinkin to stop addressing every bad guy with, “Hello, my name is Inego Montoya.” Yet one more promo, this time for Ghost Whisperer, which seeks to capitalize on the winning formula of the “I Know What You Did” movies: dead people and Jennifer Love Hewitt’s boobs.

Newcular Fishin'

With their newly-gotten gear in tow, Hokum is ready to join the long list of inept fisherpeople on Survivor. Brandon announces that they got up at the buttcrack of dawn (oops, there was more foreshadowing with the term “buttcrack,” and here I am, out of tic-tacs). And, as expected, they find Nemo. Over at Yeccha, Rafe pays lisp-service to their lack of food, and they decide to hold their own gross-food challenge. They’re being eaten alive by the insects, so turnabout is fair play, I guess, as they rustle up some grub(s). Morgan, we see, is covered with bug-bites, although she keeps her two biggest covered with her bikini top. Gary complains that Morgan’s not doing much around camp, but she IS attracting insects, which they eat, so that must count for something. Lydia tries to prove her worthiness, despite her age and size, so she builds a giant (well, for her) seawall. Later, she’ll join forces with Madmartigan and battle the evil Queen Bavmorda. Rafe tucks in to a nest of ants, proving that he’ll put just about anything in his mouth. (credit to MonCher for that joke.) Stephenie evidently prefers more normal food, like corn and balut. Rafe is ecstatic when Lydia returns with a stack of large (well, for her) minnows: ten, in fact, which is a minnow each for the nine of them, according to Rafe’s Ivy-League math skills.

Over at Hokum, Judddd is envious that Blake conserves his energy so he can get it up for the next challenge. (Heh, double heh.) Judddd wants to be the hero so he can lie around all day (Poor Judddd is Daid-Tired) and be suckled by Hotlips. Gee, so I wonder how Judddd will fare in the upcoming IC, hmmmm? (Ok, we’ve had so many tic-tacs that we’ve reached "toe" long ago).

Commercials: Desperate Housewives for whothehellcares, I'll buy it; Pontiac Torrent, a car designed for action--like anyone driving those things is actually gonna get laid. Promo for Threshold with Carla Gugino, who is totally hot, especially as a mom sporting a tight, leather spy-suit in some kids' movie; another promo for TAR: Families, in which we’ll see a young man tell his father-in-law—I’m not making this up--“Don’t worry, dad, I won’t spoon ya"; David Letterman, whom I haven’t seen in years, ever since he lost his funny. Some forgettable local spots (although I do like the TJ Maxx one featuring those famous penguins Roy and Silo), ending with the standard local news teaser—and here’s all you need to know about our local news: one former anchor went on to become our mayor, while another became Jerry Springer.

This mud's for you

Tree-mail. BobbyJon JohnnyBobb, using his vast experience, gives them advice on the upcoming challenge. Um, BJJB? You’ve won a total of zero immunity challenges in your sorry existance on Survivor, so your team should listen to you....why, exactly? Don’t you know that opposing teams take one look at you and think “Veni, Vedi, Vici” which roughly translates as “I came, I saw, I brought the Astroglide.” Trust me, Hokum, your best bet at winning this challenge is to leave BJJB on the sidelines. As much as possible.

Since this appears to be a physical challenge, Danni assesses the opposition, and in the process outs Gary, hoping that someone who rode pine behind Danny White isn’t necessarily going to be the most athletic person in the world. Danni, you needn’t worry; besides Gary, the only tribemembers over there with any testosterone are Jamie and Stephenie.

Well, since there is no longer any suspense about the results of this week’s immunity challenge, EPMB attempts to rev up interest with a formula that has become a Survivor staple in recent seasons: muds, bikinis and pixelation. As Landru once said, ahhh, culture. Except this time, rather than simply having them crawl through the mud or chase pigs around, we’ll add rope and wrestling for that extra kink factor. Too make sure there's enough mud time for everyone, EPMB makes the challenge impossible to accomplish by tugging alone (....nah, too easy), so the rules encourage hand-to-hand combat, or even better, butt-to-butt. Sure enough we aren’t five seconds into the action when we get some of the latter through Brian and Danni. Let's all take a moment as we watch this and remember those glorious days of G.L.O.W., shall we? Mmmmmm. Margaret soon makes it a 3-some. In between, we are shown our fill of pixelated buttcracks. (I know Dweeze, you can never have your fill of pixelated buttcracks, but humor me, will ya?)

Of course, both teams suck at this, as intended, so we go to individual challenges, starting with Gary vs. Judddd. In the middle of this event, as fore-shadowed, Danni reveals Gary’s secret identity, and the look on his face mirrors the one he pulled when Dexter Manley and Darrell Grant smoked him for a touchdown in an NFC Championship game. (Back when he had visions of actually winning that game.) (Back in the days when the ‘Boys and the Persons both had professional football teams, that is.) Gary sits there for a second with conflicting emotions—on the one hand, he must be pleased with the fact that someone actually recognized his sorry, bench-warming ass, but on the other, there goes his entire strategy for the game. This emotional conflict must have short-circuited what was left of his brain, because he proceeds to pull what has to be the dumbest. individual. move. ever: running AWAY from his flag to tackle Judddd. I suppose he’s not bad at tackling, considering that he threw more interceptions than touchdowns in his mediocre career. But what did he expect to do, honestly? Carry Judd back to his side? Gary here’s a clue: if your tribe votes you out, it won’t be because you’re a former NFL player, it will be because you, my friend, are a Dumbass. As for the rest of the challenge...well, you paid attention to the clues, fair reader, right? Hokem doesn’t let BBJB anywhere near this challenge, Brandon and Judddd do a number on Jamie, and the One Big Happy will have a different campfire for their Kum By Yahing tonight.

Commercials: Survivor buffs--does anyone actually buy those things?; The DVD release of Robots, which I liked the first time I saw it, when it was called Mr. Smith Goes to Washington; Cingular with I-Tunes, because everybody wants to use their cell phone as a high-quality radio; Citibank, getting into the Vomitorium spirit of this series by showing people drinking slop out of their garbage disposal; Breyers' Double Churned Ice Cream, which sounds awfully dirty to me; trailer for Flight Plan, which I liked the first time I saw it, when it was called The Lady Vanishes; Chevy Impala, with creepy digitalized animal thingies; promo for CSI: Hackensack; promo for Cybil Shepard as Martha Stewart--ok, just gouge my eyes out right now. Please.

Morgan we bargained for

And the conniving begins at Yeccha. Rafe sums up their disaster at the IC: “We didn’t pull their big men.” Is it me or is there already more code this season than last season in its entirety? Stephenie is completely nervous because she knows from experience that tribes make stupid choices when it comes to their first tribal council. Gary once again rehashes the quarterback thing, which we already covered in the previous segment, and at my 4000th word, I’m starting to run out of steam, so we’ll just let that go for now and get right to the decision up for debate: Morgan or Lydia. Now, here we are, in the 11th installment of this show, and people are still talking about how much a particular player contributes to camp as a means for determining an early boot. You total and complete morons! I don’t care if you have Professor Roy Friggin Hinkley in your tribe, if he can’t help you win challenges, you fry his ass! Morgan (athletic and spry, even after being sawn in half) vs. Lydia (not a bad fishermongerperson, but has trouble carrying a flag for 11 feet) should be a no-brainer, and since we’re looking at a tribe with no brains, we can only conclude that Morgan is toast. Especially when all the pre-TC discussions focus on Lydia. And here’s idiot move number 2: when Lydia asks Gary if she can count on his support, he DOESN’T ANSWER right away. Geez, I sure hope he’s traded to the Colts before the end of the next episode, because his whistleassity has sodomized my last patient nerve. Rafe wraps up this segment by noting that going to tribal council sucks so bady. Like you know from sucking. Badly.

Tribaloney has a first name, it's...

As usual, Jiffy tells them to grab a torch and approach the flame, redirecting those who mistakenly head for Rafe. After the standard ho-hum brakage about fire/life,
Jiffy says: First of all, I’m going to inform you that I will totally ignore Danni’s comment about Gary, since I’m well known to have my nose considerably plunged far up the ass of anyone remotely connected to Texas, so I’ll pretend that his cover wasn’t blown and leave that completely off the table, k? Now Stephenie, tell us how it feels to be a loser again.
Stephenie: I’m not an idiot, even though I played one on Palau. I know how game works, but I'll stupidly vote for Morgan anyway.
Jamie: Yeah, Jeff, Steph is tough, she’s like a boy, not a girl. And, unlike some other members of this tribe, I know boy from girl.
Jeff: Well, since I'm sworn not to make Gary a target, let me point out your deficiencies, Lydia.
Lydia: Hey! What have you got against Pecks, anyway?
Jiffy: We don’t quite have our quota of irony for this episode, so Morgan, let me ask you—is there some unspoken animosity in your unified tribe, or did they just keep that from you because you're going home tonight?
Morgan: I'll play along, Jeff. Let me just add to the irony by noting that we’ve been honest to each other up to this point. But then again, when I was a Magician’s assistant, I had trouble figuring out how he did some of his tricks even though I was in on the secret, so what do I know?
Jeff: Well, I know Rafe still has something insignificant to add here, but we've made fun of him enough tonight, so let's get to the vote.

During which, Morgan reveals that, in voting for Lydia, she’s making the hardest decision of the game for her. Right on, hon. Especially since it will be the only decision of the game for you. Buh bye. Go get a nice massage and facial, courtesy of mummy and daddy.

Commercials: Febreeze with some kids who are encouraged to leave school and sniff strange things in other people's cars; Lord of War, which I liked the first time I saw it, when it was called..well, ok I’m stumped--you’ll have to tell me what it used to be called; Sears again, this time less cool, in a familiar, comforting way; DHL, aka Not-UPS: good call in bagging the whole “What Yellow can Do For You” campaign; Former Survivors competing in the finals of the World-Wide Hide ‘n Seek Competition; Promo for Letterman again, ditto for Ghost Whisperererer.

Next time: Crocodile Rock, Amy gets a leg up, viewers commit ritual seppuku.

Morgan’s final words: Well, I SO didn’t see that coming. Evidently the hand IS quicker than eye. Who knew? I had a great experience. Although the thing that disappoints me the most is that Gothie didn’t get to make more use of my resemblance to Cindy Morgan of Caddyshack semi-fame. I know he was really trying to find an appropriate place to shout “It’s in the HOLE!” But alas. Maybe next time, he can work in my resemblance to Cindy Morgan of TRON semi-fame. Who is considerably less hot in her body armor, although she probably gives the other databytes a fairly decent hard-on.

Well, enough of that, since it’s clearly going nowhere. There, Landru, I danced. Happy, now?  ¶ 11:36 AM