Summary? You want a freaking summary? I'll summarize it for you. NO ONE WENT AWAY. Need to know anything else? Huh? Do you? Huh?So I'm over the non-Survivor thing. I wrote my Survivor summary, and tonight was a recrap show anyway, which I didn't watch because I was busy watching my beloved Terps whip up on some hairless redneck military school troglodytes. So I'm not gonna whine about not writing a Survivor episode.
But boy am I gonna whine about ending up covering a non-elimination episode of The What's So Amazing About This Stupid Race.
We open. I become excited because it is apparent that we are in Germany. This surprises me because I missed most of the last episode, because CBS put it on an hour early so that they could pretend that children weren't going to watch the Victoria's Secret fashion show deal (which, by the way, sucked, and here's a cogent summary of it:
too much Phil Collins, not enough breasts).
Anyway, it also excites me that we're in Germany, because as we all know, Germany is an endless font of humor. And I'm an actual ethnic German, so I'm allowed to crack exceedingly nasty jokes about Germans and Germany.
I really am one. Honest. My mother actually has a canister on her kitchen window ledge that has a swastika on it. I am so not kidding. What's worse is that I didn't notice this until I was 33 years old. My mother has had this canister at least since I was a child. 9 (NEIN!) years ago, my then-fiance (who is, I sh!t you not, ethnically Jewish), noticed this canister in my mother's kitchen. She waited until she was out of my mother's presence to ask me why my mother proudly displayed swastikas in her kitchen. I thought she was screwing with me. Next visit, I saw the freaking canister (it's y'know, a sugar canister or a flour canister or something…yeah, okay, I'm just kidding, it's where Mom keeps the nerve gas) and gave her the go-ahead to ask Mom about it.
Mom claimed it was an American Indian symbol.
Oh. I digressed. Okay, so the dweebs are in Germany. There are five teams left. We hate them all. Okay, we hate some of them less than we hate others. Frankly, we hate some of them a LOT less than we hate others. Okay, okay, fine, the only ones I really hate at this point are Teri and Ian, who are a little older and are REALLY disagreeable people who should do a much better job of keeping up with their regimen of stool softeners. Ian is a complete a$$hole, a screamer, a bossy horrible cantankerous little man with a propensity for completely inappropriate displays of rah-rah energy, usually achieved at the expense of a large fraction of the tiny reserve of good will that his wife maintains for him. He is a vile, awful human being, and it would sure be cool if this opening shot, of a castle, included him being thrown screaming from one of the ramparts.
Alas. Not.
The other teams are Flo and Zach, who are sorta young and maybe a tad crunchy; Drew and…uhm…wait a minute, Drew and Kevin? Huh? No, wait, it's Drew and Derek, who are twins and male models and who would totally be causing me to have wet dreams if I were as gay as they are (one of their publicity shots features them naked, facing each other, standing…uhm…well, real close together); Ken and Gerard, older brothers, one of whom is openly fascist and the other of whom is openly gay, and we are meant to be touched by them working together to attempt to defeat younger, less ideologically stratified teams; and John Vito (who names these young people?) and Jill, who are a maudlin little pair brought together by the death of Jill's brother on September 11, 2001 and who will not rest until they beat Osama Bin Laden in a TV reality show.
Don't be fooled. I'm actually rooting for Jack and Jill. Not because of the tragedy thing, which is a hideous ploy, but because they're way more interesting than any of the other teams. Okay, Jill is more interesting than any of the other teams. And even combined with a guy who can't manage more than one syllable at a time, way less annoying than any of the other teams.
Oh yeah. Show. Germany. Castle. Annoyingstein Palace or something, the inspiration for "Sleeping Beauty," according to Phil, who has, to my knowledge, never lied to me. More Phil: Brak brak brak "race" around the "world," brak brak brak clues, brak brak brak pit stop, brak brak brak. Apparently some bonding has occurred at the pit stop overnight; one of the twins wants to be the straw that stirs Flo's drink. Yessirree, he wants to chew right through the granola that's crusted all over her skinny little hippie chick body, and…uhm…wait a minute, dood, you play for the other team. Curses, foiled again.
The hippies leave first, having apparently arrived in the quiet, peaceful meadow ahead of all the other teams. They are going to some place they can't pronounce, to find clues hidden in a giant stack of hay. They get there, walk into the barn, immediately come up with a clue, and head off to a train station. There is confessional discussion about how they don't know what their relationship is. This is called foreshadowing.
Some might suggest that this is reminiscent of the last rendition of this show, in which one Mrs. Tara Bickerson, of somewhere in California, fell deeply in love with some idiot, of somewhere where they say "Yo Adrian" a lot, who happened to end up on the winning team, primarily because Mrs. Bickerson faked an asthma attack at the end of the race to keep her evil husband, Mr. Will Bickerson, of somewhere where we're not hearing a whole lot from him, from winning the loot, which she knew she'd get a chunk of anyway because she was doing the aforementioned idiot.
Those suggestors would be wrong. While Mrs. Bickerson was almost as whiny as Flo the hippie, the whole comparison thing is a major disservice to Flo, who I don't particularly like--in fact, I pretty roundly dislike her--since Flo, while whiny and in need of a bath and a coupla porterhouses, does not appear to be EVIL.
Right, right. Show. Sorry. So the clue tells us that we are taking a train to Friedrichshagendaz, where we will catch a ferry to Schuffleoffenbuffalohausen, which is in Switzerland. This poses immediate problems for me. Switzerland is not nearly as mortifyingly funny as Germany. Further, the Swiss have less of a sense of humor about the whole Germanicness thing, probably because there's also a healthy dose of Frenchness in them there Swiss (and as much as it would warm my cockles to crack on the French here, I am most emphatically NOT ethnically French, so sadly, I must decline). Further, all male Swiss are in the militia, which means that every Swiss male between the ages of 18 and 50 keeps a long gun at home. Finally, I have to go to Switzerland on business in a few months. I will trust that SB's privacy policy is as ironclad as a Swiss bank (this is called foreshadowing), and that the Swiss will not uncover the identity of this summary writer before my journey (which is NOT part of any "race," celebrity mole hunt, or other form of reality television), and that it is therefore safe for me to be every bit as mean to the Swiss as I intended to be to the Germans.
Sorry, having focus problems. Ferry. Waterfall, or something. Oh, right, largest waterfall in Europe, and we have to take a boat to a rock in the middle of it to retrieve a clue. Brak brak brak.
Twinses leave over two hours later, phonetically deciphering the directions to the haystacks. Everyone else is fairly close behind them. There is talk of not trusting other teams. The twins snipe at each other. Jack and Jill leave minutes later, talking of how they will do whatever it takes to win. Clearly, some nominally bad form of behavior is upcoming since this is, after all, called foreshadowing.
Teri and Ian are right behind them. Ian confesses that he and Teri have shown these young whippersnappers that old people can compete. He whines that the others have been trying to "get rid of them" since the beginning of the race.
Now, let's load up the Clue Bus, in hopes that contestants from this rendition of the "race," along with future "race" dwellers, might get over a really annoying little problem:
You can't vote somebody off of the "race." You can't "get rid" of people except by tying them up at the pit stop and leaving them behind, and let's face it, even Phil and the production crews are smart enough to be able to prevent that. You can't be out to get somebody, except in the sense that you're out to get everybody, by finishing ahead of them and building up as much of a lead as you can, which isn't gonna happen, EVER, because those stupid fvcking Guidos from TAR 1 managed to fall over a day behind at a crucial point in the race, and I'm telling you, that's NEVER going to happen again.
Which leads us, after some pointless and cruel stuff, to the haystacks, where Jack and Jill and the twinses tell Teri and Ian they weren't able to find the clues. Teri and Ian almost believe them, then whine ridiculously about people not being willing to hand them the freaking information needed to win the game. Dworks.
Ken and Gerard are last. They are peppy and upbeat, despite the horrible disadvantage of starting last, probably because of the virtual certainty that there's at least one Transportation Terminal Mob Scene coming up to equalize all the contestants. They put out a little bombast: "Those contestants better watch out; we're on their butts, and we're coming fast."
Say it with me, kids: Ew.
We arrive at the Transportation Terminal Mob Scene, which is, in this case, a lineup for the ferry. All of the teams will be on the same boat. Teri and Ian are still upset about being lied to back at the haystacks.
The ferry goes over to Switzerland, and the teams sprint off into the streets of an unsuspecting city, looking for a train station so they can take a train to the Rheinfall, which is, as we mentioned, the largest waterfall in Europe. We take taxis--and y'know what? Not a bloody one of the taxis is blue. I am bitterly disappointed.
Jack and Jill have trouble getting a taxi.
We load up on boats, at least four teams do; Jack and Jill are running way behind. The other teams catch a boat to the middle of the falls, Teri just barely making the boat as Ian screams at her to hurry her fat lazy a$$ up and why didn't she produce better, smarter, faster children, anyway? The teams leave their bags on the boat, and fetch their clues. This turns into yet another equalizing scene, as the boat turns around and leaves with their bags. Jack and Jill catch up, Jill holding their boat at the dock--and blocking the other, bag-laden boat from docking--while Jack Guido goes to fetch her clue for her. She's so regal. I'm really starting to kinda get a chubby for her. There is much kvetching about Jill's boat blocking the dock.
We must now catch a train for Zurich, where we must find a town square and an extremely orderly-looking Swiss bank guard.
Moan. Swiss bank guard. I think I just lost control of my prostate.
Commercials, brought to us by J.C. Penney: Santa Claus for J.C. Penney's after Thanksgiving sale; something involving engine noises and speedometers, which turns out to be about Mazda; Iams cat food, laden with horrible slurs about how cats age (it is clear to any of us who are guests in cats' homes that cats remain forever in blue jeans); a horribly maudlin animal shelter scene that ends up being about Kodak, which doesn't seem to understand that digital photography has rendered it obsolete; two extremely classy-looking African-American babes from somewhere in the world of celebrity (based on acting ability and height and my virtual certainty that they're not Destiny's Child since neither of them is Beyonce Knowles, who is a major stellar world-class Baberaham Lincoln, I'm guessing they're basketball players or something, but I am hopelessly disconnected from popular culture), for Mickey D's; something involving speed, smoke, and a professional driver on a closed course…oh, more Mazda; CBS (some figure skating extravaganza involving Scott Hamilton, who's much better when he's being catty about other skaters), and some incredibly sappy crap involving Rob Lowe spooging in someone's Christmas shoes, and undoubtedly selling film of it afterward).
Immediately upon our return from commercial, we are treated to Jack and Jill gloating as the others whine about the manifest unfairness of life as they wait for the boat on which they cleverly left all their baggage, the twinses, at least, not having learned their lesson in that Mexico City cab back in episode one, and the others not having a complete brain to call their own between the six of them. This translates into some consensus that Jack and Jill are somehow bad people.
Jack and Jill--who invariably manages to wear way too much makeup in the middle of a "race" around the world that cannot possibly involve a whole lot of bathroom time--most politely thank everyone who crosses their path, then proceed to a bus to a train station, comfortable with their lead over the collected whining sacks of sh!t comprising the other teams. The other teams decide to actually trust the morons who very slowly tended their baggage, by asking them how to get to the train station. They walk to the train station near the world's largest European waterfall, the wait for the train taken up by some truly vomitorious flirtation between Flo and the large bearded gay brother, even though it's painfully obvious that it's one of the gay model twins who floats Flo's little boat. We'd like to suggest to Flo that she focus her hippie lust and her little boat on more attainable objects. As long as they're not me.
So after some whining about Jack and Jill, we board the train, which Jack and Jill boarded 20 minutes earlier at the other station. Oh darn…once again all that narrative was for naught, since our thoughtful producers have ensured yet another Transportation Terminal Mob Scene, just in a more surreptitious way.
We entrain for Zurich, in search of a little ordnung and a sinister-looking bank guard, who is accompanied by a sinister-looking dog, a Swiss Shepherd, no doubt. Or maybe he's a German/French Shepherd, which I think must mean he plants trees along the boulevard so he can march in the shade himself (if you don't get it, never mind, it was way too obtuse), or maybe it means he surrenders to himself once every 30 years or so. I'm just not sure.
On the train, there's more talk of a sensitive personal nature; the older brothers discuss Zach with Flo, and discuss whichever twin it is she's hot for (this is incomprehensible, and I will welcome an explanation from anyone about how one could manage to distinguish the twins from one another in a lust-object sorta way). Ian once again manages to show his nasty side by telling Flo that he shouldn't let Zach get away because he's a nice guy and he "puts up with your bullsh!t, too." I must concede that Ian is, while irreparably and inconceiveably socially challenged and hilariously non-self-aware, nothing short of absolutely correct in every respect with this remark.
The camera zooms in, in succession, on Ken or Gerard (I've been watching this show consistently, and I still have no idea which is which) promising to kick Drew's a$$, then on a twin I presume is Drew, who is apparently an everlasting gobstopper for little Flo while the other twin is poop on the sole of her shoe, then on Zach, looking sinister about all these guys who wanna do the little hippie chick that he is, by the way, not doing because they're just friends.
Okay, this is starting to sound way too much like an episode of "The Bachelor." We gotta advance some plot here, so let's get off the train and head off to the bank. The detour involves opening a safe in "this country famous for its banking system." Oh good, I knew we'd learn something.
So the task here involves either counting a big pile of money to obtain the combination to the safe, or finding number clues in the streets, including the number engraved in a statue, the number of trees with red ribbons tied about them in a public park, and the sum of the numbers on a clock face. The teams must, inexplicably, go look at the clock to perform this last feat. I got "78" in my head in about 4 seconds without looking at any clock, but even allowing for the facts that I am both German and mildly autistic, I do not understand why we must go look at the clock and, having done so, still can't do the damned math. Seriously: four of the five teams initially screw up summing the numbers from 1 to 12.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. As we run into the bank, Ian chews on Jill for blocking the doorway; Jill snaps back, "I'm not blocking, dude, chill out." I'm starting to root for the big Transportation Terminal Plane Crash. Even my special regal little Princess of Queens is copping a tude about this whole "race" thing.
Ken and Gerard initially decide to count the money. The others run into the streets for an exercise in incompetent arithmetic. The twinses and Zach and Flo decide to cooperate. They manage to screw up counting the trees. They shoulda hired Russians, who have been counting trees in Siberia for centuries. Sadly, we're in Switzerland. Teri and Ian try to count the trees, but Ian doesn't know what they're counting. Sigh.
On to the clock face. Zach can't even sum 1 to 3 ("Three plus two plus one is five"). Teri and Ian come up with "77". Ian chastises Teri for not running. I note that, even though we were perfectly willing to leave our baggage with boat people, we are compelled to tote our packs through the streets of Zurich as we miscount everything in sight.
Flo and Zach return to the vault, and Ken and Gerard decide to "abort" and go count things. Fortunately, they're not that stupid, and everyone else counted everything wrong, although Ken and Gerard have some trouble coming up with a correct number of trees. Jack and Jill manage to be the first to get a vault open. They find that they must take a train to Grindelwald, where there is an open field full of clueful things. Back at the ranch, Ken and Gerard leave Teri and Ian in the dust, Teri utterly repulsed that they won't give up the last digits of the combination to her. Jack and Jill blow a great opportunity to get a jump on the world by missing the first train by 10 seconds.
Commercials (OMFG, we're only at the SECOND load of commercials? Kill me now): Catherine Zeta-Jones and some bad plays on words for T-Mobile; Santa and some loud chick for J.C Penney; a holiday-looking cartoon for Appleby's, the absolute rock-bottom worst of your average American fun chain sit-down restaurant hells; CBS (CSI); My Local News, which is not My Local News because I'm away from home for Thanksgiving, so for all we know I'm watching Your Local News, which seems to suck a fair bit worse than My Local News (which does, in fact, mostly suck substantially), because I'm an East-Coast urban snob and I live in a really major media market instead of out in the provinces like many of you peasants; Jerry Van Dyke, who is for some reason not dead, for a place called Big Lots, which I apparently have never heard of because I don't live in the provinces, and this makes me sad, since I will not have the opportunity to achieve huge savings on merchandise that I will use to buy the affections of my loved ones, whose support and love for me is probably entirely contingent on the plastic crap I give them for Christmas, which I will now have to buy more expensively at some highfalutin' big-city place; some incomprehensible slop for Jeep which, because I already own a Jeep-made vehicle, will not affect me except to increase the price of my next Jeep vehicle, which will not exist because I really had no clue before I bought the damned thing exactly how much liquified dead dinosaur those things actually consume (I assure you that I am, in fact, appropriately shamed by this, and every day I ask myself: "What would Technoir drive?"); something annoying for some apparently local seasonal crap shop that I will not name because it could give away my present location, which could have the affect of revealing other details about my personal life, and frankly, I just saw Pooh and Buggy back there behind me and I think they're stalking me and it's getting kinda scary; something loud for Toyota, bringing to three the number of auto manufacturers that have thus far pimped on this episode of this stupid show; and some local lawyers, whose identities I can't reveal because that might allow Pooh or Buggy to break into my house. Oh, wait. I was thinking that would be a BAD thing. Never mind.
Uhm…let's see…we're in a train station. Teri and Ian are still recounting trees. Ken and Gerard almost get run over by a street car. Teri and Ian finally get the vault open. Ian screams at Teri as they catch up. There are apparently two trains to Lucerne, which is where we're going to get to Grendelbeowulfwald, but they're not telling us how far apart the trains are.
The trains arrive almost simultaneously, apparently, because people from different trains seem to be converging on the designated meadow at about the same time. Phil tells us that the teams must complete a Roadblock involving "reliving the story of Swiss folk hero William Tell," who never existed, and that they must shoot an apple off of a child's head with a crossbow. Sadly, we're using mannequins to substitute for children. This is simply unacceptable and I demand that we consider using some of those really annoying children down the block. Or maybe the Olsen twins. Or Flo.
The shooters take their positions, aided by instructors. We find that Ian is a retired police officer, which makes us wonder why some criminal didn't just take the hit for relieving us all of this extremely annoying man. I sure would have, given the opportunity. Teri suggests that he relax; Ian barks at her again. If I were a lawyer, I'd handle their divorce for free.
Zach is the first to knock the head off a child, or shoot the apple, or whatever. The teams return to Grendelbeowulfengardenstrassehaus to, brak brak brak, make a pit stop at some chalet. The words "the last team to arrive there will be eliminated" are, ominously, not in evidence during all this brakage.
Jack Guido is having trouble using the crossbow thingie. Ken and Gerard are the next to save a child, followed by Ian, who celebrates massively and disproportionately, screaming at Teri to follow him and carry his bags and whomp up some French toast for him and why is she such a useless beeyotch anyway? "I can still shoot," affirms Ian.
Say it with me, kids: Ew.
The trip back to Grendelbeowulfenhanselgretelfahrvergnugenzwiffe is a long slog. The teams are jogging/running/walking to get to the pit stop. Flo is whining because she's a whiny little pampered pseudohippie princess, and just because she likes whining. Jack Guido is mewling because he can't get off a decent shot at the faux child's head (I’m telling you, if you take out the faux child's head, there's nothing there supporting that damned apple). We break.
Commercials, sponsored by American Express: Some chicks speaking bad French, for American Express; a little number from my all-time favorite commercial series for reality TV summaries, that being Iggy Pop singing "Lust for Life," a song about his lengthy heroin addiction, in aid of Royal Caribbean, which somehow continues to miss the point, believing instead that this song is Iggy's paean to living the kind of active outdoor fun lifestyle that can only be achieved by paying RCL thousands of dollars to overeat, drink, gamble, and get off the boat every coupla days; a commercial tie-in between McDonalds and an anachronistic Treasure Island In Space movie; Santa for J.C. Penney, AGAIN; Theraflu, a much better version of which is available in Canada because they're not so concerned there about one overdosing oneself with cold medicine, which is my inalienable right as a human bean anyway; the ever-loud John Madden for Ace Hardware, which reminds me, I'd better wrap this sucker up soon since I inadvertently got so amused by that line about my mother and nerve gas that I was laughing too hard to finish up last night, and the Redskins are playing the Cowboys real soon; the DVD for the most recent incredibly bad Star Wars movie; CBS (CSI, on a special night, and a televised U2 concert); OMFG, I love this one--Wayne Newton, for Tarzhay; Santa and some cute child for the Home Depot; Dodge Caravan, in a silly tie-in with the DVD for "Monsters, Inc."; and a local commercial for a repulsive holiday show involving a washed-up has-been who shall remain unnamed but whose greatest hits may or may not have been "Rhinestone Cowboy" and "Wichita Lineman."
Back to the show, where Flo is whining that she can't breathe. She tries to make Zach nab a taxi; he fails. Ian screams at Teri to move it as she is tangled up in barbed wire left over from World War II; sadly, no land mines impede their progress as Ian just barks at her instead of simply helping her over the wire. Flo continues to whine, whine, whine. Gawd, I wanna kill her. She makes Zach take her baggage, then b!tches because he's not moving fast enough. Ian screams at Teri to "hump it."
Say it with me, kids: Ew.
More wandering/running/jogging, combined with repeated askings of every single poor Swiss bastige who has the misfortune to pass by, regarding the location of the Suisse Chalet. This may be the most suckified 10-minute segment of this show since Tara faked an asthma attack in a foot race during the season finale last year. Flo whines at Zach some more: "Will you carry me over?", meaning she wants him to carry her over a freakin' fence. Let me say this again: she needs to die. Now. I mean, just flop over and cease processing. Preferably quietly.
Ian barks at Teri some more: "You gotta come."
Say it with me, kids: Ew.
Ian seems to think that this is a chance to eliminate somebody, not bothering, as usual, to have read the freakin' clue, which most ostentatiously did not state that the last team to arrive at the Suisse Chalet would be eliminated. The two lovebirds argue incessantly as Ian insists that Teri should shut up and heel, because he knows what he's doing and she doesn't.
This is horrible. The teams run around, whining, b!tching, mewling, asking everyone in sight where they can find the Chalet Annikasorenstam. Ian exhorts Teri, letting her know that "they're dogging us." She asks who. "The bad guys," he responds.
It must be nice to have a brain structure as simple as Ian's. I mean, most of us have to carry around all that heavy forebrain and stuff. Ian just goes with that lizardbrain stuff attached to his limbic system; no heavy cortical baggage for that a$$hole. Makes it easier to climb hills and scream at your wife and stuff.
Teri's pants are falling down. Ian doggedly refuses to help her, saying that running is more important than her pants falling down. He is truly unbearable.
Jack and Jill find a taxi as the others converge on the Chalet on foot. Flo is whining again. She hands Zach her pack and then begins yelling at him to move faster. Phil and some Swiss guy look on, befuddled. The twins arrive at the Doormat of Fate first. They win cameras.
They are followed closely by the hippie kids, then by Teri and Ian. Ken and Gerard wander around fields as Jack and Jill close in by taxi. Ken and Gerard can't figure out how to get around some goats that are blocking their way. Jack and Jill bail out of the taxi and race on foot. The old guys beat them to the Doormat of Fate by a few steps.
Phil sadly informs Jack and Jill that they're last to arrive, then cruelly waits a beat before admitting that it's a non-elimination round (the first of three) and that I will not get to mock some hapless team for getting zapped. Jill whimpers briefly before Jack Guido knocks her to the ground to help her regain her wind.
This sordid scene is followed by various confessionals about how awful and vicious the next leg will be, now that everyone knows it's gotta be an elimination round.
Commercials, brought to you by T-Mobile and Kodak (still blissfully unaware of its own obsolescence): sappy drivel for Kodak; more Catherine Zeta-Jones, shilling for T-Mobile's camera phone, a direct descendant of Maxwell Smart's shoe phone; Cool Whip makes Thanksgiving much more fun, and what the heck, let's pile some on that pie that's gonna make us hurl after we stuff all that turkey into our gullets; Picabo Street for Chapstick (I've always been a proponent of a somewhat different lip balm for the lovely Ms. Street); CBS ("48 Hours" and "Hack," which I can't decide on: is it the name of the series, a description of David Morse's acting abilities, or both?); and more CBS, for that thing about Rob Lowe sneaking into your closet and perving out on your shoes.
Next week on a very special 2-hour edition of The Not-At-All Amazing "Race": people jump off cliffs and fall off bicycles. More evidence that Ian is The Worst Person Ever. One twin yells at another twin. Flo screams and whines. My mother hides the swastika canister for Thanksgiving.
Thank you for reading.
