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Big Brother 12: The 12th Coming

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"And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Studio City to be born?"
- What Yeats would have written, if he'd waited 90 more years to write The Second Coming.

It's summertime in Studio City, and CBS has rounded up another group of houseguests to spend a summer trying to outwitless each other, on what is known to some as "Survivor For Shut-Ins," aka, Big Brother: Season 12: The Saboteur. Let's meet them, while I make snap judgements on their worth as human beings:

Andrew is a "Successful podiatrist," which is fortunate, given our ever-growing number of failed podiatrists that you see living by the highway, in cardboard shoeboxes. He's also successfully Jewish, and he stated: "I'm not going to compromise my Judaism." What does he think Big Brother will try to get him to do? Celebrate Christmas? Not keep kosher? Buy retail?

Last year's winner was the hopelessly stupid and monumentally ignorant Jordumb. Hopefully losing this year is Jordumb's clone, Britney, a "blonde" from Arkansas with a drawl so thick, just hearing it can cause IQ loss. Although from a town smaller than my house, she claims to have "Big-City Game." Turns out she was referring to her Monopoly set, "Back Woods Shanty Town Edition."

Tall, muscular, narcissist Hayden is from Arizona, and given his Aryan Youth looks and magnificent body, my guess is that the Arizona Gestapo aren't stopping him to ask for his papers too terribly often. He lives on the convenient side of Racial Profiling. Hayden says he is: "the most competitive person you will ever meet," but then, he has no idea whom I will ever meet, nor is he likely to find out behind the racist barriers of Arizona. He added: "The ladies love me. That's what's going to take me far in this game." I believe some ladies love him, also some men, but no one loves him as much as he does.

Oh, fake-red-head Rachel of Las Vegas is a piece of work, in fact, two pieces. She announced: "Most people think I'm just a hot girl with big boobs..." Nonsense, Rachel. No one thinks you're hot. We have Hi-Def now. But Rachel's big secret is: she thinks she's smart: "...when actually, I'm a chemist." (This, of course, could mean she runs a meth lab out on her grandpa's ranch, but let's pretend it doesn't.) "...I'm going to surprise everybody with how smart I am," she added, enunciating almost two-thirds of the consonants in her words, "... and the big boobs don't hurt either." Actually, I would think getting smacked hard by a couple of ginormous bags of rocks the size of her udder would put you in serious danger of a collapsed lung.

Kathy is a butch older woman. She's a deputy sheriff from Texarkana, Arkansas. Oh what joy. I wonder how many tickets she's written for Britney? "I'm gonna bust everyone in the house," she blathered. Won't she be a ray of sunshine? None of my special, "medical" brownies for Kathy.

Monet, pronounced the affected French way, is not the divine artist of that name, but a full-of-herself young woman of no announced profession (like what we used to call a "woman with no visible means of support." We also called them "whores."), who loftily proclaimed, "I really hope the other houseguests are up to my standards," while wearing an outfit of surpassing ugliness, "because I don't want to be around anyone who is gross, or just plain old nasty." Ah Monet, have you ever seen this show before? The producers spend months seeking out the grossest, nastiest, most disgusting losers they can cull from across rural America, and they found -- you!

Up pops Matt of Elgin, Illinois. Matt looks personable. He's apparently a musician, not just someone who shops (Monet), lounges poolside, displaying her huge boobs (Rachel), or trots about the football field shirtless, displaying his huge boobs (Hayden). Could he be the token likable houseguest I seek? Open your mouth, Matt, what are you like? "I am a genius!" Oops. Destroyed it with just four words. Another egotist telling us that he's going to outsmart all the other ignorant doofuses in the house, only this one is tattooed. (Why do these people always think it takes a genius to outwit idiots?) But Matt buried any possible personal likeableness still further, by proudly informing us he's a member of MENSA. Don't people realize that everyone hates anyone who announces they are a member of MENSA? The whole organization exists solely for smarties with inferiority complexes to be able to sit around and exhibit their brains to each other. Smart, secure people, don't need membership cards to prove their worth. "They'll never see me coming," Matt added, showing this genius must, nonetheless, rely on cliches. A "Genius" would have said something original. Or does he think that that "Harry Potter Invisibility Cloak" he bought at that Harry Potter Theme Park in Florida really works?

Florida resident Annie, a skinny young woman in a bikini she lacks the body for (her entire body weight is less than that of Rachel's left boob), made sure we knew she's "bi-sexual." Okay, she's no beauty, but I don't believe she has to buy sex. Please note, no announced "bisexual" in the history of Big Brother has ever done anything with it, let alone actually conducted parallel summer showmances on TV, so don't get your hopes up.

Lane, a drop-dead gorgeous ranchhand from rural Texas (This year, they seem to be operating on a system of: "No drawl? Bye-bye, y'all."), seems to find his own chronically unsanitary state to be a selling point in his favor: "I'm used to getting my hands dirty on the ranch, so I'm definitely ready to get my hands dirty in the house." He looks to me like he's definitely ready for a long, hot shower. In fact, I'm already lathering up. When we first spotted Lane, he said: "Are you jacking with me?" No, I'm not, but I'm open to the experience. ("Lane" is the name of one of the butler characters in Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest. What would you like to bet that Lane doesn't know that?)

Just to show that not all the houseguests are from the rural Confederacy, the curse of Jersy Shore struck. A New Jersey mook named Enzo, too homely to get on a show with The Situation, has been stirred into the pot, to work out his rage issues on national TV. Is he a charmer? "I love Jersey, and I love meatballs, and my Mama. If you weren't my mother, I'd marry you. My strategy is? None of your friggin' business." Okay, a not-very-repressed Oedipal case, with a boorish attitude, who isn't even decorative. Hey, I love meatballs too. Enzo told us: "Five hundred thousand dead presidents, got my name on it." Where to start? How about with how "it" can not refer to a plural subject like "five hundred thousand dead presidents"? Also, was he referring to the $500,000 first prize, which would be five hundred thousand copies of the same dead president, not a half million different ones? Or was he saying he was going to kill 500,000 presidents? Or does he mean he has 500,000 dead presidents (Heads of state, CEOs, glee club presidents, etc.) in his basement, and he's renamed all of them "Enzo"?

Breathtakingly beautiful Brendon of Riverside, California, is a high school swim coach, so there's a high likelihood he doesn't even own a shirt, which is fine by me. Brendon told us: "I'm definitely used to dealing with all the high school drama, so it's prepared me perfectly for the Big Brother house." Brendon's a realist, and instantly, my favorite. Wait. Did he say he was used to dealing with all the high school drama, or all the high school drama club? Because if the high school drama club where he coaches is anything like the high school drama club Little Dougie was Vice President of about a century ago, it may have perfectly prepared Brendon to play "Big Brother" to Little Dougie, sort of a Wally Cleaver to Dougie's Beaver. Now if only Lane and Brendon will get a bromance going, this could be a fun summer after all, just as long as Enzo isn't also collecting dead vice presidents in his cellar.

Philadelphia's Kristen felt it necessary to tell us: "I'm fun. I'm outgoing. I'm smart." Again, if you have to tell us, you're probably not. We were shown Kristen getting sloshed in a bar along with some other young lady alcoholics, but we were never told if she was a waitress or a drunk. I get on well with either.

Last, and certainly least, was Ragan, and no, I don't know how it's pronounced either. I suspect that his name was once Reagan, but possessing an education, he was naturally so mortified by the appalling president we once had by that name, that he dropped his e. On the other hand, he's gay and lives in West Hollywood, so maybe Ragan is just "Raging" misspelled. No wait, he has a PhD. It must be the former. But then, his doctorate is in "Communication Studies," rather than in something real, like physics, or spinal surgery, or podiatry (Take him down, Andrew!), so maybe it's the latter. Oh, and don't let his being gay and living in West Hollywood fool you into thinking he's some sort of hot, hip, witty, sassy, entertaining, future gay porn star. (like BBs' former contestant Steven Daigle, now elevated to gay porn star status by BB fan, and reader of this column, the one and only Chi Chi LaRue.) Ragan is the rarest of all gay stereotypes: the Gay Nerd. He not only buttons his collars; he wears bow ties! He exhibits withdrawal symptoms anytime he's further than ten feet away from a chalkboard. His idea of "barebacking" is not using a pocket protector.

Watching them pack, or "Viewer Torture," as I believe the segment is called, showed Rachel the Smart Chemist packing her "showgirl" outfits. Ah, she's one of those chemist-showgirl dual-career gals. I wonder if she has a secret identity, so no one who knows her as a showgirl suspects the secret shame of her clandestine career in chemistry.

Monet wants to pack 90 swimsuits, so she'd never have to wear the same nothing twice. She said she wants houseguests who are up to her standards. Her standards of what? Superficiality? Swimsuit consumption? Idiocy?

Brendon, whom we see possesses a cello, though he doesn't bring it to the house, alas alack, tells us he's willing to wear Speedos, and show off The Package to stay in the house. That would certainly get me to let him stay in my house!

Andrew the big lovely lox told us: "I would flirt with a gay guy if it meant me staying in the house another week." I like the way he - well thinks doesn't seem like the right word - but I like this idea. So does Ragan. Cut to:

Ragan: "I have a thing for big, dumb guys." I think I know what that thing is. Cut to:

Lane: "I would like to buddy-up with someone that's smart, you know, just so I don't have to do all the thinkin'. And plus I'm not good at it anyways." How refreshingly honest. Cut to:

Ragan: "They got the brawn, but I got the brain, and I can make them do what I want." Please tell me these three will share a bedroom.

We see Enzo leaving his wife and child. He's married? So when he told his mother that he would marry her if only she weren't his mother, did he mean he'd divorce his wife for his mother? Or did he mean he'd marry his mother bigamously if only she weren't his mama? Or did he mean that if she wasn't his mother, his wife would meet with an "accident," and end up in the crawl space with all those rotting presidents named Enzo? And why is his wife around his age, instead of his mother's age, since that's the type he's drawn to? I'm frightened.

We saw Ragan saying goodbye to his dog, who looked tremendously relieved. Ragan promised his doggie a "big bone." How West Hollywood can you get?

Rachel, the Smart Chemist Who Keeps Meaning to Join MENSA, went postal on entering the house. She screamed like an overweight 13 year old girl finding Taylor Launtner sitting naked in her bedroom. "I think the house is so much more fun and nicer than Vegas," she chirruped, the way smart chemists always do. This is the pair of giant boobs who is going to surprise everybody with how smart she is. Right now, I'm surprised she can walk upright.

Brendon the Swim Coach, wearing his hat backwards I hope intentionally, showed us how his mind works: "When I saw Rachel and Britney, the first thing that popped into my head was Damn! I bet you both these girls look way better than I do in a bathing suit."

1. I see that Brendon coaches swimming from the shallow end of the pool. And ...

2. He's wrong.

Andrew screamed "Mozel Tov" as he entered the BB House. This was apparently a big deal for him. That's nice. I'm happy for him. It's not easy handling people's sick feet all day. For the record, Enzo did not yell: "Son of a ...!" as he entered, though when I saw the red flocked wallpaper with some sort of leaf pattern in one bedroom, I did.

Enzo had this hilarious summation of the screamingly ugly, garish BB House: "It's definitely a lot nicer than my mom's house back home in Jersey, but I'm pretty sure that the cooking's not going to be the same." Enzo, do you, your wife, and your child all live in your mother's house? Does mom know about the dead presidents in the basement?

The houseguests introduced themselves, and we learned more about them. Kristen is the manager of a shoestore, which you'd think would perk up podiatrist Andrew's interest. "I also model," she lied. Hayden's long-range game plan immediately switched from:

Plan A: Never get voted out. Win $500,000, to

Plan B: Nail "model."

Matt, we learned, is newly married, and does "website design," a major nerd profession. His musicianship is strictly amateur. "What I didn't tell them," Matt bragged to us, "is that I'm a certified genius." This must be part of Matt's cunning plan to alienate the CBS viewership, so he gets screwed anytime there's an America Votes gimmick, which there is going to be on a regular basis.

For the "Big Twist" this year is [Trumpet Fanfare] "The Saboteur." Somebody on the show staff watched a great old Alfred Hitchcock movie, and decided to make one contestant a Saboteur, there to create chaos, obey America's votes, and not get caught out or voted out. Who is the saboteur?

You may have noticed me taking an early dislike to Monet, but she earned brownie points with me when she described Rachel, the Awesomely Intelligent Chemist-Showgirl, as "Boob City. It's just like two watermelons on her chest. I felt like Rachel was kind of just ditzy." Oh no. Not that tired old cliche, the Smart-Ditzy Chemist-Showgirl. How often have we seen that? Enzo, with his gift of concise prose, said of Rachel: "Da bada-bing. She's got weapons."

Monet also has a gift for concision. This was how she summed up herself: "I'm a student, and I also have two cats." We're like sisters. I've often been dented by studs, and I also have two cats.

Ragan wasted no time in telling Brendon that he should apply to "be Superman," although that requires one to have been born a Kryptonian, so if you aren't already one, you never will be. Brendon speculated that Superman is paid more than a high school gym teacher. By whom? Superman works for free. Clark Kent works for a newspaper, which these days, doesn't pay at all.

Brendon may have noticed some slight hint of sexual come-on in Ragan's suggestion, and in the way Ragan's eyes were raping him. Ragan went off on a fantasy of forming an "alliance" with Brendon, and then the Big Twist being that Brendon was gay, although that's not much of a plot twist anymore. But Ragan had already moved on to their falling in love, picking out china patterns, and shopping for matching bow ties. He was so lost, he didn't even notice Hayden's intro, although Haydon is every bit as big as Brendon, and probably even dumber.

Andrew made a modest, funny little joke when he introduced himself, showing a glimmer of charm. We were just 13 minutes into the show, which means it's only been ten minutes since Rachel, The Stephen Hawking of Chemist-Showgirls, said: "I'm going to surprise everybody with how smart I am," when she said of Andrew: "So what really stuck out to me was Andrew, because he's Jewish, and so he wears a Yom Kippur. I believe that's what it's called." She also believes she's smart. She can believe anything. Should we tell her that "Rachel" is a Jewish name? Would that get her to wear a "Yom Kippur"?

Andrew was not going to let Big Brother compromise his Judiasm in any way. He was adamant about that. Apparently that "Thou Shalt Not Bear False Witness" commandment against lying doesn't apply to his version of Judaism, because he told everyone he'd been a day trader, then unemployed, and is now selling shoes, omitting that "successful podiatrist" detail, though staying with a general "foot" theme to his imaginary occupation. So, if breaking one of The Ten Commandments isn't "compromising his Judaism," what is?

Lane said he's a salesman for an oil company. Earlier he was a ranch hand. Just which one of the Ewing Family's businesses is he is in: Jock's cattle or JR's oil?

When Kathy told them she was 40, they were all shocked. The smart money was on 53, with lots of "work." But when she revealed she was a cop, Enzo went into panic mode. Was the house surrounded? Was he in Witness Protection instead of Big Brother? Was she onto him? Was she searching for those dead presidents? Why was she dressed and made up that way? Undercover as a middle-aged hooker? "If she gets outta hand, we're probably gonna have ta take care of business," said Enzo, making what I hope was a "joke."

Enzo said he's in real estate. My guess is it goes like this: "I get real wit ya, then I get ya estate." Annie thinks Enzo is sexy. Annie is deranged.

Ragan also lied about his job, saying he was a student, rather than a professor, because, you know, professors of "Communication Studies" are all so rich, they don't need the prize money. As soon as he spoke, the inner-fruit-fly came out of Britney, and she "knew" they would be best friends, discussing boys and music and clothes. The moment Britney spoke, Ragan failed to notice she existed, as he was busy scribbling "Mrs. Brendon" all over his binder, and having "Brendon's Bitch" tattooed on his butt cheeks.

Annie is a bisexual bartender, though whether she tends bar at a bisexual bar, she didn't say. She kept her bisexuality secret, like they always do.

"Dear, I'm bisexual."

"What? Why didn't you ever tell me before?"

"It never came up."

"It never came up? We've been married for 20 years!"

Julie Chen, or The Chenfather to Enzo, revealed to the houseguests that there was a saboteur among them. While Rachel, the Albert Einstein of Chemist-Showgirls, tried to ask around what "sabre toother" meant, Enzo grasped it, and translated it into "Jersey" for us at once: "There's some type of a rat in here. I hate rats! Anything that has to do with the rodent family, I don't like." You heard him, America, Enzo hates Mickey Mouse! I wonder if Enzo ever has a response to anything that doesn't come from a Scorsese movie.

As Julie read out that the Saboteur's game was to sabotage their games, which you'd think even Rachel, the Doctor Who of Test Tubes and Headdresses, could figure out on her own, Kathy, the 40-year-old cop, held a pillow over her own face, kicked her feet in the air, and moaned out " Noooo! Nooooo!" She must present a refreshing change of pace at her morning police briefings.

"Let's be careful out there."

"Noooo. Nooooo."

"Officer Kathy, put down my seat cushion."

"I did not see that coming at all," said Ragan, who has been in the house a total of 20 minutes at this point.

As Rachel, the Profoundly Wise Mistress of the Periodic Table and Bedazzled Runways, tried to explain her perception of -well, anything - to us, a caption was put up, identifying her as a "VIP Cocktail Waitress." So by "Chemist," she meant she mixed drinks? And for VIPs yet? Why didn't she say that in the first place? That I can respect! I'm a VIP! Make me a vodka tonic: heavy on the vodka; just the merest whisper of tonic.

As paranoia exploded in every direction (The only thing Annie found more suspicious than someone mocking the saboteur, or talking about the saboteur, was someone not mocking or not talking about the saboteur.), Kathy got off a genuinely funny line: "The new Miranda Warning will be: anything you say or do will be misquoted and used against you." Now there's an honest cop.

As Kathy contemplated the horror of getting sabotaged into having to eat Slop, I found myself wondering if BB had prepared a special Kosher Slop for Andrew.

Head of Household Competition: Someone had to sit out the first HOH competition. Andrew volunteered. It's what my people do. Enzo and Hayden, neither one an astrophysicist, nor even a showgirl, were instantly suspicious. Yeah. That's just what the saboteur would do. Single himself out for attention at the very first opportunity, by taking a position that prevents him from sabotaging the first competition. "Why would anybody want to sit out an HOH competition?" asked Hayden, apparently unaware that several contestants over the years have adopted a strict "Don't-Win-Competitions" strategy to survive in the game that has been quite successful.

Last year Casey Turner got suckered into wearing a banana outfit for a week on the show. (Hi Casey!) He's still marketing his Bananaman stuff online. This time, Andrew found that as "Mascot," sitting out also involved being dressed as a giant hot dog, or in his case, a Hebrew National Kosher Weener. "Here comes the weenie," Andrew tastefully announced (If only all men were so thoughtful about giving warnings), as he ran into the hall, sending Kathy into a huge laughing jag. He was wearing the head-hood part of the weener costume bunched around his neck, making himself look like one majorly uncircumcised weener.

The contest was weenie-roast themed. There were big weeners suspended over giant fake coals. "I definitely want to jump on those big weeners," said Rachel, the Sir Noel Coward of cocktail-disbursement, inert reactions, and stylish, subtle wit.

All right, this was a bit complicated, but it had an interesting spin. The houseguests were divided into two teams. They team members had to jump on and cling to a giant frankfurter (Kagan knew he had an advantage there), while team members cranked them across the coals until they could jump onto the far platform.

Ah, but here's the fiendish bit: the first player to reach the far platform gets $10,000. That is more money than I've been paid to cling to a dangling weenie while it gets cranked out in over 45 years! The second person gets less. Third a lot less, and so forth on to diminishing returns, so okay, everyone will want to be first, except - Ha! the last one across wins HOH! And only their team also wins the cash rewards. Brilliant idea! Whoever came up with this challenge: bravo!

Kristen, who's not as smart as she looks, which means she's in deep trouble in Life, had an immediate strategy, which was "Get $10,000!" It was more money for grabbing onto a big weenie than she would normally make that way in two years. But she hadn't counted on the weenie having been thoroughly lubed up first. Yes, we were going to get to watch people slide off of giant weenies! Who says there's nothing good on TV anymore?

Annie the bi-bartendress won the big money for the yellow team. Best tip she's had in her whole life, and an impressive shaft too.

Monet showed that her name is really "Mo-ney" She didn't even stop to think. She was born to shop. She sailed on to the red team's $10,000 in a blur of greed. Only when the money was in Monet's grasp did it cross her mind that she had fostered jealousy among the others, while screwing herself out of a shot at HOH, and safety from the jealous glares of her team mates. Oops.

Ragan showed tremendous self-control getting across second, for the $1000, while being sprayed with condiments as he sailed by. (No kidding. They were getting squirted with mustard, and pickle relish, and what I hope was mayonnaise.)

Britney, who is probably inexperienced, fell off of her weener. Britney darling, as my own mother said to me, when that happens, you have to get right back on the horse-like part, and ride. Kathy, who has kids older than some of the houseguests, you'd think would be a better weener-wrangler, but she slid right off also. However, hot Lane grabbed on, clenched with all his considerable might, and sailed across. Mmmm.

As the weeners got more slippery, Brendon and Rachel, the Brightest Boobs in Chemistry, stripped off their shirts for better traction. Enzo piped in that Rachel removing her bra also would be "a great strategic move." Quite apart from the fact that a six-ton crane is required to remove that bra without casualties, how would that be strategic? And she still won't be able to get her hands all the way to the weener with those huge boobs in the way. I don't know how she applauds.

Well, the fun turned ugly. Britney, who was a total waste of flesh at this challenge, fell off over and over and over. I didn't think it would be possible for me to grow tired of watching her slide off a huge weenie, but it was. She finally injured herself, thank God. So she's lying there moaning, clutching her knee. Andrew, remember, is a doctor, but he's lied about that. He will not allow Big Brother to compromise his Judaism, but his Hippocratic oath is another matter altogether. As Britney rolled about, moaning and crying in pain, clutching her wounded knee, unable to stand, Andrew stood there in his hot dog get-up, and said and did nothing. His Judaism is uncompromised, but his Medical Ethics, which some might prize more highly, are in tatters.

As the medic looked at her knee, Monet wondered in a humanitarian way if Britney was the saboteur, and was faking her injury. This would accomplish what? Depriving herself of winning HOH? Slowing down the competition?

But then, they took her out of the HOH competition, and, to even things out, brought back one of her teammates who had already crossed, which sabotaged that player, but also gave their team time to strategize a winning deal. Maybe Britney is the Saboteur. What? Now I'm doing it! Britney's too dumb to be The Saboteur. The woman just said: "I lost my dignity on a slippery weener." Haven't we all, sister, haven't we all?

Britney's team benefitted from her fall. Hayden from her team won Head of Household, the first HOH since Jordumb who probably can't spell HOH. And Monet, who suspected Britney of sabotaging them, got her $10,000 because of that fall.

By going to CBS.com, you can participate in coming up with fiendish stuff for the saboteur to do. As a journalist, I shall refrain from making suggestions myself, except for my repeated suggestion that the Saboteur destroy all of Brendon's and Lane's pants. Maybe if we all suggest the Saboteur destroy all of Brendon's and Lane's pants, he or she will, particularly if the saboteur is Ragan, who might do it anyway.

To allow for some sabotage, they turned out the house lights, plunging the houseguests into darkness and us into nightvision. Britney exhibited her originality by telling us: "It was so dark, you couldn't see your hand in front of your face." Darling, it was so dark, that wasn't your hand!

Enzo wasn't fooled by darkness. He's spent his whole life being dim. "I tink I seen somethin'. Definitely a little fishy when the lights went out. I knew it was definitely an act of sabotage." (Astounding Holmes! I can see nothing!) "The saboteur was definitely strikin' at that point. You gotta get up a little bit early in the mornin', ya know, to get one past the Jersey Kid." What constitutes "a little bit early"? He figured out that if the lights went out, someone turned them out. He's smart enough to be a chemist-showgirl.

Brendon, who has a teaching credential remember, assumed that the lights just going out in a windowless house, plunging them all into total darkness, was merely Big Brother's way of telling them it was time for beddy-bye. So he stumbled off in the darkness, to brush his teeth and go to bed like Helen Keller during a power failure. Is this how his mother used to send him to bed? Just plunge the whole house into darkness without warning, so they knew to stumble off to bed in the blackness? It's not how we did things in my home. I'm agin it.

While Brendon was being a total idiot, Andrew was off making prank noises, apparently solely to raise suspicions against himself, since I can think of no other reason to do so, except, that that is a tremendously stupid thing to do at all. Meanwhile, whoever the actual saboteur is, they've locked the storeroom with all the food in it, so there is nothing to eat but slop. What a pest. And he's locked up all the vodka. The fiend!

Rachel, the Mastermind of Chemistry, the Empress of Showgirls, The Brainiac of Boobs (Boobiac!) is facing starvation: "I have not eaten anything but a banana." I believe her, although it was very, very dark. Maybe it was only shaped like a banana. Did the peel have a zipper?

Boobiac continued on The Saboteur: "As soon as we find out who it is, they're out!" Good plan! It totally trumps the earlier, poorly-thought-out plan: find out who it is, thank them, make them permanent HOH, and have sex with them. Now then, Boobiac, how do you take that first step? How do you find out who it is?

Hayden said of Brendon's sudden attack of dark dental hygiene: "You can't see two feet in front of your face, he's going to brush his teeth in the middle of the night. Suspicious. Who does that?" For a dimwit, that's actually a pretty intelligent question. Who does that? I sometimes find myself unexpectedly flossing in the dead of night, but I don't get out of bed to do it, and never when alone with a saboteur.

And thus we left them. The lights are off, but everybody's home. I'll be here every Friday, to rehash and mock each week's broadcasts. Next week the identity of The Saboteur will be revealed to we, the viewers.

Cheers darlings.

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