The Amazing Race: The Partridge Family Edition Episode 5: The one where they finally leave the country

By: Beannie

(Disclaimer: I am not very good at paying attention to detail. Like first names (which I omit with few exceptions), and like whether or not I am consistent, which I am not, in my team descriptors. Plus I don't really care. If you can't tell who I am talking about, look for context. If you still can't tell, well that's really not MY problem, now, is it? And I may have repeated the comments and observations, only not as funny, of the prior summarizers, because recall is also not my forte. And this show blew. I tried. I did. I really, really did. I even put in the word “race” several times to make it wound exciting. And sorry, no pictures either. I wanted to, but this thing is so late as it is and me being a fucking moron about all things internetty, eh, it just wasn't happening. But I am not going to get worked up over whether or not you like this summary. Ok, well maybe a little worked up, but I won't let it show. So there. You can't touch this.)

So, all of the good jokes are taken and hilarious, yet appropriate, nicknames bestowed. What else would one expect after four suburb summaries by the loquacious landru, decidedly reasonable dweeze, titilating TJ and the gorgeous gothmog? Good times, fun times.

Alas, that all now come to a screeching halt. If you are looking for entertainment, go HERE. Or HERE. Or watch The Colbert Report. Best new show of the year. But don't expect it here and for heck's sake, you should know by now not to expect it from that steaming pile of garbage that is now a mere shell of its Emmy-winning self.

But in case you missed the show, or were curious what a summary hatchet job looked like, you are in the right place.

Last week, on the Amazing Race – SUV Trip Down the East Coast Edition:
The Paolos fight, the Weavers are afraid to ride a bike, Carissa Gaghan's legs are too short, a Godlewski cries, a Linz farts (whether it was shown or not, we know it happened), a Bransen bears booty and the Schroeders crumble into a heap of tears and snot as they are eliminated in their hometown. And goth had dinner with Landru. (You might wish to go there now and read that one again instead. Seriously.)

We ended in New Orleans, before New Orleans ended. But now we’re leaving and I’m glad. Because it’s just a little creepy. And there are some things even I don’t think are funny. Ok, well maybe there are some jokes to be had, but I won’t go there. And no, regardless of how tempting it is, this is not the proper place for a corpse-fucking reference. That would be the easy way out – way too obvious. So,

6 teams remain.

Shit. Commercials already? And What’s this? A major corporation being honest about the current American class structure? GMC says “Some will get the dirty jobs, others a more luxurious life, still others get to save lives.” Or take them, or risk them or whatever. Heather Locklear wants your hair to look like hers did in the 90s and mine did throughout the 80s. And in case its every frame wasn’t already permanently seared into your memory, A Special “Platinum” Titanic DVD is in stores today. The platinum addition? Oh, maybe in this one, Leo dies earlier and Kate dies too. I love happy endings. Did you know that Tom is an AOL member, plantain-adverse and has overactive sweatglands, among other issues? Something about cold heat. Induction cooking? Cool top? Bullshit. I like my food hot, tyvm. And none of you mothers is taking away my fucking microwave. What is this? Fucking Gilead? Someone needs to be indicted over this. Prince Charles is coming to America and it’s 60 Minutes’ turn to pretend to care. When do we get to stop humoring those people anyway? Oh, and finally, Lucy Lawless is in a world premiere movie “Vampire Bats,” just in time for Halloween no less. Sadly, not recommended. As big a Lawless fan as I am (and I’m not), this feature appears to lack in cleavage value. You will likely be sorely disappointed.

Departing first at 12:40 a.m., having won the last leg of the race, is the Bransen family. Fly to Panama City, Panama! And finally, this clusterfuck goes international.

Berenstein Dad is proud his girls are carrying him and not the other way around. Proud, and really, really fortunate if you ask me. You know you can thank them for your free gas. (Much like Megan Linz can thank genetics for hers.)

The Paolos leave second. (Second? 2^nd? How on earth did they manage that? Oh, yeah, they are competing against the team who god-loves-best-but-not-so-much-really, a pair of button-cute kids and their disgustingly encouraging parents and, of course, those yabbering sister people.) Mama is very excited they are leaving the country. I’m not sure she understands DJ gets to come too. Moms need to take their punches and she’s getting used to it, them hating each other. 24 years of being unappreciated and shat upon by your spawn can do that to you. Or so I hear. Every Tuesday night from 9-10 EDT. (Don’t forget – this weekend we “fall back.” Don’t say I never did nothing for you.) Mom just wants to be loved, but DJ’s not playing.

Meg Linz Blintz (mmm...Blintzes, because I'm hungry), spokesperson for her tribe team of men who speak in methane-producing resonance only, says she knows she is not as strong as her teammates. But she’s smarter, waaaay smarter. She knows when to play weak and get her brothers to carry her pack. The Frat Pack squeezes into a sedan sized taxi as Megan and the nation hold their collective breath. Tom, Dick or Harry, I’m not sure who is who yet or that is really matters, is excited about the possibility of committing statutory rape until informed that that’s the wrong Panama City and he is, in fact, a fucking idiot.

The God,looseskin Sisters, or the G-menopausals, or Pinkies without The Brain, Yes, that’s the one. Anyway, they’re the 4th team to depart. And Christine, she’s one of the blonde ones, is only bossy because her ideas are the best. That would perhaps explain why they are behind the Paolos, perhaps the most dysfunctional team ever to “race.”

The Weavers, aka the Flanderes, aka the God Squad, are 5^th and think alliances are stupid. Yeah, it’s stupid no one wants to join one with them. It’s all good. They have an alliance with God, who loves them 5^th best right now.

Last to depart are the Gag'ems, who have a unique strategy of trying to come in second to last. It’s working well for them so far. Spunky little Carissa, who needs a good beat down in life because it’s a capital crime for anyone to be so hopeful and cheerful (even at 9, nay, especially at nine), says it’s better to be the almost-loser that the loser-loser. Damn, these people make me sick.

Teams. Make way. Airport. 2 Flights. 6:40 or 9:10 am. Counters closed. Wait in line.

The Paolos, (who don’t need a nickname - because I’ve been around enough Italian Americans in my day (being part one and all) that having a quintessential Italian name like Paolo is as good as Corelone, or Gotti, or Gambini. It says it all.) Anyway, the Paolos wait for a van because a trip around the world eastern hemisphere doesn’t mean they have to share a seat. Unfortunately, that causes Mama Paolo to crane her neck to the third row, exposing her third chin, when chiding her 24 year old son to make sure he zips his backpack and if he loses his lunch money the clue it’s coming out of his allowance. (My 8 year old already cringes when I do this to him. Granted, he still needs it. But if I’m still doing it when he’s 24, I hereby give him permission to slay me. But only in a dignified Italian mafia way. For the good of the family.)

The Blintz family arrives at the airport first and waits for the Bransens to get there and tell them what to do. The Paolos arrive third and get in line. Every other fucking team shows up and gets in line. The Pinkies without the Brain think they’re not getting on the flight. (Gee, ya think?) The Gag’ems, ever resourceful, decide that if the first flight fills up, they’ll need to get in the other line. They clue little Carissa in on their devious plan. Ok, maybe these people aren’t perfect after all. Strong, beautiful and kind, but kinda dumb.

As DJ prepares to buy the tickets, Mama swings into high martyrdom and an argument, of all things, ensues. DJ claims to not be retarded, although his choosing to go on this race with his mother would seem to indicate otherwise, and displays his mensa-like vocabulary by telling his mother to STFU. Pinky Sharon (I think – couldn’t one of them have left the peroxide at home? It would make identifying them easier.) comes to Mama’s aid, scolding little DJ for talking back to his mommy. She tells him he is cruel. He squirms. Papa squirms more, afraid the lady’s words will further anger the beast.

And to prove the Weavers point that God is watching over this race, the Paolos get the last seats on the 1^st flight. God apparently has a sense of humor.

All six teams. Now headed. Panama City, Panama.

First flight – Blintz, Berenstein, Paolo.

Second flight (and destined to never catch up!) – Gag'ems, Pinkies without The Brain and the God Squad.

The first group gets cabs to the Smith Tropical Research Institute to discovery it is closed until 7 am, much to their chagrin. The second group is still on the airplane, but are about the get in cabs to the Smith Tropical Research Institute to discovery it is closed until 7 am, much to their delight. Some even think it was god’s will. You get to guess who.

En route, the teams attempt to impress their cabbies with their vast knowledge of the Spanish language. A Brother Blintz can speak speak the language, much to his sister’s delight. Too bad he can’t understand it. He definitely has his head wrapped around “si” which I am sure was of great help getting them to the “instituto.”, The Flanderes are particularly good ambassadors, playing a nice friendly game of password with the cabbie. “Burrito,” “Conquistador,” “el speedo.” Ah ha! I have it, Wink! The Password is “Ugly American!” And I’m sure it was quite comforting for this gentleman to have a Aryan looking American come into his country, and his cab, announcing “Conquistador.” Good thing the teams aren’t in Venezuela or someone might have taken him seriously.

Dawn breaks and seeing as there are still six teams left, and there are impressionable children about, the racers decide as a group to get in boats in the order they arrived the night before. (Holy hell, what I wouldn’t give for a Jonathan , Colin or Rob right now.)

The teams that heretofore were holding back on their Spanish ability, encourage your boat drivers with such diddies as Vamanos! Rapido, porfavor! Endele! Speedy Gonzales would be proud.

The Flanderes get a push from God and whiz past the Gag’ems. A mortified Carissa exclaims ‘That’s not fair!” (Not fair? You want not fair, little girl? Not fair is torture of detainees. Not fair is working minimum wage 50 hours a week and not being able to take your child to the doctor when she gets sick. Not fair is the fact that I am coming down with a sinus infection and also suddenly have a bad case of mid-30s acne. Not fair is me subjecting my dear readers to these bullshit tangents and wasting their precious time. You don’t know from unfair). Oops. wait. I spoke too soon. Your driver wants to make a pitstop before taking you to the island? THAT? Unfair. (Next thing you know people will be re-opening plane doors to make for a tighter race and then where would we be as a people?) And, damn, we have to wait until after the commercial to see the Gag’ems fate. If they are making us wait, it better be good. (Like they end up on the wrong island and Billy Jr. gets taken by the Others.)

And now a few wise words from our sponsors. BP wants you to fill up before you run out of gas or they run out of reasons to keep the fucking prices so high. The Legend of Zorro hits theaters soon. Recommended. Catherine Zeta Jones and a significant amount of cleavage. Duracell cures hearing problems, herpes and world famine. Eat at Subway – they have Verizon cell phone service there. And there is no safe cigarette.

Crap. The driver fell under the Gag’ems spell and they are back in the race. Upon arrival at the island, all the teams race en masse in individual boats to an island to perform the traditional local custom of finding a scientist dude named Ricardo in a hammock at the Smith Tropical Research Institute. Unfortunately, there are several lazy Panamanians on the grounds and the right lazy Panamanian must be found before the teams can receive a clue. (Man. Why don’t they just give them sombreros and ponchos, name then all Juan and be done with it, already?)

The Paolos arrive first and promptly lose themselves among the Juans scientists, cursing all the way, allowing the Pink Ladies, the Bransens and the Linz clan to catch up and also meander aimlessless for a while.

The teams find the scientist with a clue (obviously not a NASA employee), in rapid succession and in some order beginning with the Pinkies, who abruptly rip the clue from Dr. Ricardo’s hand before he finishes greeting them. That must have been one of Christine’s “better ideas.” Because it sure was impressive. Classy even.

DETOUR. Choice. 2 Tasks. Pros and Cons. Rhythym or Coos.
(Alternate names Blow job and Peckerwoods rejected by the network censor).

Again, both highly researched traditional Panamanian activities.

Travel by Partridge Family Bus to several locations to collect four musical instruments – trumpet, trombone, saxophone and conga drum. After collecting all four musical instruments, the family must play "Baboloo" until they make the ghost of Lucille Ball smile and give them their next clue. (Credit landru one joke; total jokes in summary now equal to one) Or take them on foot to the Take Five Jazz and Wine Club. Something like that.

Coos: Pimp Bus to Parque Metro somethingorother and find 5 fake local birds with binoculars. Do they have to be redundant? Of course these birds are local. Their wooden! Where they hell do you think they emigrated from?

Did anybody else notice Phil omitted the pros and cons? I mean, he told us there were some, but not what they are? Is this new? We get to guess? Audience participation or he just doesn’t give a great goddamn anymore?

The Paolos find Scientist Ricardo next and decided to go for the fast forward, as do the Gaghans, because Mom and dad are all about positive reinforcement and Carissa wants to do the fast forward real bad. Why is this child even cute when she whines? She needs to go now. Preferably the way of Heather O'Rourke. ( Mmm, sepsis of the bowels).

The Pinkies trump the Weavers for most embarrassing geographical moment in the history of TAR when they have to have a group meeting to determine if being surrounded on all sides by water means the locals aren’t lying when they say no buses. “Better ideas” Christine declares, because somebody has to, that yes, this is an island and we knew that. And then it was so.

As they all “race” back to the docks, Pinkies try bribing their driver with $2, which at most gets them an impolite grunt as the guy lets up on the gas. The Weavers ask the Linz driver god to slow down the Linz’ boat. But god loves the Linz more because they pull ahead, either in spite of or because Linz brother B called Mom Weaver a bitch. It’s not my place to question the wisdom of god. So obsessed with each other they are, though, that god smites them and the Weavers, Blintzes and Pinkies pass right by the dock, letting the Bransens, who god loves most of all, get back into first place.

Fast Forward – Tandem Bungee Jump

The Paolos get there first in a foot race, because Tammy Gag’em, marathon runner, is apparently bad a short distances, especially when there is a stationary obstacle in her most direct path. But the Shiny Happy People don’t believe for a second that there is chance in hell these grumpy frumpy people are going to jump.

DJ doesn’t disagree. DJ is afraid. Mama taunts him. Way to work the love and affection angle. Then she threatens physical violence if he pusses passes out.

Papa and Brian go first. Lots of happy squealing and a kiss on the head only a totally masculine Italian Papa can give his grown son. The Gag'ems decide to wait some more, confident in only the way a team of cyborgs can be, that the Brooklyn Bickersons will chicken out.

DJ and Mama are up. DJ can’t do it. Never in a million years, he says. How ‘bout after a commercial break? (Ya think he can do it then? Huh? Huh? Ya think?) Stay tuned.

BP wants to know what makes you like a gas station. Well lit? Clean? Pay at Pump? Delicious array of snacks and goodies? Hell, I’d like it if they started accepting firstborn sons as payment on a tank. Shit, the way he is growing out of his clothes recently, I’m getting the better end of the bargain. Glade wants us to believe a small scented pouch, when plug into an electrical outlet, will kill the scent of a sweaty teenager. Yeah, and I’ve got a bunch of Nigerian uranium to sell to Iraq. GMC taunts me with cars I can’t afford and Phil Keogan sells out to the local tv station and does a promo for CBS 4’s “amazing” news team. Yeah, I threw up a little too. Well, a verp anyway.

Ah, after the commercial break and the passage of a something like a million years (give or take), DJ says he’ll do it. As they fall, they disappoint us in failing to locate each other’s release cords and instead DJ pulls a Poppy and kisses Mama on the head. Tearfully, Mama declares the kiss proves he loves her. (Thank you Mama Paolo! I no longer rue the day I set eyes and ears on you. Your insight has finally given me a rebuttal for the Mister, who seems to think “love” involves much more exertion and significant rug burns. Next time he begs asks, I’ll just plant one on his forehead and call it a day.) DJ, much like I suspect the Mister will react when I lay this one on him, simply rolls his eyes.

Having completed the Fast Forward, the Paolos can proceed directly to Miraflores Locks, the Pacific entrance of the Panama Canal (see, I paid attention at least a little!), the pit stop for this leg of the race, thus assuring us yet another week of positive family interaction on prime time tv.

Once the Paolos safely reach the ground (*sigh*), the Gag’ems finally decide they aren't going to chicken out and are off to make some beautiful music together as only the Gag'ems can.

Meanwhile, back at the detour:

Desperately seeking woody:

The Weavers have God send them down a man to drive them to the Sure-Wood Forest.

The Bransens pick up a local girl who says she can show them away. Language barrier or resourceful thinking, the young woman shows them the way to her job. I like her style.

The GodSquad arrives first and proceeds to scan the skies for Jesus (though Rolly looks inward first), to make sure he didn’t do the instrument detour with the other teams. Mom always wanted to be a bird watcher. Especially when they birds don’t mind if you squeal. The Weavers rush through and have to do it twice, but get done first.

Papa Berenstein and his eminently more capable daughters set straight to work and get it on the first try, just behind.

Doing Blow:

The Pinkies show they are not quite the dumbest team on the race, as they whore their youngest member to the Brothers Blintz to convince them to work as a team and carry their instruments. Meg has found some disciples. The boys finish in lightning speed.

And when they finally get to their task, the ever confident Gag’ems refuse to give up or panic and in fact, Billy finds running down the streets of Panama having sax is quite fun.

After completing the Detour, Teams must travel by Magic School Bus to Estandio Juan The Mostest (or that’s what it sounded like anyway) and ROADBLOCK. Task. Only one person. Perform.
Get a hit off a Championship Little League Player. Only three pitches or you have to go to the end of the line. (Wow. This? is a challenge I am glad I am not a part of. It took me 3 years to get a hit in little league. Let’s just hope these guys don’t suck like I do.)

Holy Rolly up first, embarrassed he is going to strike out with a 12 year old. He does.

The Bransens and Blintzes show up and all take turns striking out. The Blintzes, in the baseball spirit, holler “heybatterbatter” when Rolly’s tat the plate and get chastised by Mom Weaver because everyone is supposed to only be encouraging. How quickly she forgot her boat hex. Or does the nice to your competition rule only apply on land?

Rolly connects and God makes the pitcher pull a Bill Buckner so the kid can reach base. Come to think of it, do you think God caused Buckner to pull the original Buckner? Cuz if he/she/it did, he/she/it really hates Bill Buckner. Then Beth Bransen and Nick Linz (more paying attention! aren't you proud?) both score for their team and I’m beginning to think these players are trying out for Bad News Bears, the sequel of the remake.

Sharon Godlewski, the scrawniest of the Pinkies, is their teams obvious choice of hitters. (I suppose I have been giving them the short shrift. After all, doing the race without brains must make for light traveling.)

The Gag’ems finally finish the roadblock and thanks to Carissa’s great eyes, they are able to find the giant stadium as they are passing by. (This team would be nothing without her, I tell ya.) Billy Gag’em is all a-gush about how good a ballplayer Dad is and how he can maybe get a home run. Had this been Survivor, this would guarantee that not only would Dad NOT get a hit, let alone a home run, but instead would be swallowed whole by the native spirits for defiling their estadio. But, alas, this is TAR Family vaules edition, and yep, first pitch out of the park. Where is the suffering? The misery? The irony? Cuz dammit, I wanna see Carissa cry.

Sharon Pink is exhausted and defeated. Her sisters cheer her on and curse at the same time, blaming the native spirits for the foul language. What do you expect from baseball spirits? Crackerjacks? Pfft.

The Travelocity Gnome reappears to start off the commercial sequence in which I identified exactly one product I can afford – Stoffer’s frozen meals – and one show I can stomach watching, Survivor, although I could do without the seeping shoulder sores, thank you very much.

The Pinkies finally finish the roadblock with a hit by Sharon and a throwing error that can only be described as a. intentional,b. an homage to the Chicago Cubs, or c. both.

While the Gag’ems get stuck in traffic behind an obstinate Pepsi machine, creating some much needed, but completely produced and nonexistent suspense, the Pinkies begin layering on their clothes in the hopes of a non-elimination round. (Gee, ya think?) With heavy concentration of undergarments, because they know they could get hit by a car at any given moment and it’s most important to have clean undies. Of course, they could end up in a cold climate and succumb to the elements, but at least when their frozen dead corpses are found, there will be no skid marks.

The GodSquad arrives as Team number 2. I am sure 2 feels good, but what does it say about God’s love for them when he/she/it let the Paolos win the leg. Well, at least they beat the greedy Bransens (3^rd) (who have won just about enough, thank you) and the gluttonous (an gaseous) Blintzes, who are 4th.

Ok, so the Pinkies add more layers as they approach the pit stop. I was about to applaud their forethought when I noticed a Pink wearing 16 or 17 g-strings. G-strings? G-Strings? In a race around the world eastern hemisphere, where you know you will be sitting, and running, and climbing, and, well, racing, you pack g-strings??? The zero credit I have given this team so far? Too much credit.

The Gag’ems arrive next to last, right according to plan, leaving the Pinkies last to arrive and victim to the dreaded, but not so much, non-elimination penalties of losing their money and backpacks. No tears, here with these ladies. They are going to get through the next leg by relying on the extremely positive image of Americans in Panama and throughout the world. These ladies have, in their own estimation anyway, wits, charm, beauty and all the requisite positive characteristics. And, of course, g-strings.

In case you hadn’t heard by now, TAR is sponsored by BP and Verizon.

Next week on the Amazing Race: Teams walk across a long bridge and God abandons the Weavers in a mud puddle.

A Happy Fitzmas to all and to all a good night. **This is not to be construed as legal advice. Please seek competent legal representation from a licensed attorney in your own home state.** (Sorry, habit.)

  ¶ 8:44 PM 4 Comments

  Amazing Race: Manson Family Edition Episode 4: My Dinner With Landru
by Gothmog

Ok, here were are again, me writing and you reading another one of my efforts for Circle Of. Odd thing, this summary writing/reading bit. We’re doing this together, you and I—right now we’re both focusing on THIS WORD right here, except I’m doing this a day (or a week or however long it takes me to finish this damn thing) before you. So we’re sorta in a time warp kinda deal here, images from the past and present coming together, intersecting at odd places.

Landru: Dood! What are you doing?

Uhmmmm...trying to write a summary. Duh.

What’s with all the philosophical bullshit? We’re not paying you to go all Spin-fucking-oza on us, now.

Well, technically, you’re not paying me at all.

Don’t get cute, Parochial Teacherboy. We know that you obviously aren’t motivated to do things just because of money. So search whatever serves you as a soul and find some lame-assed, altruistic reason for why exactly you’re going to take one up the sphincter for the team and like it, dammit, and get back on task, k?

All right, already. Geeez. Previously, on the Amazing Race, the teams....

Dood. DOOD!

Now what?

When we asked you to summarize the show, we meant the WHOLE show. Don’t be skipping parts on us now.

????? Whatcha talkin’ bout, Willis.

So, SO lame, dood. See, this is why you need my help here. You need some better material for our more sophisticated readers.

Sophisticated? What about Dweeze?

Hmmm. Good point. But irrelevant. You skipped the announcement. The “This episode was filmed before Katrina and is dedicated to the victims and survivors” part.

Oh, right! That would give me a chance to talk about my time-warp/converging images bit again.

Nimrod! Have you learned nothing from me? No, this gives you a chance to announce that next season, we’ll see some of those same survivors in “The Amazing Race: Katrina Victims Edition,” in which the sensitive and Emmy-winning Jerry Bruckheimer will help them deal with their PTSD by having one of the roadblocks involve Mike Brown holding them under raw sewage in a 100 mph wind tunnel, using what will become known as their innovative “Weaver Family Therapy Technique.”

You know, this would be a whole lot easier if you would just write this summary yourself. If it would help any, I’ll watch Ilse’s kids for you while you work. I’ll even change Bam-Bam’s diapers without having to write an ode commemorating the event.

What am I, your monkey, you oxygen-wasting speck of a Fuckeye turd? Do you think I have nothing better to do than attend to your whiny-assed problems, just because you were thinking about getting laid by some talky-talk doctor instead of paying attention in summary-writing class like the rest of us geeks? And stop hitting on my GF before I stuff your pointed-headed pea brain so far up Phil's ass that he'll start lactating you through his man-boobs. Just get on with the “previously-ing.”

Ok, Ok. Previously on Amazing Race, some shit happened, teams yelled and screamed at each other, brak brak brak

I invented that you know.

Quiet, I’m on a roll. There was some Bubba Gump thing, some other thing involving mud but not bikinis (because this is TAR, and they win Emmys, unlike that other Show that uses mud as an excuse to show pixelated rear-ends; nope, we don’t get that sorta thing here, uh uh, no way.), a centrifuge that spun Phil right round, like a record baby, and...aw hell, why don’t you just read TJ's most excellent summary for an better overview. How was that?

Better, Dood. Points for the brakage and the mud. But the Dead or Alive reference doesn’t count for your corpse-fucking, you know. And, as I had to point out to Ilse not long ago, it’s: spin you right round, baby, right round (like a record), which I didn’t know until some 22-year-old who was working for me lectured me on precision lyrics.

Question, as we head to commercial: Why do I always seem to follow TJ in our rotation?

Answer: It’s all Dweeze, baby. And what, you’ve never heard of sloppy seconds? Now you go on, I’ll be here if you have trouble finding your inner Landru.

Commercials: Flashback to TAR: Season 4—please tell me how a reference to two gay men feeding fruit to monkeys can possibly NOT be code?; GMC managing to say “fuel-efficient SUV” and keep a straight face; Outback steakhouse, because nothing says “Australian” like American football; Jergens for something involving legs and a slit skirt; Verizon with a horrible and hyperbolic metaphor for their network, and even worse, still using that horrible “Can You Hear Me Now” man, who, even though he’s no longer the centerpiece still can be seen in the background, when he should be better spending all his energy getting off my fucking planet YESTERDAY if not sooner; AOL, trying to convince us that they don’t totally suck; and promos for a couple of CBS comedies, which is an oxymoron if I ever heard one.

And we’re back in Huntsville, Alabama, home of the Space Shuttle Pathfinder. Evidently, they had already scheduled this pitstop before they learned that Christa McAuliffe’s family was pulling out of the race. As with every episode, we begin by learning something about the teams as they embark on their Epic Journey into the Cultural Heritage of whatever foreign country they’re about to desecrate with their ignorance and stupidity. In this case, that foreign country is the Deep South. But let’s review the teams, shall we?

Team Three Babes and a Man (the Old Fart’s sole function being to remind us, by contrast, of the babeage he’s surrounded by.) What’s your assessment of this team, L-boy?

Well, they certainly don’t any of them have the fine ass of Miss Gilead, the absence of which is the only thing we regret about her family’s elimination from the show, but I’d probably do them in groups of two or three, provided they keep their collective mouths shut. Hell, I’d probably do their doofus father too, under the same conditions.

Thanks for bringing up their asses, L, but we really don’t need help in the foreshadowing department, as the show is more than capable of doing that for us. The Old Fart allows that he’s been tired every leg but that he seems to be holding up. You’d think he would have kept in shape chasing horny guys off his property, but from his behavior on this show, it seems like he’s the sort that would rather just have a beer with them. After they’re done, you know, banging his girls.

Next up: Team Dimz. Four idiots from Ohio who have never left their university Frat-boy days. From my home city, no less. *sigh* I’m not kidding when I swear to you that I can tell exactly when they were away filming TAR last summer, since the increase in our area’s average IQ during their absence was palpable. And you can tell from their gangsta apparel that they’z from da ‘hood of Zinzinnati—well, that part of the ‘hood that sends their kids to exclusive parochial schools. The “X” you’ll occasionally see one of the Dimz wearing is preceded around these parts by “Saint,” not “Malcolm.”

Ok, Next. Lessee here. We got a dim-witted dad, married to a women way past her prime. A spoiled, sleazy, equally dim-witted daughter and her sexually repressed brother. Yep. Welcome to Team Bundy.

I’m sorry to have to disagree with you, G. Kelly Bundy had the IQ of a pebble, but she was not without charm. Stasi could just possibly be the most vile 17 year-old ever, and there really isn’t a punishment for her that would adequately compensate for her having consumed any of this planet’s precious resources over the course of her whiney existence.

Right. Well, at least she says that she comes in first in everything, and that they expect to win it all, so we can at least look forward to her elimination this episode.

G, unless that elimination involves seven kinds of Ginzu knives, I’m not gonna be happy.

For a non-violent person, you scare me sometimes. Moving on to Team Premarin —known for their squealing, crying, bitching, woo-hooing, and general hysterics—are as indistinguishable to me as the Babes and the Dimz. One of them is allegedly quite a bit younger than the others, which has to be a bitch when your older sisters are so menopausal and you act just like them. They reveal that they’re starting to get on each other’s nerves. Which I suppose catches them up to the rest of America.

Next, there’s Team Roadkill. The family that, mid-season, suddenly found themselves one dad short of Newcular. When they signed up for this show, they thought they were going to be on the Amazin Grace, and it sounded sweet, poor wretches. Little did they know that the good Mr. Bruckheimer was saving them for their own li’l psychomological experiment, while America watches and passes the popcorn. Mama Roadkill says they feel great now that they’ve gotten through their traumatic experience and have the strength to face anything, come what may. Heh. You really have no clue about the purpose and function of Reality TV, do ya, hon.

Next we have Team Lyleneric (little Lord of the Flies nod for Kimmah, there), and this TV show won’t be the last time they’ll be in the news, I’m betting. I wish this particular picture were a better one, but I think you can tell (the two of you that recognize this photo and know where I’m going with this, that is) what their future will be. Eric comments that Lyle and his mother are the exact same person. Yeah. Slap a wig and some tits on the boy, and I’d think the exact same thing, wouldn’t you?

Finally, Team GagMe (which could also be named Team Pleasantville, if you prefer. But it’s longer to type, and I’m lazy. So GagMe it is.) The team that reminds you of the families you see in picture frames when you buy them. They’re distantly related to show host Phil, both being members of the “-ghan” clan. I’ll bet they get together at family reunions and discuss ancient ancestors Ghengis and Agha.

You’re letting me down, G. You have the perfect opportunity to tell us just how miserably the GagMe parents deserve to die because of the way they’re whoring their cute little Kewpies in front of America, and you go for the “-ghan” joke? For shame. For. Shame.

Sorry, I’m under pressure here. Leave me alone and let me get back to the Race. Teams set off in search of the world’s largest office chair in Anniston, Alabama. You’re probably as amazed as I am at the cultural locations they find for this show. They’ve already visited the world’s largest shoe-house; next week, I suppose it will be the world’s largest boob (I was going to insert a good visual gag here—picture of a giant inflatable boob, similar to one seen in a Woody Allen movie that I can’t remember the title of. But I couldn’t find it. So use your imagination. Or just concentrate on Phil’s man-boobs. They’ll suffice for now).

One of the Three Babes—can you keep them straight? Me neither—thinks Alabama is ugly, while the Old Fart does a bad imitation of the Deliverance banjo theme. Well, either that or the Kyrie from Bach’s Mass in B Minor; I always get those two confused. Team Roadkill starts their leg with a prayer, of course; they come from a denomination which requires them to insert the word “just” into every sentence of their prayer. (And I’m betting exactly half of you just got that joke while the other half have no clue what I’m talking about.) Meanwhile, Stasi and her brother Gestapo are trashing the Roadkills. I can’t quite make out what they’re saying, can you, L?

Here’s a rough transcription: “brak brak brak White Trash, brak brak brak fake, brak brak brak wicked mom, brak brak brak, imabitch imabitch imabitch BRAK BRAK BRAK (I invented that, y’know).

Thanks, bro. Over at the GagMes, Lil Caressa lets us know that she’s smart, cute, and doggone it, people like her. Her family races to pass Team Lyleneric, since Eric is busy screaming at his mother for giving him a paper cut. Say, L? Even though Lyle is the one who mostly argues with his bovine mother, Eric looks like he’s got a bit of pent-up rage there. We all know that holding things back ain’t good for your mental well-being, so what do you think ol’ Eric should tell his Mother, if he ever grew enough cajones?

How about something along the lines of: “You're a goddam Nazi control freak, Mom, why don't you just Fuck the Fucking Fuck Off and worry about your own Fucking Shit for a Fucking change, BITCH!”

Wow. Well done, and so neatly prepared. You don’t happen to have issues with your own mother now, do you, L?

Dood. Dood!!

Sorry, low blow, I know.

DOOD!

SORRY. Geez. Ok, Team Three Babes has reached the Big Rusty Chair and we learn that the next stop is Talledega, home of a racetrack and the Motor Sports Hall of Fame. For the few viewers who have been in a coma for the past few episodes (don’t laugh, I understand Phil has that effect on people; there are several lawsuits pending), the Old Fart reminds us that this won’t be a good stop for Team Roadkill, whom we immediately cut to, as they pass a Talledega sign. Of course, the producers have been looking forward to this, as have we. Let’s watch people squirm as they face their worst nightmares. It will be good therapy for them. So says the show’s consulting psychologist, H. Lecter.

Team Dimz have also reached the “big-assed” chair; evidently, they’re into big asses, as well.

Stop with the foreshadowing already, Goth.

Ok, Ok. One of the Dimz now knows what he wants to do with his life—build a bigger chair. Evidently the mousetrap idea was already taken. His bro (yeah, I can’t tell them apart, either—except I think one with the long hair and the boobs is their youngest brother) comments that that would make him the biggest dork in the world. Yeah, I know. The material they’re feeding us is just way way way too easy.

The Bundys also find their way to the “lame-o” chair, and the Premarins are right behind clucking excitedly. Team Babeage has reached the Hall of Fame and learn they have to head to the speedway to complete lap around the track in a racecar, all the while trying to miss Phil as he picks up debris from a wreck. Haha, no, we kid. That wouldn’t be nice for team Roadkill, and we’re all about the nice on TAR. Instead, they’ll ride a bicycle built for four once around the track, 2.6 miles. Which travels slow enough so we’ll be able to get good shots of every single sob on the Roadkill’s faces.

Some inane conversations ensue.
Babe 1: I feel like a clown!
Babe 2: These bikes are probably used in their “halftime shows.”
Yeah, right you are, hon. At these motor speedway event thingies, they stop the action so the cars can break for the locker room, while the clowns come on as soon as the band finishes marching across the infield.

Team Gag Me has reached the chair and they’ve finally arrived at something they can let Caressa do, cheering her on as she climbs. Give her about 10 years and we’ll see if they’re still cheering for her to mount things. Team Roadkill also reaches the chair, and it suddenly dawns on them where they’re heading. Team Lyleneric arrives arguing. What else is new. Oh, and Eric screams that his mother gave him a hangnail.

Back to the racetrack and the peddling. As boring as it is, the Dimz are having a blast and think it’s the bestest, most funnest thing ever.

Keep in mind, G, that up in your parts, people think Cornhole is exciting.

Tru dat. The Babes finally finish and will head to Hattiesburg, Mississippi and look for “The Southern Colonel,” which turns out to be some Trailer Home dealer. Rusty Chairs, Motor Sports, and Trailer Parks—yeah, so glad we’re getting out of Southern stereotypes here and showing some Cultchah, yessereebob. At the track, Team Bundy, in a stirring moment of sensitivity, looks forward to Team Roadkill’s impeding arrival so they can engage in some major pointing and laughing. The Roadkills have a plan: get in, do their business, and get out as quickly as possible.

Kinda makes you wonder about the Flanders’ sex life, don’t it?

‘Xactly. They learn that the Fates and Jerry B have other ideas in mind. Will Team Roadkill be able to make it out onto the track, in this Very Special Amazing Race? Naturally, we have to wait for the answer until after:

(Y’all know there’s no way in heck I even thought for a second about the Flanders’ sex life, right?

We’re not fooled. Now quit interrupting)

Commercials: Bewitched, exhibit A for why the next person to propose a movie based on a nostalgic TV show should be hung, drawn, and quartered; K-mart with some music that sounds like a country love song but I’m not sure, because it doesn’t mention the words “cheatin” and “double-wide”; Verizon with another awful hyperbole; Disney, celebrating 50 years of making people reach for the insulin; some child prodigy for Tyson that’s about two minutes away from wedgies on the playground; Capitol One for the pillaging gag, which was old two years ago already.

And we’re back for Therapy with the Roadkills. Landru thought it was an inspirational moment. Yep. He told me he was inspired to carve a swastika in his forehead and get a bunch of followers named Squeaky and sacrifice Rolly Roadkill to the Altamont branch of the Hell’s Angels. Mommy Roadkill reminds them that “Your daddy liked racing,” and that this triumph over the clowncycle was a victory for the family. They’re leaving the sadness behind and it will help them in their moving on. She’s proud of them. Gag me. Or her.

Say, G. You’re seeing a psychologist, what does....

Wait, what do you mean? I’m not seeing a psychologist.

Well, by “see,” I meant “dating, banging, marrying”—though not necessarily in that order.

Oh, right. I thought you meant “paying for therapy,” because I’m not.

You keep telling yourself that. It might not be monetary, but there is indeed payment. Oh yes there is.

Did you have a question?

I’m just curious as to what she thinks of this whole “therapy in front of national TV” deal.

She thinks you’re a tortured, monomanical freak, Landru, with delusional and sociopathic tendencies. And she’s not liking the forehead tattoo at all. Oh, and she asked me to ask you if you could please stop sucking out my brain now.

Stasi woofs at her Daddy: “You’re a pain in my ass!”
Well, Stasi, that’s actually the bikes—don’t you see everyone walking funny after they dismount?

Erm…I have a confession to make, here, G.

What?

Erm…the asspain thing?

What? Awwww, dooood

I’m sorry, man. I’m really jonesing for Miss Louisiana Assfuck.

Stasi whines that “One minute makes the biggest difference!” because Daddy isn’t moving fast enough for her taste. You’re right, there. One more minute of listening to you whine, and I’m liable to come after you with a nailgun. Can’t wait to see what kind of a man you attract with those charms.

Lot like my…

Shut up, Landru. You know this stuff goes on the Internets.

Dimz finish, then Bundys, Roadkills, and Premarins. Everyone on the GagMe team wishes Caressa had longer legs. Again, give her about 10 years. They hop off the bikes and Caressa says she doesn’t hurt at all. The Lylenerics are disappointed they don’t get to ride a car, and argue. Eric cries that his mother won't change his diaper.

Well, now we’ve reached the point in this show were JerryB has said to himself, “Self, I’m tired of all the Emmys. It’s time we catered to the Groundlings and give them some pixelated assses.” The Babes are only too happy to comply, and uses the Dimz’ catching up to their car as an excuse. Old Fart is so proud. Naturally, the Dimz with the best view, the one who appreciates it the most, is the brother with the boobs and the long hair. Another Dim decides to pull up his shirt, wanting to see the same from a Babe. Tit for tat. Though I didn’t see any tats. Yep. Cincy’s finest, right cheeear.

I think I need to explain something about Cincinnati, here—something I didn’t discover until I had moved here about 10 years ago. They make jokes about Kentucky here on our side of the river, but let me tell you, this has to be one of the most in-bred places in America. People from here never move away, and haven’t for generations. You can’t insult anyone, because everyone is related. Case in point—the Dimz are from the other side of Cincinnati, and already I’ve heard from a number people who know them or are related to them! Frightening, in an area of a couple million people. So think about the Dimz and their unforking family tree as you watch. Maybe Old Fart wasn’t too far off with that Deliverance thing.

I’ve decided I like Old Fart and his three babes.

Yes, L-boy, but you watch the show from a slightly lower perspective than the rest of us.

Did you just call me a groundling?

Yes, and not the funny kind.

The Lylenerics finish the bike thing, as a storm heads in. Now we reach what has to be the dimmest segment of a dim bunch. We all know that Team Lylenerics comprises four people who can’t run, think, or get along; you would think this would mean they are toast, no? But watch as the idiocy of the other teams allows this group to overtake them one by one. Team Babeage finds the trailer homes, and they have to look for one of three departure times: 7:20, 7:40, and 8:00 AM the next morning. Papa Bundy, refusing to consult a phone book, scoffs at the prospect of “Southern Colonel” being the trailer park, amid sneering looks from Stasi, who just doesn’t understand her future very well. Team Premarin gets some advice at an internet café that does not involve enlarged genitalia or Nigerian banks.

The Babes and the Dimz get a 7:20 departure, and retreat for a night of Truth or Dare and Spin the Bottle. The Roadkills and the Premarins arrive. The Premarins get a 7:40 time, while the Roadkills take an 8:00 as Mama wonders “Is this good?” I dunno, Einstein, maybe you could tell if you try LOOKING in other rooms before you grab one, huh? Stasi screams at her dad to just shut up, just shut the fucking fuck up, because he is upsetting her.

Wait, that was what you were screaming at Stasi. Who is yummy, by the way.

My bad. And you? Are a sick fuck. They arrive at the trailer home, learn that the Roadkills are leaving at 8:00 and they look around for another time—not because they want to leave earlier but because (and I’m not making this up) they DON’T want the same time as the Roadkills. The GagMes also just take an 8:00. What, don’t they ever shop around? What’s with this taking the first room that suits their fancy? It’s not like they’re in danger of not getting a room. Caressa doesn’t like the trailers, they’re evil. Later on, she’ll listen to the snow on her tv and wake her parents up, saying ‘They’re heeeeeere!!”

I would have really liked her for pointing out that trailers are evil if she hadn’t spent all that time telling us how adorable she is.

I don’t think anyone wants to think about that, okay?

Team Lyleneric arrive. Team Bundy is stuck with (horror of all horrors) the same departure time as the Roadkills, and Stasi explodes. She reiterates that every minute counts—more foreshadowing as we head to:

Commercials: BP: advertising clean restrooms, and you know you want a gas station whose first priority is picking up all the soiled condoms; Eminem and “Lose Yourself” in his often litigated, never dupicated infamous iPod ads; DiGiornos, starring Pinocchio, who lies just so he can satisfy two women at once; local spots for the ‘Gals (not to be confused with the ‘Girls, whom our Washington friends like to mock); something forgettable for Ford Trucks; Rupert from Survivor, who is more popular here than Lil of the Granny Panties, even though the latter went farther (nope, absolutely NO code there), and some local news spots.

And we’re back, and Stasi is still spewing; any minute now and her head will spin. Meanwhile, Lyleneric get the only remaining trailer—with a 7:40 departure time, and the producers missed a wonderful opportunity of showing the Bundy’s reaction when they learn that the Lylenerics arrived later and leave earlier. Teams leave the next morning in search of some product-placement gas-station and Les the mysterious gas man. The Babes and the Dimz trade lusts as they leave, and Old Fart decides against joining the pixelated ass club. That wind you just felt? America’s sigh of relief. Les the Gas man gives them a clue (when he’s done handing them out, will he be clueless?) which directs them to a park in the Pelican State. Ooooh, we’re going to be trickish, and make them figure out which state this actually is! Just in case they have trouble with this, the next sentence gives them a hint: It’s in the state of “LO_ISI_NA.” Let us pause for a moment of silence in remembrance of a time when this show had some clues that actually required more than a 1st grade education.

Team Premarin commits dumbass move #2, as they drive right past the gas station, allowing the Lylenerics to move up another notch as Eric complains that his mother sold him to gypsy carnies. The Premarins wonder why the Lylenerics pulled in, thinking “maybe they went to pick up something.” Uhm, that would be the CLUE you twits. Geez. They head back to find Les has More clues. The Bundys stop for gas, as Stasi whines again about how “one second makes the biggest difference.” Ya think? GagMes and Roadkills are right behind, Caressa singing “Lucky Pen” like Madonna.

The Bundys have trouble locating the state park, even though they’ve lived nearby for freakin’ ever. Ma Bundy wonders if this is the kiss of death? Ya think? Papa Bundy says to Stasi “You’re being nasty and looking ugly.” To which she responds: “I know you are, but what am I?”

He’s rubber, she’s glue, infinity. Although come to think on it, she does look a bit bouncy.

Just stop, dood. One of the Premarins (yet another team I can’t be bothered to learn who is who) needs some validation for being an idiot as her sisters scream at her. Papa Bundy can’t read a map to save his life. He’s surprised to learn that state park is five minutes from where he worked for a year. Young Gestapo has a shirt over his head. You and me both, kid.

Dimz and Babes hit the park, Detour: Work or Play. Work is slicing a log. Play: Blackjack against professional dealer—all members must win over dealer in same hand, three times. They must also put on appropriate period clothing, no matter which detour they’re taking. One of the Dimz looks great with his period orange ‘Gal’s Bandana and his period lifejacket over his suit. Lylenerics and Premarins find the park. A Premarin thinks “12 inches” can’t be that big. Heh. Dimz and Babes struggle over 21. It does involve numbers, after all. The Dimz give up and decide to saw.

The GagMes decide to do the cards, giving them a chance to dress Caressa up like a tart.

Dood. Dood

Yeah, yeah, push comes to shove, you’re just as censorial as any Web site management, huh L-Boy?

But they get nowhere with cards. Lylenerics are finished sawing—yes folks, the other teams have allowed this family, which put the “fun” in dysfunctional, to pass them all by. Eric does complain that his mother tore his teddy bear limb from limb and baked the stuffings into the holiday pumpkin pie.

The teams are headed over Lake Pontchartrain to Nawlins, home of jazz and floating bodies. Babes finish and offer encouraging words to the GagMes. Dimz finish as the Roadkills arrive. Premarins finish. Roadkills quickly get two hands as the GagMes try to figure out if they should keep playing. While they ponder, weak and weary, we have time for some:

Commercials: Travelocity gnome, which ranks second beyond the Burger King as the fantasy commercial figure I most want to chase after with a hammer; Buick with “promises” that ring as true as “Sure Babe, I’ll call” and “No, those are just cold sores”; Verizon network again. Duracell, with Indiginous Persons using their traditional Indiginous Person GPS device; Mastercard: discovers what parents have known for years, that the box is better than the toy; Outback again; CBS whoring programs I have no intention of watching. Local news: man shot his teenage daughter, then himself—which makes me wonder if the Bundys moved here after Katrina.

Back. As they cross the lake, they are strategerizing. The Lylenerics want to not screw this up. Way to set your standards high, there. The Babes and the Dimz plan to hoof it. Pony up, boyz. One of the Premarins just wants to keep from crying. She doesn’t want to leave her backpack, which apparently offers some form of security against dying old and alone. Guess she forgot to take her pill this morning.

Meanwhile, the Roadkills finish the card thing. We see the GagMes struggling with the logs. Bully bashes Caressa with the saw, and she exclaims, ok, that wasn’t good. We think the same. Next time, hit a little harder, Bully, k?

The departing Roadkills are excited to see the Bundys arriving at the park, although Mama Roadkill reminds her team that the Bundys are from around here, so they can’t let up. No worries, Ma. The Lawd tole Pa Bundy to screw around with the sawyering thing, then to try their “hand” at the card thing—thereby making them pull one of the classic TAR blunders: going from the easier task to the harder one. Buh Bye. The adult GagMes finish the logs by themselves, and head toward Nawlins, closely followed by the Bundys, who scream excitedly “We’re going home.”

Ok, honestly, I like this show, and all, but this foreshadowing ploy? Has. Got. To. Stop. We get it already. We fucking get it. You’ve made the show all artsy fartsy, you’ve discovered a storytelling technique, ranking right up there with irony. You’ve searched miles and miles of footage to find them saying just the right clueless things at the right fucking moments, and WE GET IT. Now just let them make idiots of themselves and leave the show alone. It makes it more enjoyable, really it does. And when you cast teams like you have this season, it ain’t hard.

Just watch what they all say as they cross the Lake. Mama Roadkill sagely informs her brood that they are crossing one of the five Great Lakes. See, that’s comedy, right there, Mr. Bruckheimer. No foreshadowing necessary.

They don’t need brains, dood. The Jesus is gonna give them a million dollars.

The other teams ooh and ahh over Lake Pontchartrain; little do they know that in a few weeks it will double in size and be renamed Lake Dubya. Nor that Preservation Hall, in the French Quarter, the pit stop for this leg, won’t be preserved for long. That, JB, is irony. And not the filmed kind.

Erm…actually, the French Quarter wasn’t hit particularly hard. I believe Preservation Hall is still there.

You, of all people, want to confuse timeless prose with facts?

The Lylenerics “hoof” it around the FQ, as we’re treated to sights of what was once-mighty Nawlins. Eric bitches that Mom subjected him to CBT. The Babes are right behind, and we know we’re in for some real tense editing over the next few minutes. Who will win???

Wait. We need more of the foreshadowing/irony crap. Stasi says “This is kind of unfair that we know our way around.” Gestapo adds: “We’re going home. This is hilarious.” Yes, you are. And Yes it is.

Dimz park and hoof. Babes find it while Lyle yells at his mother; Eric screams that he has a runny nose. Yes, the Babes win a trip to Orlando and Universal Studios from Travelocity, WDW being too family-oriented to house their pixelated asses, I guess. Phil greets them accompanied by a Jazz musician, his man-boobs (Phil's that is, not the musician's; I couldn't tell what kind of boobs he had under that outfit), and his bad haircut. Which I gotta say something about here. When I first saw this show, I thought Phil looked a bit like Sting. And he does. Except Sting knows what to do with his hair.

Lylenerics are so happy to go from last to 2nd that Papa, who has exhibited precisely zero personality or cajones up until this point in the race, proceeds to hug Phil. So excited to finally meet someone whose bosom exceeds his wife’s ample chest, he even slips him some tongue. Papa says they ran a perfect race today. Uhm, no, but thanks for playing. You’re in second place because the other teams are even stupider than you. Meanwhile, Eric complains that Mom had him circumcised.

The Premarins run, sans backpacks, while the Dimz arrive, dood! Phil jokes about the moon earlier today.

He really wanted those Dimz boys to be showing the moon.

You’re really high on things the rest of us don’t want to think about, aren’t you?

Premarins are team 4 screaming “Crazy women, coming through!” Again, why make stuff up when you've got this material to work with? Roadkills are team #5, and bloviate some brakage about what they learned through their crazy therapy session. Some useless drama ensues, but we know that the GagMes are Team 6. The Bundys are last and Stasi breaks down. They are going home. They offer up some parting platitudes: “We did our best.” No, you didn’t. Stasi says “I could have made a difference, if they had listened to me.” No, you could have made a difference if you threw yourself in front of their car and let them run over you. Well, maybe not a difference for them, but we woulda enjoyed the show more. Stasi continues: “They should have listened to me. Because it’s all about ME! Me, me. MemEMEMEMEMEMEME!!!!!!”

She’s just not part of the archtypical meme.

That? Is the worst joke you’ve ever made.

I know, I just did it to piss off Ilse.

Papa waxes philosophical: “I’m glad to see we can deal with real hardships when they arise.” This? was a real hardship? Just wait for Katrina, pal. Let’s see you deal with that. Oh, wait. It already happened. There’s that time-warp shit again.

Don’t start, dood.

Quiet. I know what pisses you off.

Like I would be askeered of you.

Ok, you asked for it. Two words: Peter Angelos.

That’s Peter fucking Angelos to you, dood. And is that all you got?

Hey, look over there: isn’t that Michelle Malkin?

Ok, that was below the belt.

Just in time for some more:

Commercials: AOL passing out condoms, or some such virus protection. GMC for high standards, which works great with the words “all you want to do is use me” sounding in the background; BP for food and water—don’t they sell gas anymore?; more whoring for CBS.

Next time on TAR: Teams leave the US., Lyle is the next for TAR-style therapy to conquer his fear of heights as he whimpers that Mom took his Big Wheel, and Sharon strikes out.

Dood. Who’s Sharon?

Beats me. But all in all, though I’m happy with the result. How about you, L?

This show sucks. My Louisiana Assfucks keep getting eliminated.

And on that thought, we’ll close. As usual, thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I have to say, in the interest of full disclosure, that this isn’t how I originally intended for this summary to go. I had a funny little bit prepared, where I’m teaching a class (it’s what I do, for those of you that don’t know) of young, impressionable women, and we’re studying TAR, and my principal, the Little Nun Lady (affectionately dubbed as the LNL) comes in and asks the girls to make sure that all their pussies are cleaned up (and that’s going to sound totally dirty unless you’ve already read about that story elsewhere) because we’re having a guest lecturer come in, at which point Landru enters, proceeding to pass out some KoolAid, verify if any of the girls are in fact legal, get spanked by the LNL, teach my little darlings the many and various meanings of the word “turgid,” and inquire about buying a school uniform for Ilse, all the while berating the TAR contestants as only Landru can do, except this time he would be channeled by me, which I was kinda looking forward too, payback being a bitch ‘n all, after he totally nailed me (ok, that didn’t sound right) in his own summary for Circle Of last week. But it was not to be, because I couldn’t find a way to actually work in references to the show, which would be a shame, the show being what probably brings you to this place over and over again like a crack habit you just can’t shake. Well, that and the corpse-fucking.

So, I scrapped that framework and proceeded with the one you see here, channelling Landru at various and sundry moments to suit my purposes. Except, after a couple of days of this, the channel ran dry, so I had to go begging to Landru to be my monkey and channel himself for a bit to help me get this thing done. So what you see above is a combination—a tag team, if your mental image can handle that—of sorts, where I put words into his mouth, and he put words into mine, and I’m gonna stop with this metaphor before it gets any MORE closer to code than it already is. At any rate, while much of the above is mine, some is his, and it ain’t all clearly divided by the red like you might think. But if you want something to amuse your po’ lil lives, you might try to figure out which is which. It shouldn’t be that hard, actually; your biggest clue is that the funniest parts are probably Landru’s.

All of which is my way of saying, thanks, bro. I owes ya big time. And, as we all know, payback is and will indeed be, a bitch. Gothmog out.

Feh. He funny, the G-man. I just made it more about me. Great work, Goth. Standarsh out.  ¶ 7:21 PM 7 Comments

  The Amazing Race: Incest Edition Episode Three: The not so very interesting episode in which the best parts are when someone gets gas, and when we learn what will happen in the next episode

by TeamJoisey


Did any one of you spot any random bits of amusement on this episode? Was there a single moment that made you laugh? Smile? Consider putting aside the remote?

No, of course not.

Because this episode, even more so than all the boring TAR episodes that have come before, was a giant suckhole of entertainment. A caterwauling vacuum of mirth. The Linda Lovelace of Laughter, except that Linda Lovelace is currently technically dead, and thus any attempt at cadaver copulation would not produce the same therapeutic respiratory effects commonly associated with Ms. Lovelace’s cinematic exploits. I’ll say this however: This episode sucked more than prime Linda Lovelace and Little Oral Annie, and almost as much as renowned fellatrix Harriet Miers.

Nicely played, if I do say so myself. I’ve included a “sorry I’m boring” disclaimer, provided the obligatory necrophilia for Reasonable Rodent, mentioned the ass-licking Supreme Court nominee and threw in some pornography to boot. And speaking of pornography and ass licking, Miss Louisiana Sweetcheeks did not appear in this episode, which might account for the hideous ratings and my general lack of interest.

There are, of course, many other reasons to watch The Amazing Race Incest Edition. You might witness a guest appearance by Blake and Paige Mycoski, for instance. Perhaps Stasi Schroeder will confess she’s a leather-lovin’ Nazi, or it might be Rolly Weaver’s turn to wear the tight little pink shorts. Bully Gaghan’s repressed sister envy might erupt in sweet, sweet violence. Megan Linz might pull a train. And maybe, just maybe, the Paolo sons will wind up in a landfill.

Yeah, none of that has happened either. Yet. But people did get on a plane, which is a marked improvement in The Amazing Race season as a whole.

Speaking of The Amazing Race, I’m sure you’ve read the previous summaries by our Dark Lord and Master, Landru, and his prime minion, the Reasonable Rodent, Dweeze. You can find links to these works on that little sidebar thing over there on the side. I’ll assure you now; they were funnier.

If you’re pressed for time, here’s a brief recap: 10 families of four, Brooklyn Bridge, lost in NYC, row across the Delaware, drive to Amish country and try to kill mom, say goodbye to the Token family, which was in fact, token. Clearly, tokens can’t swim or paddle. Drive to a big shoe, get lost, drive to Washington, get lost, drive to a Civil War battlefield, fail to get shot, say goodbye to the Rogers family, which was in fact, home to the best ass on the show. And his daughter.

But those, those were the good episodes. Here’s what filled Episode 3, The One Where Nothing Happened.

Phil opens the show at the pit stop: Well-Born Manor, a monument to wealthy white southerners who used to enslave token folks like the Token family. Dey sho' be sorry dey be missin' dis.

The Widow Weaver and family, which Jesus favored with a first-place finish, depart at 2:26 a.m., or shortly before Rolly’s third nocturnal emission. The teams are told to fly to Charleston, South Carolina, and find a gazebo in an area called The Battery.

In previous episodes families were required to drive themselves. Suddenly we have chauffeurs. Perhaps it’s a southern thing, or perhaps producers realize there are planes to catch and they won’t let some bozo direct his son to drive 1600 miles in the wrong direction. And yes, the chauffeurs are token.

The testorone-soaked Linz-innati family departs a minute later, and little sister Megan tells us she’s got to make her macho brothers listen to more than just her orgasms. She commands their attention, and instructs them to drive to Washington-Dole Airport.

Team Shriek departs at 2:29, and they have abandoned the dress-alike motif. This does nothing to distinguish one blonde Godlewski sister from another.

Team Reichstag and the much-feared Stasi depart at 2:35, and stepmom tells us that she’s glad the children think of her as a friend and not the evil stepmom stereotype. She then proceeds to nag young Günter, who rolls his eyes at the evil stepmom biotch creature that’s fucked up his life.

My Three Sons-in-Law roll out at 2:37; Daddy’s Little Girls start at 2:38. That’s six teams inside of 12 minutes. Team Nukular Fambly leaves at 2:43, and Mom and Dad praise their wee moppets for their maturity. They are just like little adults. And it’s true! Right now Bully is caressing Carissa’s crotch.

Traffic problems. Uh-huh. That’s new. Two families borrow cell phones from their token drivers and phone ahead for plane tickets.

Team Garbage finally departs at 3:05 a.m. and they quarrel over whether they bicker. Mom declares this The Amazing Race-American Style. By which she means “boring except for the parts where her sons threaten to kill her.”

Arrival at the airport usually means a mad scramble for the best flights. In this episode, we see intense drama over whether teams get to sit on the plane that arrives at 10:04 a.m. … Or the one that arrives at 10:06 a.m. I swear to Landru, we spent 10 frikkin’ minutes on this two-minute gap. The only real drama in the airport was when an insecure novice traveler, the Widow Weaver, went back to the counter to ask some innocuous question about how planes operate, and NaziStasi became paranoid over the Widow Weaver’s furtive master plan to have Jesus rapture the kinfolk down to Charleston on a golden chariot.

Team My Three Sons-in-Law join in the paranoia. They suspect the Weavers have found an earlier flight, and hope the friendly widow will share her secret. As the Weavers walk past, the Aiellos ask if they found a better flight. Unfortunately for all involved, at that very moment the Weavers are communicating with the Lord, and don’t reply to the Aiellos.

Intense hatred blooms among the Boston Bozos, who share their feelings with the Louisiana Nazi and her Evil Stepbitch. Sharp claws and declarations of revenge, all because Jesus has Mommy on call waiting.

To punctuate the inanity engulfing this episode, the Widow Weaver directs the late-arriving Garbage Family to a third flight, which arrives at 10:38 a.m., and makes the point that a half-hour is no big deal.

Ho-hum.

Cut to Rolly Weaver and Günter Schroeder sharing a few harmless teen boy moments while waiting in the gate area. This, of course, is a problem for Günter’s bestest pal, the Evil Stepbitch, who doesn’t want Günter to fraternize with the enemy. She shares these thoughts during an extended conversation with one of Team Shriek’s Godlewski sisters. Stepbitch then corrals Günter and tells him to shut his pie hole and no talking with the other teams. He tells Rolly, “She’s a bitch.”

Finally, planes fly. Paolos bicker. Paolos complain about the bickering. Paolos gripe about the complaining over the bickering. Paolos grumble over the griping about the complaining over the bickering. We go to commercials, grumbling over ….

The Amazing Race – Lots of Driving Edition is sponsored by BP (British Petroleum) one of the world’s evil money sucking giants, and we are treated to a collection of faux anecdotes with sexual innuendo (Man: My personal record is about four minutes. Wife: That long?) … Take your wife to London, give her diamonds, but watch out for terrists … GMC has a fabulous new Denali, which is sure to be among the prizes somewhere during the race … IBM promises “incredible entertainment experiences in your lap” but offers a merely a computer instead of Miss Louisiana Sweetcheeks Brittany Rogers … Ladies: Use Jerkin’ Lotion and your knees will thank you. … and Staples introduces us to the folks who write the Survivor poetry.


Back to Charleston, and planes are landing. Scramble for cars. Driving. Battery. Gazebo. Clue box. Detour.

Each with its own pros and cons.

Two tasks. Forrest Gump: Squeeze the head off 200 pounds of shrimp.
Muddy Waters: Drive a jeep through an 400-foot course of deep mud.

Widow Weaver chooses mud. Linz-innati choses shrimp. Stasi und das Reichstag chose shrimp because Evil Stepbitch hates dirty laundry. My Three Sons-in-Law are thrilled at the chance to drive in the mud. Team Shriek chooses shrimp.

Das Schroeders begin to pinch the shrimp. Stasi opts to skip the gloves, probably because she likes the feeling when she squeezes their little heads off. Little brother Günter also likes the feeling when he "squeezes the head," and he’s probably thinking about Stasi at that very moment.

Team Nukular Fambly chooses mud, Daddy’s Little Girls chose shrimp. The Weavers arrive at the mud run (“thank you, Lord”), but Jesus won’t let them walk on water, or drive over mud. They get stuck, and get towed out. Repeatedly. The Aiellos begin the mud run, and get stuck just 30 feet from the finish line on their first attempt.

Team Trashcan chooses the shrimp task because Mom is eager to rip off heads with her fingers. Alas, she is referring to shrimp, and not her sons. She means the smelly little creature with no backbone. And yes, that is her husband.

Weavers roll in the mud. Aiellos mud wrassle. Schroeders argue over the proper way to decapitate crustaceans, one of the Linz boys makes out with a shrimp. No, not Günter. The Bransen girls get some sage advice from Dad: “If it’s got a head, squeeze it.” This works for both pimples and prom night.

Team Nukular Fambly arrives at the mud run, and the Widow Weaver and her hard-driving kin dismiss the Gaghans as city people who won’t be able to do the task. Weavers and Aiellos get stuck again, and Weavers abandon the mud run and head for the shrimp. No, not Günter.

Stasi und ze rest of her party conclude molesting the shrimp. No, not Günter. They get a clue that directs them to the Charleston Visitor Center, and two magical clipboards. These props determine which mystery charter bus you get to ride all night. One leaves two hours after the first, so this might be important. Probably not.

Linz-innati, Shriek and the Daughters finish abusing the shrimp. No, not Günter. With the Boston Bozos looking on in disbelief, Team Nukular Fambly completes the mud run on the first try. Bully did not sing “Coming Round the Mountain,” but you could feel it in the air.

Families Linz, Schroeder, Godlewski and Bransen fill the first bus. Aiellos continue to spin their wheels in the mud. Are they doomed?

Find out after these brainwashing moments from corporate America…

The first season of The Amazing Race is available on DVD, and damn! It’s a lot better than this version. … Buick promises total value in their high quality cars. HA! … Attention K-Mart shoppers: They think you are country music yahoos. … Aveeno ultra-calming moisturizer for your frenetic wrinkles … Presenting Country Crock mashed potatoes: Now you can buy pre-made leftovers … Local news tease for NYC’s “Wag the Subway” terror threat and how frikkin’ laser beams can stop your smoking habit… In a no doubt hastily assembled ad, Chevy is touting fuel economy … Verizon DSL is better than dialup and cheaper than cable. And slower than shit … Mercedes has been making cars longer than anyone, so they can overcharge, dammit. …

Back to the mud. Aiellos switch drivers, and finally succeed on the 14th attempt. This, I’m sure, will be discussed in great detail on Thanksgiving, because frankly, no one will want to mention the Red Sox.

Second bus: Gaghan, Paolo, Aiello, Weaver. And the Lord sayeth, “Let there be bunch.” Papa Gaghan leads a mock cheer over the four-way tie for last place.

Phil finally reveals the mystery destination as Huntsville Alabama, the rocket capital of the world, which is eight hours away. The first bus arrives, and those teams grab the clue. They head for the U.S. Space and Rocket Center and the Edward O. Buckbee Hangar, where the next clue awaits. It’s easy to locate the space center, identifiable by the large white phallic symbol protruding proudly in the night. No, not Günter.




Roadblock

Phil tells us that in this family version, roadblocks will sometimes be performed by two people. In this task, two people ride the centrifuge, which simulates the gravity force created during blastoff. They must endure 3.2Gs.

For those of you who still unclear on the statehood of Pennsylvania and other elementary school knowledge, Phil offers this quick science lesson:

“If you haven’t noticed, gravity is currently pushing on me.”

For the rest of you: “Boredom is currently pushing on me.”

So let’s wrap this thing up. The Bransen Babes are the first to the hanger, and grab tag #1 for the lone centrifuge, which takes several minutes to get up to the right speed, and several more minutes to stop. The Linz family takes tag #2, and then sits to WAIT FOR THE LONE CENTRIFUGE. Can you see where this is going?

Stasi und Herr Schroeder arrive third, and wait with the Linzer Division while the Bransen sisters go in circles. One of the gravitatin’ sisters echoes America’s sentiment during this task when she says, “It’s hard to keep my eyes open.”

Team Shriek arrives at Space Camp, debating whether a hangar is an actual airplane or an airplane storage facility. They claim spot #4 while the Bransen Babes are STILL in the centrifuge.

Daddy’s Little Girls finish the task, and the next clue sends them on a one-mile walk to Rocket Park’s space museum, where they get the chance to shill for America Online. Easy to find, because there is a large white phallic symbol protruding proudly in the night. Oh wait… that’s Günter. No, no… it’s the Saturn V rocket.

The next clue is an email video of Phil, telling them to go outside and run to the Pit Stop mat, which is under the space shuttle exhibit. Linz family collects clue… faux dramatic race to the mat… and the Bransen Babes check in first.

And then Phil announces the best prize in the history of reality TV. All licensed drivers on the team receive free gasoline for life. Whenever they pull into a BP or Arco station, they can fill up for free.
Yeah, the folks at BP are cool. Yeah, that oil company sure cares about the average folks. Yeah, that toxic-fume-spewin’ megalith makes me proud to be … uh wait… BRITISH petroleum? Yes, Bransen sisters, every time you need petrol, motor on to London, and they’ll refuel your motorcar, check under your bonnet, and wipe your boot. Cheerio now!

Well, OK, there are 15,000 BP or Arco stations in the United States, so they might find a station back home in Illinois. And yeah, this prize might be worth more than a quarter share of the million dollar first place money.

Consider Lindsay Bransen, age 20. She’ll drive for 40 more years, and with free gas, she’ll drive more than the average person. Figure 25,000 miles a year for 40 years (a million miles) with gas mileage of 20 mph (who needs an economical car?) and a price of 3 dollars a gallon. That’s about $150,000; roughly equivalent to the after-tax share of the “million dollar prize.”

So three cheers for an oil company!!! Hell, go ahead and drill away!!! Hell, go ahead and drill the daughters!!! Oil companies are sooo selfless, sooo considerate. Soooo beneficial to the planet. Oh so, so lovable.

Meanwhile, back in reality, the Linz-innati family jogs to the mat, with a muttered “darn it” so you know the Bransens are still standing there. Second place. You don’t get petrol, but we do have a nice selection of bean dip.

The second charter bus is rolling down the highway, and we are treated to the spectacle of the Widow Weaver’s pustulating daughter complaining about their tough day. Ooh, we got no sleep. Ooh, we had to go in the mud. Ooh, we had to pinch shrimp. Ooh, we are prisoners on a bus. (Shut up and sleep, bitch.) She starts laughing and sobbing and the other folks on the bus quietly move away from the insane passenger. During a rest stop at the Waffle House, slightly less zit-laden younger daughter Rachel says, “I can’t take it, Mommy.”
Mom’s answer: “Then lie… be completely fake.”

Jesus wept.

The UnrealityWeavers exit the Waffle House with enormous fake smiles and dance through the parking lot like drunks who just saw Cirque de Soleil. Those poster boys for mental stability, the Paolos, say the Weavers, “broke down … snapped … like, lost it … they just went nuts.”

Thank you Dr. Paolo.
But don’t let Tom Cruise hear you.







AOL says high-speed connections make you more vulnerable to viruses … GMC car assembly robots love soul music … Verizon network provides you with 50,000 stalkers … Kohl’s has women’s clothes and the models look hot. Oh wait, that’s Günter. … Amazon aborigines keep a GPS in their loincloth, thanks to the wonders of Duracell Promos for a new show called Close to Home which no one will watch … and Inigo Montoya’s show that no one will watch because they are all watching Lost … and then CBS’ CSI:NY – the Alphabet Strikes Back … Acura’s invisible car commercial … American Express Gift Cards … Mercedes Benz … local news tease… and we return to find:

The Weavers happily dancing in the parking lot, singing on the bus, and making complete fools of themselves.

Back at Space Camp, Das Schroeders and the Shrieks complete the mission and run for Rocket Park. And yes, one of the Godlewski sisters shrieks, “That was so cool you guys!!!” Schroeders finish third, Godlewski fourth. And they shriek.

The second bus finally arrives, and the other teams throw the Weavers onto the sidewalk. They grab a clue and a car, and ask the Lord for wisdom. The other three teams also drive to space camp.

The Weavers arrive at the centrifuge, and claim spot #5. For those keeping score, the Weavers will finish in fifth place.

The Nukular Fambly, My Three Sons-in-Law and the Garbage Family arrive together. They grab the clue. They read the clue. They get to the part where it says “first come, first served.”

Garbage Dad and Garbage son sprint for the door ahead. Nukular Dad and little Bully sprint for the door ahead. The Sons-in-Law consider the options, and walk to the door ahead. They claim the last spot in the Centrifuge Shuffle. Now do you see where this is going? Tony Aiello does. He looks like he’s ready to go find Phil right now. And if he did, you might be done reading this summary by now.

Weavers spin around, this time with NASA’s help. They run to the computers and get a message from Phil. Or maybe Jesus, because that familiar “You’ve got mail” was followed by a quick “Oh, thank you, Lord.” They check in and they are all happy and giddy again.

Paolo’s spin around, get the clue, and then squabble about how to find the 363-foot tall luminous white rocket right in front of their faces.The Aiellos complete the challenge, and the editors cut that footage with clips of the Gaghans and Paolos getting lost trying to locate the 363-foot tall luminous white rocket right in front of their faces.

Mom Paolo can’t run. Bully Gaghan can’t run. Carissa leads her team into the computer alcove just as the Paolos leave. The Aiellos finish, get the message from Phil, and begin running for the Pit Stop.

Oh the drama!! Oh the action!! Oh, the bullshit.

The Paolos finish sixth, with no other teams nearby. The Gaghans finish seventh, with no other teams nearby. The Aiello’s finish last, and are eliminated. Yes, that’s a Boston Red Sox hat on one of the Sons-in-Law. Papa Aiello says “They are all good guys and they tried haahd. We’re all family now.

But this - is just a wicked pissah.”

Finally, after wasting nearly an hour, Phil delivers the promo for the next episode. The funny episode. The one I should have traded for…

The one where the already clinically insane Weaver family, left fatherless in a raceway accident, have to go to the Talladega Super Speedway and face their worst fears: Acne, and the hundreds of potential boyfriends who saw them blubber like loons on this show.

And the Godlewskis? They shriek at each other!!  ¶ 4:50 AM 21 Comments

  The Amazing Race, Family Affair Edition

Episode Two: Meanwhile, The Paolos Argue

by Dweeze

Previously on The Amazing Race:

Angelica convinced the babies they needed to do something. The babies did it, causing lots of problems. Angelica laughed at the babies, until it backfired and she got in trouble.

Sorry. That was previously on every single episode of Rugrats.

Previously on The Amazing Race:

Ten familes set out on a race around, well, apparently the Delaware Water Gap. They include (but are not limited to) the Paolo family, a group so dysfunctional they offend Jonathan's senses; the Godlewski sisters, wearing pink t-shirts to support the visitor's locker room at historic Kinnick Stadium; and the Rogers family, a foursome centered around a father tightly wound from repressing his (not unfounded) lust for his daughter's very, very worshipful ass. (Note from their bio at the TAR Website: Daughter Brittany, a former Miss Louisiana, currently works in pharmaceutical sales. Funny. When I was her age, we just called them dealers.)

There was much driving around NYC. and a brief encounter with the Festers (Will we see more former racers? I hope so. I can't wait to see Colin berate a nine-year old girl. A chronologically-nine-year old girl, that is. We've already seen him berate an emotionally-nine-year-old girl.) We also got some driving into eastern PA, a buggy gone awry (as opposed to a Buggy gone awry) with contestants who didn’t stop to help, and Landru got to say "Twee" a lot. Oh, and the unfortunately named Black family, who were, indeed, a black family, were eliminated. (According to their bio on the TAR Website, the Black family's main goal was to show they had what it takes to compete on TAR. Technically, and by the very smallest of margins, they seem to have attained that goal.)

Phil (in voiceover): Who will be eliminated next?

I was going to do a little Abbott and Costello "Who's On First?" riff here, but it didn't turn out to be very funny. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. How does that differ from what I did include? Trust me. It didn't pay off. Even I have some standards.

Some.

Okay, one. But it's a strict one.

So we go to commercial. Now, when I first got into the summarizin bidness, I did the commercials. I thought it was mandatory. I don't anymore though, because, well, Landru and TJ both do it so much better. So I'll leave commercials to them, unless something really jumps out at me.

Like the bump to this commercial break. It's the Highlight Of A Previous Race bump, and the highlight is Chris and Alex racing past Will and Tara to win TAR 2. After watching and rewinding and rewatching and re-rewinding and re-rewatching this clip for about 20 minutes, it was time to get on with the show. (Note to CBS, Bruckheimer, and whoever else might be responsible for DVD release of previous seasons. If all the Season 2 set consists of is the last fifteen minutes where Tara and Will snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, I'll still buy the set. I'll pay full price for it, too.)

And while I’m talking commercials, does British Petroleum really think it’s wise to use depression era sounding music in its commercials? Or is that just a nudge and a wink to us that they know the next depression will be driven largely by rising fuel costs? And what’s this with Subway pimping a chicken sandwich with what looks to be a deep fat fried chicken breast? I thought they were the healthy alternative.

We open with a brief recap of what happened in episode one. You know, the theme, the plot, the subplots, that sort of thing. Phil then asks us if the Linz family, who came in second to last, will be able to overcome change their fortunes and if the Paolo family will be able to set aside their differences and avoid elimination. If past TAR editing is any indication, we know now that the answer to both questions will be yes.

We start out, heading to York, Pa. Once there our intrepid racers will look for a big shoe.

Insert your own Pee Wee Herman joke here. Or just insert Pee Wee Herman. It's all good.

The Godlewski sisters take off first. According to their bio on the TAR Website, each sister has her own personality. So far, events on the show haven't borne that fact out. The sisters have taken a great deal of pride in finishing first, because they know that they’ve been underestimated.

The Gaghan family is next, and they’ve taken a great deal of pride in finishing second, because they know they’ve been underestimated.

The Weaver family follows, and they’ve taken – wait. They have doubts because of the death of the family father, and the mother doesn’t know if she has what it takes to be a leader and she doesn’t know if the race will help her find that out about herself. (According to their bio on the TAR Website, since the father died, Mama Weaver has had to be both breadwinner AND nurturer. Cause, you know, one person can't do both.)

Allow me to pause for a moment to state for the record that this is the family I like the best. Perhaps it’s a commonality thing, what with her being a widow with two daughters and one son. Perhaps it’s that they seem more genuine about their feelings, less forced. But I like them.

The Rogers family is next, and we see Brock talking about how his father is the leader and no one else has any input. Brock adds that he knows things too, but his father will never listen to him.

This foreshadowing moment brought to you courtesy of Mark Burnett.

Next come the Schroeders, the only German family in Louisiana. Family princess Stasi, She-wolf of the Camps, posits that they came in thinking they knew everything and now they realize there is a lot they don’t know. Youngest son Hunter sits in the vehicle waiting as Papa, Mama, and princess Stasi load the van up. Yeah. The son's name is Hunter, the daughter Stasi. The last name is Schroeder. You draw your own conclusions.

(By the way, according to their bio on the TAR Website, several of Hunter's teammates think he is lazy at times. Hmm. That's some rather interesting wording there. Why not just say his entire family thinks he sucks?)

The Godlewski sisters stop to gas up their van, costing them their first place position. The Gaghans keep going, the kids making faces, the dad telling them it isn’t stupid time. It’s apparent he has never seen the show before.

We are treated to many shots of driving down Highway 30 West. The Schroeder family takes a short cut, revisiting Highway 61. The Paolo family is next to leave, arguing as they do. Mama Paolo talks about the lack of respect she receives from her family and how she wants them to listen to her more because, if she is saying something, it has to be important. W. feels the same way, and I think he is equally passive-aggressive about it. DJ, pride and joy of the family, says his mom drives him nuts. (According to their bio on the TAR Website, youngest son Brian is painfully embarassed by his family. You're not alone in that, Brian. You're not alone.)

The Bransens are next. Dad is a pessimist. The daughters are optimists. Following them are the Aiellos. The son-in-laws are trying to impress their father-in-law. Finally the Linz siblings. They know they need to show they are better than their second-to-last-place finish. Like third-to-last, or, dare they dream, fourth-to-last.

The Gaghan family are the first to arrive at the big shoe. (According to their bio on the TAR Website, Billy is auditioning for the remake of Apt Pupil.) Well, arrive is too strong a word for it. They park their van on the side of the interstate and dad runs down the road, trots up a hill, jumps a fence, climbs the stairs to the top of the shoe, retrieves the clue, and comes back running down the highway. The Gaghan family motto? Safety first!

The Gaghans read the clue, which directs them to DC to the reflecting pool in front of the capital. Once again, basic reading skills will cause many teams many problems.

The other teams arrive in fairly rapid order. Apparently finding a big shoe in York PA is a lot easier than finding an EMS store South of Houston street.

The first four teams, the Gaghans, the Schroeders, the Godlewskis, and the Weavers all correctly identify the need to continue down Highway 30 West and then turn south on Highway 83. The fifth team to arrive, the Rogers family, under the guidance of patriach/navigator heads down Highway 30 East. The remaining four teams also head down Highway 30 West. So, in short, there are eight teams correctly heading down Highway 30 West. There is one team mistakenly heading down Highway 30 East. Hilarity will of course ensue.

We are now treated to a medley of driving shots and people talking. We see whichever Godlewski sister is driving complain about back seat drivers. (Note: I will be very, very upset if sometime this season some driver doesn’t say “If you two don’t knock it off I’m turning this thing right back around.”) We see the Aiello son-in-laws talking about living in Northern Virginia and knowing exactly where the reflecting pool is by the Washington Monument. We then see the Linz siblings noticing that there are two reflecting pools on the map and then checking the clue to see where they need to go.

Meanwhile, the Paolos argue.

Finally, we get the Rogers family, where dad berates son for missing the exit THAT WASN’T EVEN THERE! When son tries to tell him that maybe they went the wrong way, dad instead insists that son has dropped the ball. As we go to commercial, the daughter, former Miss Louisiana and, according to Landru, assfuck princess, posits that perhaps they are in trouble.

There was nothing of note in this set of commercials.

Back from commercials to the Rogers. Dad finally concedes he made a mistake, but he does so by saying that one person can only do so much. Right.

Teams are now arriving in DC. The first two, the Gaghans and the Schroeders, go to the Lincoln Memorial reflecting pool. The next two teams, the Weavers and the Godlewskis, are able to correctly interpret their clue.

Remember folks, if you ever make it on TAR: Reading is Fundamental!

The clue instructs them to find a limousine and get a briefcase from an unseen contact. The briefcase contains a clue instructing them to go to the tidal basin. It also contains two pounds of coke that TAR staffed picked up the last time through South America. The contestants don’t know that, however. The Weavers and the Godlewskis find the limousine and head out.

Meanwhile back at the Lincoln Memorial, the Schroeders ask someone if there is another reflecting pool. The friendly natives instruct them that there is another pool at the Capitol. The Schroeders pass the Gaghans, but do not share this information.

Meanwhile, the Paolos argue.

This time it's about gas. Mama Paolo thinks now might be a good time to get gas. DJ, who must die as soon as humanly possible, is driving and refuses to stop. The Paolos make their way to the cluebox, to the limousine, and head out to the tidal basin. Mama is still clamoring to get gas. Or maybe it's that she has gas. I get confused.

The Bransens go to the Lincoln Memorial, as do the Aiellos. The Aiellos, however, look at a map and realize they need to reread the clue. The Gaghans are still walking around.

Cut to the Linzs and the Schroeders finding the cluebox and limo near the Capitol. The Aiellos arrive and complete this particular strenuous task.

We jump to the Godlewskis arriving at the tidal basin. They find the cluebox, and it’s a roadblock.

Phil, in voiceover, tells us that there are 50 people dressed in black with briefcases walking around the tidal basin. Only ten of them, however, are briefcases with the next clue inside. The person performing the roadblock is to walk up to people with briefcases, say “The sky is blue” and, if the person responds “The sea is green,” exchange briefcases with them. This is based on the method the CIA used to get information from “Curveball” regarding Iraqi WMD.

Now, you might think this might be very boring television. But I’m here to tell you that, that, well, that you would be right. Not since the thrilling tea delivery challenge in India has there been such excitement on the small screen.

The Weavers miss the exit, allowing the Paolos to arrive at the tidal basin second. Mama Paolo tells DJ, that he needs to be patient and take his time. The Godlewski sister completes the task as the Weaver family arrives. The clue instructs the teams to go to Lynchburg, VA and head to the Jack Daniels distillery. Or maybe it tells them to go to Middleburg and find a mansion. I get confused sometimes.

The Weavers complete while DJ Paolo is still roaming around. I have a feeling that, based on the footage from the previous day, people are intentionally refusing to exchange briefcases with DJ.

Be that as it may, someone eventually feels sorry for DJ, or just wants him out of there, and responds to the password. He heads back, and the Paolos head out as the Schroeders arrive. Stasi, She-wolf of the Panzers, correctly notes that “The jerky family is already here.” Papa Schroeder, choosing to do the task, proves that at the very least the jerky family is still there in spirit, as he comments that a woman who didn’t acknowledge the password has panties that are too tight.

Meanwhile, back at the Lincoln Memorial, the Gaghans are still searching. The Bransens are also still searching. Papa Bransen is worried that he will let his daughters down. (According to their bio on the TAR Website, the Bransen daughters once appeared together in a Pert Shampoo commercial. And though this isn't mentioned on the TAR Website, I believe they may also have appeared in a movie together. I'll have to "check my collection" tonight.)

The Aiellos and the Linzs are now at the tidal basin. The Schroeders complete the task and head out. It occurs to me that I am perhaps making this far more entertaining than it really is.

Meanwhile, the Paolos argue.

Cut to the Aiellos completing the task.

Cut to the Rogers asking for directions to the reflecting pool, getting instructions to go to the Lincoln Memorial.

Cut back again to the Gaghans. After hours of searching for the cluebox, young Billy proves Fermat’s Blind Squirrel Theorem by suggesting that they actually “ask” someone for information. This ludicrous idea is resoundingly hooted down by the Gaghan parents.

And now: Commercials!

Back from break and back to the Lincoln Memorial. Within short order the Bransens, Gaghans, and Rogers all have light bulbs go off over their heads and they reread their clues. I think I would have done that after I had searched for about, oh, two minutes. All three teams go to the Capitol, find the clue, find the limo, and head to the tidal basin. Meanwhile, the Paolos argue.

We have four teams at the tidal basin: Linzs, Gaghans, Bransens, and Rogers. One by one they complete the task and head out. Nothing interesting happens as they do so. Nothing. I swear.

Well, assfuck princess Brittany jumps up and down. But other than that, nothing.

Meanwhile, the Paolos argue.

Cut to a whole bunch of teams caught in traffic. The Linz read their map and cut out of traffic.

The first teams arrive at Middleburg. They proceed to Wellburn Manor and find the cluebox, which directs them to a battlefield reenactment. It is a detour. Sing with me!

A detour is a choice between two tasks,
Between two tasks
Between two tasks
A detour is a choice between two tasks
Each with its own pros and cons

The choices for the detour are Heat of Battle, where teams need to carry five wounded soldiers off the field of battle, and Heat of Night, where teams need to fill twenty oil lanterns and light them. As the Weavers arrive, the Godlewski sisters are already trying to carry soldiers. The Weavers refer to them as the Desperate Housewives. ABC demands a royalty.

Now, the choice here seems obvious. But it isn’t. Most teams choose to carry five soldiers instead of lighting twenty lanterns. No wonder they had trouble reading clues. The Weavers perform the lantern lighting, and complete it pretty quickly. Shortly behind them are the Linzs, whose strong bodies, lack of brains, and experiences in disposing of the bodies of the sister Megan's ex-boyfriends make them perfect for physical tasks. (Actually, according to their bio on the TAR Website, Megan likes cheerleading AND field hockey. So maybe I should make that the bodies of Megan's ex-girlfriends.)

The Weavers make it to the pitstop first, just ahead of the Linzs. Because of the camera setup, we can see the Linzs coming up the lane behind the Weavers. We then see the Godlewskis behind the Linzs. In fact, it would be impossible to miss another team coming up the lane if it was a close race. Keep this in mind.

We cut back to the battlefield, where the Schroeders are filling lanterns and the Bransens are carrying bodies. As we go to commercial, we see Papa Bransen saying he can’t go on anymore. As longtime TAR watchers know, this indicates that not only will the Bransen family successfully complete the task soon after we return from commercial, but that the Bransens will not be eliminated tonight.

Pardon me while I rant for a second.

There are those who think TAR has jumped the shark. Personally, I used to think that reality shows couldn’t jump the shark. Because the cast is continually changing from season to season, it is possible for a reality show to reinvent itself every time out. And I still think that. But.

What annoys me, particularly with TAR, is that the same editing beats are used over and over and over again. Has there ever been an occasion where we saw someone say just before the last commercial break that they couldn’t go on and have us come back from that last break to find that they really truly couldn’t go on? I don’t think so. That particular editing storyline is always used to fake us into thinking someone is in trouble who isn’t. The same with the opening beat of “Can X do Y tonight?” I say that this is particularly frustrating with TAR because the show is as a whole so wonderfully filmed and edited.

Okay, we’re back, and the Bransens have very little left. They of course complete the task in short order. The Gaghans arrive, assess the situation, and decide to carry bodies. Billy complains that Carissa isn’t doing anything, cause, you know, nine year old girls should be helping carry cots. Billy says he wants to do Carissa's job. When they are older, Billy will want to try on Carissa's clothes.

The Schroeders complete the lantern task and finish fourth.

Meanwhile, somewhere, the Paolos argue.

In short order the Aiellos and Bransens finish carrying bodies, finishing fifth and sixth respectively. The task was a big strain on Tony, the father-in-law, who was reduced to playing the same role Carissa did - watching the other three members of the team carry the gurney. (According to their bio on the TAR Website, Tony is using the race to determine which of his daughter's gets the largest share of his inheritence. Based on what we've seen so far on the show, he might want to speed up making that decision.) The Gaghans finish soon after, arriving at the pitstop in seventh place.

So we’re down to the Paolos and the Rogers. The Paolos get there first, choosing to carry bodies. The Rogers arrive sometime after and start to carry bodies too, until Mama Rogers decides she can’t carry. They move to the lanterns.

We’re treating to a lot of intercutting designed to make us think it’s a close race. It doesn’t seem like it possibly can be, but who knows. It’s made to appear that the Rogers finish lighting the lanterns right after the Paolos finish carrying bodies and that there is going to be a footrace to the finish. But as the Paolos step to the mat, you can’t see the Rogers in the lane. Remember the earlier shots? Had it been close, we would have seen them. But we don’t. And despite the wording of the clue that the last team to arrive might be eliminated, the Rogers are done.

Papa Rogers is talking about how he tries to get Brock not to blame others. That’s a useful strategy, Papa Rogers, when you are the one responsible for the error that cost your team the game, but I didn’t see you taking that tack when you thought Brock had messed up while driving. Brock, on the other hand, talks about how they wouldn’t have been eliminated if his father had listened to him. And he’s right, but that doesn’t prevent him from looking like he is ready to explode, as if the only question left in his mind if whether or not he’ll fuck his totally hot sister and his almost hot mother before or after he kills them. I think we all know which way I’d vote on this issue.

And with that, we are done.

Oh, sorry. Previews. Apparently the show will be back next week, and at that time, teams will go to NASA and the Aiellos get stuck in the mud.

Meanwhile, the Paolos argue.

  ¶ 10:08 PM 16 Comments