"No Blood, No Pee, You're Not Watching This, Why Are We?"
or
"What Kind of Cheese Goes Best With This Whine?" I always loved Bullwinkle, didn't you?
Sigh. Here's the thing. It's really, really hard to write summaries for The Amazing
Race. This is not Survivor, and it's hard to stay focused on TAR when there's
so much going on (breasts, stupidity, breasts, bug bites, breasts, watersports, breasts, blood,
breasts, mindboggling arrogance, breasts, stupefying but inept deceit, breasts, and The
Robfadda) over in the world that brought so many of us here.
Further, TAR has a number of problems that complicate the task. First off: it sucks. In
addition: it sucks rocks. And finally: it suhhhhhhhcks.
I mean, someone over on Bashers is writing about the greatest episode in Survivor
history, and I'm over here at the TAR desk spewing out verbiage about these clowns.
Um, sorry, that's an injustice to actual clowns.
But that's not your problem, it's mine. To ease the blow to myself (about which I know you are
terribly concerned) and to help you through what I'm talking about, I need to kick off with:
Top 10 Reasons TAR Would Suck Less If Mark Burnett Were In
Charge 10. All air transport would be on Target Airlines, and contestants would be required to haul
around cases of Mountain Dew Code Red around the world in small refrigerators.
9. Bikinis: not just a style choice, a moral imperative.
8. In episode one, we would've seen OJ running at the airport, not these <noun censored by the
WLSFC and the Shakes Anti-Defamation League>.
7. Contestants would be required to construct their own conveyances from bamboo shoots and palm
fronds.
6. Team Guido would not have just lost, they would have fallen into a crevasse.
5. And been eaten by their fvcking chihuahua.
4. Pit stops would be staffed by Drew and Kevin, who would haul off and beat the snot out of
Gary and Dave for being such cheapa$$ Drew and Kevin knockoffs.
3. Phil Keegan would have smarminess implants. Oh...wait...he already does. Never mind.
2. Speaking of implants, the lead team for TAR2 would be Emily from TAR1 and
Princess Funbags. And see reason 9.
and the number one reason TAR would be better if Mark Burnett were in charge:
1. "I Need Someone Who Can Pee!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All righty then. I feel much better, don't you?
The episode opens with the usual recrap, no less a slew of drivel for it being a recap of the
first episode of the new edition. Then Pill makes his usual noise about the "race" and the
rules. During this segment, Pill invariably sounds like one of the Martians from Mars
Attacks, to wit:
"Brak, brak, brak. Brak, brak, brak."
The point of all this seems to be an attempt to convince us that the Race is Amazing. Which, of
course, it is not. Further, this spiel is useless because here's how many people are watching
who've never watched before:
0 Pill eventually stops his extraplanetary yammering in his Crocodile Dundee Goes To Boston
accent, and we're ready to join up with our heroes in Brazil. Happy happy joy joy.
The one significant piece of information Pill gives us (in the form of the question "Will the
grandmothers Peggy and Claire, currently in last place, stay in the game or be eliminated?") is
that the spoiler is correct and we're still stuck with those grating Grannies after tonight.
News flash to 30 Rock: CBS skews old. Extended worship of these two spirited but pestilential
old coots is not going to hold your lead-in.
News flash to Grannies fans: I'm not going to get any kinder.
Oh, somewhere in there we rolled credits and did our opening sequence showing planes, trains,
automobiles, and snippets of footage of the contestants (I hate typing that word, they will
henceforth be known as the dweebs) in various staged scenes from their natural habitats.
One of them, for instance, lives under a rock and bit Nurse John on tonight's episode of
Survivor. Bet you didn't know that.
And we're off. Wil and Tara depart at 11:06 PM, a fact whose significance would be dramatically
enhanced by continued use of a clock throughout the episode to put things in context. Alas,
this is not to be, so we have no idea what time has elapsed as the Bickersons hie off to hail a
"blue taxi" to take them to some samba club.
Now, the Bickersons are separated, considering reuniting. This was a great idea when Frank and
Margherita did it on TAR1, but they possessed some qualities that Wil and Tara don't;
namely, they were mildly interesting. Further, they had a compelling dynamic; Frank belonged in
a permanent anger management class, and Margherita just plain belonged in therapy. Be that as
it may, it was clear that the clash of their personalities provided some impetus for their
relationship, and we certainly hope they made it despite having been housed on the streets of
their own neighborhood by two mayonnaise-drenched, but buff, Hollywood lawyers.
On the other hand, it was clear seconds after we met the Bickersons that they are both nasty
beeyotches and they aren't gonna happen. A confessional shows Wil confiding that Tara
motivates him and is the center of his little universe. Cut to Wil nagging at Tara not to lose
the clue.
News flash to Wil: she's gonna watch the show, which you're not editing, lunkhead.
The Bickersons arrive at the taxi stand, and Tara demonstrates the penetrating incisiveness
that will propel her to victory by staring at a line of unmistakably blue taxis and shrieking, "Are these all blue taxis right here?"
Sigh. The Court of Karmic Justice hereby sentences the Bickersons to reunite.
The object of this segment is to enter the club, find a dancer whose headdress matches a
feather that the dweebs received with their clue, and pull the next clue out of some
part of her body, all of which is conveniently displayed. And undulating.
The God Squad, Cyndi and Russell (who looks disturbingly like Harrison Ford), are the next to depart (Note to readers: your humble author is an irreverent atheistic communist son of a
beeyotch. If you are troubled by references like the last one, you probably shouldn't read any
more of these summaries until Cyndi and Russell are sent off to meet The Dweebmaker). Their
confessional consists of Russell admitting that they've never left The Little Church on the
Prairie, but they're by golly still gonna go out and tame the wild heathens populating the
entire "race" route and remain unaffected by the fact that they've never seen any humans other
than whitebread Midwesterners. Brak, brak, brak. The God Squad jumps into a waiting blue taxi.
Shola and Doyin, the twins, are next to depart, hot on the heels of The God Squad. I thought of
their fairly obvious nickname, The Doublemint Twins, on the night of the first episode.
Remember this. Their confessional goes something like this: "Brak, brak, brak." and would basically translate into English as, "We are twins, hear us bore.
Yes, you do, we hear you snore." Surprisingly, they load their things into a blue taxi.
Back at the Bickersons, the driver of their blue taxi is driving them in circles, which Tara unhesitatingly points out. Wil is forced to counter: "No he's not, he knows where he's going." The God Squad's blue taxi is having a
similar problem, which is rectified when the driver pulls over to get directions and an angel, played by a somewhat grubby John Travolta, sets a path for them to follow by lighting bushes on
fire. The God Squad exults over its "spiritual advantage."
Cut back to Wil and Tara, where Wil makes an attempt to be polite in asking the driver if he knows what the fvck he's doing; Tara cuts him off and starts screaming the digits of the
address in what appears to be Spanish, despite the unalterable truth that Brazil is a Portuguese-speaking country. Her plaint is no doubt made more effective by her attempts to slap
the driver about the head and neck with her little clue folder, which, sadly, she has not lost. The driver snickers and flips them the bird under the seat, continuing to look for dark alleys
where he and his henchmen can slit their b!tchy American throats and rob them of the $200 that Pill gave them to start this leg of the "race".
The God Squad arrives at the club first. Russell charges in, sweating and reeking of sex drive, waving what appears to be a stack of currency that he wishes to stuff in someone's skimpy
costume. Cyndi confesses that she didn't know what a samba club was, and watches mortified as her husband begins probing the nekkid bottoms of the pulsing horde, checking for clue folders.
Cyndi solves the mystery by the expedient of screaming "Hey Lady" at the dancer with the matching feathers, and the God Squad is over this hurdle, shuffling on to the next loop of this
mortal coil, but not before they stop, Cyndi to wash her face, which the mostly nude heathen harlot insisted on bussing, and Russell to change his undies (you figure it out).
The Bickersons arrive at the club, Tara screaming at Wil on the sidewalk to stiff the driver ("Don't give him anything; dude, you sucked, c'mon, you suck.". Merely the next in a
long succession of TAR American goodwill ambassadors to the world (to wit, Drew to Kevin in India: "Man, this place stinks"). The God Squad thoughtfully hip checks the
Bickersons to the ground as the two teams cross paths in the club. In this matter, I am forced to conclude that I fully support the will of the Lord. The camera closes in on them in the back seat of the blue taxi as Russell prattles on about the club being an "adventure" (he means "orgy") and an example of places the God Squad doesn't "venture into" (he means "whorehouses"). Cyndi fans herself with the diseased clue folder to try to cure her
sudden case of the vapors.
The Bickersons, back in their own blue taxi, reveal that the next leg of the "race" involves going to some mountain (Pedro Bonita) overlooking a beach. We pray for
rockslides and lightning before we realize that God is busy personally guiding Cyndi and
Russell and has no time for the pleas of atheistic communistic sons of beeyotches as He is too
involved in the exploits of media ho-bags.
WARNING:As I write this, Kentucky is beginning to beat the bejeebers
out of Valparaiso, and Mizzou is dismembering Miami. This is not a good start on the NCAA
opening weekend and may affect the quality of this product. Woohoo, Valpo just stole it and
drilled the three to close back to within 6. Perhaps God has time for atheistic communistic
sons of beeyotches after all. And yes, I do love my mother, thank you for asking.
The Doublemint Twins arrive at the club, stick their tongues down the throat of the Clue Lady,
and move along. Back at the pit stop, Blake (Colby) and Paige (Blondie), a brother and sister
who live in an Aztec on Colby Donaldson's mother's property, and Hope and Norm, whose kid has
posted pleas on this forum begging all of us to root for his personality-bereft parents
(note to potential complainants: Who am I to note this? Uhm...how about, someone who
isn't a media ho and therefore doesn't need a personallity?), depart at the
same time because they arrived at the first Pit Stop in a really disturbing clusterfvck.
Chris and Alex, a pair of sex-obsessed closeted latent homosexual (not that there's anything
wrong with that, although the latency is sort of annoying) hosers from some place where they
say "Yo" a lot, are hot on their heels, followed by Mary and her sister
RootyTootyFreshandFruity. Each team has a standard confessional. All sound the same ("Brak, brak, brak."), although HopeandNorm's focuses mostly on some
desperate affirmation of how much they're in love, while RootyTooty simply discusses her sister, who is apparently a harridan and a mule. Let us all proceed to their family homestead
for Thanksgiving dinner. Lucy and Ricky, two Latin gay guys from South Beach who are most emphatically not a couple, presumably to distinguish them from the evil Guidos, who were
most emphatically a truly sickening couple, round out the 5-way lottery of departures within a single half hour. This highlights the extremely competitive nature of the "race." I was glad
for this, because I simply hadn't clued to that. What, you had? Damn, I'm dumb.
News flash to Andy: Damn, you're dumb.
But back to our summary (Brak, brak, brak).
If the editing is to be believed, the teams arrive at the club in the same order, dashing in to
rub up against the sweaty bodies of the assembled locals and perform ritual sex acts with The
Clue Lady and some goats. Meanwhile, the Bickersons, who mind-bogglingly did not change blue taxis, are whinging and mewling because their driver has resumed
looking for dark alleys under the ruse that he doesn't know where Pedro Bonita is. Pedro is
not, by the way, related to Carmen Sandiego. The driver remains unaffected by their barrage of
verbal abuse, most likely because he doesn't speak English, despite the Bickersons' best
efforts to teach it to him by screaming at him.
Gary, who looks like Woody Allen, and Dave, who has a shaved head to remind us that Drew and
Kevin were funny, are next up. They are wild and crazy guys, in an extremely cloying and
contrived sorta way, and their confessional tells you so explicitly as these ultimate dweebs
remind us that the tortoise won the race. Woody and Bullethead are followed by the
aforementioned grannies, who prattle on about how old and spirited they are and how they don't
have a chance and why don't they just give up now instead of providing an inspiration to the
millions of older people who are forced to pine away in woodsheds instead of experiencing such
cool stuff as this. I hate them.
The God Squad is first to arrive at the mountain, which is closed, as is always the case with
at least one stop on every leg of the "race," to allow everyone to catch up so that no one
falls a full day behind like those jacka$$ Guidos did in TAR1. The associated challenge,
which has some stupid name, requires the dweebs to either hang-glide to the beach below,
in which case they are immediately placed on the clue bus after they crash-land and burn, or
take a taxi (color unknown) to the beach and use metal detectors to dig up a clue. The God
Squad is confident that the hand of Jesus will safely fly them to the beach below in the
morning. This is unsurprising, because Russell apparently spends an awful lot of time
weightlifting, for a preacher fella--the camera spends an awful lot of time attracted to his
glistening musculature--and Cyndi is a pretty plucky sort, which of course you knew because she
reversed the "y" and the "i" in her name.
The Doublemint Twins' arrival at the mountain is documented because the blue taxi runs over the achilles tendon of one of the unfortunate Twins (I
think it's Doyin, but don't hang too much money on that bet).
After the first burst of NCAA basketball games, I am 1-2. Quake in fear.
Commercial break, which is good because I've burned about 230 lines and we're only a quarter of
the way through this oinker. The commercials are for kitty litter; General Motors; Verizon;
| A D V E R T I S E M E N T |
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A D V E R T I S E M E N T
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Mickey D's (in a brutal cross-promotion with Disney); some kind of wine (NEVER buy wine that's
advertised on TV); Martha Stewart for K-Mart; Dr. Scholls; and CBS (the NCAAs, a sequel to
"Little House on the Prairie", and an abysmal-looking talking-baby-related new sitcom--CBS'
mission for the night is apparently to relentlessly shove this turd down our throats like
fafaru fillets). News flash to the producers: People racing. Dr. Scholls. Product placement, you yahoos.
News flash to CBS: Talking babies. Been there, done that, bear the emotional scars.
Upon our return from paying the bills, the Doublemint Twins are still whimpering about the pain
of having one's foot run over by a blue taxi. Poignant determination
carries the day. The Bickersons arrive at the mountain and try to cut a deal for a group jaunt
to the beach to find the clue en masse. No one is interested in working with the Bickersons.
Dave and Gary, who is inexplicably wearing a knit cap in summer in Brazil, arrive at the club
and each dip their tongues in the Clue Lady's cleavage an extra time or three. Let's be clear
about this: Gary is an a$$hole, proving it by tossing out a lame joke at every opportunity. And
Dave is an a$$hole for being associated with him on national television. I think we have a team
name.
There is also a Fast Forward around somewhere. Dweebs who aspire to snatch that must
play volleyball against professional beach volleyball players, who play with their feet. The
Grannies and the Doublemints are considering this. After considerable whining by
everyone--EVERYONE--about the heights and hang-gliding and the excruciating burden of having
a chance to win a million dollars, the Grannies and the Mints board taxis (color unknown)
and head for the beach to look for volleyballs. Interspersed with all this is a few more teams
arriving at the mountain.
Meanwhile, the Creepy Incest Siblings decide to head down to the beach to try to cheat by
finding an unapproved metal detector and scouring the beach in the middle of the night
(Colby, on the phone: "Does the hotel have a metal detector I could rent or borrow for a
while?"). Yes, you nimrod, that is a feature shared in common by all the best hotels
worldwide. Jacka$$. Thus stymied in their attempts to subvert all that is right and decent, the
Creepies actually go scope out the TAR site at the beach, which is apparently unguarded.
They consider digging up truckloads of sand to find the clue ahead of everyone else, then head
back up to the mountain to hang-glide, squabbling all the way.
The Grannies chicken out on volleyball when they find the Mints waiting at the beach to play.
This sets a tone for the Grannies, who have a hell of a time making up their mind about
anything. They whine all the way back up the mountain. Meanwhile, the A$$holes arrive at the
beach to try to outplay the Mints. The Grannies dither for a while about whether to hang-glide
to their deaths. They decide to go metal-detecting, then are shamed out of it by the assembled
other teams, who taunt them without mercy until these poor 70-year-old ladies (whom I still
despise, but geez, I have some measure of common decency) are goaded into jumping off a
cliff wearing a kite.
Daybreak finds us on the beach, where the Mints are scoffing at the volleyball prowess of the
A$$holes. The A$$holes trash-talk a bit, and at dawn the duel begins. The A$$holes are
pathetic, as you might expect of a pasty Woody Allen dwork and his bestus buddy. Somehow, the
A$$holes manage to avoid being skunked. During this, Woody commits his worst sin: he calls
Shola and Doyin the Doublemint Twins. I thought of it first. The A$$holes, already
skating on the thin stuff, will receive no love from me for the duration. The Mints,
unsurprisingly, win the Fast Forward handily, since the A$$holes couldn't hit a volleyball if
you put it in their hands. The Mints scoot off to the Pit Stop, which is deep in the jungle
somewhere on the border with Argentina, near a place called Iguana Falls or something. The
A$$holes decide to detect metal. The uninjured Mint hurt his knee playing volleyball.
Up at the mountain, the Creepies turn up, claiming to have "had breakfast, slept on the beach,
and now we're back." Uh-huh. We saw you skulking down there, trying to cheat, and we
don't even wanna think about what you did with the balance of your time, you incestuous freaks.
An absolutely interminable period of whining and carping ensues, interspersed with the A$$holes
complaining about how awful metal detection is. The God Squad is first to fly off the mountain,
and they are of course exhilarated. Every third shot is of one of the Grannies, looking on
fearfully. They carp and ##### and whine and mewl and puke throughout the takeoffs.
The Bickersons take off as the A$$holes are deciding to head back up the mountain. When they
land, it is revealed that the dweebs must take a bus to Iguana Falls. The Bickersons
hail another taxi of unknown color, and we are spared the details of another of their legendary
taxi rides. Mary and RootyTooty jump off the cliff, as the Grannies continue to obsess about
how they can't possibly do this. The Yo Boys are next. Hope is in tears as they prepare to
leap; Norm reminds her that fear is good. One suspects that this is a theme in the HopeandNorm
household, but is afraid to dwell on it. The Grannies are still whining. The viewer
humbly begs any superior beings who might be looking in to just please make them slump over,
now. Dissolve to commercial.
Bad Dennis Quaid movie; Lysol, which involves a child preparing to go fishing in a toilet; a
Puffs commercial, in rhyme, which brings us to yet another in my serious of whiny musings on
how I'd rather be writing a Survivor summary, because I'd get to do stuff like this:
A poor little boy was a-lying in bed
Unable to sleep cause of snot in his head
His mommy came over, looked down on his cot
And offered sandpaper to soak up his snot
He thought this weren't right for to take up his boogers
(The real commercial was coated in sugar)
But a long story short must be made of this thing
So she gave him some Puffs for his mucousy strings.
Thank you. Yes, my mother is proud of me. So are my cats. My wife, to her credit, isn't quite
sure.
Imitrex, which is apparently some drug for women, who are shown camping and otherwise being
vital and active, instead of moping around with whatever condition Imitrex cures; Chili's
mushroom jack fajitas; the Nissan Altima, which will evidently get you laid; something
involving the Energizer bunny in a liquid-metal Terminator form; Planters peanuts, inexplicably
being marketed in an Arctic environment; CBS (NCAAs). Then the local commercial access segment,
which in my market involved the local news; the National Aquarium in Baltimore; a fat guy and a
skinny dwork in a Chinese restaurant, which was somehow related to Ikea; Papa Johns pizza; and
another 10-second local news tease.
I documented this because I didn't realize, until I counted and took notes, that they could
squeeze 14 bloody commercials into a single commercial break. I stand educated. And
enriched, no doubt.
Back to the "race." Lucy and Ricky happily take the plunge as the Grannies continue to
b!tch. The Grannies decide to bag it, then go for it. I am dismayed to report that they
survived. The Creepies go next, followed by the hapless A$$holes, who cover their terror with
more bad jokes.
Now we get to the exciting "Taxi Rides to the Bus Station" portion of our program. The Creepies
gloat that there are other teams behind them. On a Mark Burnett production, this would
be tantamount to revealing that they're going to be eliminated. Sadly, this will not be the
case. This all leads to another patented TAR trick, the Transportation Terminal Mob
Scene, wherein the teams claw their way disruptively and self-importantly through crowds of
persons attempting to live their lives. Screw your business, this is American TV, you
pathetic little third-world troglodytes!
After as much editing confusion as possible, interspersed with occasional confessionals (Brak, brak, brak) and some bitching from the Mints about how
everyone caught up to them at the bus station. There is some complicated Pill-blather about bus
routings, designed to confuse the hell out of us so we have no clue about the relative order of
the contestants, another crucial feature of the Transportation Terminal Mob Scene. TAR
is enamored of this, since the challenges and sidebars aren't enough to fill a whole hour of
television, and the producers typically decide to skip the stunning countryside surrounding the
proceedings, preferring to give us tight interior and exterior shots of buses, taxicabs,
trains, and airplanes. This would not happen on a Mark Burnett production.
Which brings me to another topic. Wouldn't be aggravating, out there in the world, trying to
win this stupid "race," and find that you have a cameracritter glued to your a$$
every step of the freaking way on a bloody 24,000-mile journey? I mean, wouldn't that slow
you down just a tad? I'm just asking.
Anyway, to winnow out a little chaff here, there are four groups of buses. The Mints, the
Bickersons, and the Yo Boys are on the first bus. Mary and RootyTooty, Lucy and Ricky, and the
God Squad are on the next bus. There will be two more bus groups.
The Creepies lose their wallet in the taxi. The two young Texans decide to go begging for bus
fare. The Grannies meantime fall in love with some local who explains buses to them. The
A$$holes decide to take an indirect route, leaving at the same time as the Grannies, on a
different bus, to make the same connection.
The Creepies are begging. So they're out in front of the bus station in a poor country, begging
from locals so they can try to win a million bucks. This is perhaps the most offensive scene in
the history of reality television. Colby caps the indignity by telling his sister that "I don't
think we should tell anyone we made money this way, because then other people will start doing
this." No, Colby, they won't; they'll do what you shoulda done, find your sister and pimp out
her perky little blonde butt. Tell me that wouldn't have happened if you were working
for Mark Burnett. Heck, he'd have shown footage of her turning the tricks.
HopeandNorm catch a bad cab, and get on the last bus with the Creepies. I'm sorry, as Pill
says, the last direct bus. Do you smell foreshadowing? I thought you did.
Buses start to break down, as the lead group is punished for their sin by feeling one of the
tires blow out. Various slurs about the trailing teams are spewed. We descend into commercial.
Crest's Spin Brush; Old Spice Soap will get you laid; a K-Mart/Disney cross-promo (kill me
now milking the cuteness of children; Pizza Hut Pizzone; Purina Puppy Chow; Purina Puppy
Chow for Dogs That Will Grow Up To Kill Humans and Be Large Enough To Bring Down Elephants;
Kit-Kat Bars; State Farm Insurance; CBS, for 60 Minutes 2 and the NCAAs. On to local access,
hereabouts Verizon, Kohl's, and another news tease promising me that if I stay tuned for the 11
PM news I just might see someone's breasts. Yuh- huh.
We return to the roadside. Ohter buses are driving by, sending the leaders into a frenzy. They
hang impatiently by the side of a Brazilian highway, the Yo Boys just aching to get up and bust
a cap in the driver, who's doing his level best to change the freaking tire. Finally, one of
the Yo's tears the tools out of his hands and the Americans by God take over, the Yo's manning
the tools as the Mints, reeling from their volleyball and klutziness injuries, wheel dead tires
down the side of the road. Pride is expressed at the teamwork that got this USA show on the
road in the face of natural resistance from the non-USAness that surrounds the dweebs
here in this...uhm...foreign country. U-S-A! U-S-A!
More bus routing whining. The A$$holes depart the connecting station ahead of the Grannies, who
get shut out of a seat. Superior beings smile down briefly, and the A$$holes' bus breaks down.
Sadly, they manage to jump another bus.
Meanwhile, other buses begin to arrive at Frostbite Falls. The dweebs are directed to
drive to some marina in the jungle, not far from the falls. Uncharacteristically, the producers
actually manage to show us some lovely nature footage. The Mints get to skip the marina and
head straight to some camp in the jungle that is apparently the Pit Stop.
The Bickersons and the Yo's are supposedly travelling together, sorta. The Bickersons don't
wait for the Yo's, who are upset. However, the Bickersons manage to destroy their Jeep's clutch
and can only drive in low gear. The Yo's catch up and agree, needlessly, to lead the Bickersons
to the marina. This leads to a priceless and patented Bickersons exchange:
Tara: Now you want their help, when you wanted to pass them before. You're a horrible little
evil man.
Wil: Shut up, what are you talking about?
Tara: You are.
News flash to Wil: You're not getting any at the next Pit Stop.
The A$$holes, the God Squad, Mary and RootyTooty, and Lucy and Ricky are edited to appear to be
arriving at the bus station at the same time. The Bickersons and the Yo's find the marina. Wil
again wants to abandon the Yo's as they run through the jungle. And we arrive at a Roadblock.
This involves directing a local to pilot a speedboat over one of the largest waterfalls in the
world. Okay, not really, but close to it, and they have to find a flag and climb up the
waterfall (Damn those producers, making us look at some of the most beautiful scenes
in the world while we try to take a million dollars from these other media ho's), and get
on the clue bus. The Yo's and Bickersons return to duelling, Tara and one of the utterly
indistinguishable Yo's trying to outsmart the other. This is priceless, since neither of them
could outsmart a banana. They realize that they're in a standoff and sorta cooperate to find
the flag. Until they beach, when they end up in a footrace, which Tara wins easily since the
indistinguishable Yo insists on wearing his 60-pound pack as he climbs a waterfall (which is,
not to insult your intelligence or anything, a mountain with water at the top). A confessional
is cut in, with the Yo boasting about how his manly pheromones appeal to Tara so much that they
are great buds. Brak, brak, brak. We're off for a drive and a
hike to the Pit Stop in the Jungle.
The Mints, bitching and carping all the way, arrive at the trail that leads to the Pit Stop,
and hobble in, arriving first. Pill haplessly tries to create a moment of drama before
admitting that the team that captured the Fast Forward was the first to arrive.
News Flash to Pill: Everyone, including the dweebs, watched the Guidos settle
into a luxury hotel for a latte and a 12-hour hot bath after they won their Fast Forward. And
may I remind you that if Our Lord and Savior Mark Burnett were running this show, it would've
cost them their lives and provided a succession of tasty meals for their fvcking chihuahua.
Another foot race leads to the Yo's arriving second, just ahead of the Bickersons. Wil has a
confessional about what a pack of hosers the other dweebs are. Brak, brak, brak.
Back at speedboat central, there's a Wacky Races thing happening. We skip over the pack,
heading straight to the Grannies, who slipped into the bus station when I wasn't looking. They
get to the waterfall and whine about how steep the climb was. This pushes me over the edge.
What on Earth did you irksome old twits think was gonna happen in a made-for-TV around the
world? Did you freaking expect coolies to carry you around the freaking planet? SLUMP. OVER.
NOW!!!!! They continue to whine as they slog their way toward the Pit Stop, wholly
convinced of their own doom.
Over at the Pit Stop, Mary and RootyTooty arrive, having escaped the gaze of the cameras during
the Roadblock. The A$$holes push aside the God Squad on the trail, arriving fifth, just way too
darned proud of themselves. The God Squad and Lucy and Ricky follow. The Grannies trudge down
the trail, still convinced that they've bit the big one. Everyone looks on gloomily, cruelly
spoofing the old ladies. Pill finally gives up his sadistic pleasure and tells them they're not
dead yet.
Meanwhile, back on the last bus, the Creepies sneak around behind HopeandNorm, finding a guy
with a guidebook and not sharing it with the hapless HopeandNorm. Blondini drives the wrong way
down a one-way street. HopeandNorm stop for directions, chattering pidgin something at the
locals in their quest for a map (Hope: "Map? Map? Mapo?"). Hey Hope-o, you-o are-o a
loser-o, in addition-o to being-o an ugly-o American-o. The happy couple exults when they find
a map. Is it possible their joy will be short-lived?
The Creepies are desperate; Blondie is having trouble finding the flag. Colby and Hope wait
back at the marina, each trying to be a bigger Eeyore than the other. Blondie's boat gets back
first; Norm pulls in to tragic sappy music. The Creepies arrive at the camp. Hope and Norm slog
in to meet their doom. Pill grimly breaks the news that they're gone. They take it very well,
although they do find it necessary to inflict some more desperate-sounding drivel on us about
how much they're in love (Brak, brak, brak). This is sweet.
Thanks for the overshare. Don't make me think about your real lives any more. Ever.
More commercials, which I will not inflict on you (Brak, brak,
brak). Next week: The Grannies oversleep, and the Creepies, who are trying to set
new records for poor sportsmanship, decide not to wake them, and rationalize about it. The
Bickersons rethink their apparent alliance with the Yo's. Mary and RootyTooty are told, on a
bus, that "if you go there they will kill you." It is unclear whether this news relates to
local conditions or the Creepies. I'm betting the latter.
News flash: TAR2 suhhhhhhhcks.
Thanks for reading.
