Survivor Cook Island

Episode Two – See That Chick Over There? She’s Totally Digging Me

By Dweeze

Previously on Survivor: Liberal Guilt Islands

I know, I know. Somewhere around the 400th summary I wrote last spring I promised to give up the “Previously on” bit where I mention something that happened previously somewhere else other than the show I was summarizing. I tried to give it up. Really. I tried. But I’m an addict. I’ve got a problem. And I need help.

Previously on Survivor: Racist Pandering Islands

Ted tries to keep Robin from going on a camping trip so that she can spend time with him. Barney enlists the help of an old flame to perform a rain dance. Marshall finds out about Lily's interview for the fellowship in San Francisco.

Sorry. That was Previously on How I Met Your Mother.

Previously on Survivor: Cook Islands

We are introduced to our contestants, who are randomly split up into groupings that match their ethnic background. We have the usual scramble for supplies and the banishment to camps. There we experience the usual assortment of laziness, incompetence, questionable leadership choices, and a complete inability to build fire. JESUS H. FUCKING CHRIST ON A STICK, PEOPLE!!! The moment that being on the show moves from possibility to probability you should start practicing building fire every day until you reach the point that you can start a fire using nothing but sand and beetles. Oh, and a tribe with three women and two men voted out their strongest member, because we all know strength is of no importance in pre-merge challenges.

Previously on Survivor: Cook Islands (Special Extended Edition Previously On, written specifically for the release of this summary)

By the way, did you know that Anchorage, Alaska sits on the Cook Inlet. Cook Inlet and the Cook Islands were both named after explorer James Cook. Think about that – dood sailed to the southern pacific and Alaska. Think of the frequent sailor miles he earned. He had to have been on the run from something. Other items named after James Cook: Rachel Leigh Cook, Cook Books, Dane Cook, and Cook County, Illinois.

Previously on Survivor: Cook Islands (Extra Special Extended Bonus Edition Previously On, available only with the director’s cut of this summary)

There was a lot of pre-show speculation, particularly in the liberal blogosphere (and if you know me, you know I spend a lot of time reading in the liberal blogoshpere, and not because I’m looking for things to disagree with, but because that’s where my own political beliefs lie) that this was an attempt to cash in on some disturbing trends towards increased racism in society. I couldn’t disagree more.

That’s not to say that this edition was thought up as a social experiment, as high overlord Mark Burnett has claimed. Not to doubt the racial sensitivity of an Aussie, but as TJ so adroitly pointed out last time, if they wanted to make it a social experiment, divide the ethnic groups so that there is one member of each group on each tribe and then see if ethnic bonds transcend the tribal bonds that are formed in the early going of the game. As it is, as soon as one tribe gets to three people, if not sooner, we’ll have some sort of swap/switch/mini-merge and even though there will be all sorts of talk about whether or not ethnic bonds hold over tribal bonds, the simple fact of the matter is that it’s ALWAYS the case in these swap/switch/mini-merge situations that the tribal bonds that exist prior to the swap/switch/mini-merge trump tribal dynamics that form after the swap/switch/mini-merge.

And that’s also not to say that it isn’t an attempt to cash in. It obviously is. It’s just not an attempt to cash in on some growing racist sentiment that currently underlies society. It’s an attempt to give Survivor buzz, to make it hot again after a long time of being so cold they used it as background for the upcoming Happy Feet. It’s an attempt to get people watching at a time when the show faces perhaps the greatest challenge to its ratings empire since it became a break out hit. See, as we all know, it’s far easier to go with a cheap casting gimmick (I’m looking at you, TAR Family Edition) than to go with a close examination of the structure and details of the show with an eye towards change or modification or even, god forbid, asking a Mark Burnett who obviously no longer gives a damn to step aside in favor of a new production company who might care about the show.

But I digress.

We open at Hiki, where the now sudoko-less tribe tries to start fire with flint gained at tribal council. Watch them while you can now, folks, because you won’t see very much of them for the rest of the episode.

Over at Aitu, four people are working hard, fishing, spearing clams, gathering firewood, working together to build a tribe. Billy lays like a slug, which is his only strategy. In confessional Cristina talks about getting shot and almost losing her arm while serving as a police officer. Hey, Cristina! Man up! This one time, when I was playing God of War, I got my head chopped off by a Cyclops. Do you see me telling everyone about it? No way.

Billy finally rousts himself from his Jabba-like repose to see chickens. Cristina, having seen too many episodes of Lost, places a net on the ground in the hopes that a chicken will walk on the net and the tribe can hoist it. This works initially, but Kate is able to get the gun and the chicken is able to shoot the net down. Ozzy then, as nicely as possible, suggest that they trap the chicken using a tent. Cristina tells Ozzy that he acts like he knows everything. In confessional, Ozzy says he can understand that it probably makes her unhappy to have someone ten years younger than her giving instructions, and says that he would hate to take orders from a 14-year old. Hey Ozzy. Don’t knock it til you’ve tried, man.

Not that I speak from personal experience, of course.

They place the bait, a dartboard with a picture of Colonel Sanders taped to it, inside the tent. The chicken enters, they collapse the tent, and they have chicken. The tribe has a lovely chicken and fish dinner, though Cristina is still pissy that

A: They didn’t use her idea
B: Ozzy’s idea worked
C: Both A and B.

Puka is also in pursuit of Chicken-Americans. Yul devises a trap – actually, it’s the old box on a stick trick. Two chickens fall for it, though. One can see the eventual fight over Kung Pao or General Tso coming a mile away.

After counting their chickens after they were caught, Yul and Becky talk strategy. In confessional, they each voice respect for the other, Yul saying he doesn’t think Becky is only in it for the money despite being a lawyer, Becky saying Yul seems like an older brother, thus killing Yul’s Judge-Convict fantasy. And because of the casting gimmick, Becky mentions that the fact they are both Korean makes it easier to bond.

Last, and for all intents and purposes least, we look in on Raro, so named after the sound Scooby Doo makes when he says "Hello". Jonathan comes back from Exile Island, telling the kids to pick up their stuff and straighten up the beach. Seriously. He comes back, complains about Exile Island, and then complains even more about the fact that his tribemates did nothing while he was gone. He immediately decides that he needs to take charge on improving the shelter.

Jonathan suggests that they need to raise the shelter floor. Jessica agrees, and starts helping. Parvati, Candice, and Adam are talking about that dreamy Billy. Adam then tells everyone that raising the shelter floor is a bad idea. Deciding that "I’ll never be in Haiti again so why not have unprotected sex with a hooker" is a bad idea. Raising the shelter floor, so that you are less likely to get cold and/or wet, is a good idea.

Adam raises his voice, cause nothing says good argument like volume. Candice and Parvati side with Jonathan, which seems to incite Adam even more. What a guy. I’m sure our frield Flicka appreciates having the first tribal boot tag lifted off of her and placed on Adam. Candice pulls Adam aside and tells him that he shouldn’t make enemies.

Next day at Aitu, Billy is telling us that he loves hard work, and that he could watch it all day. Seriously. He says that his strategy is to lie around doing nothing but conserving energy while the others work hard. Needless to say, this wins him a lot of friends around camp. He justifies his lethargy to Cristina and Cecilia by saying his true cultural heritage is heavy metal, not Hispanic, thus cementing his potential to become one of the most idiotic players ever to play the game. My only fear is that he won’t be around long enough to make that happen.

We look in next on Puka, where Jenny has a headache and I didn’t even ask her for sex. Cao Boi uses his magic thumbs to pull the bad wind out of her, leaving a red welt in the process, and that’s nowhere near as kinky to watch as it reads.

Later in the shelter, Cao Boi, whose name seems like something you would see in a Yahoo chat room – not that I, uhm, have ever been in a Yahoo chat room, and certainly not under the name Dadys_Little_Princess, no matter what you may have heard – starts doing stand-up. He opens with a little insult material, picking on Jenny’s accent. He then dives straight into the inappropriate material, beginning with “what do you call a Vietnamese with three dogs?”

The rest of the tribe stops, mortified. Cao Boi says that he am what he am, that he has no hang-ups, that he can laugh at himself.

Good luck with that in loser lodge, dude.

In confessional, Brad tells us that, while the tribe understands Cao Boi, they worry that others won’t.

Others, not the others. I’m on a strict one-Lost reference per summary.

We cut back to the tribe in the shelter, arguing about the appropriateness, and we never hear the punchline. Far be it from me to deprive the reading public, so here is the answer presented as a short, one-act play entitled “Dweeze on Jeopardy”.

Alex: Dweeze, your pick..

Dweeze: I’ll take racist jokes for $200, Alex.

Alex: This is what you call a Vietnamese with three dogs.

Dweeze: What is a rancher?

Alex: Correct. Next pick.

So what was the purpose of all this? Was this Burnett’s way of saying that all the older abos know their place, and these young kids with their ideas about respect and dignity just don’t get it? Or is he just trying to edit in as much Cao Boi as he can before he goes? I mean, dude’s got “first tribal boot” written all over him, and not just because Brad found a marker left by the production crew.

Back to Aitu for a third visit, and if this doesn’t guarantee in your mind that tonight’s tribal council will be sponsored by Taco Bell, you haven’t watched the show enough. Billy is snoring so loud and obnoxiously that it makes Wanda’s singing seem like a beautiful lullaby. Ozzy tosses out the idea of throwing the challenge so they can toss out Billy. Cristina’s words say no, but her eyes say yes. Or maybe I am thinking of something else. JP tells us in confessional that he was thinking the same thing. About tossing Billy that is, not about the Cristina thing.

Day six, treemail. It reads

Work as a group
You fight to succeed
All but Aitu
Who wants the fat guy to leave

Yes, Aitu has an explicit conversation, sans Billy, who has wandered off in search of the latest issue of Kerrang!, about losing the challenge in order to boot Billy. JP declares more or less that he will throw the challenge all by himself.

Cut to the challenge area, where Jeff retrieves the parts of the immunity idol. It’s story and bondage time, kids, or as I like to call it, Saturday. First, Jeff reads to the tribes about Captain Cook. Then, the tribes are tied together and made to work their way over and under a series of logs and then through a field of poles to gather seven answer plaques. Carrying the plaques, they move across a rope bridge over a water pit and use the plaques to answer five questions about the story. Three tribes will get immunity, one of those will get reward (two tarps), and one tribe will go to tribal council.

Because we have unbalanced numbers, three tribes will sit someone out. Adam sits for Raro, Jenny for Puka, and JP for Aitu, even though Billy tried to volunteer to sit out. Not a bad strategy if you want to lose the challenge – make the fat guy go through the maze and over the water pit. Good thinking.

Jeff reads the story, and concludes by giving the tribes a chance to review a written version. Aitu takes him up on it, losing time while the other tribes go off on the maze.

The other three tribes work their way through to the answer plaques. Puka and Raro get their seven plaques one tribe after the other, making their way across the rope bridge. Hiki falls off the pace, but considering Aitu is acting like they are on a leisurely stroll, there are no worries for them.

Puka and Raro start putting answer plaques in place. Puka finishes and yells for Probst, but he makes them form on their mat. They get on their mat just as Raro does. Probst awards victory to Puka, much to Raro’s chagrin.

Meanwhile, Hiki gets to the mat and starts answering questions. Billy, on the other hand, drops off the rope bridge into the water pit. The finish isn’t even close.

Well, at least not for the final immunity spot. The finish for first is close enough that Probst goes to the replay official, who rules that the ball was not touched by the ducks before it went ten yards. Sorry. That was something else. The replay official rules that Puka and Raro arrived at their mats at the same time, and, as a result, tarps will be awarded to both teams. Tarps for everyone! Tarps for industry! Tarps for the dead!

Probst tells Aitu that at least they get to send someone to Exile Island. They choose Yul because of his strength.

Yeah, good idea. Send a talented player to the place where he can search for, and find, the hidden immunity idol. You should have chosen the laziest person possible.

Oh right, Billy. Make that the laziest person possible not on your tribe.

As the tribes form to leave, Parvati and Candice tell Billy they feel sorry for him. Billy replies that he’s next. Candice says the words Billy has longed to hear all his life from a woman who wasn’t related to him, “We love you!” Billy tells her back “I love you too!”

Back at camp, Ozzy admits, for the third fucking time, that they lost the challenge on purpose. This edition really should be Survivor: Beating You Over The Head With The Obvious Island. In confessional, Billy mentions that he is hoping to find an opening. He doesn’t say if he hopes to find the opening at McDonald’s or Best Buy. He certainly doesn’t appear to be looking for one at camp.

Cue Yul arriving on Exile Island. He has the clues, and immediately after telling us how much Exile Island sucks, begins searching. Irony! I love ya!

The clues instruct him to use the mast and an island to form a letter, then find a spot where he can see the letter but not see the south island. Yul immediately (in broadcast time, of course) finds the spot and commences digging. After digging up a big hole, he finds the hidden immunity idol.

Now, I don’t know if we are supposed to clue into some lizard brain “Asians smart!” meme or not? I do know that the clues could not have been easier to decipher. The dogs were sitting in the living room with me as I watched the show and THEY figured out where the damn thing was buried. Yul finding it is much less a testament to his abilities and much more a statement about Jonathan’s.

We cut to Aitu, where Billy is playing the sympathy card. He tries to convince Cristina to vote with him. Meanwhile. Cecilia says he looks like a zombie. A big, fat, zombie.

Cristina offers to talk to Cecilia. Man, that Cecilia. She’s breaking my heart. She’s shaking my confidence.

Baby.

Cecilia says she will vote with Cristina and for the briefest of moments our hopes are raised that we haven’t been handed this week’s boot since last week. It’s kind of like the feeling you have between purchasing the lottery ticket and the time the numbers are announced.

As we arrive at tribal council, those hopes are dashed. Billy is answering questions like a man who knows he is toast. Given Billy’s size, it would be Texas toast.

Jeff: Billy, did you try to be a leader?

Billy: I hit the ground running man…

Ozzy: More like hit the ground slow-walking.

Billy: (Ignoring him.) But eventually I said to myself, Billy. Don’t be a hero. Don’t be a fool with your life. Let Ozzy be the hero. Let Ozzy be the leader.

Jeff: Ozzy? Osbourne? Guillen? Smith?

Ozzy: (Clears throat.)

Jeff: Oh yeah. Sorry.

Cristina: Ozzy is not a leader. He just tries to take control, which is so unfair because I am trying to take control and he does it better than me.

Ozzy: Jeff, it’s not my fault I’m the only one who could think of a chicken-trap that wouldn’t embarrass Wile E. Coyote.

Jeff: Would you say you did a good job leading that last challenge?

Ozzy: Hell yes. We were trying to lose and we lost. That’s good leadership.

Jeff: What the fuck?

Ozzy: I mean no. Of course not. We lost.

Jeff: You threw the challenge? Billy, do you think they threw the challenge?

Billy: I know they did. They threw it to get rid of me. They think I hurt the tribe.

JP: You didn’t do anything! Why should we carry your weight around, especially considering how much weight there is to carry?

Billy: Man, I’m clawing and scratching like a wolverine to play this game.

JP: Dude, wolverines don’t usually lie around all day doing nothing.

Billy: I meant a lazy and fat wolverine.

JP: You have to make yourself a valuable part of your tribe if you want to stay around and have a shot at a million.

Billy, sensing his time is short, makes his move to secure his standing among the most idiotic castaways ever.

Billy: The prize for me isn’t a million dollars. The prize for me is love at first sight, mutual love at first sight, and I already won. I won love. Love, and her name is Candice.

Jeff, JP, Ozzy, Cristina, Cecilia, Viewing Audience (Including Candice): What the fuck?

Jeff, JP, Ozzy, Cristina, Cecilia, Viewing Audience (Including Candice): (Stunned silence.)

Jeff, JP, Ozzy, Cristina, Cecilia, Viewing Audience (Including Candice): What the fuckity fuck?

Jeff, JP, Ozzy, Cristina, Cecilia, Viewing Audience (Including Candice): (Stunned silence.)

Billy: Dude, Candice was totally checking me out, and after the challenge, she told me she loved me, even though she had barely seen me, and I wrote her a note and asked the dude from Puka to make sure she got it, and I told her I loved her and asked if she wanted to go to prom with me, or maybe just, you know, hang out and shit, and if that went well then she could decide if she wanted to go to prom, and even if she already had plans to go to prom it would be cool because I know she would be thinking of me, but I know that even if she has plans she’ll change them for me, I know she will, and even if she is reluctant I’ll get a boombox and stand outside her tent and play Peter Gabriel and that will change her mind, cause dude, that chick is totally into me.

Jeff, JP, Ozzy, Cristina, Cecilia, Viewing Audience (Including Candice): (Stunned silence, all backing away.)

Jeff, JP, Ozzy, Cristina, Cecilia, Viewing Audience (Including Candice): What the fuckity fuck fuck?

Jeff, JP, Ozzy, Cristina, Cecilia, Viewing Audience (Including Candice): (Stunned silence.)

Jeff: (Finally) Oookay. Uhm. Yeah. Uhm. Why do you think Candice would love you, you worthless fat fuck? No offense.

Billy: None taken. She loves me for my nunchuck skills, my bowhunting skills, my computer hacking skills.

Jeff: Okay. So, anyone here notice anything between Billy and Candice?

Ozzy: Nope.

Cecilia: (Giggling uncontrollably, shakes her head no.)

JP: Not at all.

Cristina: No. But I suppose it’s possible. I just don’t want to see him get hurt, like he will be if he ever shows up in my city where I’ll shoot him for trying to form an alliance with me.

Viewing Audience: Nada.

Candice: No. Fucking. Way.

Billy: (Turning his head, in a high pitched fake voice) I saw something.

Jeff: Okay, Billy, you’re officially nuts. Let’s start the process of getting you out of here. This vote is going to be more obvious than Ohio in 2004, but without the voting irregularities.

Now is the time on Survivor when we vote!

We J.P. and Billy’s votes, and there are no surprises. We see the reading of the votes, and again, no surprises. Indeed, later we will see that it was a 4-1 vote. The second person voted out of Survivor: I Don’t Know How Much Of This I Can Take Island is Billy. Collect your skull’s head tshirt and leave, dude. Cristina gives him a hug and Probst tells the tribe that two issues, trust and work ethic, have been raised. He says work ethic has been handled but wonders if trust been dealt with.

Uhm, dude. I know it’s getting tougher and tougher to focus on what the tribes say as opposed to what Julie is going to do later, but they just got rid of the guy who caused both the work ethic and the trust issues. And with that, we can all return to camp.

On the next Survivor. We visit an octopus’ garden, under the sea. Parvati tries to use her womanly charms on Adam, and when that doesn’t work she slugs him. And Cao Boi GETS RADICAL!!!!!!!!!!!

As we fade into the stages of Vegas, Billy tells us that he got to live the dream of coming on Survivor. Don’t stop chasing the rainbow, Billy! He adds that it’s too bad there wasn’t a heavy metal tribe. That’s Survivor 15, Headbanger Island, Billy. You should have waited.

  ¶ 5:08 PM 7 Comments

  Survivor 13, Episode One Black Beans
and Rice

By TeamJoisey


Dammit Agnes, there’s brown people on my telebision! Where’s ma damm gun? Git Homeland Sicurrity on the phone. These damndable furriners are taking more jobs from gud ol Amurricans! What the hell is hapnin to ma country!

Yes, my friends, it is time for Survivor 13: The Last Desperate Gasp for Attention. This season’s “social experiment” will address a major divisive issue in this great country: The predisposition among non-white folks for collecting unearned money after lounging around all day. (Except those little Asian people. They are just here to steal the good jobs, like delivering my kung pow chicken.)

You may have heard some fuss about this polarized casting. Politicians have spoken out. Ethnic organizations have spoken out. But I'm here to tell you, a journalist’s careful analysis proves that Survivor contestants have always been carefully profiled. Detailed charts will show that each and every player in the first 12 seasons fits into one of these four distinct profiles:

1. Domineering, self-important pricks
2. Language-mutilatin’ idjits and weirdos
3. Model/actor/bartender/rocket scientist wannabes with shining bodies
4. Clueless bozos and mincing nitwits that stumble their way to the final four.

And you’ll soon find that each member of this season’s cast fits into one of those groups. So why have they chosen to split this season’s tribes along silly headline-grabbing ethnic lines? Why? Because no one wants to watch this pathetic “social experiment” any more. Hell, no one even wants to play this pathetic “social experiment” any more.

Evil Pecker Mark Burnett freely admits most of this cast was dragooned into playing the game with the promise of free checking and hot monkey love with Julie Berry. Casting agents stalked Chinese restaurants, taco stands and chicken joints; they put headlocks on anyone who fit the previously stated four basic groups and wasn’t actually eating mayonnaise.

Like all the previous stunt casting, this is quite obviously a ratings ploy. It’s been pitched as a way to see if alliances based on ethnicity will hold as the game progresses. As in next week, when they smoosh them all together anyway.

Hah! “Alliances” and “hold” in the same sentence. What would have made this more interesting would have been to split them into completely diverse groups at the start, and see if ethnic alliances formed as the game progressed. That would have been a “social experiment.” Unfortunately it would prevent the producers from opening the show with a collection of jokes from the KKKatskills Book of Humor.

Is this first episode full of insipid racial jokes? Yes, yes it is. I, for one, am sorely disappointed. It really takes the luster off my own attempts to be horrifically offensive. What will I do with all my black beans and white rice? What will I do with my Speedy Gonzales pictures? It's a crisis I tell ya, and a cryin' shame. But let's get on with it.

So here comes another season no one wants to watch and no one wants to play. And still, somehow I’m watching Jeff Probst bounce along in the surf aboard some replication of the Nina, the Pinta, or the Santeria. Twenty people on the verge of vomiting surround him, and those are just his makeup people.

While Jeff gives us his standard opening blather about these people having to survive in the unforgiving wilderness on nothing but their wits, the assorted cast members begin looting the ship, accumulating more supplies than a U.S. platoon in Kabul… which they promptly dump to the bottom of the Pacific.

And just whom are these scrambling morons tossing all those live chickens out to sea?

The Beaners,
aka the Aqui Tribe



Ozzy Lusth, 25, was born in Mexico and spent most of his young life on the lam to avoid prosecution for pimping his seester. He eventually shimmied under the wire just east of San Diego. He settled in Venice, California where he spends most of his days surfing and most of his nights cleaning tables. He also owns a small poppy plantation in Panama. He has extensive wilderness skills and once “camped out” for five months to avoid execution by a Panamanian drug cartel.



Cecilia Mansilla, 29, emigrated from Peru when she was 15, learned English at 16, and grew large breasts at about the same time. She has since parlayed those puppies into a job as a “technology risk consultant for a professional services firm” although that probably means she screens phone calls for a cleaning service. I’m getting a Feisty Latina vibe. I need to come back and fill this paragraph out a little later, because right now Cecilia is a complete cipher.
Except for the boobs.


Billy Garcia, 36, is a heavy metal guitarist who was born in New York and moved to Miami when he was seven. You can’t get more Hispanic than that. Fatso here is also an obscure professional wrestler working under the name “Spanish Fly.” He’s a former Marine, a former club bouncer, a former national AAU wrestling champion and formerly 100 pounds lighter. His teammates will have to drag his worthless ass to the finish line every three days until the coronary kills him. And then, in true “Survivor: Andes Mountains” style, they will cook him and eat him. After the copulatin', of course.


Cristina Coria, 35, a Santa Monica native and a police officer in her hometown, has beaten death twice. Once she was nearly crushed against her squad car by a drunk driver. After recovering from that, she was shot in a hostage standoff and was advised she might never use her left arm again. Through extensive therapy she regained use of that arm and went back to playing cop, just like her daddy did before he was shot and killed when she was 12. That’s three irrefutable messages from God. Clearly, Cristina is monumentally stupid and reckless.


J.P. Calderon, 30, is about as Hispanic as Tobey Maguire. He grew up as a worthless beach bum in Marina Del Rey, California and went to college on a full volleyball scholarship. Now he’s a pro volleyball player and a fitness fanatic who does some modeling. He also “coaches” a volleyball club for young girls. I’m certain he has an extensive video archive of high school girls leaping around in extremely small, tight panties. I’m not certain he’s as interested in those films as some other weasels might be. Did I mention J.P. lives alone in Long Beach with his Jack Russell terrier Frankie? J.P. Calderon is either flamboyantly gay or screwing packs of underage girls every other night. And here in Amurrica that gay thing is just unacceptable.



The Chinks,
aka the Pukey Tribe



Yul Kwon, 31, is the California-raised offspring of Korean immigrants. Like all other Asians, he was valedictorian of his high school class. He has a theoretic science degree from Stanford and a doctorate from Yale Law School. He has worked for numerous law firms and judges, and even Senator Joe Lieberman. Yul Kwon helped write our homeland security legislation, but probably not the part that says, “toss all the gooks back into Manzanar.” He also worked for Google and now does management consulting. He’s tremendously wealthy and highly educated, yet he roots for the San Francisco 49ers. He lists his favorite hobbies as boxing and politics as if they weren’t the same thing.


Jenny Guzon-Bae, 36, is currently a real estate agent in Lake Forest, Illinois. She is of Filipino ancestry, so they’re stretching that Asian thing a bit in order to get her cleavage on to the show. Jenny is a former print journalist and a former television journalist whose career started to sag about the same time as her breasts. Despite 13 years of ballet training, she was a fierce tomboy growing up. She still participates in a lot of sports, including volleyball, fencing and tennis. She has taken up belly dancing, much to the delight of her husband Don. I hate her. I envy Don. Folks usually have to fly to Manila to get women of this caliber for less than eight dollars.


Becky Lee, 28, the daughter of Korean immigrants, grew up outside Pittsburgh. She has all sorts of college degrees, including a Juris Doctorate and a degree in woman’s studies, whatever that is. (Is that the same as staring at videos of nubile girls in their tight panties?) Becky is currently an attorney living in Washington, D.C. while working for the prevention of domestic violence. In case that restraining order doesn’t work, she is also a kickboxing instructor. This little fortune cookie enjoys “hot yoga” and traveling to warm climates with her girlfriends. She’ll be the first to propose the chick alliance, if you know what I mean nudge nudge wink wink.


Brad Virata, 29, grew up outside Seattle. After graduating from college he traveled throughout Europe and Asia working as a "model" in "private fashion shows." He then went to Los Angeles to study fashion design and began a career selling crappy clothes. He’s now the director of Men’s Merchandising for Lucky Brand Jeans, and isn’t that just fabulous. The Bradster is another volleyball player and surfer born to live in Santa Monica where he can wander down and stare at the Muscle Beach show. Just loves orchids, Will & Grace, Pictionary and Fresca Pomegranate. I suppose it won’t be much of a surprise to learn he’s a volunteer with the AIDS Project of Los Angeles. I predict Brad will be the decisive factor in the “perfect pleats” challenge.


Ahn-Tuan “Cao Boi” Bui, 42, is more than a little strange. He’s a Vietnamese refugee who left that country when he was 11. Last time we asked, they don’t want him back. Right now he’s working in a nail salon in order to fulfill the INS requirement imposed on all Vietnamese immigrants. He has never been touched by scissors. He is a veteran of the U.S. Army and has worked as a photographer, used car salesman, a fisherman and a farm hand. He has hiked the Appalachian Trail and biked across the country. He holds the world record for marathon softball. He believes neurological disorders are the result of adverse meteorological phenomena. And yet, somehow, this creepy little mystic is a high-ranking member of the Moose Lodge with a wife and two kids who lives in Christianburg, Virginia.


The Darkies,
aka the Hickey Tribe



Nate Gonzalez, 26, was born in Staten Island, but eventually found his way to California, land of casting agents. He studied theater in college and plays with numerous musical groups. That’s code for someone who can’t keep a gig for more than two nights. Right now he’s a shoe salesman and a sales rep for a hip new urban clothing line in which your jeans hang around your kneecaps. Would it surprise anyone to learn he really likes basketball and reggae? But let’s talk about that “Gonzalez” last name. Does this mean he can form an alliance with the Beaners? Holy cow… are there black Mexicans too!?!


Rebecca Borman, 34, got on this show because she was on the makeup crew. Seriously, that’s how desperate they are. Rebecca does the TV makeup for former Survivor player Elisabeth Filarski Hasselbeck, the bubble-headed but luscious loon on “The View.” Who knew you could win an Emmy for putting your gunk all over Elizabeth’s face? Rebecca grew up on Lawn Guyland in New Yawk and studied theater in college. Her mother is a school principal in snooty White Plains, NY, while her father is a retired banker living in Lawn Guyland with his new wife, a professional belly dancer. I’m sure Rebecca took that well. When she see dat belly-dancing Jenny, she gonna cut dat bitch.


Sundra Oakley, 31, wants to be an actress. She’s done some Off-Broadway theater (yes, Fantasy Show World is still there on Ninth Ave.) been in some commercials, been on “Sex and the City” and even “CSI: Miami Always Looks Orange.” The folks at Survivor probably got her resume during a frantic search of CBS file cabinets. It is possible Sundra slipped it under a cocktail napkin at her job as a waitress at a Hollywood nightclub. She lives in (surprise!) Los Angeles with her son, but she was born in New York to Jamaican parents. That explains the cloud of funny smoke, mon.


Sekou Bunch, 45, currently lives in a place called Los Angeles, but he was born and raised in New York. His creative streak has brought him recognition as a painter at age 7, as a renowned break-dancer after that, and as a musician since he began playing the bass at age 15. He earned his first gold record at age 19. Since then he’s played with a long list of stars. He’s appeared in several films, and will be in the upcoming “Dreamgirls” with Jennifer Hudson and Beyonce Knowles. He’s quite the creative type, unless you need a viable shelter or any kind of cohesive plan to survive outside a sound studio. Frankly, I don’t know how this guy even got to the beach. Survivor casting agents probably found him playing on stage during S11’s reunion show and withheld the paycheck until he agreed to do one episode on the island.


Stephannnnie Favor, 35, cannn’t spell her nnamme. Neither can herrr husbannnd, Roddddd. And I despise people named Stephannnnie anyway. She’s nnno threattt to annnyone, so she’lll stick arrounnnd awhile. Let’s dispense with this one quickly: Born in South Carolina, graduated from Clemson, served in the armed forces during Desert Storm. She’s worked in a few accounting jobs and now she’s studying nursing. She likes gospel music, and her favorite movie is “The Sound of Music.” I get it: nuns singing=gospel music. But hep us Lawd Jebus if she be startin’ ta sing, doh. Dat’s a sho way to get sent home. Can I have an AMEN on dat, sista Wanda?




The Crackers
aka the Lame-o Tribe



Adam Gentry, 28, is a very, very white boy. Born in Ol Virginny. Edumacated in Ol Virginny. Worked as a personal trainer in Ol Virginny. Eventually realizing he’d never get on television while stuck in Ol Virginny, he packed it all up and went to… Southern California. Now he’s a copier salesman who dreams of making it on TV. Or making it on the coffee table, and then on the TV, and then on the credenza. His hobbies include “going out with friends, going to the beach.” Those aren’t actual hobbies, you shallow jackass. Take up f’ing volleyball, fer crissakes. One other creepy element: His favorite actress is 11-year-old Dakota Fanning. Why do I think he has the grainy outtakes of her infamous nude scene?


Candice Woodcock (heh heh, you said wood cock), 23, is also a pathetically perfect Pepsodent person. She’s from Nawth Cahlina where she was president of her high school class and captain of both the soccer and cross-country teams. She got a perfect score on the math SAT and got full scholarship offers from Dook and UNC. She was smart enough to avoid Dook, and finished with two bachelor degrees and a minor in chemistry. Now she’s a pre-med student at Georgetown. She wants to be a doctor in developing nations. After watching Survivor Africa she decided to spend 10 weeks in a mud hut in Kenya atoning for the ludicrous behavior of Suthrin Idjit Big Tom Buchanan. After that she spent a summer studying health care in Chile and Peru. She loves to drink Red Bull, which explains a lot. I’m getting tired just writing all this stuff. Pretty, blonde, young, smart and rich. I think we can all agree she needs to be killed immediately.


Jessica Smith, 27, is everything Candice is not, and remarkably similar to someone we all hated last season. Shouldn’t there be a limit on fire dancers with stupid blond dreadlocks? This one also bills herself as a performance artist, and claims to be sociable. I think we’ll find that's spelled “sociopath” by the time she leaves. Jessica Smith is not just another fire dancer, by the way. She’s sorta well known by her Roller Derby name, Flicka Flame, and was the captain of the infamous undefeated VooDoo Dolls. What with all that tattoo ink, I’m not sure she qualifies as a white chick. But needless to say, she was born, raised and lives in California.


Jonathan Penner, 44, of Los Angeles, California. A native of New York. OK, I understand there are not a lot of Guatemalans in Idaho, but why do all the white people have to be from California? This attitude-laden jackass is an actor/writer/producer/director whose done bit parts and regular roles in various television shows. He was nominated for an Oscar in 1994 for a short film no one ever saw. To establish his Cracker cred he attended uberpretentious Phillips Andover Prep in Andover and Sarah Lawrence College. He also has a wife and two children with the insipid names of Cooper and Ava.


It's nice to see a contestant so conveniently labeled. Parvati Shallow (yes, shallow), 23, is a toothy waitress in Los Angeles who also boxes. Yes, boxing. Punching and stuff. In fact, her bio says she is most proud of being a boxer for Perfect 10 Model Boxing. You know, Perfect 10, that “classy” nude magazine. And OK, I checked: She didn’t actually make the magazine’s final cut. So Parvati is most proud of taking off her clothes to pose for a cheesy nude rag that found her so revolting as to be unpublishable. Maybe she ought to just stick to the tight-panty volleyball movies. But here’s the good part: She grew up in a commune, left her family at age 17 and put herself through college to get a degree in ... journalism! If it weren’t for that apparently hideous nude body, Parvati might have a career as an “editorial assistant” with a major player in the Eastern Liberal Media Elite.


That’s it. Twenty people who don’t deserve our attention, never mind a million bucks. I don’t know what you’ll do on Thursday evenings, but I’m going to TIVO a week’s worth of Howie Mandel and watch that instead.

Commercials
Ashton Kutcher is an action hero out to save Kevin Costner’s career in The Guardian … Dog food that turns Pomeranians into basketballs … Lysol food sanitizer will prevent Mom from killing her children … Stepin Fetchit be sellin Radio Shack in a laughably racist ad … Taco Bell got the casting memo, and they’re on board … CBS promos …

When we return, the teams are furiously paddling their little stick rafts toward the one big island in the distance. Parvati is breastfeeding a chicken. Various contestants comment on the ethnic division, including Yul’s concern about caricatures and stereotypes. Damn slant eyes are always whining. And Parvati asks if ethnic casting is “kosher.”

As Team Aqui paddles toward the island, Billy comments on his parents’ illegal immigration status, and then proceeds to declare the Hispanics will do well because they are all from a tropical setting. Greaseball Wetback here lives in New York, of course. When they hit the beach he starts “explaining” everything to his teammates and then proceeds to demonstrate complete ineptitude. Ozzy, on the other hand, builds the shelter and climbs a tree to knock down coconuts. I saw a spider monkey do that once outside Cancun.


As Team Pukey paddles along industriously, Cao Boi starts spouting Asian jokes. He continues on, despite his teammates' pleas that he stop. His first confessional consists of telling us yellow people have all the brains, none of the strength and they will be underestimated. He seems to be speaking in haiku. His tribe dislikes him immediately. He admits he doesn’t fit “the Asian stereotype.”
No, he fits the other stereotype: inscrutable weirdo.


The colored folk of Hickey decide to “represent” for the African-American culture. They want to show that black people can swim and that all those stereotypes are wrong. They proceed to build a shelter by braiding palm leaves into cornrows. The arguing starts and eventually their natural stupidity and laziness takes over. They lie around waiting for FEMA to arrive. Sekou boasts about his leadership, which consists mostly of ordering the women around him to assemble a pathetic pile of palms that won’t survive a brisk wind. He declares it to be “low income housing” and suddenly they all feel comfortable again.

And what of our Crackers? Team Lame-o has already ostracized Flicka by making her swim along behind the raft for six miles while the beautiful people sit in the sun. Jonathan gives us a
confessional full of big phrases like “cultural similarities” and “specifically cohesive.” The whiteys don’t think the ethnic thing is going to matter much, probably because their sense of entitlement has already told them one of the shining perfect white people will win. Except for Flicka, who quite clearly does not fit in with the sorority chicks.

They gather on the beach to congratulate themselves, and Jonathan admits he choked the Chinese chicken. They carefully contain the chickens beneath a wooden box. Minutes later Flicka accidentally frees the chickens, setting off an inane and futile chase through the jungle. The crowing rooster torments them. The shining white people prepare to pluck and roast Flicka.

Commercials
Careers over - Martin Lawrence and Ashton Kutcher are now voicing bad cartoons … British dude Bams away toilet scum … a birth control pill that shortens the menstrual period … get email on your phone … Amazing Race promo featuring beauty queens and a marathoning female amputee. Pfft. That’s easier than watching this stupid show for nine hours … James Woods is an intense lawyer, and Dennis Haysbert is proud of his unit …

When we return to the show, we get a quick travelogue shot of Stingrays of Death and a moray eel. It is slightly less unnerving than the shot of Cao Boi pretending to be Yoda.



Meanwhile, the dusky damsels of the Hickey Bunch get all Baptist-preacher excited about “finding” the clearly identified barrel of water provided by the producers. We get a few minute of expository bonding between Sundra and Rebecca, followed by the inevitable outcast jealousy from Stephannnnnie. For those new to the show, this means Team Hickey will lose the challenge. Stephannnnie will become the swing vote deciding between the two guys and the two best friends.

Time for the obligatory fire building exercise, in which Sekou vows to never give up. Moments later he’s expended all his energy and is again lying around wait for FEMA to show up. Swinnngvotin’ Stephannnnie complains about him.

It’s night two at Camp Lame-o, and the Candice is getting chilly, and perhaps a little nipply in that Perky Pepsodent way. FlickaFlame says she’s “freaky cold.” The tribe decides to snuggle together while they sleep. Jonathan snuggles up to Parvati's back, Parvati snuggles up to Candice’s back, Alex snuggles facing Candice, Flicka snuggles up to, um, nobody. No one else cares or even notices. But they certainly notice Candice and Alex can’t stop “warming” each other all night long. Romance, or just frottage? Who knows. But there was “grinding” going on, and that’s a word with very unpleasant memories.

Day 3 dawns at Pukey, and Brad is complaining of a sinus headache from being seasick all day. More likely it is dehydration, caffeine withdrawal or hunger, or perhaps allergies to something in this new environment. But mystical weirdo Cao Boi decides he has the “bad wind.” Personally, I sometimes get the “bad wind” when I eat with Aqui Tribe. I'm not sure it is the same thing, but both requiring nose pinching.

Cao Boi goes all HongKongfooey on Brad’s head, finishing by repeatedly pinching and yanking on the center of his eyebrows. Once a humilating welt starts to form, Brad is declared healed. The girls laugh at Brad’s bruise, and HoChiMinh there ridicules them for losing touch with the ancient ways of the old country. Dude, she's from Indiana. Yul calls him a random kook (that’s with a k) but feels that some of his nuggets are actually useful. With sweet-and-sour sauce maybe. But you better get him a hairnet.

Commercials
Some penguin cartoon … Ethnic humor for a coat store … Energizer for skydiving … college football … CSI … Letterman … news promo … Chevy … casinos … Beauty and the Beast on Broadway, now starring Donny Osmond.

Finally some tree mail.




Teams arrive at the challenge, and find Jeffy wearing a very silly hat. He asks about the stolen chicken, and we find out Jonathan took a chicken rightfully belonging to the Pukey Tribe. Jonathan claims he didn’t know it was someone else’s chicken, and he'd choke it again tomorrow.

Jeff describes the challenge. Assemble seven pieces of a puzzle boat. Use seven braces in specific spots to lock it together. Paddle out and light a torch. Come back to the beach and take the boat apart. Use 16 blocks to build four small puzzles representing the points of the compass. Use the boat braces in specific locations to climb a tower, put the small compass puzzles in the right holes, and get your team to the top and light another torch. That’s three puzzles in one event. No spears to be chucked. No lawns to be mowed. No crosses to be burned. Only brains required; I think we know how this is going to turn out.

The first three tribes to finish will get flint to start fire. The winner gets an additional box with matches, kerosene, kindling and tinder. Losers go to Tribal Council. Jeff reveals the three-piece idol statue, and holds up a secret note that he’ll describe after the challenge.

The challenge begins.


Was anyone else surprised to see the Asians put the puzzle boat together in seconds?
And how about those hard-working Mexicans?
Was anyone else surprised to see the black team fail?
Was anyone else dismayed to see the knee sock fashion statement?

The Challenge
Teams, competing.
Jeff, narrating.
Blacks, failing.
Billy, stumbling.
Asians, winning.
Latinos, finishing.
Blacks, catching up.
Crackers, being stupid.
Jeff, favoring whitey.
Flicka, cracking butt.
Honkeys, keeping down the homies.

Still wearing that silly hat, Jeff distributes the prizes and pieces of the idol, and then reveals the latest “twist.” Which isn’t a twist at all. Welcome to Return to Asshole Island. The losing tribe gets to send someone from a winning tribe all the way to godforsaken Panama for two nights. And yeah, there’s a double secret immunity idol. Same schtick as last season. Twist this, jerks.

Nathan actually says, “Das what I’m talkin’ bout.” He and Willis step away from the ovary-addled members of the tribe to make a man’s decision. They choose chicken thief Jonathan. Nathan actually says “karma iz a bizzle.”

Jonathan gets a group hug that involves much fondling of genitals. Jeffy gives him the Big Book O’Clues. Chickenboy sets off for Panama, the others go back to camp.

Commercials
Audrey Hepburn’s corpse is violated for a GAP commercial … some drug-induced drama with Abe Lincoln and a woodchuck, designed to make you want these drugs … The Rock in the ripoff “Remember the Titans’ Longest Yard” … CSI is back, and Sarah’s “dusting for fingerprints” in Grissom’s lap … Amazing Race promo … promos for other CBS crap … Heideous and Jenna take their clothes off for peanut butter …















Off we go to Asshole Island, where a fake shipwreck has been verrry carefully arranged on the sand. Jonathan reads the clue, and for some reason, he can’t immediately solve the puzzle. I’m 5,000 miles away and I can see the answer on my television.
A top grade = the letter A. See those two masts jutting 30 feet out of the sand and joined together at the top? With one log crosses between the two? Yeah, I saw It’s Mad Mad Mad Mad World. Get your Alan Alda whitebread ass up and walk around staring at it until it looks like the letter A.

Now, Jon, you’ll notice the sun is setting. Quite often that occurs on the western horizon. Face the setting sun and look to your left. That’s the southern island. What might obscure your view of an entire island in the distance? Perhaps that big ship thingy?

Now using these visual elements, find the location where you can see the big letter A, and not the southern island. Dig. Win game.

You’re welcome.

What does Jonathan do? He digs randomly around the base of the big letter A. Whines about missing his children instead of doing something that might benefit the little bastards. Looks under deck boards. He doesn’t deserve to win a dollar.

Back at Camp Hickey, the mis-representin’ has begun. The men conspire, the women conspire, Stephannnnie is torn betweennn two cammmps. Sekou is to blame for all the troubles, Rebecca and Sundra need to be split apart. Yeah yeah. Sekou tries to persuade Stephannie to keep him because he can start a fire. Uh-huh. Whatchoo tawkin’ bout, Seiko? Deys no fire here. Blah blah blah, we've seen this a hundred times. Get on wit it, yo.

Off to Tribal Council, a large wreck marooned on the sand like a beached whale. I’m struck by the apt metaphor for this whole series, which has swum to shore to die. Jeff invites them all onto his Deck of Death and has them light torches. The questions begin.

Jeff: Rebecca, is any one of the homies steppin up to be the fly?

Rebecca: We gots ahh sevvs a big guy. Dat Suko, he be building shit and shit. Like dat.

Jeff: Sekou, did you play on dat?

Sekou: Homey don’t play dat. Dey jes knowed I be da man. Jes sayin is all.

Jeff: Nathan, have you started feeling up da bitches?

Nathan: There’s a beautiful spirit here. We are as a family. I will not have you tarnish it, sir, with your vile insinuations. We are a beautiful people God hath most favored.


Jeff: Did youse notice you all is black? And whitey put youse off on yo own eye-land so’s we doan hafta even smell youse? Whazzup wit dat? Fo shizzle?




Nathan: It is apparent to us that this striation is merely a ploy. However, we are not persuaded it will achieve the effect you desire. If, in the short term, we must endure such humiliation, we will present our best efforts, sir, and racial bias be damned. Damned, I say!


Jeff: Sundra, anybody been hooking up yet? Has there been any grindin’? We love grindin’.

Sundra: I been lockin on Rebecca, she my flygirl. And damn, dat’s a fine fine bootay.

Jeff: Stephannnnie, you have no friends.

Stephannie: Dose hoes wanna get down, I’ll cut them up. I be waitin for the moment, and then bam, I slice they face. Annnnd didyyall nottice I gotts ann exxtra lettter inn maa namme?

Jeff: Rebecca, wif onny tree days to figger, hows can you vote awreddy?

Rebecca: Hell, Sekou screwed up and he’s got a big mouth. We gonna “correct” that shit right here right now.

Jeff: Start the pig roast!!

Voting. Sekou picks Sundra, Rebecca writes Seko. The rest are all "secret." Blah blah blah.

Tally the votes:
Sandra
Sekou
Sundra
Seko
Seiko
Psycho
P Diddy

First person voted out: Sekou. Small tears from some, but the big guy is not at all surprised. Snuff, go away. Jeff sends the Hickey Tribe back to camp with a flint. As soon as Sekou is out of earshot they start singing Kumbaya.

What, no Febreze moment?

Next time on Survivor:
More bad ethnic jokes, and Aqui considers throwing a challenge to get rid of the fat, greasy, lazy wetback. Well yeah, that describes all Latinos, but this time they mean Billy.  ¶ 2:37 AM 13 Comments