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Simon Maxwell Apter: Jersey Shore : The Apotheosis of Reality

2009-12-22T17:00:10Z

A month into the show, I must admit: I absolutely adore MTV's Jersey Shore. Not since the network's legendary Real World Las Vegas have I been so invested in a television show. After all, Jersey Shore represents the triumph of the American Dream, pure and simple. It is kandy-kolored "ego-porn," a capitalist cornucopia that features more money and effort spent on self-beautification and self-indulgence than anything this side of Nip/Tuck and Addicted to Beauty. The castmembers' indolence and collective sense of entitlement is truly awe-inspiring; there's a reason why USSR Gosteleradio never produced a show called Crimea Shore, or why Yellow Sea Dunes probably isn't forthcoming from China Central Television. How extreme is Jersey Shore? There simply aren't enough superlatives in the dictionary. But extremism, of course, breeds controversy.

Now, any reality TV offering worth its salt craves a good old-fashioned shitstorm, of course, but in this maelstrom of criticism, curiosity, and outrage, no one seems to know which way the wind is blowing.

Television critics are angry that their sets and screens have been so befouled by a crummy program. In one of the kinder reviews of the show, Fox News sardonically deemed the program "vintage car accident TV." State of New Jersey civic boosters are angry with MTV's portrayal of the town of Seaside Heights, the program's backdrop: one day after the premiere aired, the Jersey Shore Convention and Visitors Bureau issued a 164-word statement bemoaning that the show in no way reflects the reality of life on the Shore. Italian-American advocacy groups are badgering the show's sponsors to pull their advertisements (Domino's Pizza and American Family Insurance already have), and the president of UNICO National, the New Jersey-based Italian American service organization, condemned the program as trash. And still others are flat-out pissed off, content to voice their denunciations of the show via death threats sent and called in to MTV employees. The network had to hire more security and bodyguards at its Times Square headquarters.

The superficial spark of the Jersey Shore controversy is one of nomenclature. Many Italian Americans are irate over MTV's and castmembers' -- eight (reduced to seven in the show's third episode) Italian American twentysomethings from New York, New Jersey, and Rhode Island--persistent use of the ethnic epithets "Guido" and "Guidette." (Confusingly, the latter term is somewhat problematic, as it's unclear whether a "Guidette" is simply a female version of a "Guido," or is instead more chauvinistically defined by her willingness to get drunk, dance frenetically, and have sex with a "Guido." By this second definition, it would follow, one need not be Italian American--or even female for that matter--to be a "Guidette.") Indeed, the network has been quite brazen in its marketing of the show. In November, MTV billed Jersey Shore as a sixty-minute spectacle featuring the "hottest, tannest, craziest Guidos" who "keep their hair high, their muscles juiced and their fists pumping all summer long."

This "Guido" controversy, though--this "These-clowns-don't-represent-us" complaint--is a red herring.

Now, it's a no-brainer that a network shouldn't promote a show focused on the "hottest" or "tannest" [insert offensive ethnic epithet here], and Italian Americans have every reason to be offended by MTV's liberal employment of the offensive terms. But the criticism, however, doesn't end there. UNICO National lambasted the show for relying on--and perpetuating--crude stereotypes for the sake of ratings, and André DiMino, UNICO's president, complained to The New York Times that the castmembers' behavior is "reprehensible and demeaning in all respects."

Yet by labeling that behavior as stereotypical, Italian American advocates serve instead to underline and call attention to the existence of those stereotypes. No one is claiming that all of America's some 16 million citizens of Italian descent behave like Snooki, J-Woww, and Pauly D. When a man christens his abdominal muscles "The Situation" (as does 27-year-old castmember Mike), and then insists on referring to himself as "The Situation," implying that he is all abs in body, mind, and sprit, it's a safe bet that he represents a constituency of one. Their persistent claims of ethnic pride notwithstanding, the only "ethnic group" that the Jersey Shore septet really represents is Jersey Shore castmembers. Though the cast clearly relishes their shared ethnic background, they use their Italian heritage not as an identity, but instead as a license to develop an orangeish skin tone, use a lot of hair gel, and spend hours lifting weights.

MTV has merely assembled the eight loudest Italian Americans it could muster, and only the most facile thinking would try to rip the cast's outlandishness off the screen, brand it as a malevolently perpetuated stereotype, and complain about it as a false representation of 16 million people. When Larry David picks up his copy of The Nation, we don't suddenly assume that every subscriber is a bald, Prius-driving misanthrope who can't keep his foot out of his mouth. Similarly, blanket claims that the Jersey Shore Seven are offensive to Italian Americans merely validate too-quickly-formed perceptions that are based on the antics of an outrageous (and miniscule) sampling.

Jersey Shore is a positively American creation, a celebration of tawdriness and uninhibited egotism that would be unheard of anywhere else. The candor with which castmembers behave is astoundingly natural, and their intemperate lifestyles are breathtaking to behold. You can't script the 80-proof vanity of this crew any more than you can demand that a character on, say, The Biggest Loser disregard and dismiss the millions of viewers who watch (and criticize) his every move. Like Romeo's Verona, on Jersey Shore, there is no world without Seaside Heights walls. Ironically, this is the "realest" reality show there is.

Tallulah Morehead: Survivor: Samoa Finale : A Confederacy of Douches.

2009-12-21T17:42:59Z

Eleanor of Aquitaine: "You're good. You're first class, Geoff. You'd sell John out to me, or me to John, or - you can tell me; have you found some way of selling everyone to everybody?"

Geoffrey Plantagenet: "Not yet, Mummy, but I'm working on it."

- James Goldman, The Lion in Winter.

This was a three-hour telecast, so we have a lot of ground to cover, which means a long column, so let's dive right in

The first half-hour of the Survivor finale was heartbreaking in the extreme. My beautiful Jaison, so gorgeous, so smart, so ethical, so poorly motivated. Ah well. It's all right, my darling, we can live on love, and vodka, and my movie millions, and more vodka.

The broadcast opened with a lengthy clip package that was interesting to watch mainly to see Psycho Russell's chest hair grow in. He began, back on day One, with a smooth, it now turns out waxed chest, which gradually, over the course of the 39 days, regrew out into his most (only?) attractive feature.

But it had its moments: MickMoron, a doctor and supposedly a man of science and rationality saying: "We do have a pox or a hex or some kind of curse on [Zsa Zsa]." Is that your medical diagnosis? If it is, I want another doctor.

And we had Dave Ball at the time of the merge, saying: "Unless something goes wrong, [Zsa Zsa] doesn't matter. Simple as that." This, we now see in retrospect, was the beginning of his transition from Danger Dave to Dimwit Dave.

Said Psycho Russell of Reverend Brett the Threat's late-game emergence: "What strategy did he do that worked for him? Absolutely nothing."

Wrong. Russell is here demonstrating one of the two blindspots in his own game play: failing to realize that lying low, flying-under-the-radar, and saving it for when it's needed is not only a completely valid game strategy, but guess what, Russ? It worked for him.

But Russell is incapable of acknowledging as valid any strategies but his own. It was a loophole in his game play that Sister Nat drove her truck right through to victory.

"It's a shame," said Russell of his remaining tribemates, "That I'm set up with these [sic] bunch of misfits, because I should be here with superstars." Russell dear, Barbra Streisand, Madonna, Jack Nicholson, me, Harrison Ford, Dame Edna, Sir Elton John, and the rest of the Superstar Community are united on two things:

1. We're too busy to appear on Survivor, and

2. We don't want to be anywhere near you! Socks aren't free, you know.

Said Jaison of Rev. Brett: "Now this guy's going on an immunity run like we've never seen." Jaison my beloved, he's won immunity twice in a row. You did that a few episodes back, so you have seen it before. MickMoron has also won immunity twice, albeit not consecutively.

"He's not some freaking athlete genius," said Russell of Rev. Brett as part of trying to scare Sister Natalie into being a little less lame at the next immunity challenge (Waste of breath. She never won any individual competition in the whole series, except that last, all-important vote.) by convincing her that if Rev. Brett won immunity, she would be voted out. She believed him (with a profound, "That sucks."), but it ignored the very real option of her, her Prayer Warrior Jesus-buddy Rev. Brett, and Russell all voting together, which would allow them to take out whomever they chose, with Jaison and MickMoron unable to do anything about it. And still, the obvious thought of voting out Russell never seems to cross any of their alleged minds. He's out of immunity idols, really. No, really!

First Immunity Challenge: This one had two basic components, a race over a fairly simple obstacle course to retrieve puzzle pieces, and then assembling a jigsaw puzzle.

Survivor Challenge designers, when you're putting these things together, your first consideration should be: will this make for good TV? Obstacle courses make good TV. We can clearly see them. They're full of action. You can always tell who is ahead, who is falling behind, and how the standings change.

Puzzle-solving, as I have said here over and over and over, makes for crappy TV viewing. You see a person moving pieces around, cut to another player moving pieces around, repeat until Jeff shouts "Brett has won immunity!" You can not tell who is ahead, who is catching up, who is falling behind, or how they are going about playing it. All you can do is look at shots of the players moving pieces about, which can be cut together in any order, so it may well not even reflect the actual competition, until a winner is declared. Ever seen any other TV show on earth broadcast competitive jigsaw puzzle assembling? No, because, as TV viewing goes: IT'S BORING!!!

It's so boring, I wouldn't be surprised to see it added to the Winter Olympics.

Further, in this one, the obstacle course was so easy, it never became any sort of factor in who won the challenge. All that mattered was how fast you could assemble your jigsaw puzzle. Rev. Brett came in dead last on the obstacle course, and he still won the challenge, because he could assemble jigsaw puzzles faster than the Zsa Zsasians. So the obstacle course could be omitted altogether. Yawn!

But boy oh boy, does Jaison suck at jigsaw puzzles. Russell and MickMoron were both one or at most two pieces away from finishing when Rev. Brett won. But as for Jaison, who came in second on the obstacle course: his puzzle was still just a meaningless heap of pieces.

Well, at least it was quick. Jeff Probst, in his Survivor blog said that last episode's cocoanut Jenga challenge took four hours to play! What on earth took so long? Four hours of listening to Sister Nat's Prayer Warrior murmuring would have made me homicidal.

But Rev. Brett, the last Galuvian, won. At long last, a Zsa Zsasian would have to join the jury.

And then Russell made the $1,000,000 error. Stupid Russell. He could easily have voted with Jaison and MickMoron to remove Sister Nat to the jury. Had he done so, and still then gone on to defeat Brett in the next challenge, he might have another million dollars heading to Switzerland even as I write this. But no. Mr. "I'm the Smartest Person Here" Russell made his biggest mistake of the whole game: he decided to keep Sister Natalie around. Given his repeatedly demonstrated hatred and fear of women, this was an odd decision.

And I think his misogyny was behind it too. I think that, right up to the vote counting last night at CBS Television City, Russell did not believe a jury would vote for a woman to win. He was male. Of course the jury would prefer him.

Stupid, stupid Russell. He made two other overall errors, which I'll get to in due course.

Now, the strategizing and scrambling began, and through it all, Russell and Sister Nat forgot one thing that would have made it all irrelevant. Rev. Brett had bonded with Sister Nat over their shared religious delusions and Bible-fetish. She and Russell could have picked either Jaison or MickMoron as their fall-guy, and Sister Nat could have asked Rev. Brett to vote with them, and it would have been a done deal. There would be no need for Russell to work over MickMoron and Jaison, and thus make an enemy out of whomever was voted out.

But Russell reverted to his basic, Day One ploy, and he made a go-to-the-final-three alliance with each and every remaining player! Like Geoffrey Plantagenet, the little-remembered brother in between Richard the Lion-Hearted and King "Sign the Magna Carta" John, Russell believed he could sell everyone to everybody. He would have to betray two of those alliances, thus assuring himself of losing two more jury votes.

Because the other major flaw in Russell's game play was that, while he was brilliant at strategy, amazing with finding hidden idols (to the point that some of my regular commentors refuse to believe the producers weren't tipping him off, never mind that fixing a game show like that is a Federal Crime. Readers, it would be idiotic for the producers of Survivor to risk a federal prison to help Russell's game, even if they had some motive for doing so.), and one hell of a manipulator, he was no good at all at the social game. The fool thought people would vote based on what he thought was worthy game play, forgetting or unaware that people will vote for someone they like over someone they do not like every time. Every time!

Maybe if Russell had ever liked someone besides himself, he'd know this. (Yes I know he claims to love his wife and kids. Every mother who ever threw their kids off a bridge or drove them into a lake thought the same thing.)

Jaison thought that the vote out of Sister Nat was so certain, he took a nap. For an Oxford graduate, Jaison is sure dim at times. He knows Russell. He knows Russell will not be napping, but playing the game. He knows that Russell has blindsided a long list of people who thought they were his buddies. He knows his own rather consistently lame challenge play makes him useless in the struggle to beat Rev. Brett. He knows that many on the jury respect him far more than Russell, to the point where he could possibly beat him in jury votes. He knows that all this constitutes a list of reasons for Russell to blindside him. He knows all that.

Yet he took a nap.

Russell explained his Jaison vs MickMoron dilemma was that Jaison can't beat Rev. Brett in the challenge. Excuse me. Jaison beat Brett in challenges twice! The fact is that, since they do not have any idea at all what the challenge will be, thinking you know who can, let alone will, win is insane. Rev. Brett is good at puzzles. Mick is good at strength. Shambles could bowl. What if it's a trivia quiz? Jaison might do very well. What if it's an endurance contest? Who knows who will win?

But we do know who can't beat Rev. Brett in any challenge: Sister Nat. Unless it's competitive praying, she hasn't a chance. And even if it was: Rev Brett can, and worse, will, quote long passages from the Bible. He might just beat Sister Nat even at competitive praying.

Equally mistaken, Russell's reasons not to keep MickMoron over Jaison: "Mick might beat me in jury votes." In the final vote, when it came, Russell got two votes. Mick got none.

But Russell has it set in his mind. He wants to face the jury next to the last of his "Dumb-Ass Girl Alliance," because no girl could ever beat him with the jury.

Stupid, stupid man.

Jaison told us: "I think Russell and I trust each other enough that we are comfortable. When I say this, I mean it. When he says that, he means it. And so I really do think it will be myself and Russell and somebody else in the finals on Day 39." Jaison, have you met Russell? You know, the gnomish guy you've watched lie and lie and lie right to people's faces before betraying them? That guy you watched lie to Shambles's face and then vote her off just two days ago? Why on earth would you think you're immune to his treachery?

Stupid, stupid man.

MickMoron was easily maneuvered by Russell into voting against Jaison. He was convinced because "Natalie's head is much more in the game than Jaison's." Perhaps, but so what? Natalie will never beat Brett at anything.

But I'll tell you whom MickMoron can't beat in jury votes: Natalie. Natalie will wipe up the vote with him. With Jaison, he at least had a chance.

Stupid, stupid man.

Sister Nat's reasoning for voting out MickMoron? "Then it's just me, you, and Jaison in the Top Three. We have a better chance." Mick's number of jury votes against Natalie and Russell? 0.

Stupid, stupid woman.

First Tribal Council: Oh dear. Shambles has had her mullet permed since last we saw her. Doesn't help.

Jaison: "There are two or three people up here who could command a lot of jury votes." Who? Rev. Brett might come damn close to a unanimous victory if he is in the Final Three, but who else? Against Rev. Brett, nobody. And it turns out that neither Jaison, nor MickMoron, nor even Russell can command anything like a winning number of jury votes.

Jeff asked Rev. Brett if he'd been "sandbagging" challenges, pretending to be a nothing, and then suddenly turning it on in this final push. Now I don't like Rev. Brett, any more than I like anyone who spouts long Bible passages, or even short ones, or even just Biblical punctuation marks, but I'll give him credit here. He didn't claim it was a deliberate strategy, but admitted he'd hit three challenges in a row that had played to his skill sets.

But then my grief became unbearable. My beautiful Jaison fell victim to his own lack of game focus, and his inexplicable trust in Russell. In casting his vote for Jaison, Russell said, "This is the best move for me to win the game." Turns out, Russell, you outsmarted yourself. If you'd blindsided the moronic bimbo Sister Nat, and kept Jaison, as we learned later, you'd have won. Voting out my Jaison cost you $1,000,000, and I say good!

Because of when his ouster came, Jaison got no "Family Moment." Drat! I wanted a glimpse of my future in-laws.

And Jaison was left bitter towards Russell over his blindside, although it was his own stupid fault for trusting a man whom he knew was a liar who would betray his own mother to win the game. But if that was Jaison's error, one of Russell's errors was not realizing people take it personally. Russell blindsided every single member of the jury. Yet he thought they'd vote him the money if he only keeps Rev. Brett away from them.

Russell is a compulsive alliance-maker. They're meaningless, because he only means the ones that can help him at any given moment, but he can not stand having someone around who thinks they're not in an alliance with him. It would be terrible if there were even one person on that jury whom he had not betrayed. So he made a meaningless, gratuitous alliance with Rev. Brett. He had done it. He'd achieved Geoffrey Plantagenet's Dream.

But Geoffrey was the only one of Henry II's four sons who was never crowned King of England (Henry's oldest son, Henry III, never reigned, as his father outlived him, but Henry II nonetheless had Henry III crowned while Henry II still lived, actually done just to snub Thomas Becket. Lovely people, the Plantagenets.), and Geoffrey's Dream would blow up in Russell's face as well.

Russell began laying out a line of crap to Rev. Brett about how the Final Three should be the people who most deserve to be there. (You mean like Nelson Mandela, Russ?) Rev. Brett, no genius, laid out this philosophy: "I'd rather go up against someone that's harder to beat and lose, than to like put myself in a position where I'm up against people that are easier to beat and win." You have to be 20 years old, from a sufficiently comfortable background that you've never gone to bed hungry, and be utterly stupid to say something that ridiculous.

You don't go on Survivor to test yourself against better players. You go on to win a million dollars! The point isn't were your opponents worthy. The point isn't playing against people who can beat you. The point is to obtain a big wad of cash!

Stupid, stupid boy.

And he's speaking in a hollow fashion. He knows that jury consists of all but one Galuvians. If he is in the Final Three, he wins. Period. He wins. So his "I'd rather go up against someone that's harder to beat and lose" bit is a load of garbage, and he knows it.

Russell to Rev. Brett: "What I can promise you, is me and you will be in the top three." Yes, he can promise that. He'd be nuts to make good on that promise, and while Russell is evil, he's not nuts, and besides, ask each and every member of the jury if Russell kept his promises to them. Ask Jaison or Shambles.

The idea of this alliance is that, if Rev. Brett wins immunity, he won't vote to evict Russell, and if Russell wins it, he won't kick out Brett. Russell would be a fool to keep this promise, and Rev. Brett would be a fool to believe him. But then, if Brett were to win immunity, it wouldn't matter who he voted for or against. If he wins immunity, he wins the million dollars.

But then Tree Mail sent them out on the trek to the torches of the eliminated players. This is always a boring and pointless waste of air time, but they still keep doing it. And the scenery for the stroll was spectacular! So let's go along for a quick last bit on each of this season's players, most of whom, it turns out, have created fantasy myths in their heads to turn their losing the game into a victory.

Marissa. Who the hell ever remembers the person kicked out in the first episode when we get to the last episode? She was some girl who came on too strong around Russell, and became the first victim of his get-the-girls-out policy.

Marissa: "I learned a great deal about myself ..." Good, because no one watching learned anything about you beyond your name, which we quickly forgot. "... being a strong woman is way more important than getting any kind of validation from a man." Yeah sister. Right on. Of course, winning a million dollars is way more important than spouting empty 1970s feminist slogans to try and make losing look like winning.

Fat Chef Mike, the over-60 tub of lard who nearly died trying to pretend he was 30 and in-shape. Self-delusions can kill you.

Chef Mike: "I not only held my own, I made them respect me." First off Fat Mike, washing out on a medical less than a week into the game is not "holding my own." It is "failing miserably." Secondly, no one respects you.

Betsy the Cop. The woman who was actually butcher than Shambles, and smarter. But she made the big goof of letting Russell know she was wise to him.

Redneck Bigot Ben. Eradicated by Jaison for his rampant backwoods racism. Good riddance to bad rubbish. The tradition here is for the remaining players to find nice things to say about the eliminated players. MickMoron's nice comment on Ben was "I wasn't sorry to see him go." That's how awful he was. No one could come up with anything nice to say about him.

Ben: "[People] don't want to hear the truth because the truth hurts ..." Well, the truth hurt you, namely the truth that you're racist trash. Then he had this creepy addendum. "... The survival aspect, if this game was just survival, I would kill all these people." I don't think that's hyperbole or braggadocio. I think he means it. I think he would. I think those shallow graves near where he grew up should be investigated.

Yasmin From Planet X. The annoying, too-citified for the outdoors (why did she go on Survivor when she hates being outdoors? Did she think it would be a special urban edition?), beyotch who ordered everyone around, when not complaining.

Yasmin: "At the end of the day, the girl from the hood did do pretty good." No you didn't! You lost! And you were only the fourth person voted out, and the first person voted out of your tribe! Your tribe all hated you! You spent one day at the other camp, and they all hated you, and you so ignited Ben's fury (by telling him how to behave, and complaining about how he played the challenge) that he got himself voted out because of his reaction to you. You were awful! Suck on this: Shambles did way better than you did.

Ashley. Who?

Whoever she is, she at least learned something from her experience. She learned that Russell was pulling the strings, and hers got pulled. At least she didn't give some bull about how "I think I did really well," like these other self-deluders.

Black Russell. The leader of Galu who, unlike Zsa Zsa's leader, actually led. If he hadn't washed out in a medical emergency, would Zsa Zsa have found Galu such easy pickings after the merge? I will always remember his massive pecs as one of the highlights of season 19, and his paternalistic, "I am man. I take care of the womenfolk" attitude as a real leftover from 19th Century male chauvinism. Speaking as a womanfolk, we can take care of ourselves just fine, thank you. Take note. You lost. A woman won.

And his Victorian paternalism hasn't deserted him. Here's what Black Russell had to say about his near-death experience on Survivor: "But for my wife and my daughter, knowing that they're there, waiting on me to come home, if it wasn't for them, I would-a rather died that day." (Note: not they're "waiting for me," but they're "waiting on me." Hand and foot, I imagine.)

If you know Black Russell, make sure he reads this. Email it to him, snail mail it to him. Rub it under his nose. And then slap him. Russell, that statement was pathetic! Your daughter will hear this, if indeed she wasn't watching. She should learn her dad is such a douchebag, he'd rather die than lose on a game show? Life is too precious a gift to throw away because you lost a game show. You should be ashamed of yourself. Deeply ashamed. Someone should have slapped your face when you said that, and I hope your wife hauls off and slaps you good and hard for even thinking such a thing.

You disgust me.

Liz, the abrasive Asian woman who rubbed Russell and me the wrong way. Said Sister Nat of Liz: "She was physical, let me tell you." Yes she was. She occupied space, had mass and volume, she could be touched, smelt, tasted, seen, and unfortunately, heard.

Erik the bartender. Said MickMoron of Erik: "Fierce competitor, almost psycho." Almost? This was the man who had a blood feud with a chicken. (And came in second)

Erik: "Voting me out was the downfall of Galu, and so I am completely content with how things ended up." He's "content" with blowing a million dollars because none of the people who betrayed him won either? I smell the fine odor of mendacity here. Also, he has not snapped to the fact that voting him out was Sister Nat's bright little plan. This forgotten detail will lead to irony in his vote.

Kelly. Who? The shots of her look like reused shots of Ashley. Are they sure these are two different people?

Kelly: "I could-a done it." Then why didn't you? Kelly, if you could have, you would have. You didn't choose to leave the game. You lost!

The Viper Queen. Evil Incarnate. Voting her out isn't enough. She needs a stake through the heart.

The Viper Queen: "I was clearly like one of the oldest people that was out there ..." Oh please. Black Russell, Shambles, Betsy, and Fat Mike were all older than you. You're still in your thirties. The age card won't play here, you evil cow. But do go on. "... You know what? You still can't beat me... You can't beat this gramma." Ah, actually, they did beat you. Notice how you are on the jury, and part of this parade of losers? That's called being beaten. Amazing how many of these losers think they won when they lost.

Old John. Said Russell of this rocket scientist: "For some reason he thought I was telling him the truth." Are you listening Rev. Brett, Sister Natalie, and MickMoron? He's reminding you, yet again, that all he does is lie and make fake promises. Why do any of you think that you're the sole exception to his lie-to-everyone rule? He makes no exceptions. Are you listening, Mrs. Russell? He makes no exceptions.

Old John's clip included a lovely shot of his tugging on a rope which caused his crotch, bulging in an attractive manner, to get thrust into our faces in slow motion, even slower when I reran the shot four times in my homo slow-mo. Old John: "But your ability to connect with idiots who can't process things properly is a lot of what this comes down to." How very, very true. "Idiots who can't process things properly" is the perfect description for about 15 of these players. In fact, "T-Shirt Designer" Rev. Brett should make up a T-shirt that reads: "Idiot who can't process things properly" and give it to Shambles. Tell her it says "These colors don't run," and she'll wear it proudly everywhere. (I've seen nothing to convince me she can read. She had half the camp read her idol clues for her.)

Dimwit Dave. The creepy, so-smart-he-doesn't-know-he's-an-idiot guy whose revolting body made my flesh crawl every time he went shirtless, which was all the time. He strutted his skeletal, emaciated frame (He arrived in Samoa already looking like he'd just finished playing Survivor) around nearly nude as though he were one of the hunks. He strutted his mouth around as though he were one of the brains. He was neither.

Not-Laura. The Viper Queen's identical handmaiden who made little impression, though what impression she did make was bad. So bad that Russell again broke with tradition in his - ah - eulogy: "I think [Not-Laura] was the fakest person here." This from a man who never spoke the truth, and who told people he'd lost his house and his doggie in Hurricane Katrina. Also, "fakest" is a fake word. There is no such word as "fakest."

Not-Laura had one of the weirdest versions of the I-really-won delusion: "You come to a point where you're like, you know what? I'm going to do this for myself, and I'm going to put my awl out there. And that is, in itself, is winning a million dollars." No it isn't. Winning a million dollars, something you failed to do, is winning a million dollars. I don't care if it's the most fancy, diamond-encrusted awl in the whole of the leather-working world, no awl is worth a million dollars.

Shambles. Rev. Brett reminded the remaining Zsa Zsasians that their triumph was due in large part to Shambles's lack of integrity, her disloyalty, her willingness to betray her own people, and her unfathomable stupidity. They agreed. They were all glad Shambles had been such a malleable, gullible fool. And Russell wasn't finished profiting from her idiocy either.

Shambles: "I was alienated, shunned, disrespected ..." And that was just in the first grade. Thank you. I'm here all week. Please tip your waitress. "... It makes me incredibly proud and happy that God made me the person that I am." Okay Shambles, don't blame God for what you are, whatever the hell you are. God has a perfect alibi. She doesn't exist. But I know few who find being alienated, shunned and disrespected makes them proud and happy. I'll give you this, Shambles, you are unique - I hope! Two of you would be too many. Hell, one is too many.

Jaison. Man of integrity. World traveler. Oxford graduate. Stanford law student. The most gorgeous player of Survivor: Samoa. Also given to fits of fecklessness, easily discouraged, not a quitter, but a near-quitter, and too trusting.

Jaison: "I am really proud of myself for not-quitting ..." That's setting your pride bar rather low. "... I take away from this a new confidence in myself to be able to get through difficult hard times." As opposed to easy hard times? At least he didn't say, "Well, although I got duped, betrayed, and voted out, I kept my self-respect, so I really won."

Final Immunity Challenge: Okay, lame as the preceding immunity challenge was, this one was a real nail-biter. For one thing, it would decide who won the game, because if Rev. Brett won immunity, he would win the million dollars. The jury would be seven Galuvians to a single Zsa Zsasian, and those Galuvians would be looking to reward their compatriot for avenging them all against the Cult of Russell. If Rev. Brett is in the Final Three, he wins. Simple as that.

Secondly, the challenge itself was good. It was simple, visual, and played well on TV. The players were balancing statues on poles. Every couple minutes they had to add another length to the pole, making it both longer and also less steady. Last one to drop their statue wins immunity.

How lame is MickMoron? He went out first. I wouldn't have thought Sister Nat had a shot at balancing hers more than 30 seconds, but she outlasted MickMoron, though only by seconds, and she barely avoided getting her skull knocked open by the plummeting statue.

So there it was, Russell and Rev. Brett going to head-to-head, and my gracious, it was gripping and suspenseful! The poles, as they got longer, got more and more wobbly. A bit of breeze came up, not helping at all. One errant gust would do it. Suddenly a challenge seemed to be directed by Hitchcock. (Dear Hitch. I wish I could tell you about the film I did with him, Amnesia, but I can't seem to remember a thing about it. Critics called it "unforgettably forgettable.") It was edge-of-the-chaise-lounge viewing, right up to the moment when Russell won his first-ever individual challenge, and Rev. Brett lost a million dollars.

Said Russell: "This [the immunity necklace] is worth a million dollars right now. In my opinion, I just won the game." Ah Russell, your opinion is moot. Only the jury's opinion matters, and they have a quite different idea.

Rev. Brett, with only Russell's promise to take him to the Final Three to fall back on, a promise Russell would have to be dumber than Shambles to keep, is already rehearsing his face-saving spin on how losing is really just winning in a lower tax bracket: "Its been an awesome experience, for sure. I'm like a little girl, all emotional." I don't know how emotional he is, but he is rather like a little girl, completely flat-chested.

A teensy bit of suspense was milked out of Russell floating around the idea of voting with Rev. Brett, creating a MickMoron-Rev. Brett tie, then going to a fire-making challenge, let the best man win. In other words, letting chance in. This would be a monumentally stupid thing to do. This would be insanity on so high a level, it should result in involuntary commitment.

But Russell was choked on pride and hubris in the wake of winning one challenge, albeit, truly the crunch challenge, but there were still the previous fifteen immunity challenge losses to mitigate his overweening pride. But Russell's pride was not to be mitigated.

Russell: "So what do you all think of my chances of winning a million dollars now?"

"Um, I think that you're going to win," said the woman shortly to win.

Said Russell of Rev. Brett: "He's the kind of guy that I want my daughters to meet one day." He's a Bible-thumper. Why on earth would you want your kids to hook-up with a Bible-thumper? That's the sort of person a sane human dreads their daughters meeting. He's the sort who would insist on saying grace before cocktails, who would be hitting you with Bible quotes, who would bring your grandkids up in a church, the sort of jerk who puts the Christ back into Christmas after I've gone to all the trouble of getting him out. Why doesn't anyone ever want to "put the X back into Xmas"? That sounds like a lot more fun.

MickMoron had a paranoia attack, becoming convinced that Russell was going to keep Rev. Brett. Russell was floating this idea to Rev. Brett, even repeating that nauseating bit about wanting his daughters to meet someone like him. (Little Russell girls, run for your lives! As soon as you're 18 that is.) I understand why the producers included this footage; to try to create some artificial suspense about the vote. But I do not understand why Russell was even bothering to consider it. He would be a ripe fool to do it. He floated the idea that maybe letting Rev. Brett control his own fate might make the jury respect him for keeping the strongest player around. Russell, nothing short of single-handedly landing an airbus in the Hudson without losing a single life would get you the jury's respect at this point.

But Russell can not stop playing the game. He may well have gone on playing it for weeks after he got home, and he and his family were discussing the ways they would spend the money he returned from Samoa convinced he had in his pocket. So he went on pointlessly leading Rev. Brett on. Maybe he was hoping to find a way to betray him that would still land him Rev. Brett's vote. No such luck. His vote would be solidly for his Prayer Warrior buddy Sister Nat. Once they bonded over the Bible, this pugnacious pagan was out of luck there.

Second Tribal Council: Jaison was almost unrecognizable. He'd removed every strand of hair on his head except his eyebrows (and even they were gone by the time we hit the reunion show), and was wearing glasses. Was that why he did so poorly at so many challenges? He couldn't really see them well enough? Jaison, if you need glasses, why weren't you wearing them all through the game? Maybe if you'd worn your glasses, you'd have seen Russell reaching up to stab you in the back. Jaison is still beautiful, but he looked better with hair and the beard. If he's shaved his chest again, I may have to slap his hands. Anyway, it was nice to see him in a clean blue shirt, instead of that filthy, rotted old yellow one, though no shirt would still be preferable.

Poor Jeff had to keep some blather going here, but honestly. This was not going to be a blindside. We all know Rev. Brett is going, so why not get on with it?

Since Russell had not lost his mind, Rev. Brett was shortly showering, shaving, and joining the jury. All of Galu was gone. The underdog, loser tribe of Zsa Zsa was going to produce the winner, the most amazing tribal come-from-behind (Little Dougie's favorite way) in Survivor history.

But Rev. Brett was not immune to the "Even though I lost, I really won" syndrome: "I kinda feel like I went out on my own accord to some degree." Oh? You voted for yourself to be eliminated? You chose to lose the immunity challenge? Because it looked to me like you were fighting to stay in the game. The only way for you to leave on your own accord (as opposed to leaving of your own accord, which would be grammatically correct.) Would be if you bought yourself a Honda Accord with the money you didn't win, and drove yourself away in it.

As I've said, Russell can not stop playing the game. Rather than laze about the last day, as is the custom, he was busy trying to psyche out MickMoron and Sister Nat over what they would say to the jury at Final Tribal Council.

Russell proposed a screwdriver toast (I assume they were screwdrivers. Surely no one is so depraved as to drink orange juice without vodka! Yuck!) Saying: "You know, I said from Day One that I was going to get here, and here I am." And this makes you different from Sister Nat and MickMoron how?

Sister Nat tried explaining to Russell that her aligning herself with him on Day One was her strategy, although there were roughly seven people that aligned with Russell on Day One, and two or three more the next day. Said Russell: "If you want second place, you'll have to do better than that" Note that: "if you want second place." He was already assuming that she had no shot at winning. He had that locked up. All she could do was battle MickMoron for second place. Watching this a second time as I write, after seeing it through to the end already, this irony was delicious!

Russell told them the logic he intended to use on the jury: "Here behind me I have sitting ..." Note: not with him, but behind him. "The nice guy and the nice girl. Have they outwitted me? Have they outplayed me? If they have, give them the money, because they deserve it." I see the logic. He most certainly did out play and outwit these two witless dolts. The problem for Russell is though, that's not how Survivor juries think. They vote for whom they like! And the guy who engineered the blindside of every single one of them is not well-liked. When Willy Lohman yelled at his son Biff "You gotta be well-liked," he may have been wrong about Life, but he was telling him how to win Survivor.

MickMoron was closer to reality when he postulated that some on the jury might say they liked his path better than Russell's, and give him their vote. He had only two problems with that: 1. Although the jury tends to vote for whom they like, it turned out he was even less popular than Russell. And the second problem, well, we'll get to that in council, but here's a hint: $.

"Don't make me make you look stupid on the jury. I'll put you in the jury," Russell threatened Sister Nat. First off, he meant "Don't make me make you look stupid in front of the jury." Secondly, she's perfectly capable of making herself look stupid without any help. In fact, not making herself look and/or sound stupid is quite beyond her range. And as for putting her in the jury: it's way too late for that.

As Sister Nat cooked them all eggs, Russell counted off the votes he was certain he had locked in: Shambles, Dave, Brett, John, and Erik. Well, he was right about Shambles, but I am mystified as to why he thought any of these others would vote for him. He betrayed John. He just betrayed Brett, who is Sister Nat's fellow Prayer Warrior anyway, so he'd be voting for her regardless. Dave doesn't like him. Russell was lolling in smug arrogance, yet, for the first time all season, he was coming across as just as stupid as all of the others.

And the strategic advantage he was gaining by playing this mind-game was non-existent. It was just meanness to his allies for no real reason. Remember this when he claims he isn't the bad guy he "played" on TV. This was meanness for the sake of meanness.

Before leaving for the Final Council, they torched their camp into an inferno, and then wandered off, leaving it roaring. We saw them heading down the beach, with smoke belching up from their camp. If only we'd seen the huge tongues of flames from the forest conflagration they'd started, but I suppose the TV crew had fire wardens to put out the blaze before it consumed the whole island.

But as they walked, we also heard Russell's last belching of egotistical delusion: "If Mick or Natalie won this game over me, that would just be a shame. You know, it wouldn't make any sense to me. ... I really think this jury is going to put my name down. I've accomplished the impossible out here, all by myself, and brought a couple of bums along with me." Ignoring for a moment his casual contempt for his two remaining allies, I have to point out that:

1. He has not "accomplished the impossible." If he's accomplished something, then it was not impossible. You can not accomplish the impossible. Does he know what the word "impossible" even means?

2. What he has accomplished, he did not accomplish all by himself. He had help, a lot from the "couple of bums" still with him, and some from some people he later betrayed who are now sitting on the jury, waiting for him.

Final Tribal Council: Jeff pointed out that all three of the finalists had voted to oust every single member of the jury. There was not one person innocent of the juror's plight. While interesting, this merely evened out the playing field. They were all three at an equal disadvantage with all the jurors.

In his opening statement, MickMoron relied on the idea that he had played a moral game: hadn't lied or needlessly stomped on people. We all knew whom he was inferring had done that. But whoops. He'd participated in blindsiding every member of the jury except Rev. Brett. Just because he let Russell do all the dirty work didn't make him innocent of it, as he had connived at it. And you could see it wasn't playing. In fact both Shambles and Jaison were shaking their heads in denial of his fake claims of moral piety.

Sister Nat's statement was even more disingenuous. She simply blathered on about how this was the hardest thing she had ever done, how people told her she was crazy (I'm sure that's happened all her life, but what has it to do with Survivor?), how the experience had been humbling for her (How big an egotist must she have been before, if this is her humbled?) and ending with this odd statement: "Without each and every one of you, I would not be sitting here. I appreciate it. Thank you." Huh? How is it she would not be sitting there without each and every one of them? Are the jury her parents? Did they all pitch in money to send her to Samoa? Is she referring to the fact that only their being voted out meant she got to stay in? Was she thanking them for letting her blindside them? What was she talking about?

Russell took his position that his brilliant game play should be rewarded, so he recounted, one-by-one, how he shafted each of them. Russell, who up to this episode, has been very smart, suddenly turned enormously stupid. Apparently he actually thought that reminding them, proudly reminding them, of how he had personally screwed all of them, dashed their dreams and hopes just to feed his ego, would win their votes. He has made the essential blunder of all sociopaths, forgetting that other people are actually other people, and not extensions of his own fantasies. He expected them to vote according to his vision of anything-to-win, screwing-you-over-means-I-deserve-to-win ethic, because he would. He doesn't realize that they are not him. They are other people, real people, whom he has screwed over, doing so smugly and proudly to feed his ego, and guess what? They resent him for it.

Except for Shambles, who is too stupid to work out that it was he who screwed her over, who tempted her into betraying her own tribe, and who took away her solid gold Harley. She still thinks of him as her friend, even though he lied to her face, and betrayed her.

He wound up with: "May the best man win," and there was just a momentary flicker in Sister Nat's eyes as she caught the subliminal insult. She tucked it away, assuming he just meant "man" in the sense of "human." He didn't. He meant man, specifically himself. And to our old misogynist, it was down to him and MickMoron, because, of course, no one would give the money to a girl. Why would you give a woman the prize? She hasn't got a penis.

However, the women on the jury caught the insult, except for Shambles of course. Russell had just talked himself out of Kelly's, The Viper Queen's, and Not-Laura's votes, if he'd ever had them at all.

Jaison went next. He let each finalist speak about their financial situations, and then added facts to what they said. Sister Nat said how she'd quit her job to do the show. Jaison pointed out that she squirreled away a heap of money first. Russell tried to make himself sound like a small businessman, struggling to keep a just-turned-solvent business afloat. Jaison then made sure that everyone knew Russell has a seven figure income, and is already a millionaire. You could see that Russell wanted to kill him. MickMoron brought up a $320,000 student loan debt that got him through medical school that he felt would take him years to pay off. Jaison said: "Doctors do get paid very well, especially when you get fellowships at one of the most prestigious hospitals in America." Oops. Well there went pleading poverty.

We can count on Shambles to be startling and bizarre, and she did not disappoint. First off, seeing her in make-up was disconcerting. Why was she trying to look like a woman? Oh right. I forgot. She sort of is one. The low-cut blouse showing off the boobs could turn Warren Beatty gay. And the perm in the mullet made her look like a tranny verison of Billy Ray Cyrus 15 years ago.

But it was what she had to say that really startled: "I would just like to apologize to America for dismantling Galu, because I'm really questioning that judgement call at this point." Is she repenting of her alliance with Russell? I can see her apologizing to Galu, but why apologize to "America"? Shambles, America doesn't care.

She asked MickMoron if his overall game play could be called "feckless." MickMoron replied: "I would actually have to look up 'feckless.' I don't know what feckless is."

Shambles quickly replied: "Well I think that's a really good idea after this is over. I'm done with you." So she didn't know what it meant either. As a scathing put-down of MickMoron, I found it feckless.

("Feckless" - adjective: 1. Ineffectual, feeble. 2. Unthinking and irresponsible. The first meaning would certainly describe MickMoron's tribal leadership, but his gameplay got him to the finals, which is more than her feckless gameplay did.)

But oh, her toss-out to Sister Nat was even better: "Natalie, the word that just is resonatin' in my mind ..." [Was Shambles up all night with a Thesaurus?] "... that starts with a 'C,' can you finish it?"

This caused an interruption at my home. I was swallowing some vodka at that moment, and Shambles's request to Sister Nat to finish her C-word caused me to do a full-strength, Danny Thomas spit-take, drenching Little Dougie and the computer in booze that is much too pricey to waste on drenching him. It also caused me to freeze-frame the DVR on a shot of MickMoron doing a bug-eyed take that showed he thought it was the same word I did.

Sister Nat was not to be baited: "I'm gonna let you finish it, Sham." On CBS prime time?

Shambles: "Coattail." Jeff Probst looked disappointed. Frankly, given that Sister Nat is from Arkansas, with a backwoods drawl, I had naturally assumed the word was "country," only perhaps, in her haste, omitting the second syllable. As for being a put-down, again, coattail-riding is a perfectly legitimate strategy, and has won this game for more than one annoying dishrag of a person.

Sister Nat explained how she saw what happened to Marissa and Betsy when they got too aggressive, and chose her way of playing to survive, which she did quite well, but before she could finish her reply, Shambles rudely interrupted her: "I'm calling just major BS on your sentence you just hit me with. I'm like cracking up inside like you have no idea." Oh I think I have an idea how much she's cracking up. What little sanity Shambles had leaking was leaking out her ears and caking in her hair. Anyway, Shambles announced that she was not voting for MickMoron or Sister Nat. Gee, then who is she voting for? Oh yes, the guy who used her, lied to her face, and, when it suited him, shafted her right into the jury. Why?

This is about Sister Nat not letting Shambles join her in the shower at the auction, isn't it?

Rev. Brett asked MickMoron out on a date! Well no wonder he didn't really even try to get into Sister Nat's panties, even after they connected over Jesus. I guess this was Rev. Brett's subtle way of letting MickMoron know, if he wanted Brett's vote, he'd have to put out. Works for me.

MickMoron describing his and Rev. Brett's future date: "Wake you up a little sweet nothing in your ear.

Rev. Brett: "That's a good beginning." Rev. Brett, you have been flying under the radar! Or should I say, flying under the gaydar? I might add, Rev. Brett sat down again, without asking anything of Russell or Sister Nat, who was busy anyway, expunging him from her Prayer Warriors rolls. After all, how can she pray to end gay rights with a homo right in the squad, hitting on doctors?

Kelly, after expressing disdain for Sister Nat's helpless (or even - dare I say it? - feckless) female act, hit Russell with the big question, the real question: "Russell, you've said many times, you're going to lie, cheat and steal your way through this game. Does that apply to your real life also?"

"No," Russell lied, "Not at all. I am one hundred percent different outside of this game."

Liar!

You don't go on TV and transform into someone else. In the pressure of this game's ordeals (ordeals so severe that it nearly killed not just a fat old man in his 60s, but also a bull-like tower of strength in the prime of his life), you find out who you really are. It reveals you.

But Russell went right on lying, "I don't want my kids to think that this is how I really am. I'm not like this at all." He's the anti-Popeye: I'm not what I am. Russell, you can tell your kids whatever you want. By the time they graduate high school, they will know who you really are, not whom you pretend to be. What you say to kids doesn't matter. All they ever hear is what you do.

Kelly: "Instead of lie, cheat and steal, in real life, maybe three words will replace that?" (I played it over and over, and as near as I can hear, that garbled sentence is what she said.)

Russell: "May be hard to believe, but honor, integrity, and loyalty." No, it's not hard to believe.

It's impossible to believe!

You want to know what your daughters will get from watching this show, Russell? Don't do what Daddy does. Do what Daddy says. You must be kind, honest and truthful - unless you're on a TV game show playing to win a million dollars, and to indulge your ego, by trying to show that you're smarter than all the chumps who don't just talk about trust and loyalty, but actually practice it. If you're playing on TV for a million dollars, kids, there are no rules. Lie, cheat, screw your friends, betray your allies, stab every back you see turned towards you. And then mock your victims and laugh at them on camera. Morals are for suckers.

When MickMoron, in answer to a question from Not-Laura, tried to put himself out as morally-superior to Russell, Russell called him on it, pointing out that he was behind him, cheering him on, more than glad to help, and to benefit from it. Yup. Both Sister Nat and MickMoron were Russell's accomplices, and are just as guilty of his lying and betrayals as he is. Only his ego and his gloating are his sins alone.

Dimwit Dave's question was boring.

The Viper Queen's question, not surprisingly for one so self-involved and evil, was about herself: "Russell, what did you learn about me that enabled you to beat me." It's the old joke: Enough about me; let's talk about you. What do you like best about me?

Russell's convoluted answer ended with: "If it wouldn't a took place like it did, I don't have a doubt in my mind you would be here right now." In the words of the late, great Anna Russell (no relation to Russell, I hope for her sake): "Things would be so different if they were not as they are."

In answer to a request to "Blow my mind" from Old John (He must be old, to have finished that request with "mind."), MickMoron said, "In terms of character, you're not going to find a better, more solid guy up here. You're just not. I'm not one of those people who thinks that the ends justify the means, and you don't treat people like pawns." But MickMoron not only went along with Russell's behavior, but he aided and abetted every one of his assassinations and betrayals. His mealy-mouthed defense was actually costing him votes.

Erik asked no questions. He was just up to lecture them. He said to Russell: "Did you get to the right place by behaving the wrong way? I've never been in a situation in my entire life where that was the case." He hasn't? He, the womanizing bartender, never lied his way into a girl's bed? He missed the presidential election of 2000? Has he never watched Survivor before going on it? Has he never heard the name Richard Hatch?

He rather perceptively referred to MickMoron's pose as "delusional entitlement." He quickly made it clear that he was voting for Sister Nat. I guess he never worked out that she was the one who engineered his blindside. I wonder if, when he saw that on TV, he repented of his vote too late. He may have suspected. He wrote his vote as "Ratalie." He insulted her at the same time as he voted to give her a million dollars. Erik darling, I have a list of foul and vile names you can call me, as long as a million dollars comes with each one.

Results & Reunion Show: The vote count was done live in CBS Television City here in Los Angeles. I can't think why I wasn't invited to be there. How rude, after all the loyal write-ups and advice I've given them. Harumph!

Five votes for Natalie, two for Russell, two uncounted. Oh Russell, all that plotting and planning, all that gloating and bragging, all that wallowing in public amorality, and you still lost.

How'd everyone look? Well Russell has lost weight in his face since doing the show, although his belly was back to full size. Maybe his hat was too big.

Sister Nat had not simply regained the weight she had lost, but had gotten rather plump. Her face was practically twice as wide as it had been at Tribal council three minutes before. Her face is now, well, fat. Even clean, made-up, and with her hair groomed and shiny, she still looked better on the island. I would not have recognized her. MickMoron had shaved off the beard (which was too bad. It was becoming to him) and his face had filled in somewhat, though not nearly as much as Sister Nat's.

Shambles has gained rather a lot of weight. Remember that she took off 70 pounds to do the show. She hasn't put all of that weight back on again yet, but she's easily gone half the distance.

The interesting thing is, Russell was clearly very upset about losing. It was not just disappointment. He looked offended to have lost. He played the best, strongest game. He dominated the whole season. No one denies that. He deserved to win! How dare they deny him his just reward? He was like my darling Vincent Price in the masterful horror comedy Theater of Blood, driven to murder all of the London theater critics because they denied him an acting award he felt he deserved.

Except that Russell didn't outplay and outwit. He did a hell of a lot right, but he forgot, or never understood, that it is still a social game. To win, you have to not just last to the end. You have to get the jury to vote for you. Their votes are not going to be based on your criteria. It will be based on theirs. He was offended because he felt he deserved to win, although why anyone would feel such monumental duplicity should be rewarded I can not imagine, nor could anyone else, except Shambles, and whoever his other vote was from. (They did not reveal who voted for whom, nor even count all the votes, once one player had a majority. We know only that Erik voted for "Ratalie," and Shambles voted for Russell.)

A player who was really as smart as Russell thought he was, would find out what makes each player tick, so he'd know what the key was to unlocking each individual vote, and play that. Russell thought he'd get votes because he found idols, and bamboozled a sad sack of a tribe, and one deranged loon in a mullet into doing his bidding, only to find out that the phrase "deserves to win" means different things to different people.

"You don't think I had a good social game?" Russell asked Jeff, and via proxy, me, "I had Jaison, I had Mick, Natalie, Shambo. They trusted me. That's why they stayed with me. That sounds like a pretty damn good social game to me."

No it doesn't. Jaison ended up voting against you. And almost the entire jury, certainly a majority of them, loathed you so much, they gave the money to the blond bimbo who rode in on your coattails. They didn't do that because they felt she deserved it. They gave it to her because they considered her the least of three evils. Your social game is why Natalie is now a millionaire.

Jeff, master Sadist, polled the jury as to whether, had Russell brought Shambles and Jaison to the end instead of Sister Nat and MickMoron, he would still have lost. Oops. According to the jury poll, he'd have won. But because he wouldn't listen to me, and voted out my beloved Jaison, and kept the Prayer Warriorette and the dimwitted doctor, he lost.

But we had not yet plumbed the deepest depths of Russell's ego. He made an astonishing, insane offer. He offered to give Natalie $10,000 if she'd deed him the title of "Sole Survivor."

The thing is, Russell, if you buy it, it's meaningless. She won. That's it. That's over. She won the title. Even if she deeded it over to you, she'd still be the winner. You'd still be the loser.

But typical of Russell, here we are, so many months after the game ended that they've shot a whole additional season since, and Russell is still playing the game!

However, a $10,000 bribe means little to a woman who just won a million dollars ten minutes earlier. She turned him down flat. Jeff thought she was nuts. To just let him call himself "Sole Survivor," she could get a big chunk of additional change (which Jeff inflated ten times, to $100,000. Well, it isn't his money.). Jeff announced he'd have taken it.

In one nicely humorous moment, Russell had brought some socks to give Jaison for the ones he had burned, but when Jaison basically gave his opinion about what a louse Russell is, Russell took out the new socks, and burned them again!

We got a Shambles montage, opening with Black Russell choosing Shambles (whom, in his defense, he had just met seconds before), as the "smartest" player on his team. It seemed unlikely back when we saw the first episode. Now that we've seen the whole series, we know she was hands down, not merely the stupidest person on Black Russell's tribe, but the stupidest player of the whole season, and possibly the stupidest person that's ever been allowed to play Survivor at all. The montage showed many of her dorkiest, most embarassing moments, along with a lot of people basically saying what an idiot she is. Cut to Shambles live in the studio, having watched it as we did, with a pained, forced smile on her face.

Hilariously, Shambles was wearing a headband the exact same color as the shirt Erik was wearing seated just behind her, which made her look like the top of her head had been sliced off, and was hovering in the air an inch and a half above her head, and in the gap where her brain should be, nothing but a void. That this image was unplanned and utterly accidental only made it funnier.

Her caption still gave her occupation as "Former Marine." That's not an occupation. That's what she used to do. Are her current employers, if any, ashamed to be publically identified with her? Also, it turns out her last name is Waters. She does suggest a character from a 1970s John Waters movie, someone Edith Massey would have played if only she'd been less talented. Just the day before, BBC America had aired David Tennent's penultimate Doctor Who story, The Waters of Mars. Now we know who Shambles's family is. She one of The Waters of Mars. The hair is alien. No wonder she thinks she can talk to chickens.

Turns out kids love her. This makes sense. She has the intellect and maturity of a third grader, albeit, a not-too-bright one.

They put up a photo of Shambles in 1986 when, not only was the mullet darker, but, to my amazement, she was actually kind of pretty, except for the hair. Although it is clearly the same face, all the prettiness of that earlier, hopelessly dim woman is gone now.

The revolting Viper Queen (with their still giving her profession as "Office Manager" rather than "co-ordinator for conservative lobbyists and servant of Satan, plus Ladies Pastor") said of her relationship with Shambles, "There's been forgiveness given." That's the usual hypocritical, holier-than-thou Christian stunt of trying to appear morally superior to your enemies by declaring that you've "forgiven" them. It is always mealy-mouthed hypocrisy. "Forgiveness" is just a word they use, without truly ever forgiving anything. Popes used to forgive people too, and then would signal for the torches to light the pyres under the stakes the forgiven heretics were chained to.

Yasmin From Planet X jumped on the hypocrisy bandwagon, saying of Redneck Bigot Ben, "I was raised to forgive. Definitely not forget, but I forgive Ben." That forgiven-but-not-forgotten bit is Christian hypocrisy at it's purest. If you truly forgive someone, you forget about it. They "definitely not forget," because they are only saying they forgive you to try and look holier than you. Christians: they may kill you with kindness, but they will kill you one way or another.

Dimwit Dave: "I found that coming out, I really felt like I had a new family." Dave came out? About time. I mean I read his CBS bio: no girlfriend, no wife, degree in opera, former flight attendant. One of those might apply to a straight man, but all of them?

Black Russell talked about watching his near death experience on TV with his wife. He described her as screaming, "You're dead!" and his being unable to convince her that he was not dead, since he was sitting next to her, speaking to her, but she kept yelling, "No, you're dead!" It takes a special kind of love to go on a high-rated CBS TV show and deliberately make your wife sound like an utter moron.

Viewers phoned in votes for a Viewer's Favorite prize of $100,000. Not at all surprisingly, it went to Psycho Russell. Well, he did make the season entertaining, and people seem to love a rogue, and it's a lot easier to like Russell if you never meet him in person. I might add, I've had commentors here backing up their assertions that the hidden immunity idols were fixed, with the producers flaunting federal laws to all but hand Russell the idols, since he found each in less time than it takes to type this sentence. I pointed out in my replies to them exactly what Russell said here, that he spent hours and hours and hours looking for them. It's just editing that made it look like he couldn't scratch his butt without an immunity idol falling out. (Some of you are so cynical.)

Jeff also brought up Russell's famous comment, "The Dumb-Ass Girl Alliance," this being a man who lives surrounded by women: a wife, two daughters, a large mother, no sons. Well Jeff, everyone knows that there's nothing that can make a man into a virulent woman-hater faster than being the only male in a household of women. But Jeff did point out what needed to be pointed out, that one of those dumb-ass girls beat him out for the million.

Then Jeff let us meet the poor woman married to Russell. She of course spoke glowingly of him. (She said he was charming. Has she forgotten that we've been watching him for three months?) Of course she did. Jeff won't be going back to Texas to protect her from him. She was wearing long-sleeves, the type that could cover bruises. I'm not saying she has bruises, just that, the way she was dressed, we'd never see the wounds, the cuts, or the brandings.

Jeff yanking Redneck Bigot Ben from a competition was brought up. Jeff: "Just so I can feel safe going home tonight, are we okay?"

Ben: "We're cool, buddy." But his mike was shut off before he probably said under-his-breath, It won't be tonight, and you'll never see it coming, you bastard

Jeff couldn't resist pointing out to MickMoron that the home audience didn't vote for him either.

Fat Chef Mike is now just Chef Mike, as he has lost 65 pounds since doing the show. Well he certainly had it to lose. And Russell had Survivor: Samoa to lose, and did.

So that's it for Survivor: Samoa. Come February 11, season 20 of Survivor will arrive, an all-star season, pitching a tribe of past-show villains (what do you want to bet that Russell looked facially gaunt from having done the next Survivor already? Oh please, do not let ex-Coach Wade, aka Voldedork, be on the new season.) against a tribe of past-show heroes. Barring my getting a better gig, I'll be back here, running it down by merrily insulting all and sundry. In between then and now, I'll be back in two weeks with my round-up of the years dead celebrities. The "deadline" is soon, so if you're famous and you want to be included, better pop off fast now. (Nice show of commitment, Brittany.) I'll also be recapping the Golden Globes and the Screen Actors Guild Awards. (The Oscars too, of course, but Survivor will be back before then.)

Meanwhile, have a very merry annual Christian Cultural Incursion, and a Happy Arbitrarily-Chosen Spot in our orbit of the Sun. And cheers darlings.

To read more of Tallulah Morehead, go to The Morehead, the Merrier, or buy her book, My Lush Life.

Michael Russnow: Survivor Finalist Russell Really Is an Ass: Whereas 4th Place Brett Showed Class Will Tell

2009-12-21T05:25:00Z

I watch a bit of Reality TV and I'm a big fan of seven-time Emmy Recipient The Amazing Race -- the best of the breed. Better than American Idol and all the rest on NBC, Fox, ABC or the CW. I'd love to participate with my pal, charismatic German TV Star Andreas Stenschke (take a look and you'll agree) -- not just for the million dollars. It's fun and challenging, and the winner wins because the team has achieved victory, as opposed to contests decided upon by scheming and jealous cohabitants of a house or remote island.

But the point here is to cast light on the devil incarnate of the most recent Survivor, which concluded Sunday night on CBS. Machiavellian is too tame to describe the overconfident and somewhat deluded Russell Hantz, who was earlier voted Fan Favorite by the viewing audience even as he sat through the program sullen and glum after learning he'd lost to Natalie White.

For many weeks we watched Russell plot and play people against each other, and, to a certain extent, he must be commended for achieving his goal to make it to the end. While his Survivor counterparts couldn't see the edited confessionals presented to the television public in which he admitted his lies and cheating, they were nonetheless exceedingly dimwitted as each of Russell's supposed confidantes were voted off the island.

Didn't these clever people, including a physician and articulate law student ever talk to each other out of Russell's presence? Wouldn't they have let it be known they had a deal with Russell in the same way that Mick Trimming and Jaison Robinson conversed about the rare slip Russell made when he revealed he was actually a successful businessman? Wasn't it obvious when his close companions, such as the earthy but not too swift Shannon Waters (Shambo) were voted off with his support?

And yet, when there were only six people left and attention turned to the heretofore mostly wallflower, soft-spoken and handsome 23-year-old Brett Clouser, who'd saved himself by winning the immunity idol, no one started talking about getting rid of Russell. This was the amazing faux pas, that each of Russell's tribe mates stuck with him when Mick, Natalie and Jaison could have taken him out. At the least, they should've made him think they were going to do so to make him use his last personal immunity idol that he amazingly kept finding (even without clues). Instead, they allowed him to keep the idol for another round, thus ensuring he'd be in the game for another two tribal councils.

But that's the background to the finale. The game changed enormously when Brett, who'd stayed on the sidelines most of the season was suddenly in jeopardy because he was one of the only players left not in the Russell alliance. He surprised everyone by winning the competitive immunity idol. Then winning it again. And then a third time. All three contests exhibited a combination of physicality and mental processes. The first entailed learning how best to catapult a coconut into a box, no mean feat, the second, slow methodical counting and the third putting together a jigsaw puzzle faster than the others.

He was suddenly the one to beat, as all his former tribe mates were on the jury panel and everyone feared going up against him in the final vote. It was down to the last contest, prior to which Russell, who'd mocked and derided Brett as a punk, now played up to him, offering to take him to the final three because he deserved to be there.

It was a close call, finally down to Russell and Brett balancing a figurine on a continually growing elongated stick, and, as fate would have it, Russell won. Even then Russell told Brett he was going to vote out Mick to force a tie, his strategy being he would gain respect and favor with the jury, who he feared mostly despised him.

I'll skip to the end, where Jeff Probst delivered the final vote, which Russell had earlier predicted in front of the jury he had the best chance of winning. It wasn't even close. Natalie won by a five to two margin, and during the hoopla of her victory one could see Russell wasn't happy. Even though he'd declared during questioning by the jury before they voted that he wasn't really the cunning liar they'd all known. He was an honorable man and it was just a game.

But he couldn't help himself, even on live TV when the vote was announced. He continued to protest to Jeff Probst that he was the winner, and the morality-challenged audience cheered in agreement. But the jury members took issue, as did winner Natalie who refused his outrageous offer of ten thousand dollars if she would allow Jeff to declare him the Sole Survivor on national television. So much did he need the validation of that title.

Contrast that with Brett Clouser, who was asked how it felt to have a million dollars slip through his fingers during a final event that was so close. Probst even took a poll of the jury, which confirmed his thought that Brett would have won hands down. But Brett said with a warm smile it was just the way things are. He did his best and while he surely regretted losing he was proud of his achievement. He was the epitome of grace and a good sportsman.

Brett was voted, along with Shambo and Russell, one of the three finalists as audience favorite, and perhaps had the viewers seen Russell's true colors the young man would have easily won the hundred thousand dollar prize. But the audience voted for the villain, much as they preferred J.R. to Bobby on Dallas, and were no doubt demonstrating their most favorite character. Had they realized it was not an act and what a despicable, unpleasant and ungracious man Russell Hantz was perhaps they wouldn't have been so generous adding to the hundred thousand dollars he'd already won as runner-up.

For me, Brett Clouser made a run for the roses in the last quarter mile, falling short by a nose but coming out a life winner in the long run.

Michael Russnow's website is www.ramproductionsinternational.com

Michael Rugnetta: My Problem with Jersey Shore

2009-12-19T19:24:43Z

I don't have a problem with Jersey Shore because it's degrading to Italian-Americans such as myself or because it misrepresents the Jersey Shore vacation environment (which I have escaped to every summer of my life and enjoy thoroughly). I do not possess an Italian-American persecution complex, but because Jersey Shore focuses on a group of young Italian-Americans summering in a locale that's near and dear to my heart, the show has caused my mind to crystallize the numerous problems I have with reality TV and American Anti-Intellectualism. I'll admit; I do possess a bit of an Intellectual persecution complex. I'm always eager to learn new things and from time to time I can't help but point out blatant ignorance, especially when it hits close to home.

Jersey Shore is different from fictional programs about Italian-Americans like The Sopranos, The Godfather, or GoodFellas (which is not entirely fictional, but lets just use that term to separate it from reality TV for the sake of this argument). This is where I take issue with the group UNICO since, in addition to Jersey Shore; they also called for the cancellation of The Sopranos. The difference between Jersey Shore and a show like The Sopranos is that as a reality show, Jersey Shore does not provide us with distance, reflection, commentary, or irony. Sure, some people may watch it ironically, but it's a more extreme irony that viewers tend to place on reality shows that they don't on fiction. Reality shows breed a condescending and antagonistic form of irony. When you watch reality TV, you get to point and say, "Ha, I'm better than those idiots." Whereas in a TV show like The Sopranos, or even The Office for that matter, we see ourselves reflected in the characters. We empathize with their shortcomings and so the irony is more self-deprecating and humbling. On Jersey Shore, the participants are objects and the ironic viewer is a detached voyeur. It's a distinct separation and the ironic viewer gets to be catty, gossipy, and judgmental towards the participants.

But perhaps even worse than the ironic viewer is the sincere viewer. Jersey Shore contains no built-in irony or distance for the sincere viewer. Shows like The Sopranos, The Godfather, and GoodFellas are able to reflect on modern American life and to use the Italian-American community as a focus for representation of our broader American society. The problem with Jersey Shore is that as a reality show, the world that the cast inhabits is the only reality that exists. There is no wider world in Jersey Shore. One of the great things about The Sopranos, for instance, was the interactions between the Italian-American main characters and supporting characters of other ethnicities such as Jews, Russians, African-Americans, Irish-Americans, and Latinos. There are also some very striking contrasts made between the Mafia-involved characters and the more assimilated law-abiding Italian-Americans like the Soprano's next-door neighbor, Dr. Cusamano, or Meadow Soprano's College Dean at Columbia, Dr. Ross (changed from Rossi at Ellis Island). Through these foils, the characters and the viewers are able to ponder the meaning of such universal human themes as "family," "business," "authenticity," "greed," and "revenge." These themes are present throughout much great American literature and drama. Another example of how great art places the main characters' world into a wider world can be seen in GoodFellas through the use of narration or the use of an outsider character like Karen, Henry Hill's wife, who is Jewish. One of my favorite sequences in the film is the part where she describes her and Henry's wedding, followed by Henry's arriving home late one night and getting yelled at by Karen's mother, and then Karen's visit to the beauty parlor where all of the other Mafia wives commiserate about their rough Mafia lives, finally leading Karen to proclaim to Henry: "I don't know if I can live like that!" Of course, Henry sweet-talks her and she succumbs to his charms and the glamor of the Mafia lifestyle. This sequence is a brilliant and involving portrait of anyone who has ever had to suppress their misgivings, compromise their convictions, and become something they swore they would never become in order to maintain a comfortable lifestyle.

GoodFellas also depicts that quintessential American yearning to "be somebody." At the end of the movie, when Henry has to go into witness protection, the issue that looms largest is not one of loyalty or betrayal but of loosing one's lifestyle -- a lifestyle where you are "somebody." Even though that lifestyle entails risking one's life and enduring lots of drama and conflict, Henry accepts his cost -- like many American's do -- so that he doesn't have to live the rest of his life "like a shnook" as he says at the end of the movie. But because GoodFellas acknowledges that a better lifestyle (at least better on the surface) comes with huge costs, it gets to the heart of a central American puzzlement: Is there dignity in accepting a simple, humble life, or must we always be pioneers and entrepreneurs striving for something bigger and better no matter how many "simple things" we have to give up?

The Godfather also contains many brilliant scenes that simultaneously depict enclosed-Mafia-world immersion and broader-American-society commentary. In the first Godfather film, when Don Corleone meets with the heads of the five families, he demonstrates a reluctance to begin selling narcotics, but he eventually relents under the conditions that drugs are not sold near schools and that drug activity remain confined to African-American neighborhoods. Don Corleone then goes on to make a racist comment. With that comment, we see how the Mafia at that time was hermetically-sealed in its own little bubble of societal ignorance. We also get a sense of how mainstream American society and American business treated minorities at that time in order to protect its own hermetically-sealed world. It shows how achieving prosperity sometimes entails significant social and moral costs, but it's a whole lot easier to accept those costs when you can dump them on some other group. This theme is summed-up in the second Godfather film, when Senator Geary attempts to blackmail Michael Corleone and Michael tells him that "We are both part of the same hypocrisy."

Good programming provides us with built-in commentary through nuanced connections between a subculture and our broader culture. Jersey Shore -- like so much reality television -- frustrates me because there is absolutely none of this commentary. That's what makes fictional programming and the more probing forms of non-fiction programming far superior as humanistic enterprises. Of course, this should be obvious to most people, but unfortunately it is not obvious to enough people.

The problem with reality television is that it takes its subjects way to seriously, especially those that don't deserve to be taken seriously. That's not to say that great fictional programming does not take its characters too seriously -- it simply allows for reflection. Fictional characters are just that -- characters -- whereas reality show casts are not characters, they are real people. The worst conceit of reality programming is the appearance of reflection that the show creates when it does those "talking head" confessional interviews with the cast members. These interviews act as a form of therapy -- a non-judgmental, feel-good validation of the B.S. Jersey Shore lifestyle. Viewers are called to empathize directly with the cast members and feel validated themselves -- absolved of the sins of inauthenticity, phoniness, and BS that we all fear we commit as we try to maintain our images and lifestyles. But there is rarely any actual reflection, "taking a step back", or criticizing.

MTV has been consistently serving up a diet of over-dramatic loudmouths who lead BS lifestyles, which it then validates -- from The Real World to My Super-Sweet Sixteen. If you watch it sincerely and empathetically, then you are credulous and simple-minded; if you watch it ironically, then you are condescending and antagonistic. Good programming integrates both irony and empathy. With bad reality TV like Jersey Shore, it is either one or the other. There is no need to make this false choice when we are living in a golden-age of television. Go watch something better, there's plenty of it.

Tallulah Morehead: Survivor: Samoa: Shambling Towards Bethlehem.

2009-12-18T14:20:11Z

Since its debut a decade back, Survivor has been known for its gross-out moments: eating rats, gory wounds, contests built around eating the most revolting foods imaginable: slug guts, raw octopi embryos, yogurt, but last night's episode reached a new gross-out level even for Survivor: watching teenaged Brett massaging The Shambling One. (She has a longer title, but I seem surrounded by ADD-afflicted malcontents who want to rewrite for me.)

Brett Two-Spears: "I'm the Last True Galuan." So what is The Shambling One: a False Galuan? A Galuan Manque? (And Brett darling, the proper term is "Galuvian." What do they teach these kids nowadays?) But yes, back at the merge Galu outnumbered Zsa Zsa two-to-one, now the reverse applies, and not one Zsa Zsasian has fallen since the merge, although Natalie isn't always very steady on her feet.

Said Russell of Brett, The Threat, Two-Spears: "If he don't go, we're gonna be in a whirlwind of crap." First off, I'd love to see that. A Crap Whirlwind is always good TV.

Secondly, Brett the Threat? He of no allies left, who never did anything in the whole damn game except once he won two spears? That Brett? The one who was last seen running his fingernails over whatever life-forms dwell on The Shambling One's scalp? He's going to summon "a whirlwind of crap" for the secure bully men who are running this show? Not without a couple wind machines and a ton of manure he won't.

Russell explained, "He'll keep winning and keep winning, all the way to the top." Brett? The guy who has won two spears and one immunity? A single, fluke win doesn't constitute a winning streak. Accidentally being the first guy to get all his bags catapulted into his basket via sheer luck doesn't make him a "Threat."

I see Russell at age 13, on a playground, explaining to his goons that if they let even a single second grader escape with a nickel still in his pocket for snack time, that that single, terrified second grader, probably hiding in the crawl space under the classroom, would then constitute a level of threat that The Talaban can only dream of achieving. "If they have enough energy left to say 'Please stop kicking me, sir,' then they haven't been stomped enough. They're still a threat!"

Religious Mania is sweeping Samoa. We have had a Nameless Prophet whose visions came a Council too early, we met the Lord Frickin', who provides everything except immunity, and we endured The Viper Queen, a "Ladies Only" pastor working for God, The Republicans, and Sarah Palin, and not necessarily in that order.

But that wasn't enough. Even more stomach-churning than watching Brett Two-Spears running his fingers through the Shambling One's abundant head fur, was watching Brett hit on Natalie by quoting the Bible at her at length. Could he quote Shakespeare as well? Well now we know why Brett has gotten so little screentime this season; they didn't want to turn it into The 300 Club.

In a sane world, when a guy starts rattling off Bible quotes to a girl, the normal response of a properly-brought-up young lady is: "Could you stuff a sock in it, Elmer Gantry? If I need the Bible preached at me, I have a crazy old aunt with 17 cats who will be only too glad to reassume that chore." But Natalie, it turns out, is insane. Her response was: "Brett is an absolute sweetheart. I mean, Brett and I have had, um, several discussions about the Bible, and about some Christian books ..." [About which ones burn best, I hope? No? Drat!] "... I've really enjoyed that. It's nice to have that in common."

No million dollars would be worth being trapped for a month on an island with these two geniuses. I realize that they've been doing the show for a decade, but they are really scraping the bottom of the barrel for players these days. Last season we had "Coach," this season we have a collection of Christian cuckoos. Next season, why not go whole hog, and do Survivor: Jonestown? My skin crawled so badly, I had to chase off after it.

The elephant on The Shambling One's head was finally discussed. Someone needed to say it. Russell finally did: "[The Shambling One] said she needed a haircut. She should shave that ho head. Mullet went out in the 70s. It looks terrible. Her hair is funky. You see [The Shambling One], that's the way she sneaks food. She puts it in her hair. Nobody knows. Nobody can see it. She puts bananas in there ..." [I highly doubt The Shambling One has ever inserted a banana into any part of her, no matter how densely forested.] "... and pieces of cocoanut. It's nasty. Peanuts! All kinds a different stuff. It's kinda disgusting. 'Cause I didn't need [The Shambling One], I would definitely get rid of her. " Well at least now we know what the Reverend Brett Two-IQ-Points was actually doing letting his fingers do the walking through The Shambling One's locks and tresses: he was foraging.

Reward Challenge: The were playing for the usual Local Community Feast, with an added kicker: a night in beds, with pillows, blankets, and no Russell-snuggling.

Jeff: "Worth playing for?"

MickMoron: "Worth dying for." Either MickMoron sets the value of his life rather low, or he's never eaten native Samoan cuisine, or both. MickMoron is an anaesthesiologist. I don't know about you, but I prefer all the doctors on my surgical team to place a high value on human life, particularly on mine. But then, I haven't just spent a month trying to avoid snuggling with Russell. Maybe Mick has a point.

The game was a form of Jenga with cocoanuts. You had to remove ropes from a net holding cocoanuts without dropping the cocoanuts. First team to drop 100 cocoanuts loses. As far as I'm concerned, drop all the cocoanuts you like, just leave Animal Crackers alone; it's in most ways the better film.

Russell and Natalie, alleged allies, were the two team captains. Russell noted that Reverend Brett was her first choice. You could see it register in Russell's eyes. "Are they secret allies? Has all that boring Bible talk just been to drive people away so they could plot in private? Are they assembling crap for that whirlwind? They are gone! How do I make the Shambling One hate them?"

While The Shambling One pretended to be picking out just the precisely-correct rope to avoid a rain of cocoanuts, before just actually grabbing one at random, Jeff also brought up the elephant on her head.

Jeff: "What do you call that hair?" (Why waste that set-up line on The Shambling One, Jeff, the only person you can be certain won't get a good punchline out of it?)

The Shambling One: "Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh." This was The Shambling One laughing in advance at her forthcoming joke, as it would get no laughs after she said it. "Shambolicious, baby."

Jeff: "How long you had it?"

The Shambling One: "Since 1986." Coincidentally, also the answer to the question "How long since you had it in you?" Or maybe it's not a coincidence.

Jeff: "Twenty-three years. That's commitment to a hairstyle." Ironically, it's a voluntary commitment that ought to have led to an involuntary commitment.

The Shambling One: "You don't mess with perfection, baby." No, you don't. But what has that to do with your hairstyle?

Oh. I see. It is "perfectly" horrible. Gotcha.

Anyway, she was not to be distracted from her quest to find the perfect knot to pull. Jeff had been yanking her chain as she was picking a rope to yank. She dropped four cocoanuts, and then chanted in triumph, as though she had dropped none, "Feels good. Looks good. Ah-ha, hoo-rah. Love it. Love it. Love it." And they say Lorenz Hart is dead.

Somewhere, it was decided to increase my nausea quotient. They could have just left the following revolting bit of inside-the-team dialogue un-enhanced and un-captioned, or even cut it altogether, and I might never have had to see my luncheon crab cakes a second time. But no. They went and included this exchange between thistle-brained Natalie, and the Reverend Brett Two-IQ-Points. I've been looking for a nickname for Natalie all season, and finally, on the penultimate broadcast, she gets one, in honor of Sister Aimee, we get Sister Nat.

Sister Nat: "Brett, you're a prayer warrior, aren't you?"

Okay Christers, about your peaceful religion's endless love affair with warfare. The message preached by the men collectively called "Jesus" was all about PEACE, not warfare. Turning the other cheek. There can be no such thing as a Christian "Prayer Warrior." They should be opposites. You can pray, or you can make war. You don't get to do both. And we know which of these activities Christians actually cherish. What do you call a Christian who's never killed anyone? Answer: a Buddhist.

Sister Nat: "I'm one too. Let me have your hand."

She took his hand, and began praying for divine intervention into whom would win the Samoan Native Feast and bed for the night. "Let God guide your hand on the next one. Let God's hand guide Brett." Why shouldn't God guide Jaison? Why would God take sides? Didn't It create all the players?

I suppose that if you're stupid enough to believe in a god, you're stupid enough to believe she can take time away from running the entire cosmos, to ensure you win a meaningless competition for a meal. Sister Nat has no brain, no sense of proportion or priorities, and no realization that Russell is watching her like a hawk, ignoring the religious blather he can't hear; only seeing the hand-holding and whispering between his supposed closest ally and his supposed greatest threat. A whirlwind of crap was brewing all right.

Russell was instantly drawing The Shambling One's attention to these heretics, praying not to the goddess of The Prophet Shambles (Blessings and pea - ha! Made you look!), but rather praying for The Shambling One and her acolyte to lose, so they could indulge their own selfish pleasures. Holy war is a-comin'.

No sooner had Russell said to The Shambling One: "We're gonna have to break that up over there," then Sister Nat said, "Thank you Jesus," although what someone dead for 2000 years had actually done for her I missed. Jaison hadn't dropped his seven cocoanuts yet.

Russell was referring to Sister Nat, Rev. Brett, and MickMoron all holding hands. Mick had gotten roped into this religious idiocy out of team loyalty, all unaware that he was, at that moment, cutting his own throat with Russell. As a man of science, he has no excuse for not realizing that even a moment's compromise with religion can destroy you.

It must have been a slow day in Creation though, because Jesus had time free in his busy schedule to keep making the yellow team of The Shambling One, Russell, and Jaison, look like dorks, as they could not touch a rope without unleashing torrential rains of cocoanuts, while nothing the blue team of Prayer Warriors could do would ever free up more than a single cocoanut. Even if they climbed up on top of the whole challenge structure and leapt about like Tom Cruise in love on Oprah, the Prayer Warriors could not make cocoanuts fall.

I must be wrong. God exists. This challenge proved it.

Oh wait. No it didn't. MickMoron, the one apostate Prayer Warrior, pulled a rope and dropped nineteen cocoanuts, returning us to a universe of blind chance once again, although not taking The Shambling One along, as she pointed skyward and said something that sounded like "You rock, God." Or maybe it was "You, Rockgod," to be followed by "Me, nincompoop."

Sister Nat "comforted" MickMoron after his big drop, with "It's okay, you got two Prayer Warriors on your team, so..." So? So, we're bound to win, as God will cause the forces of Creation to interfere with the laws of chance to ensure our having a nice dinner and a bed tonight? So, why not meet out tonight in the back woods, baby? So, who's your favorite Transformer? So, like did Adam Lambert get a raw deal from ABC, or what? So what? Finish your excruciatingly stupid sentences, woman. This isn't "comfort." This is counter-comfort.

But then Jaison gave a tiny tug on a rope, and dropped 48 cocoanuts. They would fall. Stop falling. A bunch more would fall. Stop. A few more. Stop. One last cocoanut. Jaison just watched, stone faced. It was like Captain Kirk in the rain of the Tribbles.

As Sister Nat walked out, Jeff announced, "Natalie has had good luck in this challenge so far." Sister Nat couldn't let that lie. We got her under-her-breath saying, "God has taken care of me, for sure." Sister Nat, the only thing that is "for sure," is that you're an idiot.

The Shambling Prophet, aka the Oracle of Samoa, spake thus verily: "My prediction is 58."

Sometimes, the Lord Frickin provides. Sister Nat pulled a rope, and 58 cocoanuts fell, exactly as was foretold. Whose god is running this show anyway?

And then Russell managed to pull a rope through without dislodging a single nut. At that point, I no longer thought that was even possible. I see the Divine Hand of The Lord Frickin in this. Then Prayer Warrior Reverend Brett pulled a rope through and sent the blue team to defeat, as a million, billion cocoanuts fell. Somehow, Sister Nat got through this demonstration of the hollowness of her beliefs without having a Crisis of Faith. What does Frickin have to Frickin' do to get through to someone as dumb as her?

But at least her prayers weren't wasted. By the end of the challenge, Sister Nat's Prayer Warriors For a Nice Meal had aroused the suspicions of Jaison as well as Russell and The Shambling One.

Jaison made this weird remark to us: "When we won the reward, ah, you know, 'reward' didn't mean much to me because I didn't know what a 'reward' was." Oxford has graduated someone who doesn't know what a "reward" is? They don't attend to their undergraduates' basic vocabulary very well.

Watching The Shambling One rip open a dead hog, saying with terrifying enthusiasm: "This is the best part of the pig, right there, baby," I was scared.

Jaison made a discovery. He discovered that it was nice to have a day off and eat his fill and relax. It was, ah, rewarding. Well, I think it may have actually been the first reward he's ever won on this show, but I'm sure that, at some point in his life, he must have gotten a day off before.

The Samoan women were puzzled by The Shambling One, clearly wondering to themselves, but too polite to ask, "Why does the very homely man wear his hair like that?"

Back at Camp Igag, Reverend Brett put forth to MickMoron and Sister Nat that they just have a day off also, no game. Russell would have snickered at him. Russell is always playing the game, which is why he's a much likelier winner than the Rev. Brett. Even eating that food and resting is Russell playing the game, getting stronger for the next challenge.

But Brett suggests all of them hunting snails and then having a picnic on the beach. A snail picnic? Escrapgot? This would even make French people ill. Well, maybe not.

"I don't play this game overly-aggressively," Reverend Brett understated. Okay, but every once in a while, you should at least play it a little.

Sister Nat: "Hopefully my mind is thinking clear enough to look at the end, to be able to win the game." She's relying on her brain? Oh dear.

Well Brett may be too busy gorging on snails to play the game, and Sister Nat is counting on her brain to get her through, but over at Camp Luxury, Russell is playing his brains out, cementing Jaison and The Shambling One against Rev. Brett and MickMoron.

But Russell still thinks he has a solid alliance with Sister Nat. He's planning on taking her with him to the end! He hasn't done the jury math that it will have to be a Final Three, not a Final Two, and he's planning to hang onto The Prayer Warrior. Well, at least it means he will find The Shambling One dispensable eventually, but it's too late. My dreams of episodes of Survivor: Samoa that would be free of The Shambling One have all been dashed. Even if she went tonight, their next show is the finale and reunion. No Shamblesless episodes. How can anyone believe in a god when Shambles was in every episode?

I told Galu, right here in these columns, get rid of Shambles. She has ties to Zsa Zsa, and will help sandbag you all. They ignored me, and she has come through as I said she would. Fools!

Sister Nat on her and Russell's alliance: "Two brains are better than one." Yes, but whose is the second brain going to be?

However hubris, as always, raises its ugly head, this time in an actual head that's not too attractive either. Russell: "They say don't get confident in this game; you know what? I'm confident as ha-ell." Oh Russell, they say that with good reason.

Sister Nat: "Since you are, then I am." So no chance of my even being rid of Sister Nat and her Prayer Warriors.

Immunity Challenge: It was pouring rain during the challenge, which meant no hope of Jaison doing it shirtless. They would be counting stuff, remembering figures, and using it to solve a combination lock. Oh goody, counting and puzzle-solving in the rain. Well, at least there was a table full of dead octopi, so it wasn't a total bore. Oh wait. We watched a player stand at the table of dead octopi, silently counting them. Oh yes. That's riveting viewing.

Sister Nat took the table full of fish to count first. As she was counting, Russell and Jaison were back and forth from the tables to the counters, tabulating their minds out. What was taking Sister Nat so long to count the fish? Then I realized; someone (JC, is that you? Scamp.) must have been multiplying the fishes each time she counted them. Good thing there were no loaves.

Rev. Brett the Threat was also a slow counter, but it wasn't really his fault. There were more things to count than he had fingers.

The Shambling One was also having trouble with the counting, probably because the stuff she was counting didn't shout their numbers back at her. Plus the rhyming takes time:

"One, two, three, four,
I've counted three fish and I need to count more.
Five, six, seven, eight,
I don't understand why I'm counting up bait.
Sound off..."

At which point the items being counted are supposed to count themselves out loud. Is it her fault they are uncooperative? Bunch of 90210 dead fish, if you ask me.

But The Lord Frickin stayed home, due to the inclement weather, Jesus showed up, and the Reverend Brett the Threat won. He may have counted slowly, but he got his numbers right. According to Russell's plan, this meant MickMoron became the fall-back target, but Jaison, noting that The Shambling One was no help at all in challenges, decided for himself that it was time for her to shamble off this mortal coil, which is a horribly mixed metaphor, but The Shambling One would never notice. Oh Jaison, I was already in love with you, and now you turn on The Shambling One for me. Darling!

But The Shambling One did notice that, as soon as she shambled up to where Jaison and Russell were plotting against her, Jaison shut up and left, while Russell ever-so-habitually lied to her. I would think that she's encountered people who stop talking and leave the moment she walks up all her life, starting with her parents. You'd think she'd be used to it by now.

So now The Shambling One is getting nervous. Russell tells her the plan to vote out MickMoron is still on. Well what's he going to do? Tell her: "Change of plan. We're voting you out tonight."

"Okay."

Then we have Russell telling MickMoron that the plan is to vote out The Shambling One. Again, what's he going to do. Tell him: "You were holding hands with the Prayer Warriors, You're out tonight." So the question here is, who is Russell actually supporting eliminating?

So then MickMoron finds Russell's turning so suddenly on his ally to be suspect. (Russell not suddenly turning on an ally would be suspect.) The Shambling One is freaked that no one is discussing their votes with her.

Russell was facing his choice, what Sophie's Choice would have been like if Sophie had hated children.

Russell: "I can keep [The Shambling One] around 'cause she's not ever going to put my name down, she's horrible at the challenges, and she ain't going to get any votes for the million dollars. That's three good reasons, three extremely good reasons." You gotta love Survivor.

Oh, and it's also the last time Russell can use his immunity idol. Mind you, it wouldn't surprise me if he found another tomorrow, for the finale. He found two without clues. He ought to be able to find one without it even existing.

Tribal Challenge: The Shambling One, doing her best to make all Americans proud of their Marines: "I'm a traitor."

Jeff: "That's a fair statement, right?"

The Shambling One: "Absolutely." Shambles: The Few, The Proud, The Traitor.

Jeff helpfully points out that everyone on the jury hates The Shambling One, and that there's not a chance in hell of her ever winning the big money. Apparently this was news to The Shambling One, who had never made the mental connection to "if I betray everyone on the entire jury, none of them are going to vote to give me the money. Drat!"

But even as the Shambling One was watching her dreams of a solid gold Harley, just like the one Goldfinger would ride if he were a biker dyke instead of a German-Swiss supervillain, ride off into the sunset, Jeff was pointing out that this meant keeping her around was a smart choice. Jeff, shush! If you blow this for me now, I will brain you.

Russell's reassurance he would never vote out The Shambling One included this add-on to keep you awake at night: "I trust [The Shambling One] as much as I trust [Zsa Zsa] members." Oops. It sounds like he expects imminent betrayal from her.

Why not? It's what she's been dishing out. Apparently "semper fi" didn't apply to her Galu oath.

Jeff asked the question I've been asking (like it's his job or something), although he asked The Shambling One, not someone I would ask anything, even for the correct time: why is Brett such a threat?

The Shambling One: "He's incredibly physical ..." You mean he's incredibly good at physical challenges, which he's not really, or that he's incredibly physical as opposed to being primarily ethereal? You can touch him. He has mass. He actually exists, unlike your other friends.

The Shambling One continued her itemization of Brett's threats: "... He's good at puzzles ..." Is he? No wonder he gets so little screentime. Boring are the puzzle-solvers. "... and he stayed loyal to a fault to Galu, and the jury is Galu." Shambles, to most people, staying loyal isn't actually considered a "fault."

Brett explained that his strategy was to win the next three or four immunity challenges. (Math is not his strong suit.) And your fall-back strategy, should you somehow fail to win the next one? We're waiting.

Jeff: "If you have the hidden immunity idol around your neck, and you want to play it, tonight is the last time you can do so."

Hubris Strikes. Russell: "I think I'm a keep it for a souvenir." On the jury we saw Erik freak at this overconfident potential blunder.

But it turned out that "Semper Fi" is the motto of Tribe Zsa Zsa. Their voting stayed true, and for the seventh straight Tribal Council, a member of Galu was voted out, The Shambling One shambled off into the night, and into the warm welcome with which I am sure the jury embraced her.

Dimwit Dave just rolled his eyes. His Lord Frickin had provided, just a bit too late for him.

The two-hour finale followed by the one-hour reunion show will air on Sunday evening. Look for my final recap on Monday, then I'm putting my feet up, turning the computer off, and you shan't hear from me again until 2010.

Cheers darlings.

To read more of Tallulah Morehead, go to The Morehead, the Merrier, or buy her book, My Lush Life.

Jon & Kate Are DIVORCED

2009-12-18T11:37:03Z

PHILADLELPHIA — Jon and Kate Gosselin officially divorced Friday after 10 years of marriage, eight children and a year of tabloid headlines.

Kate Gosselin gets the family home in eastern Pennsylvania in the no-fault divorce agreement, according to her lawyer, Mark Momjian. She will also continue as the primary caretaker of the reality TV couple's 9-year-old twins and 5-year-old sextuplets.

Jon & Kate Gosselin Divorce Finalized In 2010: Lawyer

2009-12-16T11:17:52Z

PHILADELPHIA — Jon and Kate Gosselin will likely ring in the new year as husband and wife as they await a final divorce decree.

A lawyer for Jon Gosselin says the reality TV couple's divorce is not likely to be finalized until early next year.

Darryle Pollack: The Tiger Woods Effect: Dear Celebrity, Your 15 Minutes are Up

2009-12-15T15:16:14Z

(Hopefully this post will be read with the gravity it deserves.)

As advertisers scramble to save their campaigns and wives warily eye their husbands' cell phones and golf clubs.... Tiger has created a tsunami. His sordid saga splashes across the globe, growing from golf ball to snowball size, gaining speed and momentum until it's a planetary phenomenon.

And like fluorocarbons spilling into the atmosphere causing the greenhouse effect, consequences of the Tiger Effect are also global in nature--threatening to topple a delicate ecosystem known as the celebrisphere.

Inhabited by a peculiar blend of species (called by the generic term celebrity) this invisible region is as fragile and perishable as the Amazon rain forest--and like the rain forest, endangered by manmade problems.

The exponentially expanding number of Tiger Woods' sexual partners is threatening to topple that delicate balance-- by creating new celebrities faster than the celebrisphere can absorb them.

Even the rapid expansion of tabloids, tv shows, blogs, magazines, stylists, handlers--all designed to maximize celebrity exposure--cannot handle the overload created by a relatively newly discovered species advancing faster than the killer bees or the Asian carp towards Lake Michigan. This species, (scientific term: pseudo-celebrities) consists of people who have not done anything to achieve or deserve their fame. Like chemicals eating away at the ozone layer, the celebrisphere is falling victim to synthetic, self-created celebrities-- exacerbated by the population of reality show contestants, estimated as 10,000 and growing. Like feeding an overcrowded planet, this puts the celebrisphere itself in imminent danger of collapse.

In its wisdom, nature provides natural events such as forest fires, floods, hurricanes, disease, to restore its own delicate balance. Unfortunately there is nothing natural in the celebrisphere. And to complicate matters, the celebrities' natural predators, paparazzi and tabloids, depend on celebrities for their very survival.

Even if the number of Tiger's mistresses doesn't continue to multiply at its current pace, the number of already existing mistresses has placed an unsupportable burden on the tabloids, and other outlets responsible for keeping the populace informed.

As a society we have a moral obligation to keep the celebrisphere under control for the benefit of future generations. Here, as in every other ecosystem, evolution depends on survival of the fittest. There is an urgent need to trim the overload, weeding out celebrities who are no longer necessary.

The nations of the world dragged their feet on global warming, leading to dire doomsday predictions by scientists all over the world. The current celebrity emergency allows no time for meetings in Copenhagen, or waiting for Al Gore to make another documentary.

Faced with imminent danger, the celebrisphere requires action now; an electronic Paul Revere to sound the alarm.

And there is hope for a solution. A national organization has been formed to create policies on celebrity eligibility. As part of this process, an effort is underway to clear out superfluous celebrities in our midst. A bill is currently being drafted in a Congressional committee by a bipartisan effort. Upon being signed by President Obama, it will become known as the Voluntary Endangered Celebrities Act.

The campaign will center on the following letter, which will be sent to celebrities who fit criteria for removal:

Dear Celebrity: _________________

After a careful review of your case history and evaluation of your future potential, we regret to inform you that your celebrity status has been cancelled.

Due to the expanding numbers of reality shows and liaisons with politicians/actors/sports stars, eligibility for celebrity status has become extremely competitive.

In keeping with an ongoing effort to downsize the celebrisphere, your privileges as a celebrity have been revoked and will no longer be honored.

We hope you have enjoyed your time as a celebrity and that you have made wonderful lifetime memories.

This is to serve notice that upon receipt of this letter, your 15 minutes are up.

Currently on the list for extinction are: Jon and Kate Gosselin; Carrie Prejean; the parents of the balloon boy; the White House party crashers; all former contestants on Big Brother; former and current mistresses of Elliot Spitzer, Mark Sanford; and everyone with the last name Kardashian.

Nominated for the Celebrity Hall of Fame: Paris Hilton

We welcome your contribution to help de-clutter the celebrisphere--by submitting additional names. Thank you for supporting this grassroots effort.

Michael Ventrella Is The Biggest 'Biggest Loser' Ever

2009-12-15T08:40:34Z

On Jan. 5, The Biggest Loser: Couples premieres with 11 teams of two competing for the Season 9 crown. Among the players are Michael Ventrella, a 30-year-old deejay from Chicago, who at 526 lbs. becomes the heaviest contestant ever on the series, and his is mother, Maria, a 51-year-old corporate travel agent.

'Biggest Loser' Winner Drops 239 Pounds In 7 Months

2009-12-09T12:31:46Z

'Biggest Loser' winner Danny Cahill appeared on the Today show Wednesday morning to talk about his incredible weight loss--239 pounds in less than seven months. Cahill, 40, went from 430 pounds to 191 over the course of the season, dropping 55.58 percent of his original body weight, which was a record for the show.

"When I met my wife, I was 175 pounds," he told Ann Curry. "That was about 18, 19 years ago. And I slowly ballooned up to 430 pounds."

Cahill's wife, Darci, lost 60 pounds at the same time as a show of support. She and their two young children cheered him on when he was announced as the winner on the emotional finale of 'The Biggest Loser' Tuesday night.

"One of my main inspirations for trying out for the show was that I'm a father," he said. "And I want to see my kids grow up. I don't want to leave my wife without a husband."

Cahill won $250,000 and will be featured in a 'Got Milk' ad.

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Rich Robinson: Hollywood Flacks Provide Better Party Security Than the Secret Service

2009-12-04T15:24:14Z

As a guy who spent the better part of twenty years of his life in Hollywood working as a publicist and in the TV news biz, I almost found the flap with the Salahis getting into the State Dinner amusing. Almost, except that particular party-crashing represents a huge security breach, surprisingly bungled by the Secret Service. What makes it funny is the fact that the crashers were followed by a camera crew for their soon-to-be lame reality television series.

Not wanting to let an excellent opportunity for some pop culture grandstanding to pass it by, congress is of course, flying into action. Members of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform have placed the blame for the security breach squarely on the shoulders of a single, unnamed Secret Service officer.

"It's very clear that there was one person who allowed these two individuals to go from Station 1 to Station 2," Rep. Darrell Issa (R-CA), the ranking member on the committee, told reporters. "One person's error appears to have led to a person having literally hand-to-hand contact with the Vice President."

If true, that is not going to be welcome news at the kitchen table of that particular officer. I can hear the spouse scream, "You lost your job because of WHAT?!"

And now the piling on begins. Because with two seemingly futile wars draining our treasury, not to mention a fragile economy freshly rescued from falling off the cliff, congress finds this situation to be The Most Pressing Issue Of Our Time.

Rep. Peter King (R-NY) said he would push to subpoena White House social secretary Desiree Rogers over the infamous party-crashing incident, saying that "we'd be happy to look at it." Funny, King wasn't very happy to look into George W. Bush's folly into war a few years ago before we committed troops. He seemed happy to look the other way as the financial industry was busy destroying middle class America. Nope, some third-rate reality TV buffoons' ability to schmooze their way into a State Dinner is tops on his radar (telling commentary on how relevant the GOP has become). "Country First" and all of that.

Well, if those two showed up at a party I was working, I would have gladly sent them packing, back to their rented limo and to parts I-couldn't-care-less. My first real job in Hollywood was working at the huge and impressive PR firm, Rogers & Cowan and we manned many an event that required strict adhering to the list of invited guests. My clipboard was sacrosanct, and no deviations were tolerated!

"I'm sorry; I don't care if you were the third lead on that ABC sitcom last fall, sir. Your name is not on the list, so you simply cannot get in," was a usual response after flipping through the sheets of endless names. "And you, Miss Griffin, don't even THINK about it."

It makes me sad to see the Secret Service get caught up in such a stupid blunder. But I'm sure whoever let the TV zeros in will be punished or fired... a measured and appropriate response. I have tremendous respect for any anyone dedicated enough to take a bullet for The Leader of the Free World. It is certainly more than I could say I was willing to do for my demanding, Type-A personality PR boss.

Tallulah Morehead: Survivor: Samoa: The Silence of the Chickens

2009-12-04T11:51:21Z

Last week's show was a recap via mostly previously unseen scenes, so recall that when we last had a new episode, Shambles' plot to depose the Viper Queen had triumphed, thanks to the second-ballot flip-vote of Rocket Scientist John, done to avoid going to a random draw that might send any of them home except the vote-getters. This episode began with the return to camp, with Shambles gleeful and joyous.

Meanwhile, Not-Laura, whose alias is "Monica," wanted to send Rocket Scientist John to the jury, for betraying the Queen of Vipers. I wanted to give him a medal, and Not-Laura is stupid, because:

1. If John hadn't flipped, Not-Laura could have drawn the Death Rock and gone home herself, and

2. The Viper Queen is evil. She is a religious, female Dick Cheney, the worst of both worlds.

And John did the Viper Queen a favor. Now she can go to one of her idol, Sarah Palin's, book signings, and for a mere $16, even get her picture taken with the Moose Slayer. So it's wins all around.

Reward Challenge: It's time for the Survivor Auction.

Shambles was delighted. "I am literally starving," she said, demonstrating that she's never seen what a genuinely starving person actually looks like. Shambles, literally starving people look like walking skeletons with a tight, thin skin sprayed on. If you want a gander at actually starving people, visit Uganda (though visit discreetly -- being gay is a death penalty offense there... not that you're gay or anything), watch Schindler's List, or visit a Beverly Hills Sorority house. Starving oneself is very "90210."

It's a pretty straight-forward auction. Each player is given $500 to bid on items, mostly, but not solely, food, some of which will be mysteries. No sharing of money or food. And they can't just notbid and keep the money. It's Survivor money, like Monopoly money, except you can't buy Boardwalk with it either.

The first item was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Yuck. Not being seven years old, and not being able to abide peanut butter, I would have passed on it altogether, but not Natalie. She instantly bid $200. Natalie needs Eric Idol's tradesman character from Monty Python's Life of Brian to teach her the rudiments of bidding and bartering. She could have bid $20. I'd have paid $20 not to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. If no one bid against her (and there didn't seem to be any third graders present), she'd have gotten her inedible sandwich, and still have had $480 left to bid when something worth eating came up. Sellers on eBay must love Natalie! Natalie has worse taste than a 1970s John Waters movie.

The next item was bid on blind. Shambles paid $240 for what turned out to be a plate of "Sea noodles and slug guts," with a sprinkling of Parmesan cheese. Well, now the P, B, and J sandwich looked more palatable.

Shambles: "Does it have like nutritional starch value?"

Jeff Probst: "I don't kn... Let's say it does."

If only they'd then said:

Shambles: "Is it fit for human consumption? It's not poisonous, is it?"

Jeff Probst: "I don't kn... Let's say it's safe to eat."

Anyway, Shambles took a nauseating bite, and gave a "thumbs up." Best slug guts she'd ever eaten (by the way, just how does one gut a slug anyway?).

The next item was also bid on blind. Danger Dave and Jaison gambled that they wouldn't put up two vomit-bait foods in a row, and placed high bids. Russell was sure it was something that would make slug guts seem like caviar, and wouldn't bid. When Not-Laura won it for $340, I found myself hoping Russell was right, and it would be a bowl of squid puke (pre-digested Calimari?).

"I hope this is good, Jeff," said Not-Laura.

"So do I," lied Jeff.

The laugh was on Russell. It was a roast chicken. A whole chicken, and she wasn't allowed to share, not that she had any leftovers.

The next item wasn't food. It was a mystery "Significant Advantage" at the next immunity challenge. Any serious Survivor player should have been bidding their brains out for it. Jaison explained to us, one-on-one, why it was important to him to win it, although, since he was almost naked in the shot as he talked, I was too distracted to hear a word he was saying. Jaison bid his entire $500 for the advantage. Serious player. Meanwhile, serious player Russell never even put in a bid on it.

The next item, which Jaison had nothing to bid on with, was a cheeseburger, fries, and a mug of beer. I tried bidding on it, but I was fresh out of Survivor dollars. MickMoron's opening bid was $500. He probably figured nothing else would show up in the auction he'd want anyway. Jaison is a serious player. MickMoron is a serious eater. But the laugh was on all of them. Shambles got the slug guts, and with money to spare. Jaison's buyer's remorse was an awesome sight. Jaison, just remember how many cheeseburgers you can buy with a million dollars.

The next item was a clue to the location of "the next Hidden Immunity Idol." Unless it said, "Laura was an evil beyotch. Look for the idol in Russell's crotch," it was worthless, because Russell already had that idol in his pants. You'd think that they'd all figure that out just by the fact that Russell wasn't bidding on it, and that he was Russell; of course he had it already. Haven't they been paying attention? But spirited bidding broke out. Russell hadn't bid on anything. Did he think he got to keep the money? Rocket Scientist John got it for $200.

The next item was a shower. Natalie bid all she had left after paying for her peanut butter orgy. I suspected that the men would have been willing to bid on her behalf if they'd been allowed to, as she had to take the shower right there, right then, where there were too many witnesses for Psycho Russell to be able to dress up as his mother and stab her.

"No one wants to see Old John take a shower," said Rocket Scientist John, apparently forgetting that I was watching at home. Little Dougie is typing this for me. My fingers are free, at least on the hand not holding my martini (and "Old John" is 25. My God, he's ancient! At 112, I'm far younger).

"Enjoy your shower," said Jeff, some how managing to resist adding, "Because we all will."

As soon as Natalie stepped into the stall and began shedding her rags, we heard Shambles sigh, "Oh yeeesss!" Now, I have no reason whatever to assume that Shambles is a skirt-lifter, just because she's tremendously butch, is in her mid-40s yet never been married, is a warlike ex-Marine, normally weighs 70 pounds more than she's weighs on the show, routinely rides a Harley, wears a man-repelling mullet, and, on her Survivor application, listed her vibrator as her "next-of-kin," but she was ready to take home movies of Natalie showering, and was certainly the one with no interest in seeing Old John take a shower. As the auction continued, it was all they could do to get Shambles's attention back on the items up for bid. I think she was throwing her remaining money at Natalie, as "tips." Can one take a "lap shower?" "Here baby, soap that again for Mama." Okay, she didn't say that, but she did say: "Oh my goodness!" I was waiting for "Oh my stars and garters!"

The next item was a slab of apple pie the size of the Smithsonian Institute. I tried to phone in a bid myself, but the lines were closed. Sometimes living on the West Coast has its disadvantages. Old John won it for $300. Old John, if you just let me watch you shower, I'll let you eat my apple pie for free. Do a good job, and I may pay you $300!

Jaison, who'd shot his entire financial wad already on the challenge advantage (sometimes even young men can't recharge quickly enough) groused, "Why's it gonna be apple pie, my favorite? Can't it be something else?" He doesn't covet Shambles's slug guts? Anyway, Jaison my darling, that same watch-you-shower-for-apple pie offer I made to Old John above applies to you too, only more so. Call me. I'll have it heating in the oven while you drive over.

But Jeff Probst had a Devil's Offer up his sleeve. John could eat the massive piece of pie, or he could not eat it, and instead, give equally huge slices of apple pie to four other people of his choice. Jaison at that point, would have gay married him for a piece of that pie. Which would Old John choose: gluttony and a batch of bitter foes, or self-sacrifice, and making possible friends?

"Is anyone really stoked on pie?" asked Old John. Jaison was so "stoked," it looked like his designs on the pie were more akin to Jason Biggs's in American Pie. A few of them were saying, "It's your call, dude," but they were all lying. What they really wanted was some tasty slug guts pie.

Old John chose to eat his own pie. He said, "I'm confident that no one's going to vote me off because they didn't get a piece of apple pie." Meanwhile, Jaison was already writing "Old John" on a piece of parchment, to save for Tribal Council.

Russell was tattooing a target on Old John. "If it was me, I would a gave it [sic] to my tribe, and to [Shambles]." I'm sure Shambles would have turned it down, as she was just stuffed full of slug guts. "No, no, I couldn't possibly eat another bite, even if it was wafer thin." Besides, Shambles was too distracted by Natalie's ongoing shower to notice anyone else's pie at all.

Russell also said, "It just shows how stingy he was." Of course, if Russell had been less stingy himself, it could have been his pie. He didn't even bid on it. And that was the last item up for bid. Russell still had his whole, now worthless, $500, and no pie, no shower (which he looked to need more than Natalie), not even any slug guts. Who's stingy now?

During the commercial break, for some reason I sent Little Dougie to the kitchen to pop a slice of pie in the microwave for a minute, then slather it with Cool-Whip (I keep all my whips, scourges, and riding crops in the fridge), and then bring it out to me. None for him. He's working.

As I stuffed hot pie in my mouth (Pumpkin. I had no apple pie in the house.), I watched Old John gloating about the clue to the immunity idol he'd won. I was wondering if it would say:

"An immunity idol,
Would be really cool.
Too bad Russell has it,
You pie-hogging fool."

The clue took Old John right to the spot where Russell had found it two episodes back.

Don't they give people intelligence tests before they are accepted into the Marines? If they do, and Shambles passed it, it must be a really easy test. The chickens, who were too stupid to bother departing by the open door Russell had left them, had not been producing any eggs, and everyone had salivated watching Not-Laura wolf down her roast chicken, probably bones and all, so the chickens became designated dinner. Shambles went off to talk to them. This scene was almost enough to put me off my pie. Almost.

Shambles to the chickens: "We're gonna have to have you guys for lunch today, and I just wanted to let you know. Okay?" The chickens, not being the bird brain she is, did not reply: "Thanks. We'll cancel that clucking and squawking we had pencilled in on our blackberry." Also, if the chickens were "guys," no wonder they weren't laying eggs. Or does Shambles regularly call females "guys," the way Little Dougie and his gay friends all call each other "Girl Friend" and "Mary"?

But Shambles wasn't done ruining the chickens' day, or my snack, "Well, I'll talk to you in Heaven when I go to Heaven, okay?"

1. What sort of adult in their mid-40s actually believes in Heaven (hint: bird brains)?

2. If there actually was such a mythical place as Heaven, would chickens and -- ah -- Harley-riding butch women go to the same one?

3. What if these were bad chickens, doomed to spend eternity in Chicken Hell?

4. Would a place where you spent eternity with Shambles be Heaven, or the competition?

5. Again, assuming there even is a Heaven, which, not being an intellectual toddler, I can not, why would Shambles just assume she'd end up there? Presumptuous, isn't she? I asked the Mormon missionary I'm holding prisoner in my basement-dungeon about it (the damned kid rang my doorbell and woke me up from a sound stupor, to try and recruit me into their homophobic cult. I had to take steps.), and he was certain that, unless Shambles has a Hidden Celestial Immunity Idol, the Heavenly Host will be voting her off the cloud, and she'll be residing in a warmer eternal resort.

Shambles, having bored the doomed chickens long enough, told us, "The chickens were probably my single source of happiness the last twenty-nine days." What the hell has she been doing with those birds? Don't they have an S.P.C.A. in Samoa?

She had more idiocy to share with us. "We'd have conversations ..." She wouldn't talk to her tribemates, but she'd chat with chickens? Well, I guess she had more in common with the fowl. "... and I'd tell 'em, 'I really need you guys to lay me some eggs ..." Shambles, "guys" don't lay eggs. "... because all these people want to kill you.' And they'd go 'Baaawwk, bok, bok bok bok,' like they understood, they knew exactly what I was saying." Or like they were chickens, you bird brain! They lack the intellectual capacity to understand human speech. Just because you can't either, doesn't mean the chickens understand what you're saying, and are talking back to you. Hard as it is for even me to believe, the chickens are even stupider than you are.

Oh, and Shambles, the bloodthirsty warriortrix and deadly ex-Marine, wussed out on killing them herself. People she can kill, but not chickens. Shambles shambled on, "I think they brought me as much peace as I brought them." Yeah? Well, it was Russell (no surprise there) who brought those chickens Eternal Peace. Their last squawk before Russ lopped their heads off undoubtedly meant, "Tell Shambles, when she gets to Chicken Heaven, don't call us; we'll call her."

"Tell me when the chickens stop screaming," hollered Shambles over The Silence of the Chickens. Shambles, chickens don't scream. They cluck and squawk, and do neither when their heads have been removed. Are you haunted by voices you heard as you -- ah -- "defended America" from people designated as "America's Enemies" when you were in the service, two decades back? What have you done, woman?

Mind you, although she wouldn't kill them herself, she was warm to cook them herself. She said, "I'll take care of the cooking, because I might not know a lot about a lot of things..." Might not? "... but when it comes to cooking ... it's time to say 'shut up' if you're me." I am so glad I am not her. And it was time for her to shut up back in Episode One. But what was she about to say that she suddenly realized she ought not to? Whose screams had preceded her cooking somewhere else? Did she garnish with Fava Beans and a nice Chianti? Does the taste of chicken bring back dark memories?

Danger Dave took issue with Shambles boiling the chickens for two hours. (Was this an English recipe? Boil until gray?) Shambles was having none of it. Those chickens were her friends, and she was going to ruin them, I mean cook them, herself.

Danger Dave: "Um, that's a hard boil."

Shambles: "Yeah, Uh, we're not having a conversation about the soup this time everybody, because I'm in no mood, so just trust me. We'll just call it a bad case of PMS, but I'm in no mood to talk about soup today."

Danger Dave: "I won those chickens, [Shambles], so I think I should be able to say something."

Shambles: "Go right ahead, because I'm not listening." Then how can you be responding to what he's saying? Ha! I've run rings round you logically!

Danger Dave: "You boil a chicken for two hours, it's going to be ruined." Well in fairness, from the chickens' point of view, they were ruined when Russell lopped their heads off, but you can ruin most anything by boiling it for two hours, even water.

Shambles: "You have no idea what the f*** you're talking about right now ..." Shambles! Language! There are underage dead chickens present! "... and you got to just respect that on some level."

Danger Dave, noticing that Shambles is furiously chopping up what were undoubtedly Fava Beans, with a large butcher knife, still stained with Janet Leigh's blood, said: "Okay, cool." Shambles was numbed with grief for her chicken buddies, annoyed at having her incompetence pointed out yet again, self-confessedly suffering a PMS rage, and wielding a huge, deadly knife. Danger Dave remembered that his name, "Danger Dave," was just a silly nickname he'd given himself, and backed off.

Shambles to us: "He really snapped my head off my body." If only he had. She probably tastes of chicken, and she'd provide a lot more servings than her feathered chat-coop pals had.

There is no God, and Shambles is Her Prophet: But Doctor Hannibal Shambles had still deeper levels of insanity to reveal to us. As we watched disturbing night vision views of her twitching in her sleep, she spun off this lunatic, delusional monologue: "God made me really special..." Is that "Special," as in "The Special Olympics"? If there is a God, Shambles, you are not Her best work. "... They're literally clairvoyant dreams ... I've probably had, I don't know, thirty of them in my lifetime, and I think that's God's intervention at work..." Oh dear, dear, dear. We're now meeting The Prophet Shambles. We'll have to have a new Testament, The Book of Shambles, tacked on right after Revelations. Oh, and Shambles needs to learn what the word think means, and how to do it, because, to paraphrase The Prophet Mae West, "Dearie, thinking had nothing to do with it."

"And I had a dream last night, we voted Dave off." Shambles, I have a dream that they vote you off. Thus spake the Prophetess Tallulah! Except I know the difference between Wishful Thinking and Divine Revelation. After all, darling Divine died 22 years ago. How I miss him.

And did it ever cross whatever fragile sentience that passes for the Prophet Shambles's mind that a God with the whole of Creation to run, might not give a ram's bladder who the hell gets voted off of, and who wins on Survivor? If I believed in a god, I would still have a hard time believing She cares who wins this show. I'm a screen goddess myself, and I don't care who wins. I mean I'd like Jaison to win, because then, when we wed, he'll be able to support me in the manner to which I am long-accustomed, but I'll still love him even if he loses. He wouldn't be the first loser I've married.

Come morning, the Prophet Shambles delivered her revelation to Russell. Did God tell her to enlist Satan? Talk about playing both sides! Russell, knowing that Shambles is insane, and easily manipulated by emotions, and knowing that, strategically, (a concept way beyond Shambles's weak-minded grasp), voting off Danger Dave would further consolidate the Zsa Zsa dominance over the remnants of Galu, happily encouraged her religious delusions, giggling as he told us about it. In the words of Sherlock Holmes, "There is more evil around us here, than I have ever encountered before." (I'm talking Conan Doyle's original, acetic, intellectual Sherlock Holmes; not the short, shirtless, action-hunk currently romping about with delectable Jude Law in those ghastly-looking TV ads, and that horrible trailer.)

Immunity Challenge: This was an endurance challenge, but unlike the ones on Big Brother, they didn't make us wait until the next episode to find out who won.

The players had to hold an off-balance heavy block of wood by a rope with knots on it, every few minutes having to move their hand another knot-length down the rope, making the angle harder to hold, until they lost the block of wood, which would then crash down, a "Knot's Landing" if you will (Oh Val dear Val, hold on. You will find your twins again!), breaking their tile, and shattering their dreams of immunity. The "advantage" Jaison had bought instead of delicious pie was the right at some point, to go a couple knot-lengths back up his rope. Would this help him win? Would Russell, with his immunity idol-stuffed pants, even bother trying? Would Danger Dave win safety from the Prophet Shambles's Divinely Decreed voting of him off? Would the Prophet Shambles's God smite her opponents and give her victory? Would you get me some more pie please, Dougie? Thank you.

"These logs weigh as much as you do," said Jeff Probst. Was the Prophet Shambles's log based on her weight when she arrived on Samoa, or her weight when she was selected to be on the show? Because she took off 70 pounds to do the series, and if her log is her acceptance weight, she hasn't got a chance.

Jeff said, "Hot day to be sitting out in the sun, holding onto a heavy log." Ignoring for now that they were all standing out in the sun, I would only note that any day I spend holding on to a big log is a hot day!

Jaison chose to use his advantage early in the challenge. I would have waited until later, but the man knows his own grip, I suppose. I'm dying to know his grip myself.

The Prophet Shambles fell first. Oh Lord, Lord, why hast thou deserted me in the wilderness of Samoa, in the sight of mine enemies? Clearly she has no experience whatever keeping a big log erect. I am so not surprised.

Russell went next, but by his smirk, I suspect he threw the challenge. After all, he has immunity in his pocket, and he is First Acolyte of the Prophet Shambles.

Now they were all, except Jaison, holding past the last knot. Just some sweat on their palms would be enough to make the ropes slip through their grasp.

Not-Laura went next, followed quickly by Old John. Well, when you get up into your mid-twenties, you just aren't as strong as a young man anymore. And I suspect he has no experience at keeping a big, heavy log up, if you follow me. After all, when you go into launching rockets for a career, you're clearly overcompensating for something!

Brett Two-Spears showed he was not Brett Two-Logs, and went next. Brett, Natalie is still in it. You're weaker than a girl! Nelson from The Simpsons needed to materialize, and give Brett his trademark point and "Ha-ha!"

MickMoron went next. Honestly, young strong men are giving out, while the Vixen of the Shower was not even showing any strain.

"That hand better be bleeding when you let go," said a surprisingly bloodthirsty Jeff Probst. Ew. Natalie lost it next, so we were down to just Jaison and Danger Dave, with Jaison's advantage providing him with a surer grip and an easier angle, and Danger Dave all unaware that God had marked him for smiting that very night.

Jaison's pie sacrifice at the auction turned out to be a solid investment, as Danger Dave, forever excommunicate, and separated for eternity from the love of the Prophet Shambles's God, at last fell. Jaison isn't joining the jury this week.

And it was a Divine Moment for Jaison as well, as he said, "When Dave's hand slipped and the plate broke, it was like Heaven." Did he mean he could hear the chickens clucking? Jaison, if you think that was like Heaven, just wait until you feel my hand slipping on your log. It will make Heaven feel like Detroit.

Thus spake the Prophet Shambles: "Dave is so gone, he doesn't even know it." Indeed, Danger Dave looked thoroughly doomed. The thing is, there's still twenty minutes left of the episode. If it was just watching the smiting of the opera expert, it would be dull viewing. There better be some twist lurking when we get back to camp, or I might just as well concentrate on this lovely pie.

Okay, here's the danger to the eliminate-Dimwit Dave-plan at this point, as I see it. It hinges on the Prophet Shambles remaining resolutely against Dave, as last time, her wrath was kindled against the Viper Queen.

(Whether God participated in the Viper Queen's ouster is a trickier question. The Viper Queen had been to God School, and was a "Lady's Pastor," because she worshiped a sexist God who decreed that it was not "a woman's place" to minister unto men. Why would a woman worship such a male chauvinist deity? Anyway, as she is a part-time religious professional, when not aiding conservative lobbyists in screwing up the laws of Oregon, why didn't God intervene to save her? Well, God works in mysterious ways his blunders to perform, as the religious always say when there is just no logical answer to be had to their blather.)

But the Prophet Shambles tends to want out anyone who kindles her wrath, something any tribe member could do at any moment, merely by looking at her funny, or asking some perfectly innocent question, like "What on earth possesses you to wear your hair in that hideous style?" A chance wrong remark by anyone between now and Tribal Council could send her on a mission of vengeance against someone else. Plus, when they got back to camp, she took a nap. Might not The Oracle at Samoa trouble her sleep with a new message, kindling her wrath against another target, or decreeing she should betray her Zsa Zsa adherents? Oh the suspense, when one's whole strategy lies in the hands of an utterly irrational, emotional, nincompoop.

But other forces were at work. Old John conferred with Russell. Old John really wanted to get rid of a Zsa Zsasian, as part of his deal last week with Russell, who promised to sacrifice a Zsa Zsasian in exchange for his vote against the Viper Queen. Russell suggested MickMoron. Russell did not tell Old John that the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, had decreed on tablets of stone that Danger Dave was to be sacrificed to Mighty Cthulhu, God of Mullets.

Then came Old John's biggest blunder: listening to Russell outfox himself on the subject of the Hidden Immunity Idol.

Russell: "Think you'll be able to find it?"

Old John: "You have it. I'm one hundred percent sure."

Russell: "Where'd you look? Tell me what the clue was, and I'll tell you, give you a hint."

Anyone would be an idiot to tell Russell what the clue was. Even in the off-chance that he somehow didn't have it, telling him the clue would then certainly hand it to him. Old John is a rocket scientist, not a moron like the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her.

Old John: "What do you mean?" Yeah, Russell, what the hell do you mean?

Russell: "Tell me what the clue was, and I'll tell you where the idol is."

Russell, you are not usually an idiot, but you've just told Old John that you know where the idol is, which means you have it, which means that it is that other bulge in your very tight pants. (Russell's chest hair has also grown back quite well by now, and he looks the better for it - for him that is. For one thing, it hides all the bug bites, which stand out so repulsively on his hairless back.) Old John is not stupid enough to miss this. As being cagey goes, this is an utter failure.

Of course, Russell is not idiot enough to vote out MickMoron at this point. He's too solid an ally. But Russell is now contemplating voting out Old John, as he is:

1. Not going to be a happy camper when Russell goes back on his promise to vote out a member of Zsa Zsa.

2. Smart enough to be a strategic threat.

3. Better looking than Russell. (Okay, this is probably not on Russell's list, but it needed saying.) And...

4. "I told him I had the immunity idol." And Russell laughed in chagrin at his own idiocy. At least he recognized, and even enjoyed, his own strategic goof-up.

Russell, laughing at himself: "These poor people need to close their ears when I start talking ..." Definitely good advice. "... 'cause when I tell you something, and I make a mistake, then I gotta get rid of you. It was my mistake, but sorry John, you gotta go home for it" Have Russell's blabberlips doomed Old John? How can Russell pull it off? Can he redirect the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, without directing her ire against himself? Can Old John possibly detect the change in the wind blowing at him? Can I have a third piece of pie please, Dougie. That's a lamb.

Old John: "You're not going to burn me at the next vote. I'm not going to burn you at the next vote, and we're rolling. ... So we're fine." Old John has many sides: a front side, a back side (which is his best side), a good side, a bad side, a right side, a left side, and now, a blind side.

Russell, never one to let treachery grow stale, hurried off to tell Danger Dave that he is now In-Danger Dave, the better to enlist his aide in eliminating The Rocket Scientist Who Knows Too Much.

Russell told Dave to enlist Not-Laura against Old John, something Russell doesn't even know Not-Laura is already inclined to do, as she is still irrationally angry about losing the Viper Queen, even though that was a public service for which Old John should be rewarded. Russell told Dimwit Dave that his head is on the block, but that he, Russell, wants to keep him in the game. Dave, desperate for an ally, doesn't think to ask why Russell is now his buddy-buddy. The egotistical dimwit thinks that his nearly winning the immunity challenge won Russell's respect, when of course, it just marked him as a threat to be eliminated.

Dimwit Dave thinks he's a strategist. Remember his "Make The Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, our leader, and she'll be our ally to manipulate as we will" strategy? That worked out well for him. At the last few Tribal Councils, he's blathered smugly to Jeff about how he knew how the votes would go, and each time he was left with his jaw dropped in shock, as he was outfoxed over and over. He's a true dimwit.

If he thought about it logically, he'd see that for all of them, it makes sense to get rid of him, especially after his challenge near-win. Therefore, Russell must have some other, untold reason for helping him stay alive. Dave might even, if he were capable of thinking things out effectively, work out that Russell has the idol.

But no. Dopey old Dimwit Dave just thinks his awesomeness speaks for itself, as he said in last week's deleted scenes show, and that Russell admires his awesomeness, and wants to keep him out of admiration. What a tool. The only awesomeness Russell worships is his own.

Russell, knowing that betraying his remaining Zsa Zsasians would be a bad move, next hit on MickMoron, who was all for getting rid of Old John, who was, in MickMoron's eyes:

1. Untrustworthy. (He betrayed his own people last week.)

2. Smart. And...

3. Possibly better looking than MickMoron. (The looks thing might not be a factor in Russell's strategy, but MickMoron is another matter, though MickMoron definitely has a more attractive body than Old John, who is skinny and pecless.)

MickMoron carried the plan to my beautiful Jaison.

Jaison, nobody's fool but mine, noted that, voting out Old John would piss off the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, and she'd flip back to Galu, creating a 4-4 deadlock at the next council, which would lead to the drawing of rocks, handing all their fates to the Bitch Goddess Randomness. That was too risky for Jaison, and too many gods for me. MickMoron placed his faith in Russell's ability to sway the vote of the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her. Now we got some suspense brewing again.

Tribal Council: More gods!

Jeff: "Jaison, you bypassed all the food at the auction for one thing, an advantage in the immunity challenge, and look at you tonight."

Jaison: "Thank God."

For a moment, I expected the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, to stand in fury, her eyes rolling back in her head until we saw only whites, and thunder out, "Speak not so, blasphemer. I am the One True Prophet of the God of Survivor, and only through me may ye lesser mortals speak unto Her, and only through me shalt She speak unto thou! Harken ye, unworthy ones, to my commandments. Thou Shalt not keep Dimwit Dave. Thou shalt not slayeth my chickens. Gaze upon my beauty, great as a vintage Harley, yet terrible as an episode of 90210. Look upon me, and despaireth."

But she didn't do that.

Jeff dared ask a question of the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her: "[Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon you], after thirty days together, is it easier or more difficult to get along with people out here?" Note that, for the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, it is always more difficult.

The Oracle of Igag spake: "Today was peaceful. It wasn't about game play so much. And it was genuine." Well yes. She spent the afternoon napping, stupidly (as per usual) assuming that it was a day off all around. God had decreed that Dimwit Dave would go, so kick back and take a nap. So at peace with her visions was she, that it didn't even occur to her that Dave might struggle against his fate, and that while she napped, others who desired a million dollars, might keep on playing the game. Every week, the profound depths of her stupidity yields up new wonders to behold.

It was her Chief Disciple, or so she thought him, who tossed the first ripple of doubt across the placid pool of her idiot faith. Russell said: "To me, today was strategic only, completely strategic." To be fair, that describes every day for Russell, who never stops playing the game.

The Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her: spake thus verily: "Wow."

Jeff: "[Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon you], did you say 'wow'? That shocks you?"

The Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her: "Yeah."

Jeff: "[Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon you], How is it possible you are shocked to learn that people were scrambling to stay in the game?"

Now the true answer to this question would have been, "Because I'm unbelievably dim, and dumber than a sack of air." An answer from the heart of the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, would be, "But God hath decreed that Danger Dave shall be sacrificed upon this place and at this time. To struggle against God is pointless and blasphemous."

But what she said was: "My vote is being based on me advancing in the game, number one. Number two, I do not want somebody that did not warrant getting a million dollars, that's imperative to me." And who is to judge who "warrants" getting a million dollars? Does being a deeply stupid middle-aged broad in a mullet, acting on emotional grudges, and talking to chickens as they are your only intellectual equals in the vicinity, flavored by truly awesome religious delusions, warrant anything but a straight-jacket?

Jeff asked them each if they thought whomever got voted out tonight would be surprised, given all the blindsides that have been occurring every week. MickMoron wisely steered clear of committing to that, noting only that everyone had brought luggage to council. Russell felt the evictee would be shocked. The Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, was certain that there would be no surprise, that the intended sacrificial virgin was well aware of the knife at his throat. But Dimwit Dave had the most bizarre answer: "If this vote tonight goes the way I'm expecting it to go, I will be shocked."

What? If it goes the way he thinks it will go, he'll be shocked? If he's surprised by how it goes, he won't be surprised? Does that make any sense to any of you reading this? If I'm not shocked, I'll be shocked. Does he even understand what the words he's using mean? Jeff could not have been happier to have elicited such pure insanity.

And Old John said: "I think that of the two potential names, you've asked both of them questions, and they both said they wouldn't be shocked. So I think the answer is no." Ah, Old John, if both of the potential names think there will not be a shock, then obviously someone will be shocked, especially since you think those two names are Dimwit Dave and MickMoron, when the two names are actually Dimwit Dave and you! The only vote MickMoron is likely to get is yours.

Time to vote.

We saw the vote of the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her. It was, as decreed by God, Dimwit Dave. Thus spake the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her: "Dave, thanks for the Chickens. They were great friends." You know, Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon you, you might consider making friends with humans sometime. It might help with your non-existent social skills.

Russell did not play the hidden immunity idol. His getting voted out tonight would have been a blindside's blindside. Remember just a few weeks back, when he seemed fated to be deleted? The Wheel of Survivor has turned.

I love watching the faces during a vote count when there's a big blindside. On the first vote for Old John, he nodded, accepting that there would be one, but when his head came up, he was looking smug. He knew he was safe. The first vote for Dimwit Dave left the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, looking fulfilled in her faith.

The second vote for Old John made him look puzzled. How can that be? To the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, it was nothing. God had decreed Dimwit Dave would be voted out. Had she not seen it in her visions?

The third vote for Old John caused Old John to look alarmed. Suddenly he could smell the way the wind was blowing, and he didn't like the stink it carried. That he was the Rocket Scientist Who Knew Too Much had still not registered with him. Ironically, he knew too much and too little. And that third vote for Old John left The Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, looking bewildered, as though she had been transported into an alternate universe. God had stated Dimwit Dave shalt perish this very night. God is all-powerful. God can not be thwarted.

On the fourth vote for Old John, he did his Dimwit Dave impression, his mouth falling open into a shocked "O".

Whispered Erik over in the jury box: "He's so screwed." This was the most perceptive thing anyone had yet said at this Tribal Council.

Jeff announced that Old John was now the fourth member of the jury, and the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, looked perplexed, but began to suspect that someone had betrayed her trust, violated her commandment, and blasphemed in the sight of the Lord. There was a heretic in the woodpile, and she knew what you do with heretics. Thou shalt not suffer a heretic to live.

Over in the jury box, the Viper Queen whispered smugly about The Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, "She has no idea what happened," clearly reveling in seeing her enemy thwarted, if not voted out. Interestingly, she was more pleased by the Prophet Shambles, blessings and peace be upon her, being thwarted, than she was to see Old John, whose vote-flip had sent her to the jury, ousted.

Eric was gleeful. Kelly, also on the jury, looked like she thought the colors in the campfire were pretty, pretty.

Old John's "Family Moment" featured what I assume was his brother, a plump-faced handsome young man with a Kirk Douglas cleft in his chin, saying something, but my attention was taken by the magnificently beautiful large doggie beside him, whimpering a love more pure and true than that of any human being. That was one sweet doggie.

In all, there was one vote for MickMoron: Old John's, and one vote for Dimwit Dave: the Prophet Shambles's, blessings and peace be upon her. Not-Laura and Brett Two-Spears had both voted for Old John, along with Dimwit Dave, and all of Zsa Zsa.

So, what is the moral of today's story, boys and girls?

Always share pie. (Hands off, Little Dougie! This pie is mine!)

Cheers darlings.

To read more of Tallulah Morehead, go to The Morehead, the Merrier, or buy her book, My Lush Life.

Lea Lane: The Sahalis: Symbol Of A Decade?

2009-11-30T07:53:08Z

Much has been made lately about naming the decade bookended by 9/11 and financial collapse/continuing wars. "The Noughts," "The Oughts," "The Decade from Hell"? Whatever the label, it was a miserable period for many and deadly for far too many.

But entering the last month of the decade's last year, I suggest that its symbol could very well be the attention-seeking couple who just crashed the party: The Salahis.

Think about the decade's issues they evoked -- corruption, terrorism, ineffective regulation, reality TV, greed, freebies, bankruptcy, hypocrisy, litigation, entitlement, red-carpet façade, narcissism, 15-minutes of fame for trying to be famous, and the media scrambling to enable. Read about their overblown lives, their overconsumption, their distorted values, and these folks represented it all in one vapid, potentially dangerous package on one festive night in our capital.

And at that glittering White House state dinner the couple fit right in amid other symbols of the decade -- from Katie Couric who jumped the shark to CBS and then jumped on the snark lady from Alaska to redeem herself; to Colin Powell who stood before the UN with false proof of WMD and then didn't have the balls to leave when he was ashamed. The movers and shakers dressed themselves to the nines and tens -- many in comped designer clothes and borrowed baubles in that humongous tent on the White House lawn with the non-mitigating placebo of home-grown salad greens.

What has become so terribly wrong with our country?

Even the Salahi's appearance represents the decade - she no doubt bleached and botoxed, pin thin, channeling every Fox anchor wannabe; he, horsey, a fashionably younger Brownie ("heckava job") with the cheeky affect of a fat-cat trader gambling away others' life savings at no personal risk.

Amid the flash of cameras these people reflect style over substance, lies over truth, appearance over reality. And this sewage of falsity has now seeped right up to this much- threatened president's door. Yes, this Oval Office, where things do not quite seem to be what some of us thought they would.

The Salahis lied, they crashed, they sought to be famous, they duped and they stiffed the people who propped them up. And now these uber-capitalists, who inherited money and lost it, demand more fast money -- hundreds of thousands of dollars -- for an interview.

They'll no doubt hire a show-off lawyer and a crackerjack PR firm (and stiff them, too) and they'll skip prosecution, book the interview and hire a ghostwriter to shape a bestseller and grab the headlines some more--maybe she on "The Housewives of DC" on Bravo (all about ratings, you know). And as the years pass they may eventually still land D-list celeb game shows where the Kato Kalins of our world eventually land with a thud, watched by millions.

America the beautiful?

Before simply castigating the Salahis as weird attention seekers like the balloon-boy family, we really do need to draw back and look upon ourselves as individuals, and who we are as a nation. Yes, there's a larger picture in this incident. So many of us admire what they admire and seek what they sought, and how did this happen?

How do people get away with this? And just a step further, how much more of this truthiness and sham and selfishness and ignorance and lobby-genuflecting hypocrisy can we stand from the people we vote for? Not just Boehner and Lieberman. Most of them.

Will the bawling Becks and Nazifying Limbaughs implode from their lies, or will the armed numbskulls who follow them continue to rattle at the White House gates? What does it say when our most honest news coverage comes from the Comedy Channel? Can we ever get back to civilized debate, to reasoned compromise, to reality over "reality"? When will we demand it, and who is going to lead us out of this? Or is it already too late?

If the Salahis are the symbols of this decade we can only wonder who will become our symbols of the next.

Harry Shearer: "Reality Stars": Sign Us Up Before We Kill Again

2009-11-27T15:46:20Z

This should be the year that made clear the distinction between the publicity-hungry, irremediably ego-needy actual denizens of show business (like myself) and the way more grotesquely hungry and ego-needy residents of the show-business underworld known charitably as "reality TV." If the Heenes weren't warning enough, here came the Salahis -- both families obviously just this close to the line of offering to kill family members if only it would get them on a TV series.

It was obvious something was adrift, or ajar, when the phrase "reality-TV star" began to be written and uttered with no trace of irony, even as more and more of these folks became involved this year in various serious crimes. And it will probably be no later than Monday before some defender of the Salahis analogizes them to computer hackers, suggesting that they performed a public service by probing for, and finding, holes in the Secret Service's security perimeter. Indeed they did, and their reward should be a two-season stint on a new reality show, The Real Housewives (and Househusbands) of Federal Prison.

And for the remaining rubes not aware that the "reality" of reality TV is to actual real life as "potted meat food product" is to grass-pastured beef, here's one of the wizards drawing back the curtain for just a moment ...

(Michael Hirschorn, a former executive vice president for original programming at the reality-centric VH1 channel) said prospective reality stars were becoming smarter
about “self-producing,” knowing they had to inject drama into the
shows.

“At this point,” he said, “there must be what, a
thousand reality personalities on TV at any one time? So they know they
have to stand out.”

Could they stand out in a South Dakota prairie in late January? You know, just for our entertainment ...

Jersey Shore, MTV Reality Show, Should Be Canceled Says Italian-American Group (VIDEO)

2009-11-24T16:16:07Z

FAIRFIELD, N.J. (Associated Press) - A national Italian-American organization based in New Jersey says an MTV reality show that depicts Italian-American beachgoers as the "hottest, tannest, craziest Guidos" is offensive and should be scrapped before it airs.

UNICO National said Tuesday that "Jersey Shore" relies on crude stereotypes and highlights cursing, bad behavior and violence in depicting renters at a New Jersey beach house.

An MTV promo says the participants "keep their hair high, their muscles juiced and their fists pumping all summer long!"

UNICO President Andre DiMino calls the show "trash television."

It's scheduled to debut Dec. 3.

MTV did not immediately return a telephone message seeking comment.

WATCH:

Tallulah Morehead: Survivor: Samoa: Lord of the Gnats

2009-11-20T06:41:52Z

We are right at the midway point of Survivor: Samoa. We began with twenty players; we now have ten. Our early villains, Evil Russell, and idiot Shambles, have grown into heroic (seeming) crusaders against a true villain, Evil Laura, the Sarah Palin wanna-be conservative lobbyist co-ordinator and Christer pastor, who believes she's now running the show. We've seen two players sidelined by physical collapse: elderly obese Chef Mike, and athletic, bull-like Black Russell. We've seen a lot of puzzles solved and knots untied. And now-just-Russell has shown an amazing ability to find hidden immunity idols without a clue, which is good, because a lot of these contestants still have no clue.

Russell sees himself as an artist of Survivor, as Picasso -- and like Picasso -- his work is difficult to make sense of, and doesn't resemble real life. Here's Russell referring to last week's reverse-blindside: "That was almost as good as my kids being born." Given how much he hates women, I assume that the only reason the births of his kids were better was because he got to hear a woman screaming in agony.

Evil Laura on Russell's blindside: "We know that he's sneaky, and that he just like lurks around camp, and that he's always snooping around. We should have known better." Yes they should have. And they should have "snooped" around camp themselves! She acts like he's pulled some sort of evil double-cross by looking for and finding the idol last week that none of them even bothered to look for, though they all knew there was one there. I guess Evil Laura was too busy reading the memoirs of her personal idol, Sarah Palin. (I wonder if Sarah has read it yet? Excuse me. I mean: I wonder if Sarah has had it read to her yet?) How sneaky of Russell to be actually playing the game, while Queen Evil Laura just sits around camp, plotting the end of civilization, one ruined piece of progressive legislation at a time.

Shambles, who hates Evil Laura even more than I do, and that takes a lot, told Russell: "'Jew [sic] know what she said when you played that immunity idol? ... She said: 'He has ruined everything'." Actually, what she said was, "He just stirred up a whole lot of Hell, is what he did," but same difference.

This made Russell chuckle, "I ruined everything? What does she think I'm here for her for? To bake her cookies and cakes?" However odd that sentence is, he has a point.

But Shambles, as usual, is so dumb, her hilarity takes her one step too far: "I was thinking, I gotta find that immunity idol..." Good. Go with that, Shambles. "... Give it to Russ again." Doh! No, Shambles, no. If you find that immunity idol (fat chance), you have to keep it for yourself. Who are you playing for, Russell or you?

It was dawn in Samoa, and at Camp Igag, while everyone else slept, Russell was out looking for the immunity idol. This is why he's kicking all your butts, Galuvians. You're sleeping. He's out playing the game, though I don't see how the production team has had an opportunity to re-hide it again until the tribe all goes off to play a challenge, but I could be wrong. I have been wrong before. I remember once, back in 1947, I said Olivier's film of Hamlet would never win the Best Picture Oscar, because they never give it to a foreign language film. I was wrong then, and I was wrong again in -- ah -- Okay, that's the only time that springs to mind, but this could be time number two.

Shambles called Evil Laura "The Viper Queen of Galu." I like that. I'll take it. Henceforth, Evil Laura is The Viper Queen. After all, Clifton Webb is dead, so the title is freed up again.

Shambles has worked out that, by aligning with Zsa Zsa, which I've been saying she would for weeks, they will have a 5-5 tie. So now she wanted to recruit another Galuvian, to make it a six person majority. No, Shambles. If you ask the wrong one, your treachery will be exposed to the Galuvians. Keep quiet, at least until after immunity is sorted out, and you know better where things stand. Don't strategize, Shambles; you're too stupid to pull it off.

So she rounded up Rocket Scientist John, a man whose IQ is roughly 100 points above hers. Make that 200 points.

"Will you betray my confidence?" Shambles asked John.

"No," he answered, somehow managing to resist the temptation to sell her aluminum siding, or a bridge in New York City, while he's got her brainless ear.

Reward Challenge: This time they're playing for a trip to a waterfall for a picnic. Wait a moment! That was what they played for last week! Has the production team run out of reward ideas? This one does involve flying to a different island, although if any of these people watch Lost, they ought to be hinky about flying around islands full of survivors. They could end up in 1977, drop-kicking hydrogen bombs.

Plus they get a cell phone camera with which to take pictures. Jeff plugged it at some length, which means it was a paid bit of product placement. Well, Sprint hasn't paid me, so I shan't be mentioning what the gimmicky toy is called. (Sprint, if you want your products plugged here, well, I'm not above a small bribe, and I'm really not above a large one.) I loved part of Jeff's description of the prize trinket, "Now you have something that fits in the palm of your hand, and is easy to use." All the guys have something that fits that description, in their pants. He also said it could "make some fun memories." So can that object in their pants.

Russell wants to win reward to get the idol clue, although he's never needed a clue before, and while the others are away picnicking is a perfect time to find it. It's when he found the last one. I would think he'd be playing the challenge to lose.

They split the tribe into two teams for the challenge. This is interesting. The Yellow team has Shambles, Rocket Scientist John, and two of the Zsa Zsasians, but not Russell. This means Russell is on the purple team with his enemies: The Viper Queen, and Danger Dave. If they win, Russell will get the clue along with the very people most determined to keep him from finding the idol. If Purple loses, he'll be at Camp Igag looking for it, with his enemies watching his every move. Also, since each team has an equal number of Zsa Zsasians, the Tribe Zsa Zsa-always-loses factor is nullified. Both teams have an equal chance to blow the challenge.

The challenge involves four team members swinging around a fifth on a dangling platform, to gather numbered flags and stick them in holes in a log. It should involve a high nausea and disorientation factor. The swingers were Natalie and Rocket Scientist John. Sounds a bit dumb, but at least there's no puzzle-solving nor knot-untying. Since the challenge relies on the person being swung around sticking small poles into tight holes while being violently agitated in what amounts to freefall, I should think Rocket Scientist John would have an experiential advantage over Natalie.

But apparently John has never had sex in orbit, because he lost by a rather large margin. Russell was heading off to reward with Natalie, Danger Dave, some guy called "Brett," and The Viper Queen. I was disgusted to see The Viper Queen press her cheek against Natalie, whom she has been plotting and scheming against, with the kind of fake affection her idol Sarah Palin displays when Levi Johnston drops by to see his baby, hopefully clothed.

Russell: "If I can find this clue for the next hidden immunity idol, then I can't see how it's not going to be possible for me to do what I want to do, and take out [The Viper Queen]." Did that tortured sentence contain just a double negative, or was that a quadruple negative? I got lost in that sentence, but I was certainly surprised to learn that Russell wants to date The Viper Queen.

Oh, and Sprint didn't spring for five camera phones. All five players had to share one. Stingy bit of product placement.

And so Oceanic Flight 0 took off for a neighboring island, with our players taking pictures of themselves, which we got to see. Lucky us. I was amazed that The Viper Queen actually shows up on film, or digital, or whatever they shoot pictures on in phones. (I've tried telephoning people on my camera, but it just doesn't work, and the flash keeps going off in my eyes. Who knew Alexander Graham Bell invented the camera?)

The Viper Queen: "It's like a little Gilligan's Island or something, huh?" What stunning originality, Viper Queen. But, the excessively scenic island they were flown to bore no resemblance whatever to the Radford backlot in Studio City (The same lot where Big Brother takes place.), and looked rather more like the island in Lord of the Flies. But these savages are not so much flies as gnats, since they mostly fly about in tight little circles, and annoy the heck out of me.

At the picnic, the girls began squealing at the sight of weenies (What woman doesn't?), while the guys were dying have themselves slices of the fresh hot American Pies (apple) steaming there. "It felt just like home," drawled Natalie, whose backwoods southern lifestyle apparently doesn't include eating off of tables. I am not surprised in the least.

Back at Camp Igag, was anyone looking for the idol? No. MickMoron and Jaison were busy trying to seduce Not-Laura, aka "Monica," into being their sixth vote. Jaison, why aren't you idol hunting?

Not-Laura can count to six, although I'm not sure if she could make it all the way to seven. She pointed out that, even if she voted with them, that would only be five. No, no, Jaison and MickMoron assured her, they have a fifth vote sewn up. Shut up, guys.

Not-Laura: "How sure are you?"

Jaison: "115%." So apparently a degree from Oxford doesn't include basic math skills.

Not-Laura probed further, and MickMoron, living down to my nickname for him, began saying stuff like, "She actually encouraged things to make that whole thing [the reverse-blinside] happen." She! Why not just say, "She hides idols in her mullet"? Not-Laura may not be a rocket scientist, but they've all but announced to her that they've got Shambles voting with them. Boys, Shut up! Oh, they "refused" to tell her who their fifth vote was, so Not-Laura had to take a good ten seconds to work it out on her own.

Russell, trying to make himself ill by looking at pictures of himself with The Viper Queen, found that the next idol clue was on the phone thingy. Rather than keeping this information to himself, he let everyone know to check it on the phone. No one on this whole tribe knows how to keep their yaps shut.

They got this cryptic clue:
The [device] in your hand holds much information,
Which you'd better heed, or it will be your own loss.
The immunity idol is no rolling stone,
A rolling stone gathers no moss."

Natalie: "A rolling stone gathers what?" So Natalie's upbringing included neither tables, nor common, cliche expressions.

And just for people as dumb as Natalie, they included a video showing the idol hidden under a rock at camp. Hello? That's not a "clue." That's everything but a map with "X" marking the spot.

Arriving back at Camp Igag, an Idol search was launched that dwarfs the one American Idol has every year. Now the entire tribe was looking under every rock in Samoa, or rather following on Russell's heels as he looked for it, and they all followed him around.

Since Danger Dave had attached himself at the hip to Russell, Russ tried running to get away from him. "Oh man," said Dave, "Slow down, Russ." Yes, Dave asked Russell to slow down, so he could follow him more easily, and prevent him from obtaining the idol. Maybe he'd like Russ to bake him some cookies and cakes too.

But Russell selfishly didn't slow down and let Dave stay up with him, but instead, rather effectively ditched him. Once Danger Dave, or perhaps I should say Lame-O Dave, gave up, Russell looped back in a big circle to where he'd already been with Dave, to the rock he had spotted there before, rolled it over, and boom. The idol was in his possession yet again! Danger Dave, you're an idiot.

Not-Laura was reporting back her recruiting talk with Jaison and MickMoron to The Viper Queen. The Viper Queen is not too bright, but it doesn't take much in the way of brains to work out that her enemy Shambles is the Ethiopian in the fuel supply, as WC Fields once put it. The Viper Queen now knows that she's been targeted. Just as Russell needed to find the idol a third time, she needs to win immunity a third time.

Immunity Challenge: This challenge involved old, familiar challenge elements, though still without puzzles nor knots. Part one had them throwing rocks at ceramic tiles to earn spears; part two was firing those spears from a crossbow, at an archery target. Gee, actual skill could decide this. Shambles has Marine training. She ought to be able to hit targets. She can't do anything else. She ought to at least be able to do this.

Shambles took her one rock throw, and missed by a mile. What was she in the Marines? In charge of bad hair styles? Not-Laura throws like a girl, and didn't even get her rock all the way to the targets. You had to break at least one target to get a spear to fire from the crossbow. But Danger Dave's wild, uncoordinated throw hit one of Not-Laura's targets, so she got a spear. Turns out, it didn't matter who broke your tile, you get a spear for every target of yours broken, regardless of by whom.

The Viper Queen missed altogether, and no one else hit any of her tiles either. She was thus eliminated from winning immunity. Shambles does not have a future as a poker player, because she doubled over, laughing with glee, as her enemy fell into her clutches. Classy Shambles. You really know how to play it close to the flak jacket.

This Brett person however, cooked. He alone won two spears. His first spear hit the second ring on the target. Jaison, with but one spear, shot next. He's big. He's black. Surely he has experience at firing off his big spear into a large target.

Nope. He missed the target totally. After we're married, I can see I'm going to have to tutor him in aiming his spear, learning to keep his mouth closed when needed, and in understanding that you can only have 100% of anything.

After Not-Laura hit the target rim, MickMoron made his first impressive move of the whole season, and bettered Brett's shot. But, Brett had a second spear left to fire. How often I've longed for a man with a second spear left to fire. Brett gave it an impressive try, but he went too low, and MickMoron won immunity. Now all that remained was to find that sixth vote for The Viper Queen. I imagine The Viper Queen was trying to get that camera phone thingy to work as a phone so she could reach Karl Rove, and call in some favors.

Shambles, The Silent One, was right off telling Brett Two-Spears she was voting for The Viper Queen regardless of anything else on earth. The Queen of Vipers looked so doomed that I began to fear she would somehow save herself, because otherwise, what was CBS going to do with the remaining 20 minutes of show?

Rocket Scientist John, disgusted at the insistent strategic idiocy of Galu, suggested to Danger Dave and The Viper Queen that, instead of going for Russell, they gun for Natalie, whom he reasoned would have no idol, and not telegraph this decision to Zsa Zsa. This is a halfway intelligent move. It could result in a Natalie-Viper Queen tie, and could also get Russell to play the idol needlessly, if he has it. (The idiots actually don't know. Look around you. Is Russell looking for it, or is he swinging on a hammock? He's on the hammock. Therefore, he has the idol.)

Not-Laura came up with this plan. She'd tell Zsa Zsa she was voting for John, then they'd all vote for John (why?), and all of Galu would vote for Natalie. The obvious flaw here is that Russell wants Laura gone as much as Shambles does, so he's not going to vote for John, and the other Zsa Zsasians are most likely to vote with Russell and Shambles. This is pretty desperate vote scrambling. However, the appeals to seduce John and/or Not-Laura to vote with Zsa Zsa against The Viper Queen weren't panning out either.

And then there's this flaw also: Galu hasn't tipped off John that they were going to pretend they were voting for him to trick Zsa Zsa into voting for him. John is not likely to find this an acceptable plan, now is he?

Not-Laura worked all of Zsa Zsa, but they weren't buying it. And then Brett Two-Spears blabbed the plan to John. Guess what? The idea of getting Zsa Zsa to vote for him didn't strike him as a good plan. I'm so shocked. Good thing I had a firm grip on this martini.

Tribal Council: Jeff Asked Rocket Scientist John: "What is appealing about the [Zsa Zsa] foursome?"

Oddly, despite his being quite smart, he got the answer wrong: "They've already said it. You can use four votes." No. What is appealing about the Zsa Zsa foursome is that Jaison is dreamy, MickMoron is dumb-but-hot, and Russell has nice pecs and a well-stuffed basket, sadly inhabited by Russell.

There was further blather, including Lame-O Dave announcing that Lady Luck would be a good strategy, which is insane, but who cares? Let's get to the vote. Question one would be, had Russell snapped to the fact that he didn't need to play his idol tonight, or would he squander it?

He had snapped. He kept mum, leaving the idiot Galuvians to wonder if he found it or not for another episode.

No votes for John. No one bought that ploy. We got the 5-5 tie for Natalie and The Viper Queen. Now there would be a second vote. If one Galuvian switched sides, The Viper Queen would be gone. Otherwise, it would go to a random drawing of stones. Now, I love grabbing random stones as much as the next slut, but it would be very bad strategy. In fact, it would be no strategy at all. Meanwhile, The Viper Queen was trying to figure a way to get it thrown to The Supreme Court, who so famously ignored the vote in 2000, and appointed the loser to be the winner. The votes were cast. Jeff began the count. Would the tie repeat itself, or would someone flip?

Fear no more the heat o' the sun

Nor the winter's furious rages;

Thou thy worldly task hast done

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;

Golden lads and girls all must

Like chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

- William Shakespeare, Cymbaline.

It was a study in faces when The Viper Queen fell. Shambles was gleeful to see The Viper Queen kicked out on her asp. Eric on the jury was ecstatic. (Though not allowed to speak in council, he kept whispering "This is so good!" to fellow juror Kelly.) The Viper Queen was furious, her plans for revenge for last week's vote now come to ashes, and she a vote loser, just like her idol, Sarah Palin. Natalie was happy. Brett Two-Spears looked resigned. Lame-O Dave was shocked, his jaw back on the ground again. (Dave, you keep being shocked at Tribal Council. Think perhaps you haven't a clue as to what's going on?) John, whose flipped vote sent the Oregonian Republican to the jury, looked pleased. Not-Laura was shocked. And Russell was triumphant. He'd overthrown The Viper Queen, and he still had immunity in his pants. He was truly Lord of the Gnats.

In her parting speech to us, The Viper Queen displayed the same sort of absolute disconnect from reality that distinguishes her Alaskan inspiration: "I hope that Galu sticks together, and someone from the purple ends up winning the million dollars." Your Majesty, at the merge, Galu had eight members, Zsa Zsa had four. Now, three episodes later, Galu has five members, and Zsa Zsa still has their whole four. You are gone because two Galuvians voted with Zsa Zsa against you. Galu sticks together about as well as two north end magnets do.

In the preview of next week, we saw Russell liberating chickens in the dead of night. Now that he's Lord of the Gnats, the old midnight-sock-burner has returned. Shambles is leading a charge against someone, and I doubt it's Russell, and Jaison is sitting about shirtless. Oh boy. Fun ahead!

Cheers darlings.

To read more of Tallulah Morehead, go to The Morehead, the Merrier, or buy her book, My Lush Life.

Bob Cesca: Famous for Being Famous: The Sarah Palin Show Is On the Air

2009-11-18T17:58:50Z

I'm not sure what I have more contempt for. Sarah Palin's pathological lying or the people who can say with a straight face that Sarah Palin is qualified for anything other than a reality show contestant or the the Edie McClurg role in a remake of Planes, Trains & Automobiles.

What's even more alarming is the constant reporting from the cable news people this week: Sarah Palin is famous! Wow! But no one is digging into exactly why she's famous.

And that's the heart of the matter here. She's nothing more than an overrated celebudoof. She's the equivalent of an ex-reality show star that's somehow tricked enough people into believing that a convention speech and a series of embarrassing winks qualifies her to be a national political leader -- even president -- when, in fact, she's only really qualified to be famous. She's famous for being famous.

I have yet to hear a pitch from her supporters that elevates her in any substantive way to a level beyond that of the other Republicans in the current field of potential candidates. She's famous. And. Hmm. She's famous. That's about it. Oh, and she can repeat hard-right ideology without swallowing her own tongue in the process.

It's very possible that Bill Kristol and whoever Palin's ghost-handlers happen to be are cynical enough to believe that Sarah Palin could ride a celebreality rocket ship into the White House.

They've taken a hard look at the present climate of celebrity gossip and reality television ratings and they've identified an opening in America's obvious infatuation with chewing-gum superficiality -- and they're ready to exploit it for political power. Where Ronald Reagan was a celebrity in the old-Hollywood framework, Palin is a celebrity in the talentless, Balloon Boy, reality show, Prejean, new-Hollywood framework.

Suffice to say, this strategy further devalues what it means to be considered "presidential." It chips away at all of the basic but necessary prerequisites for the gig, replacing them with nothing but the base notion of fame. Not even popularity as it applies to fame, but merely the quality of being known.

Consequently, this can only contribute to a future when we choose a president based solely upon his or her ability to achieve the most real life drama, irrespective of any sort of inherent talent for leadership, natural intelligence or any notable skills whatsoever.

A reality show president.

So it's not difficult to imagine a blurring of the line between the quality of being famous and the quality of being presidential -- an eventual time when these traits become totally interchangeable. It's already happened in Hollywood with the rise of unscripted reality and game show personalities slowly replacing actors and filmmakers, and the calculation coming from the Palin camp seems to be that this programming formula can be applied to presidential politics.

Here's how it works: Take a not unattractive rube with a screwy family and mix in some drama. Add cameras and POOF! We have a candidate/show.

Is there any other formula to explain the obsession with, say, Jon & Kate? Or the Balloon Boy family? The Sarah Palin Show is nothing more than a confessional interview with poorly articulated politics tossed into the mix.

Speaking of the confessional interview, she hasn't proved herself to be especially articulate, bright or well-informed. Even after a year on the air. Which is alarming because being on television is supposed to be her strong suit. See, Palin's most glaring inadequacy isn't necessarily her lack of work experience. There's just nothing else concrete enough to compensate for her weak resume. It's not like her supporters can say, "Yeah, well, she's only been a small town mayor, and she resigned before her first term as governor was over. But damn! She's crazy smart when it comes to economy and foreign relations -- you know, because of her education and travels abroad." There's not even that. She comes up empty on everything.

And what makes this utter lack of substance far worse is that she can't even articulate her very simplistic thoughts without using staccato sentence fragments strung together as if she's reciting abbreviated notes illegibly scrawled on the backs of barroom napkins, and selected on-the-fly using a dart board.

Even on the question about the role of the vice president last year, she failed to properly articulate an answer, and, instead babbled incoherently about something to do with "position flexible."

Fact: When a job applicant at any level is given repeated chances to explain the job for which he or she is applying, and, even after several tries, still can't nail the answer, that person is unqualified for that job. But her inability to explain the vice presidency (even after several tries) underscored that it's not just about her lack of experience or leadership or general knowledge, it's that she was (and remains) simply incapable of grasping the basics. In this case: grade school level civics, and a description of the job for which she was nominated.

Again, what does that leave us with? A reality show novelty. A tabloid hero. Not a world leader.

Somewhere along the line, her advisers recognized her ineptitude and twisted the "going rogue" description into a positive way to explain it all. Rewinding again to the vice presidential debate last year, she made it very clear that she didn't intend to directly answer the questions. She just plowed forward and answered the questions that she prepared for, even if they were totally unrelated to the topic. Why? She explained that she was, in essence, going rogue.

Early in the debate she said, "And I may not answer the questions that either the moderator or you want to hear, but I'm going to talk straight to the American people and let them know my track record also."

But it was clearly just an excuse for the fact that she's a policy nincompoop and could only recite from the script she memorized. This rogue mantra lives on with the theme of her book, along with her ongoing refusal to confront the growing syllabus of unexplained inconsistencies on even the most basic of details -- like whether or not she held a family vote before she accepted Senator McCain's kneejerk offer. Even on this very simple question, she refuses to correct the record.

In Sarah Palin's defense, there's no doubt that she's relatable to a certain demographic of Americans who are unconcerned with advanced education and the subtleties of policy. But if you dig down into the reasons why Palin people like her, it's obvious that they're simply "fans" who can, perhaps, relate to Palin's ordinary background and easy-to-repeat ideology.

Ultimately, there's a certain element of the Republican Party that's excited to have yet another stab at the Bush 43 idea, and, to that end, they've certainly found their empty vessel. But this time, they've tapped into an American obsession that goes beyond cowboy swagger and plainspoken southern twangery. They've identified and are cultivating one of our most addictive opiates: a genuine made-for-TV spectacle. And it's dangerous for America. Idiocracy dangerous.

Bob Cesca's Awesome Blog! Go!

PS. On the healthcare front, check out these nightmarish videos from real people who have been devoured by the status quo.

Omarosa To Star In TV One Reality Show

2009-11-10T17:54:52Z

NEW YORK — Donald Trump says he's partnering with the TV One network on a reality dating series starring TV diva Omarosa.

Having proven herself as a fiery contender on Trump's "The Apprentice," she now will be the one choosing from contenders who compete to marry her on "Omarosa's Ultimate Merger."

Tallulah Morehead: Survivor: Samoa: Macrame.

2009-11-06T09:32:45Z

This week, I was celebrating the anniversary of President Obama's defeat of Sarah Palin and some old guy whose name slips my mind (and his), by taking a listen to my old, old friend (I mean it, he's old!) Will Wixon's Obama victory song, Yes We Can, when I had to turn away from lovely thoughts and return for an hour to Samoa, for one twisty episode of Survivor: Samoa. As we will see, Jeff Probst had a narrow escape this week.

As night fell on the remains of Tribe Zsa Zsa, realizing the merge was coming soon, Russell dipped into the Survivor cliche glossary for "When we get over there, dude, game on, the game starts." What have they been doing for the last 18 days? Come to think of it, with their pitiful record of challenge losses, they truly have not been playing the game.

Russell told us, ""We're all working as a team. So I'm not really nervous about my numbers. I'm too good for this game, I'm too sly." That must be why he keeps losing challenge after challenge. And I assume the numbers that aren't worrying him are his cholesterol numbers, because his tribe is outnumbered two-to-one, which is not good.

Okay, I think, after last week's episode, I've worked out which brunette bimbo is Laura, and which is Monica. Monica is the semi-pretty one. Laura is the conservative Christer biker pastor/lobbyist, who doesn't think it's a woman's role to be a pastor to men. For a woman who rides a Harley, she seems otherwise to live in a century from before the invention of the internal combustion engine, or thought. The show calls her an "office manager," but she's actually coordinates 400 Evil Republican lobbyists in Oregon, and she - get this, and be prepared to heave - admires Sarah Palin! Palin is a role model for her! Yup, she's loathsome; you betcha.

She has worked out that Shambles hates her. Finally I've found some common ground with Shambles. The ironic part is, Laura and Shambles are both Harley freaks. (lambasted on this week's South Park as lame beyond words, well, beyond one particular word.) You'd think they could bond over their mutual pathetic need to ride around with a noisy chunk of hot metal throbbing between their legs.

When Laura was sentenced to spend a day with Zsa Zsa, Danger Dave gave her canteen to Shambles for "safekeeping." What was he thinking? Shambles can't walk across camp without losing chickens and snorkel mouthpieces. Sure enough. She lost Laura's canteen, maybe even accidentally. Shambles can lose anything except her ridiculous hairstyle.

Shambles keeps accusing Laura of being "90210." I'm not sure just what she thinks she means by that. Is she accusing Laura of being an airheaded teenager? Wrong. Laura is a 39 year old airheaded grandmother. (She must have started dropping her hellspawn young!) Does she think Laura is a zip code? I think, at root, she's accusing Laura of not being her, which is the only thing in Laura's favor. It's not just that Shambles inhabits her own weird universe. It's that she thinks other people do, or at least should, live in her private world as well. One thing I am certain of, though. Shambles doesn't like "90210."

Ah, at last we got to the root of it. Shambles: "It's almost like those popular girls in high school, that are cheerleaders, that want to snob their nose ..." ["Snob their nose"??? What the hell does that mean?] "... at people who don't fit into their circle. I'm done with her. I have no use for her. None." So, Shambles is projecting onto Laura all the resentment she nurtured towards her not-socially-backward peers back in high school, a quarter of a century before. But wait! Back in episode 1, when we first had the misfortune to meet Shambles, she said: "People have gravitated to me my entire life. It's like 'Oh my God. This chick rocks. We love her'." I expressed doubt over the veracity of this absurd statement at the time. Now we discover that she was, in fact, an outcast, uncool, ridiculed by the popular kids. That is far more believable.

But the irony here is, as a conservative Christer, Laura must have been every bit as uncool in school as Shambles. Shambles channeled her resentment into the Marines, and learning to kill people. Laura channeled it into Christianity, and learning to kill progressive political action. The great thing about this conflict is, I can't stand either of them, so it's a win-win battle for me.

Jaison is the master of understatement: "We're not super confident in our ability to win challenges anymore." He loses eight out of ten challenges, and suddenly he's not super confident anymore? Defeatist!

The Merge: At last, Galu and Zsa Zsa are no more. Time for the Merge Feast. All the hungry survivors were happy for the feast, but none more so than Shambles: "I am on top of the world, man." (If only she's said "Top of the world, Ma," so that, like darling Jimmy Cagney in White Heat she could be blown up.) "I'm in Heaven right now." Well, maybe Laura the Palin-wannabe could show her around. Laura can see earth from her house! Well, almost. Here's where we pray for all the babies roasting in hell forever because their parents weren't Christians, or at least, weren't the right variety of Christians. And over here is where we pray for the homosexuals being tortured in Hell for eternity, which is all of them. Isn't Heaven nice?

Shambles: "I'm on such a sugar high right now. My prayers were answered, totally." She prayed for sugar? Oh wait. Shambles took off 70 pounds to do Survivor. She probably does pray for sugar.

Jaison and Rocket Scientist John instantly bonded over both having brains and educations. Natalie told Danger Dave that Russell was "the best crab catcher." Won't medical give him a cream for those? He's creepy enough as it is.

Russell, watching his former ex-Zsa Zsasians working the former Galuvians, said, "We're steps ahead of them. We have our plan down." It doesn't occur to him that the Galuvians might be doing the exact same thing back. Russell's belief that he's outsmarting a tribe that has been kicking his ass for three weeks running is an almost amusing bit of egotistical self-delusion. "I can already see that I'm going to rule in this kingdom. I mean, come on, who gets grapes fed to them? The kings do!" Actually Russell, I used to feed grapes to my dog. You're a lot mangier than he was, and he was housebroken.

Natalie, on arriving at the Galu camp: "The Galu camp? I love it. It's awesome. I feel like I'm at the Hilton." Would that be the Black Hole of Calcutta Hilton? I have to assume Natalie has never set foot in a real Hilton. Watching Natalie bond with Laura Palin was making me ill, but then, watching anyone bond with that evil witch would make me ill. Natalie hasn't caught on to just what Laura Palin is yet, "It was really important for me to talk to Laura to find crack in this group." Natalie, conservative Christers are not the people to try and score crack from, not that that's a good idea anywhere with anyone. But Ms Palin's drug of choice is Jesus, "The Opium of the Masses."

They picked their new tribe name, "Aiga," pronounced I-ga, which Brett, in the third sentence he's spoken this season, told us means "extended family" in Samoan. Actually, facing the prospect of being in a tribe with Russell, Shambles and Laura, I'd go with the name "Igag."

Erik is completely aware of the ex-Zsa Zsasians plans. Russell assumes that he's five steps ahead of the Galuvians, but Erik is a step or two ahead of him, and both Russell and Erik have immunity idols in their pockets, unless they're just glad to see each other, and that hardly seems likely.

Now Russell initiated the bizarre second step of his plan. This one was harder to anticipate, because it's so bone-headed: showing people the immunity idol, to fake that he 'trusts" them. Immunity idols are only of any use if they're secret! Russell thinks this is brilliant strategy. It's actually just his compulsive need to brag.

First he showed it to Laura Palin. "You know what this is?" he said, pulling something out of his pants. Given her conservatism, he's lucky she didn't just scream and run away. You'd also think she'd remember that only four days before he had told her that Ben had had the idol and wasted it, so it was gone. Establishing that you lied to someone's face four days earlier seems to me to be an odd way to gain their trust.

He handed her this line of bull: that if she took him to the Top Seven (like it would be up to her), he would give her the idol, as a present. Only a complete moron would believe this. Oh wait. Laura admires and emulates Sarah Palin, a woman who really knows how to lose. She can believe anything, as long as it's idiotic. She probably believes dinosaurs lived with humans, which would explain Russell.

Laura: "Does anybody know you have it?"

Russell (lying like Dick Cheney under oath): Nope.

We've seen him show it to Jaison and Mick. He's done every thing short of wearing it around his neck. Laura, a woman accustomed to believing that virgins can give birth and carpenters can rise from the dead (Rise, Karen Carpenter, rise!), nonetheless, didn't fall for the "I'll give it to you" nonsense. She works with political lobbyists, where everything is quid pro quo. Also, she can count. (So she learned something in that seminary!) She knows she has numbers and he doesn't.

Russell made the condition that she could pick off any of his fellow Zsa Zsasians (Nice bit of treachery, that), but first, they had to pick off a Galuvian, as an offering of loyalty.

Laura: "That won't happen... It will be one of your guys, or [Shambles]." Sacrificing Shambles works for me. But the Russell-Laura alliance isn't happening. She now knows that they have to blindside Russell to get around his idol. (Good plan.)

Russell had his usual reaction when someone turns out to be too smart for him to manipulate (and Laura is an idiot): "Laura's digging her own grave. ... She might be the first to go." Works for me also, though Russell's belief that he's running the game when he has nothing to back it up with is getting increasingly deranged.

Russell trotted off to see if the same lame strategy would work with She-Who-Is-Not-Laura, a.k.a. Monica. Once again, out pops his idol. He can not keep it in his pants. Typical male.

Monica: "Does anybody else know you have this?"

Russell: "Nobody." Well, almost nobody. Well, not many. Well, not everybody. Well, my mother doesn't know. And I haven't told Shambles yet.

Since that Top Seven idea failed faster than a Zsa Zsa challenge effort, he upped it to Top Two with Monica, promising to give it to her if he knew she was on the chopping block.

Monica: "I'm in."

This time, Russell didn't buy it (and he was now wearing the idol around his neck, at least for his confessional interviews.), but he felt he could manipulate her into joining his new plan (about his fifth new plan this episode) to get rid of Laura.

Russell, like a greedy trick-or-treater determined to hit every house in his town, now scurried off to show the idol to Rocket Scientist John. Here was his line to John: "I'm telling you, dude, we can be in control of this game without them even knowing it."

Now follow this weird turn of events. Laura, the conservative Christer who wants to be the Oregon Sarah Palin, in short, a dangerous fool, understood that Russell was full of bull (though she hadn't the wit to let him think she fell for it). John, an educated scientist with a brain, fell for it. He assumed that Russell could see he was smarter than most of his tribemates (Admittedly, the chickens are smarter than Shambles. In fact, the one that got away had literally outwitted her.), and thus went only to him for an alliance. Vanity snared him.

So John is suddenly onboard with Russell's plan to oust Laura. Actually, so am I, but if Galu votes out one of their own, instead of a Zsa Zsasian, they're idiots. They need to press their number advantage while they have it.

But then, it's hard not to sympathize with wanting to get rid of Laura.

Next on Russell's alliance shopping list: Shambles. Russell's weird theory on why people trust him (those that do.): "I think it has a lot to do with my southern background. People trust The South." That is news to me. I "trust" The South to screw up elections, keep the religious wrong a political force, and ever pine nostalgically for slavery, but that's it. Ask Black America how much they "trust" The South.

But Russell only had to breathe the name Laura, and Shambles's hatred of her came gushing out, music to Russell's ears. When Shambles heard that Russell wanted Laura gone, she was as in love as she's ever been with any man. Shambles on Russell: "I trust Russell implicitly. The guy's definitely cut from the same cloth as me." He's secretly a formerly-obese military biker "chick" and warrior, with no brain nor guile? I'll give her this, like her, he's probably never dated a man, and he's almost as butch as she is. There is the small problem of his being, like the chickens, considerably smarter than she is.

Following Major Shambles's orders, Russell informed his Zsa Zsa mates to vote for Laura, which was a tad premature, since they hadn't even had the immunity challenge yet. Jesus could give Laura what Sarah Palin hasn't had in a while: a win, and all bets would be off.

Immunity Challenge: The challenge was a pretty simple game of hitting a ball off a tee into areas marked with different scores. The twist was, double immunity. One woman, and one man, would each win immunity. This was kind of a cool new slant. It increased Laura's chances of winning safety, and I think it doubled Shambles's odds, as I believe she was allowed to play for either or both. After all, along with being one of the butchest players there, the Galuvian guys had made her an "Honorary Dude," last week. (I'm assuming it's "honorary.")

All of Igag was calling Dave "Danger Dave," so I assume they were all reading these columns months before they were written. They were cheering him on. "Go, Danger Dave." Why? They each want to win. It's no longer a team game. You should want him to lose, not win.

"Baseball your game?" Jeff asked, although my limited knowledge of sports believes that teeing off towards a target area is more golf than baseball.

"No. Making love's my sport." Yeah? To whom? No wife. No girl friend. No known history with women. Former flight attendant with a degree in Opera. I'm not saying he's gay, mind you. He might be as straight as Niles Crane. And I might be Queen of the Oompa-Loopas. (And they must be gay!)

Jeff: "You play a lot?" Why do you ask, Jeff? Getting lonely out in Samoa?

DD: "Not enough." Now that I believe.

Rocket Scientist John won for the men.

I don't mean to be mean (Who am I kidding? Yes I do.), but Monica swings like a girl.

Kelly materialized out of the ether to play. Where's she been? She's such an obscure player, Russell hasn't even shown her his Never-Hidden Immunity Idol.

Super butch Shambles took a big, hefty swing, and fouled out. Several of the men went out of bounds too, but they did so by over-shooting it. Shambles hit what I'm told in baseball is called a "foul tip." (Named, I suspect, in honor of Russell's - ah - knob.)

Laura, the designated fall guy for this episode, went last. And Jesus came through. Unlike her idol, Sarah Palin, Laura squeezed out a victory.

"That sucked," said Shambles, "Because I really wanted her gone." That's what you get for doing all your plotting before the Immunity Challenge. But look at the bright side, Shambles. Now they could vote out you!

For that matter, blindsiding Russell would be a good idea, now that he's shown the immunity idol to the entire population of the South Pacific. I think he even went around the Dharma Initiative, making alliances with them, and they were all purged back in 1992.

Russell tried moving against Monica. That was an immediate no-go. She hasn't pissed anyone off yet. You have to know a player exists before you can vote them out, and so far Monica's identity has been simply "Not-Laura."

Laura blabbed to Erik that Russell has an idol. Oops. Now we see the flaw in Russell's tell-everyone-indiscriminately-you-have-an-idol strategy. They know to target you, even if only to get you to play it, and thus eliminate it. So much for "outwitting" Galu. Russell is Outwitlessing Galu.

The name Erik spelled with a K, the way Erik does, was also the name of The Phantom of the Opera, and true to his evil name, Erik's next plan was actually to target Jaison. (since, if Russell played the idol, the person with the second-highest vote count would go.) No! Not my beautiful Jaison. Who would I have to look at with him gone? I'm stuck watching the whole season to do these columns. Am I supposed to enjoy looking at Erik, with his motley excuse for a build? John, who is handsome, but seldom shirtless, and when he is, not really well-built. MickMoron? He actually has a nice body, but he's lamer and lamer with every passing episode. Danger Dave? Actually, I wish he'd wear more shirts. He has a singularly unattractive torso. Shambles? He never goes shirtless at all, and besides, a man who's just lost 70 pounds in the weeks immediately before going on the show is apt to look really horrible with his -- What's that, Dougie? Shambles is a woman? Oh right! Slipped my mind. It's an easy error. She's like a drag king. Between the aggressive stupidity and the Billy Ray Cyrus-15-years-ago hair, it's hard to tell. But my point is, leave Jaison alone!

Laura's reaction to Erik's plan to oust Jaison? "Perfect." Some Christian. They're not supposed to worship Satan!

When Erik took his plan to John, John tried deflecting it to Monica. Mind you, Erik told John that Russell had showed his idol to Laura, which means John now knows that Russell lied to him, yet he stuck to his Russell Plan of vote-out-the-women, or Shambles. (Have you noticed that all season, all of Russell's targets have been women? Is it just me, or is Russell one huge misogynist? The way he appears to hate women, it's clear he really is married! There's nothing like having a wife to turn a straight man into a woman-hater. Or maybe it's that, as a born bully, he naturally targets women because, like all bullies, he's a coward, and he's afraid of the men?)

John described the vote-out-Zsa Zsa strategy as "Junior Varsity Survivor," and while I disagree, it was a good, funny line. Hey John, I'll handle the jokes. You just fire off your rocket.

John won over Erik, who then went and suggested to Danger Dave and Brett to vote out Monica, and not to clue Shambles in at all. "Let her vote for whoever she wants. I don't give a sh** if she votes for Probst tonight." Now that would be one hell of a blindside. "And the ninth person voted out of Survivor; Samoa is me! Jeff, the tribe has spoken."

Danger Dave, captain of the Survivor Junior Varsity Squad, still wants to gun for Zsa Zsa, so now he's suspicious of Erik. The important thing is, the target is moving back off of Jaison.

Danger Dave thinks Erik is "a crafty, crafty guy." I'd be more impressed if Dave could have come up with a second adjective, but his degree is in opera, so maybe his adjective vocabulary is all in Italian, but he has a point. Erik spoke to Jaison, MickMoron, and Natalie, telling them all to vote for Monica, but not to tell Russell. The idea being to make Russell paranoid enough to use his idol, and flush it out. This is a really good plan, as long as their loyalty to Russell is non-existent.

This plan didn't sit well with Jaison, who proposed to MickMoron and Natalie that they say they'll do that, and instead, vote for Erik. Now I don't see where four votes for Erik would do much more than paint targets on them, since there will be eight other votes, most of them probably for Monica, but it is refreshing to see an episode where, going into the last quarter hour, I haven't any idea how this will play out. This vote is wide open.

So then Natalie tried selling voting for Erik to Laura and this Kelly person. Who is going to tattle to whom next?

Kelly went scurrying over to Monica, telling her of Erik's plot against her (although it was really John's idea), which got her onboard with voting out Erik.

Needless to say, Not-Laura was fine with not being voted out, and then they were off to Danger Dave. Dave was now all for it.

When Natalie brought this plan to Russell, his natural deviousness went into doublethink: "I don't think you talked them into it. I think you think you did."

I had to put up a bulletin board to make a mosaic, like on FlashForward, of who is plotting against whom, with threads leading from player to player for each separate plot, only by now, the threads were turning into a macrame plant holder.

Great moment: Danger Dave speaking to Shambles: "Kelly said the plan's changed. Tonight, Erik goes."

Shambles: "Who's Erik?" Shambles is stupid on an epic scale. Frankly, they should have just gone ahead and told her to vote for Probst.

Jaison warned Russell: "This could be a game to get rid of the idol." This, of course, is the perfect way to get that paranoid cretin to play the idol. My mosaic board threads are now in a Gordian Knot.

Russell: "This is the first time that I don't know nothin'." Not even to avoid using double negatives, though, knowing Russell, it was probably a lie. I'll bet he's known nothing many, many times. Russell now suspects that its all a diversion to blindside him. I'm beginning to anticipate a vote where every player except the two with immunity gets one vote each.

Tribal Council: For once, I had no idea what was going to happen, and apparently, neither does anyone else in Igag. As Jeff Probst watched them file in, he had no inkling that he might be blindsided at any moment, and he has no immunity. I could feel Tom Bergeron, lurking about, waiting to take over the show.

Not-Laura: "In this game, you never really know who to trust." Welcome to Life, Not-Laura.

Erik, now adding cocky to crafty, ran down all the Zsa Zsasians, noting how Russell has been working everyone, MickMoron has turned passive, and accepting of whatever happens to him, Natalie has just been trying to avoid stepping on toes, and Jaison hasn't "come together." Erik clearly feels he's running the game now, although the last fifteen minutes of airtime has shown that no one is running the game this week, and nobody has warned Jeff of his danger.

Jaison defended his game play, and Erik patronizingly said, "Well, I like that, you know, I like that in a player. If I was your coach, I would say that's what I like to hear." Erik seems to have forgotten he is not Jaison's, nor anyone else's, coach. Oxford graduate Jaison isn't taking this bull from a bartender.

Jaison: "I guess the point is, I don't care what you like." Snap! Jaison, when you're strong like that, you make my heart flutter.

Erik's patronizing attitude was making Jaison and Russell both smirk, though Russell may have tipped his hand too much when he said he would talk and strategize with each and every player up there to stay in the game, since most of Igag has noticed him doing just exactly that, except for Shambles, who was still trying to figure out who Erik is, and wondering if she can ask Jeff how to spell his name.

Russell, turning artistic, drew a happy face on his ballot beside Erik's name.

Lot's of suspense. Would Russell or Erik sense their danger and use their idols? And, of course, who voted for whom?

Russell leapt to his feet, and played his idol. He was now safe, but did he need to? Would there be enough Russell votes to have ousted him or has he wasted it? Either way, He'll be fair game in the future. Of course, there would have been no drive to get him to use his idol if he hadn't shown it to single every person in Samoa, and most of Hawaii as well.

We quickly learned that at least two members of Igag thought Jaison's name was "Jason." This was followed by learning that there was dissension in Igag as to whether it was spelled "Erik or "Eric." Kids, it's Erik with a K, not Liza with a Z, 'cause Liza with a Z goes zzz, not sss.

By the fourth vote for Erik, you could see that he was starting to regret not playing the idol then burning a hole in his pocket. On the fifth Erik vote, Shambles started looking puzzled, though whether this was because she thought someone else was to be voted out, or whether she still had no idea who Erik was, was not clear. In any event, watching Erik go from overconfident, to smugly amused, to mildly puzzled, to deeply alarmed to grimly disgusted, was sweet. Over-confidence is always the kiss of death on Survivor. And running around ordering people to vote this way or that is a sure way to get yourself ousted. And thus Erik became the first member of what will be a large jury. (In fact, it will be a jury of 10, an even number, which leaves me to suspect that they will only be going to a final 3, instead of a final 2, as only that will give them a jury of 9.) Erik walked off with his idol unplayed. Which means that both idols are gone now. No more hidden immunity.

Probst: "Well, your first vote as a new tribe, your first blindside. This is most definitely a new game." I've got to say. Jeff, it looks exactly like the same old game to me. We haven't seen a blindside since - well - last week.

In Erik's "Family Moment," someone I assume to be his dad said, "We need the money." Better get a job, Dad. Erik isn't bringing home the million.

The previews showed everyone turning on Russell (and about time too), and the idoless man desperate. This can only mean one thing. He'll win immunity next week, because they wouldn't have edited the previews to look like he was doomed if he was actually going to get eliminated. Drat!

For the record, Russell got no votes at all, so he utterly wasted his idol on paranoia, as Erik intended. Danger Dave, was one of the tribe members who misspelled "Eric," and the always-clueless Shambles was the second vote for Jaison. Dave told her the vote was for Erik. Did she not believe it, decided Erik's orders outweighed Dave's, forget who to vote for, or not believe there really was an "Erik"? We'll never know.

Cheers darlings.

To read more of Tallulah Morehead, go to The Morehead, the Merrier, or buy her book, My Lush Life.

Mario Almonte: Howard Stern: Diamond in a Rough Patch

2009-11-02T13:31:16Z

For a man who almost single-handedly revolutionized the broadcasting industry and profoundly influenced modern American pop culture, radio personality Howard Stern continues to be spectacularly disrespected by his own colleagues and the media itself that he so radically transformed.

While personalities like Jack Benny and Edgar Bergen popularized radio as a medium for entertainment, Howard Stern transformed it into a weapon of mass destruction. He annihilated cultural taboos, relentlessly exposed the hypocrisies and double standards in society and the entertainment field. He confronted the charlatans in religion, politics, and the media -- who often proved to be the worst offenders of the very things they railed against. He treated the physically and mentally disabled, the social misfits and other cast-offs from society like celebrities; while mercilessly ridiculing the rich and famous for their delusional sense of self-importance. His radio show was itself the first true, unflinchingly honest reality series long before the concept was even a glint in the eyes of television producers.

Through all the years and all the controversies -- the obsessive efforts of the FCC to crush him with millions of dollars in fines for indecency; the relentless pursuit of fanatical fringe groups seeking to knock his show off the air because they thought him rude, crude and obnoxious -- he not only persevered, he triumphed. He dominated the entertainment industry as one of the most popular radio personalities in North America -- and in the history of broadcasting -- for more than 20 years. He wrote two New York Times best sellers and starred in a number-one movie about his life. At the peak of his popularity, his radio show was syndicated in more than 60 markets in North America, with a listening audience estimated at 20 million.

When Stern moved his show from terrestrial to satellite radio in 2006, he caused a seismic shift in the dynamics of the two media. He instantly lifted the struggling satellite technology to prominence, while driving another nail in the coffin of terrestrial radio by creating a vacuum of talent that pushed it to bleed listeners faster than ever before. The company he landed on, Sirius Radio, struggling to lure memberships up to that point, saw its subscriber base skyrocket. More than 180,000 new receivers were activated on the day before he launched his show on January 8, and millions of more fans signed up in the coming months. The $500 million paycheck that Sirius gave Stern made him one of the richest persons in show business, rivaling Martha Stewart and Oprah. Time magazine voted him among its 100 "Leaders in the Limelight" and Forbes ranked him in the #7 spot on its annual celebrity power ranking.

If anyone ignored, dismissed or denied the existence or impact of Howard Stern before, they no longer could.

Face the Nation
Yet, all of Stern's accomplishments have apparently never been enough to earn him the respect of the entertainment community. It continues to dismiss him as a minor irritant, a c-list celebrity who does not deserve recognition or attention. Fellow entertainers brazenly steal material and ideas from his show, and when confronted, wave off his indignation -- as if it was coming from a delusional man who believes he also invented the wheel and discovered fire. On-air personalities screw up their faces in mock pain whenever they mention his name, as if he was a dose of bad-tasting medicine they had no choice but to swallow. Industry award organizations like the Radio Hall of Fame routinely pass him over to induct inferior talent. His own alma mater, Boston University, until recently, pointedly excluded him from their hallowed halls, refusing to hang his portrait among the other celebrity graduates.

Today, Howard Stern toils away in the significantly smaller listener universe of satellite radio, which, after a surge in membership following his acquisition, now finds itself struggling to survive. Even the unstoppable force that was Howard Stern could not save the technology, which hit the immovable objects of an economic meltdown and increasing competition from alternative media. Commanding less than ten percent of his former audience, Stern is now marginalized as a cultural phenomenon that has passed his prime.

Yet, driven by a relentless need for perfection, his show remains a masterpiece of improvised dialogue; a mosaic of brilliant observations about society; of exquisite interviews of celebrities and even ordinary people that surgically cut to the heart of their humanity and illuminate their vulnerability as no other interviewer in any other medium ever has -- or ever could. His humor continues to push the boundaries of cultural decorum, running the gamut from the sublime to the ridiculous, from the raw to the refined.

Stern readily admits to being bitter and bewildered by the dogged obstinacy -- even hostility -- of the entertainment industry to recognize his contributions and give him the respect he is due. Yet, he refuses to yield or solicit their approval, and rather revels in the role of the outsider -- like the fallen Archangel who defiantly proclaims he would rather be ruler of his domain than serve a vain and capricious God in heaven.

Mark Olmsted: The New Epidemic: Entitlitus

2009-10-27T15:02:32Z

In the '30s came radio and newsreels, and with them access to a degree of fame never known before. Still, the vast majority of time, you had to do something to get a microphone or camera in your face. It wasn't until the '50s and '60s that John and Jane Doe might be seen by millions; in fact, I would bet game shows were probably what prompted Andy Warhol to declare: "In the future, everyone will have their 15 minutes of fame." He was off by 45 minutes.

The reality show epidemic has produced an entirely new creature: the near-instant has-been. With the rare exception of a Elizabeth Hasselbeck or Paris Hilton, most of these gigs are one-night stands. But evidently, seeing yourself on TV and getting recognized at the supermarket can go right to the head. Why else would Richard Heene, (Balloon Boy's Dad) appear on Wife Swap twice?

I can understand how someone who's made it the 8th round of So You Can Think You Can Dance feels like they've earned some minor celebrity status. But what we're seeing more and more is something a little bit different: a sense of entitlement to fame unearned by any accomplishment.

The desire for notoriety is as old as humanity; we confuse a lot of attention with a lot of love. But recently people seem to be unable to distinguish between wanting it and earning it. Richard Heene is a shining example, but far from alone. Notice how often are athletes or talent show contestants told: "It depends how much you really want this." The likelihood of success is measured by intention, not result; yearning over performance. The takeaway message is clear: If you don't win, it's because you didn't want it enough.

Blame it on reality shows, blame in on the culture of celebrity, the perception increasingly seems to be that desire makes you deserving. The sentiment is funny--if a little pathetic--during American Idol auditions, when the tone deaf screechers can't seem to hear themselves. But when Denver airport gets shut down and the Colorado taxpayer is out a million bucks, it's downright dangerous.

My advice to all those blinded by the kleig lights: rent Gone With the Wind. There's a scene where Mammy utters three little words to Scarlett about her insistence that Ashley will propose marriage: "Wantin' Ain't Gettin!"

Frank Rich: In Defense Of The Balloon Boy Dad

2009-10-24T23:56:14Z

For a country desperate for good news, the now-deflated "balloon boy" spectacle would seem to be the perfect tonic. As Wolf Blitzer of CNN summed up the nation's unrestrained joy upon learning that the imperiled boy had never been in any peril whatsoever: "All of us are so excited that little Falcon is fine."

Karen Thalacker: Lawyers on Reality Television: Should We Object?

2009-10-23T16:53:59Z

First there were psychologists. Then came doctors. And now it's time to welcome lawyers to reality television. According to The Hollywood Reporter, a New York law firm has signed on for a show where "everyday people" will get legal advice from expert lawyers. In an interview with The Am Law Daily, Joe Tacopina, one of the lawyers to be featured, revealed that no retainers will be paid and the "everyday people" will not be clients.

Even though I am an eternal optimist, I have to admit that upon hearing about this show, I made the "I don't think that's such a great idea" face. Why was I grimacing?

One: Every state has different laws. Legal commentators who are currently on television are analyzing actual cases in the news and not giving legal advice on pending matters. Assuming there is nationwide distribution of the show, will the generalizations and disclaimers the legal experts are forced to make diminish the value of the advice and result in greater confusion?

Two: The portrayal of lawyers on television and in movies (excluding my heroes Perry Mason and Atticus Finch, of course) has often harmed instead of helped how the general public perceives lawyers. Although the lawyers involved are probably both wonderful and competent, will the producers be pushing for a stereotypical portrayal of "lawyers" instead of recognizing the diversity that exists in the profession?

And three: my greatest concern - what sort of message will this reality show send to lawyers and their clients? It's not unfair to say that inherent in this type of show is an oversimplification of the problems clients face. A resolution will be reached in a matter of minutes instead of a matter of months. Too often, clients walk into the law office expecting their lawyers to give them free advice that will magically fix whatever problems the clients have created. This show may only reinforce this unrealistic expectation.

The real work of being a lawyer is not done by simply telling "everyday people" what the law is. It is done in talking with clients and counseling them regarding the possible courses of action. The real work of lawyers involves discovering what obstacles the clients themselves have placed in the way of a good outcome and then removing them. The real work of lawyers involves hours behind a desk researching the law and then carefully choosing the wording of your letters and pleadings. In fact, the only real legal activity on this show may be done by the lawyers who draw up the waiver forms so the "everyday people" can't sue the legal experts when they act on their advice.

Here is the ultimate question that only the audience can answer: Is there entertainment value in "everyday people" with real legal problems getting non-binding legal advice from lawyers who aren't really their lawyers?

Tallulah Morehead: Survivor: Samoa : No Fruit Cup.

2009-10-23T10:11:05Z

First off, a little leftover Big Brother business. Two days ago, Adam Jasinski, the winner of Big Brother 9, was arrested while in possession of some 2000 Oxycodone pills, with intent to distribute. It seems that Adam invested his $500,000 prize in pharmaceuticals. How enterprising of him.

Adam gave me the cold creeps from day one. While in the Big Brother house, the bug-eyed, charmless creature managed to get himself fired from his job working with autistic children, by calling them "retards" on national TV. Classy. When the other houseguests objected that this was offensive (and to offend Big Brother houseguests, you have to be really revolting!), he gave the defense that, since he worked with them, he was allowed. Turned out he wasn't. And it also turns out he's not allowed to illegally buy and sell Oxycodone either. If he found being locked up in the Big Brother house for three months challenging, wait until he spends 20 years in the Big House. My condolences to his future cellmates, because he is one creepy slab of repulsive flesh. Next to Adam, Richard Hatch is a model citizen. Bye bye, Adam. You'll soon be someone else's "Eve."

Now to business. Why do they call the tropics "Paradise"? As this episode began, the Samoan Survivors were wet and freezing from five consecutive days of torrential rains. Paradise is a warm room, a comfy bed, a bottle of vodka, and a naked Hugh Jackman.

Psycho Russell wants to be someplace miserable, which may explain why he lives in Texas. He wants to be someplace so awful, he wouldn't take his family there. I'm sure his family can find misery at home, when Russell returns. He's missed the fact that anyplace he is will be miserable.

My gorgeous future ex-husband Jaison was frozen and shivering, which means he was hot and cold at the same time. And with their amazing losing streak, Tribe Zsa Zsa is losing members faster than the Republican Party.

Some people get hair plugs transplanted. Rapidly balding, dread-locked Black Russell looks like he's gotten rope transplants. However Black Russell has bigger problems than his hair. Tribe Galu has also been pounded by five days of torrential downpours, and they are all aware that they are soaked through and frozen because of Russell's bone-headed decision to get soft pillows instead of a rainproof canvas tarp. There are now basically seven people vying to be the Galu Fletcher Christian.

Rocket Scientist John on Black Russell's record as Tribe Leader: "One person is elected to make decisions for the group. Sometimes it puts you in a worse position than you would have been if you were making those decisions for yourself." He just described the United States of America from 2001 to 2008. (When Stanley Kubrick made 2001: A Space Odyssey in 1968, he failed to mention that the giant infant would be running America.)

Someone called Brett (Who?) was impressed that Black Russell was out in the rain, keeping the fire going, while we the rest of them huddled under a tree, trying to escape the downpour, yet he also felt this was unnecessary, and "went a bit too far." His logic, if he had any, utterly eluded me. On the other hand, wandering around, working mostly naked is freezing cold rain is not the way to keep one's health up.

At Zsa Zsa, MickMoron is huddled in the hollow of the big tree, listening to the thunder. Apparently, no one ever told him not to hide under a tree in a lightning storm, He said: "I can't wear my clothes because they're all soaking wet." So there is an up side to the storm.

Psycho Russell thinks everyone else is a baby for wanting to stay dry while he wanders about in the storm with the joy in being wet that you see in a three year old playing with a garden hose. "Where are they all from?" he asked, "New York City?" Is this a salsa sauce commercial? Yes, Russell, because New York City is the only place on earth where people have the sense to come in out of the rain, something Russell apparently lacks. Them and their citified sissy ways of trying to avoid getting soaked 24 hours a day. I'm assuming Russell lives in an open field, like a man. Buildings are for wimps.

Said Psycho Russell about showing effort in challenges: "If you don't throw up out there every frikkin' challenge, you didn't do your job, that's how I think of it." I have yet to see Russell throw up in a challenge, much as I'd like to. Heaven knows, he makes me heave. Interesting job description though, "Must throw up. Strong stomachs need not apply."

Finally on the sixth day, the rain stopped, and gorgeous rainbows were seen. Emerging from the hollow tree where he'd been living, Galu's Erik told us: "I was like, okay, I give in. We give in. We understand your greatness. We understand your power. And if you are kind to us, I promise we will speak of your mercy. And less than twelve hours later, I wake up in my hole, and not only is it blue skies, but the most beautiful rainbow you've ever seen. It's almost as if Samoa said, 'That's all I wanted to hear. Just know, I'm the man. You're not. Now that we've got that clear, enjoy yourself for the next twenty-four days'."

Actually, it's almost as though the storm ended from natural atmospheric conditions. Samoa's water torture has caused Erik to lose his mind, and turn into a superstitious primitive. If it had rained for another day, he might have started sacrificing virgins, if they have any. For the record, Erik, you are "the man." Samoa is a chain of islands. It's not sentient. The weather responds to climatological conditions, not to your conversations with yourself. Erik is turning into John Locke on Lost, believing that he's talking to the island, and that it's answering him back. Erik, Locke was insane, and Ben ended up strangling him to death. Where is Ben Linus now that we need him?

Black Russell: "I think going through a storm like this, I think it definitely brings the tribe together, uh, 'cause we weathered it all together." Yes Russ, it has brought the tribe together, united in wanting to be rid of the boob responsible for their all being soaked to the skin for five days. And that would be Mr. "I'll take the soft cushions instead of the rainproof tarp" Russell.

But Fate had his own plans.

Reward Challenge: Oh this was a great challenge, at least on the drawing board. Whomever came up with this one is a serious Sadist. Each team had a huge wooden sphere, inside of which one tribe member would be strapped, and would then have to verbally tell blindfolded tribemates how to roll them through a large maze, to a table maze, where again the ball resident would then talk the still-blind team in guiding a small ball through a tilt-table maze to a hole. The person in the ball would be rolled all over the place. Maybe Psycho Russell was right about throwing up, as this looked like the nausea-inducer of all time. And the reward? Pizza!

But there was more to it than that. There was to be no immunity challenge. Both tribes would go to Tribal Council, and both would lose a member. (With fourteen people still competing, they desperately need some double evictions, or they'll still be in Samoa come Easter.) The winners would get to watch the losers' Tribal Council, learning where the tensions and rivalries of their opponents lurk. And in the final, genius Sadistic flourish, that would be when they get their pizza. So they get to munch their yummy feast in front of the hungry losers, while Jeff pokes the poisons to the surface. Then the losers leave, and the winners have their Council in privacy. This was a lovely, layered ball of noxious meaness.

Since Galu has almost twice as many members as Zsa Zsa, they had to sit four players out. I was hoping Shambles would have been strapped inside the ball. Oh, how I was hoping for that, if only to watch her stupid hair go all over the place. But the ball rider player would have to give cogent, intelligent directions while being rolled about like they were inside a bamboo and wicker gyroscope, and Shambles is a walking disaster even when not disoriented, and probably has little if any experience as a ball rider, so Black Russell was most likely wise to let her sit it out. Damn.

Asian Liz went into Zsa Zsa's ball, and someone called Laura, whom I'd swear was just added to the cast this episode, was strapped into Galu's ball, thus missing the chance to have the two Russells in the balls, having a ball-off. Meanwhile, Dana Andrews was as surprised as I was by Laura' sudden materialization. He'd been investigating her murder. I guess this lets Waldo Lydecker off the hook. (If the last three sentences left you bewildered, you really need to catch up on your classic movie-watching.)

Just to make the challenge into even more awesome viewing, they had a camera inside each ball: a Nausea-Cam. The rolling part involved accidentally ramming these huge balls into blindfolded players, and smashing into trees. Zsa Zsa finished the roll course first.

However, once they reached the tilt-table mazes, Black Russell began to fall apart. He was exhausted and disoriented, and couldn't seem to find his way to the ball or the table maze. Zsa Zsa was doing well at the table maze.

And then, the event they've been ballyhooing all week in the promos happened.

Black Russell passed out, face first onto a corner of their table maze. The other players were blindfolded, so they didn't even know it, and the mystery Laura woman was so busy shouting tilt-the-table orders, she didn't notice either. But Jeff Probst did. Clearly something was seriously wrong with Galu's leader. When Russell fell over, held above the mud only by his sleeve being caught on his table peg, Jeff called the competition to a halt, and called for medical. Russell was in The Twilight Zone.

"It's okay. I'm good," Russell told medical, a second before collapsing into the mud. As Black Russell came back to semi-consciousness, he repeated, "I'm good. Let's go. Let's go." He was lolling in the mud, unaware of even the fact that he was flat-out on the ground, and had been unconscious for a time, and in a thoroughly altered state. Sure I passed out, and can't even stand up, but we've got pizza to win. I don't mean to be too critical of a clearly sick man, but really, he wasn't even in the ball. You'd expect it to be this Laura person who passed out.

Slow to accept his reality (though in fairness, his brain was so oxygen-starved at that moment, he couldn't actually understand what was going on or what his actual state was.), Russell continued insisting, "I'm cool. I mean I was a little winded from pushing the ball, but I'm good." Actually he had, basically, no blood pressure at all. The doctor said his BP was lower than Chef Mike's had been when he was sidelined, and Chef Mike was twenty years older than Russell, and obese, whereas Black Russell was nothing if not muscular and fit. For him to be laid out like that, something was seriously awry. But hey, he's got pizza to win.

Jeff, on his own authority, called off the challenge. No one got pizza. Nice going, Black Russell. Not only did you deprive your tribe of waterproof shelter during a five-day monsoon, but now you've deprived everyone of pizza! I was reminded of the great Cloris Leachman as Nurse Diesel in Mel Brooks's High Anxiety, snarling at Harvey Korman when he was late for dinner, "No fruit cup!" And even she didn't deprive everyone of fruit cup, just Harvey. Jeff, you're so strict.

If I were on Zsa Zsa, I would be particularly pissed, because they were way ahead, and would probably have won the pizza. But then, their lead was likely due to Russell's falling apart. It's not like they ever win anything on their own. I might have made the opposite call, and given everyone pizza, but not Jeff. I bet he ate all that pizza himself.

And just to make everything really peachy, as the tribes got back to their camps, the rain resumed. I guess Samoa felt Erik had gone back on his deal. Or maybe it was just a cold front moving through. Hmmm. Which could it be? Normal, natural weather conditions, or a sentient island pissed off at Erik? I'm stumped.

At least all the drama finally being on Galu allowed me to see why I've never noticed Laura before. Laura and Monica (who?), while not related, are nonetheless identical. They're like Haley Mills in The Parent Trap (all right, like Lindsey Lohan in The Parent Trap remake, for the youngsters reading this, if young people ever actually read anything anymore). They could go home to each other's families, and no one would ever be the wiser. I'm not sure they know who is which, and which is who, or care.

Back at the challenge ground, Russell is a mess. They tried having him sit up. He sat up. That's all, just sat up. He reluctantly admitted to feeling "a little light-headed," and then promptly passed out again, only this time with eyes wide open and staring, but clearly not seeing. It was chilling. He looked dead. Not dead tired. Dead, as in not-alive. They laid him back down, and everyone looked good and scared that they were losing him permanently. Medical made a call that was clearly the right one. They pulled him from the game.

As Jeff told Russell they were pulling him out of Survivor, he whined "Ahhh, come on..." although he was hard to hear through the oxygen mask that was keeping him barely alive. I was starting to be reminded of the Black Knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail (or in Spamalot, for those young folks again, who never watch a film made before 1995), who, when all of his limbs had been hacked off, insisted on continuing to fight. "It's only a scratch."

"What are you going to do? Bleed on me?" (Oh, it's so much easier doing these recaps when I can use 35 year old gags written by the best comedy minds of the century, instead of torturing out my own jokes.)

"My family depends on me to be the strong one," Russell continued arguing, when he could draw in enough air to speak. Russell, your family depends on you to come home alive. "I'm just dehydrated," said the man unable to even sit up without passing out. When it sank in to him that his denial of reality wasn't going to get the show to let him kill himself on TV, he tossed off the oxygen mask, and showed his strength, by blubbering on camera. Sorry about your having to leave, Russ. Your pecs were a weekly visual treat, but butch up, man. You daughter would have a legitimate reason to cry if you killed yourself refusing to accept your human limitations.

In the end, his bone-headed tarp decision was what did him in, but not by inducing his pissed-off fellow tribemates to vote him out, but by leaving him also exposed to the brutal elements, during which, to perhaps make up for the additional misery he'd inflicted on his tribe, he had spent much of the storm out in the rain, shirtless and soaked, tending the fire, until his bull-like body could take it no longer. Amazing how you can become almost terminally dehydrated (literally) while constantly soaking wet.

Back at Zsa Zsa, Liz could read the writing in the sand. Someone was being voted out, and her head was closest to the chopping block, though Natalie knew she might also be in danger, since Psycho Russell, MickMoron, and Jaison were unlikely to vote one of their male trio out. The show had to present some scrambling for votes at Zsa Zsa, but there seemed little suspense or surprise.

Over at Galu, where the decision was slightly more up in the air, and they didn't know if Russell was coming back or not, or if they would still have to vote someone out if he didn't, there was more to observe.

"I have a feeling that [Shambles] is going to be gunning for me," said someone who was either Laura or Monica, unless there's still some other stealth tribe member who looks exactly like the two of them. Given that Shambles has no allies on the team at all, I fail to see why anyone would worry who she was gunning for, unless they suspected she somehow had brought along an actual gun. As an ex-Marine, there's a good chance she's a fair shot.

In any event, since Shambles (1) has no allies on the tribe, (2) broke the snorkel first day, when she went "fishing" without catching any fish, (3) let one of their precious chickens escape through sheer incompetent bungling, and (4) has established friendships with the remains of Zsa Zsa, it would be wise to get rid of her before the merge, which any sort of logic would tell you has to come immediately after the Tribal Council. Zsa Zsa can not function in challenges with only four members. Hell, they couldn't function in challenges when they had ten members. What's the need of debate, guys? Shambles needs to go.

Shambles however, wasn't going out without a fight, or at least an argument. Her argument to the girls who are Laura and/or Monica was that she "made fire" the first eight days. Assuming that's true, this is day 15. What's she been doing for the last week, besides bonding with the other team, breaking snorkels, and losing chickens? "Who kept you warm?" Shambles asked Monica, who well remembered how Shambles, and only Shambles, voted to evict her at their one Tribal Council, while everyone else voted to oust Yasmin back to Planet X. Sure I voted to kick you out, but don't vote to kick me out.

Rocket Scientist John, however, was trying to discredit his rocket scientist credentials, by campaigning to keep Shambles and vote out Monica. John was continuing to think in terms of the separate tribes going on forever, and how Shambles has no power on Galu. John, the merge is coming soon, probably right after Council. That will hand Shambles four allies, and turn her into a power. Get rid of her. It's not rocket science. I mean it would be nice for me. Shambles is a walking punchline, and as long as she's still there, I can continue to make jokes about her. But as long-term Survivor strategy goes, you need to cut her loose before the merge. Well, you know rocket science: for every stupid action, there is an equal and opposite stupid reaction, and John was providing the stupid reaction.

So Shambles shambled up to work on the boys. Erik told us how they weren't going to tell her anything, and then began babbling to her in a ridiculously "sly" (to him) manner.

John (in front of Shambles): "Erik, if you were [Shambles], who would you vote for tonight?"

Erik: "Not me?"

Shambles: "Not you."

Erik (while trying to impale his brain on the machete for no clear reason): "If I were [Shambles], I would probably stay consistent."

Shambles:"Who?" This minuscule conversational gambit had left Shambles baffled. But then, most things do.

Erik (winking): "Consistent. I'd stay consistent."

John (realizing that any form of even slight subtlety was lost on the terminally dense woman): "Meaning who you voted for last time is probably your best bet."

Shambles (more out of it than Black Russell was while he was passed out): "You would stay consistent?"

Erik: "If I were [Shambles.]." (At this point, hollering "Vote for Monica, you stupid cow!" would probably be too subtle for her to grasp.)

Shambles: "What if you were John?" Why stop there, Shambles? What if Erik was Monica? What if Erik was President Obama? What if Erik was a pair of nubile, eighteen-year-old twins with huge boobs, living with Hugh Hefner on another network. What if Erik was a dalek? What if Erik was a rock? Let's examine all the possibilities.

Erik (now digging into his ear with the point of the machete, I guess in hopes of puncturing his eardrum, so he didn't have to listen to the stupid woman's idiot questions any longer.): "I would follow the leader, as in, [Shambles'] the leader."

Shambles (grinning, instantly buying this load of tripe.): "Really?" (Turning to John) "And if you were Erik, who would you vote for?" By this point I was ready to slap all three of them.

John: "I'd vote for Monica." John has realized that one can not be subtle with Shambles. "Who are you voting for, [Shambles]? Do you get what this is about?"

Shambles: "Yes I do." By now, I was looking around for a machete to stab my own ears with, because this was driving me nuts. Just vote for the dimmest bulb, guys: the stupid, chicken-losing, snorkel-ruining moron in front of you, with the ties to the other tribe.

Well one thing is now clear: Galu's winning streak wasn't due to brain power.

Tribal Council: All 13 remaining players were assembled for Tribal Council, as Jeff gave them the medical verdict. Psycho Russell was now the only Russell in the game, and I can drop the "Psycho" from his name.

Several players made little speeches about how much more difficult the game is than it seemed on TV. Danger Dave, the former flight attendant with a degree in opera said: "Easily the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, and I've done a couple of hard things." Really? Whose? Or is he referring to sitting through all 20 hours of Der Ring Des Nibelungen, which is no picnic, believe me. I've done it myself, and I had to be strapped down, like Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange. At hour 12, I had began raving. At hour 14, I began singing in tongues (as was Brunhilde). At hour 17, I had to be heavily medicated. Finally, the medical team pulled me from the opera audience just before the conflagration which climaxes Gotterdammerung. (Why did I do it? I had lost a bet. Damn that Conrad Veidt!)

Erik and Shambles both spoke of praying to get the rain to stop. "And as we sit here, it is starting to pour once again." Jeff added, helpfully pointing out the inefficacy of prayer.

Remaining Russell showed the inefficacy of living in denial, when he said, "I think [Galu] is gonna be shocked in the next couple of challenges, because we can come back, and we can even up them numbers. Then it'd be a different story then." No matter how many times he stuck "then" into the same sentence, it couldn't stop the Galu tribe members from giggling over that one. Even assuming the tribes stay split for a few more challenges, the only way Galu would be shocked would be if Halliburton did the electrical wiring for them, and the only way those numbers would be "evened up" would be if those shocks actually killed a couple of Galu's team members.

And then came Christmas in Samoa. Jeff announced that because, for the first time ever, a challenge was not completed, no one would be voted out. Tribal Council was just a big pow-wow for everyone, with no votes. Hello? We had a chance to eliminate three players in one episode, so that Survivor: Samoa had a chance to be over before mid-2010, and they tossed it away. They had set up that, regardless of who won and who lost the challenge, both teams would send someone home, and now, instead of losing two people as planned, they were just losing Black Russell. I could see letting Galu off the hook, since they had lost a person, but why did Russell's collapse provide Zsa Zsa with an ouster reprieve? This made no sense to me. But it gave Liz a smug look of triumph. She was not going home yet.

Russell lied, as per usual, by saying, "I think it's the best news I heard all day." Oh please. It meant he didn't get to carve another notch on his death list. He went on, "I really believe the tables are about to turn, and I'm a give one hundred ten percent that it does," showing he's still deep in denial, has, at best, peculiar grammar, and has a rather poor grasp of math. Maybe some auditors are needed to glance over his oil company's books. Erik was smirking all though this, looking awfully smug for a man who had earlier made a deal with the island (A deal that the island reneged on, I might add.), while Danger Dave rolled his eyes.

And so, with an order to Galu to choose a new leader when they got back to camp, this pointless Tribal Council came to an end, without even the surprise I had been expecting, an announcement of pizza for everyone. When Jeff Probst says "No fruit cup," he means it. What a let down. They ended on watching Russell being hauled away on a stretcher, looking humiliated to have learned he's just as human as everyone else.

In the previews of next week, we saw the Galu guys making Shambles in essence an honorary guy (I'm not really sure it's actually just honorary. She doesn't have a feminine bone in, or near, her body) to help them combat the menace which is either Monica or Laura, if only they could tell who was whom, but with Danger Dave having doubts, because, as he so accurately put it, "[Shambles] is so dim that she could screw up our plans." Indeed she could, since her idea of how to handle a secret clue is to call everyone over and read the clue aloud. And meanwhile, Russell was "seeding" Monica or Laura. Those two girls really need to wear name tags or have their identities tattooed on their foreheads, because I have no idea which witch is which.

An ad appears on this page most weeks for applicants to be contestants on Survivor. You might want to bear Black Russell's experiences in mind, if you're thinking of applying. It's much more grueling than it appears on TV. And even if you live through it, I'll still be here, waiting to make snarky remarks about you from the comfort of my living room. Plus you could get stuck on an island with someone like Shambles, or someone even worse. Just saying.

Next week's column will not appear on Friday as usual. Halloween is my busy season. So my recap will not appear until Sunday. Until then, cheers darlings. And remember, there's no treat like a trick, so trick on Halloween. I certainly hope to.

To read more of Tallulah Morehead, go to The Morehead, the Merrier, or buy her book, My Lush Life.

Jon Gosselin Returns Money To Family Bank Account

2009-10-23T08:02:19Z

Jon Gosselin is now in "complete compliance" with a court order that he return $180,000 he took from a joint bank account with his wife, says his attorney, Mark Heller--but, according to Heller, Kate Gosselin is not.