THERE IS NO GOD by Wheezy
Instead of listening to the recrap of last week’s show, which was two weeks ago, I roasted a chicken. From freezer to Dutch oven to plate. It was a good chicken. Buttery, velvety, shiny chicken. It took that long for Phil to give the longest freaking recrap ever. For your own sanity, I suggest reading Diamond’s summary, which is funny as hell and will take you less time.
Also, instead of commercials, I bring you an alternative learning program, called FUN FACTS, most of which will bore you to tears, but that’s what this show is all about.
AND, in place of the never-ending recrap, I offer you my insightful brakage (you know, Landru invented that word). So here. You should not skip this part.
WHAT WHEEZE KNOWS ABOUT TAR
I know nothing about this cultish show. I don’t understand Yields or Detours or the proper use of them. I don’t understand why people wear underwear on the outsides of their clothing. I don’t understand why these people go to all these lovely places and don’t actually look at the scenery, and instead they search frantically for a little metal box on a post next to THE FREAKING GRAND CANYON. Why don’t they just do the whole thing in, say, Siberia or Greenland or Northern Canadia or something, so hotpants Weaver really has something to complain about?
Anyway, as I understand it, the show is boring as hell if nobody gets booted. So if nobody gets booted today, I’m not writing this. It’s pointless. Shove bark under my toenails. Drown me in a scummy, leech-filled pond in Frozen Fuck, Minnesota. Sing Cyndi Lauper’s version of The Star-Spangled Banner while tap dancing on my head. Give me the labor of birthing a thousand Dutch thirteen-pound square-headed babies. Do them all at the same time, and it would STILL be a vacation compared to writing this piece of shit.
As I see it, we have two (read: 2) basic teams left. The Bleevers, and the Unbleevers. But for the sake of clarity, we shall refer to the various sects of UnBleef as follows:
The Unbleevin’ Beavers – This thong-wearing foursome is a serious match for Monica
The Unbleevin’ Cleavers – Wally and the not-Paolos.
The Unbleevin’ Coneevers – Manly brilliance and cunning, the brainchild of which dresses in girl clothes.
And let us now have a moment of silence for the UnBleevingest of the UnBleevers, The Skeeviest of all Skeevers, The Acheevingest of all who should never have Acheeved, a.k.a. my favorite team ever, in all the hundreds of episodes I’ve never watched. Give it up for the Paolos, whose Italian charm, screed, cussing, name-calling and obnoxicity won my heart over and over again. Oh, to bathe in the luxurious, comforting words of Mama. Oh, to be incessantly berated to tears by DJ. Oh, to be married to...nope. Can’t do it. Dear Jesus, may this most entertaining team rest in utter unrest, which to them would be like the powdery gunshot residue of homicidal heaven. I’ll never forget you, Paolos! Amen.
Before we begin, I’d like to confess something that not many of you know. I am, as it were, a professional psychologist. Yes, you should be calling me Dr. Wheeze, but don’t – please – I’m way too modest for that. And no, I know what you’re wondering – I don’t have a so-called “degree” in Psychology. But my adorable mother, who crowned herself an armchair psychologist many moons ago, has handed down the profession to me. Kind of like a shoemaker, or a...mafia...bandit thingy, teaching the craft to the next generation. Get it? So that makes me an expert in The Bleevers and their stink. After much consideration, evaluation and deep thought, I have determined that their problem, in fact, is painfully rooted in their adherence to their favorite Bible verse, found within the depths of that ever-popular book of Deuteronomy (25:11, chapter and verse). Which says, 11"If two men, a man and his countryman, are struggling together, and the wife of one comes near to deliver her husband from the hand of the one who is striking him, and puts out her hand and seizes his genitals...”
STOP. Where was Mrs. Weaver’s hand when her husband was killed? Unfortunately, not on his killer’s testicles. She feels responsible, don’t you see? It’s HER FAULT he’s dead, she didn’t save him, and I’ll be cut and hung out to dry if she and her offspring are not trying to make up for their fatal error by seizing the genitals of every other player in this game. And those of few passersby as well, it seems.
Ah, but you’re wondering how I know her hand wasn’t there, seizing, aren’t you. Well, verse 12 is our proof:
”...12then you shall cut off her hand; you shall not show pity.”
Does Mrs. Weaver have both her hands? Indubitably.
ON WITH THE SHOW
Finally our families leave the country (woo hoo!) and go to Utah, which is one of those cool third-world countries in South America or Africa or something, and surprise! The whites have taken over, thank the Jesus.
FUN FACT: For our northeasterly friends, driving from Phoenix to Salt Lake City, a mere state away (11 hours, 17 minutes) is about the same distance as driving from Bangor to, oh I don’t know, Orlando. So this is no wimpy, 53-minute, state-to-state, Boston to Providence gig, where the airports are practically interchangeable.Of course, the racers are in Lake Powell, AZ, which shaves a good five hours off the Phoenix – SLC journey, but I wanted it to sound really far just to impress you and make you east coasters feel inferior, since size equals greatness.
FUN FACT: In the opening scenes the sun rises over beautiful Lake Powell, and we see a shot of Saguaro cacti.
What is wrong with this picture? Well, I’ll tell you. There are no Saguaro in northern Arizona. The only place Saguaro (say it with me: Se-HWAR-oh) grow in this entire world is in the Sonoran Desert, in which I live. The Sonoran Desert covers extreme southern California, southern Arizona, and a bit of Northwestern Mexico. If you’d like to know the age of any given Saguaro cactus, please contact Flat Stanley, c/o Databoy, offspring of Ilse, who would tell you it takes forty years to grow one limb.
Many are hundreds of years old.Moving swiftly on. The Beavers are first to depart Lake Powell.
By the way, did you notice how light it was at 5:45 a.m. when the Beavers opened their clue?
FUN FACT: Arizona does not conform to daylight savings time, so when the sun rises at 6 a.m. on a summer day at your house, it rises at 5 a.m. in Arizona. And on July 4th, fireworks start at 9 p.m. because it is QUITE dark by then. Which makes it much easier for the firefighters to spot all the freshly sparked wildfires.
Teams must now proceed to stunning Monument Valley, Utah, where they must locate an area called John Ford’s Point. We see the Beavers climb into their boat, and they start harping on the loud sister. Noisy Sister becomes increasingly annoying throughout the show as she strives to reach her quota of words for the day, her voice grating on our nerves like an ol’ John Ford western train putting on the iron brake to avoid hitting the woman tied to the tracks. Hey, there’s a thought…
The Coneevers are next to depart, and they tell us they want more, more, faster, faster, harder and harder.
FUN FACT: Always get gas. Always. Do you SEE any signs of life anywhere? This is the DESERT southwest, and tumbleweeds ain’t gonna push you and your big-ass camper. Get gas.
The Bleevers leave next at 6:06 a.m. They begin the day with Praise Time, wherein they praise themselves for the way they are not crude and unkind, like the Unbleevers and the World they live in. Ma Bleever says, and I quote: “It’s just so against our beliefs, just to keep being treated so rudely.” So I looked up that belief, and I’ll be hornswaggled! There it is, in Hezekiah 47:1-2; “Thou shalt not believe in being treated rudely, yea verily. If an Unbeliever treats you in such manner, thou shalt not turn the other cheek; rather shalt thou put on the pink hot pants of Jesus, and tell the offender to go bite the big one.”
The Bleevers hop out of their boat, find their camper, and they’re off.
Meanwhile, the Coneevers keep talking about being first.
FUN FACT: When Wheezyboy was a toddler, he would throw a fit if somebody went up stairs in front of him, because he ‘wanna be the front!’ In my expert opinion, the Coneevers have a similar OCD.
The Beavers find an EZ-IN, EZ-OUT gas station, and they all agree that’s perfect.
The Bleevers have seven seconds of insanity, where they say zero bad things about nouns, and decide to just have a nice day. But all good things must come to an end, and they finish off with a “We don’t know what the other teams are doing,” followed by repeated whines of “We don’t wanna know! Yeah! Go team!”
Back at the EZ-IN EZ-OUT, Noisy Beaver blathers on about what a great gas station visit that was, and the nice map they got as payment for such quick services rendered. Middle seat sister says, “Noisy, just…stop talking. Gas station visits make me sleepy and I just want to cuddle right now.” Noisy pouts and scootches over to the far edge of her seat, facing the window.
At 6:27 a.m., the Cleavers finally depart from Lake Powell. Wally insights much like the well known superhero, Captain Obvious, observing that there are fewer players in the game now and they’ll have to work harder. “We’re jus’ gonna,” he blushes, “be a lil’ bit more aggressive,” he says, bashfully. Oh, pshaw, Wally!
Known for their minor mistakes, the Coneevers pass a brown sign and shrug. I didn’t read it, did you read it? Naw, not me, didn’t you? Nope. Well, it’s probably NOTHING then, boys. Just keep going. You and your giant tagalong camper can always turn around in one of the abundant GAS STATIONS along the dusty trail.
Skunkhead Bleever cackles as their vehicle approaches the Beavers, while the bonehead Coneevers point fingers at each other and turn around.
FUN FACT: Isn’t it pretty out there? Wow, Utah is gorgeous.
Everybody else misses the Monument Valley Visitor’s Center sign too, and I wonder, how the fuck do these people survive without the eagle-eyed Carissa?
We get the typical SUV-hauling-a-trailer-middle-of-a-two-lane-road turn-around. Noisy Beaver screams instructions, drowning out all the other families for miles.
FUN FACT: Sound travels further in wide open spaces and canyons and stuff.
Finally all three families turn around in their own special ways; some of them (read: Bleevers) deface the roadside by driving over its rare and precious scrub.
FUN FACT: I made up that ‘rare and precious’ bit.
A Cleaver female waxes on in her vehicle about the tensions between the Coneevers, Beavers and Bleevers, and hopes they will benefit from the others and their snark. Meanwhile, I want to shout: DON’T MISS THE DAMN BROWN SIGN. Wally declares the contents of their vehicle to be Switzerland. A-hahahaha.
The convoy of three finds John Ford’s Point, and the sneaky Coneevers coneeve: They turn their wide load around before they get the clue, so they can escape more quickly. Hey. Let’s see if that works.
FUN FACT: Why can’t they drop somebody off to get the clue and turn around at the same time? Is there a rule? Like I said, I don’t watch this show.
Bleevers arrive to the post first and take a number. They are smart enough to take number 1. Go Bleevers! God gets a point. They also take a clue which says, “Take a helicopter ride to the summit.” Sadly, Ma Bleever’s first hubby was killed by a helicopter, so she demands compassion from the state of Utah. By the way, did you ever notice that the TV screen calls the Bleevers, “Widow and kids,” but the Cleavers are “Dad and daughters?” Blast that right-wing manipulation media machine. Skunkhead, also by the way, looks particularly sausage-like in her two shades of pink, skin-tight undergarments. Oh my heck, I feel a spontaneous prayer coming on. Please God, if this is a non-elimination leg and the Bleevers are last, let Sausage be wearing more clothing. Amen.
Two family members must take a helicopter ride to get the next clue. Aha, says me. Finally, we get a real challenge. Do they have to fly the copter themselves? Will they be forbidden to eat during the ride? Is it extremely windy? Perhaps an obstacle course, or hanging from the runners in mid-air. My mouth waters in anticipation. Who will win immunity!? Robin Leach chimes in with the information: a pilot will take them to a massive tower of rock, a summit of vast proportions, mysteriously named Elephant Butte. Oh, Sausage, honey. Now even Phil is calling you names.
Two teams at a time will take rides to the BUTTE, first come first served, blah blah blah, find the next clue.
I’m sure it’s hiding in plain sight on the top of that completely flat, bare summit, Phil. Phil? Where are you, Phil? OH! You’re wearing your clever butte-colored camoshirt today, silly man.And look out behind you, Beavers! The Coneevers are sneaking past you on the way to the number board. The Coneevers grab their clue and, they think, the honor of traveling in a sealed compartment high above the earth with the Bleevers. But Coneeverses are not known for their grasp of southwestern terminology. They read their clue and think they are going to Elephant Butt.
.
.
.
Yes, Elephant Butt.
Fun Fact: A street in our town is called Signal Butte Rd. Except on one sign, it says Signal ButteR d. Isn’t that cute? Signal Butter. Much sweeter than Elephant Butt.
HOWEVER, in a surprising and unbelievable twist of events, the Coneevers stupid sister (it’s ALWAYS her fault) didn’t pick a number, and it’s her turn to burn from the scorn of the spurned. The Beavers grab the number 2 spot, take a clue and send Noisy and Somebody to join Rolly and Sausage Bleever in copter ride number one.
Once again, our racers, instead of looking at the beauteous buttes (not to be confused with Diamond’s gorgeous gorges), focus instead on spotting their loved ones down on the ground. “There they are!” They wave. Love you. Miss you guys. So much it never stops. Mwah, mwah, mwah. Oh bloody hell, here we are already.
When I get good and angry at myself, I like to replay the next three seconds over and over again to punish myself.
‘Tis Noisy Beaver, in her search for the Grail, screeching into her microphone something that sounds like, “THERE’S THE CLADDAGH!!!”FUN FACT: We might be in Ireland.
The helicoptered racers rush from the hold, dash to the clue box, and rush again, tumble bumble, pell mell, back to the copter, forgetting perhaps that the Pokey Little Puppy doesn’t get it wrong EVERY time. To wit: the last ones in the copter will be the first ones out.
Back at the red trailer (where the heck did that come from?), the waiters wait. Team Coneever commiserates with the remaining two Beavers at their bad stroke of luck in missing the turn on the way to here. “Whoever gets there first,” wink wink, “will take care of the others,” assures the more experienced Beaver.
Whispering behind the clue card, Ma Bleever of the Pray Team Bleevers says the Home-coming Quee-ee-ee-eeens (apologies to Toots) and Coneevers are corpse-fucking Satanists.
Helicopter ride number one is over. Rolly and Sausage plop out and the Bleevers read the next clue. The Beavers huddle together and read as well. “Make your way to Moab, Utah and find Gemini Bridges, a distant cousin of the late Todd Bridges. Good luck, suckers! This be Utah, so it’ll be like finding one red bean.”
Fun Fact: Nuh hunh, it really says that.
Team Bleever turns and rolls their DC-10 out of the parking lot while the Beavers can’t get their lodge-on-wheels to move. They make female drivers look like tards. The Bleevers head to Moab, which is located somewhere in the Middle East, like maybe Israel, near the Promised Land.
Fun Fact: I am eating homemade apple pie. Made by me, and coincidentally, it’s really flakey too. Would you like the crust recipe?
Since the Cleavers haven’t shown up yet, two Coneever brothers (the coneevingest of them) get to ride without them. Hey, this would be a great time for the two on the ground to turn the freight train around in the parking lot so it’s facing the right way...oh.
To make the game really exciting, the two brothers race against each other to get the clue. Without much ado, they return to earth and head to Moab, whooping and pounding each others heads.
Finally, the Cleavers arrive, and are the first to really appreciate the surrounding beauty. But sadly for them, I’m bored of this task now. They don’t crash. They turn their yacht around. They go in the direction of Moab.
And now, for today’s highlight, the sparkling darlings of this show.
Skunk Sausage: I am not digging Utah right now.
Prissy: Whoever says the world is overpopulated (read: I hate abortionists) should come to Utah.
Rolly: It’s like hundreds of thousands of miles of nothing. At all. God must have spent a little less time with this state.
Ma: *giggles*
WHAT? Are you completely out of your boneheaded minds? What is wrong with you people? If you believe in the creation theory as your testimony implies (and even if you DON’T), you Bleevers, how can you not MARVEL at the sights you are seeing? I’ve seen Florida, and while the beaches are breathtaking, it does.not.compare. As for you, young Rolly, who before today was the most decent of the bunch, I’d like to wash your mouth out with soap and give you a wedgie that will change your religion. Plus, you’re stupid. Or does your religion teach that God put state borders into place, too? I’d like to put you in your place, you smart-assed cocky sonofabitch. An old lady I may be, boy, but I could still take you, you scrawny, pimply-faced, slimy assed, towheaded can of garbage. I’d want to throw you out the fucking window, if not for to mar the unadulterated grandeur that rests on the other side of your gas-sucking, pollution-making, environment-ruining, contaminated SUV door. You lousy shit.
Fun Fact: Ilse said I had Rolly hair.
We join the Coneevers, who are back to having fun. Out their windows we can see the Mexican Hat Rock.
Rolly, why don’t you go try it on. Maybe it will crush you like a bug.
The Coneevers catch up to the Bleevers, whose speed slows to 50mph on the hills. When the road becomes a temporary 4-lane (where slower vehicles are SUPPOSED TO MOVE TO THE RIGHT to allow others to pass), the Coneevers kick the Bleevers buttes a little bit by passing them handily. Driver Coneever growls a testosterly growl which the Bleevers don’t particularly care for. Sister Coneever sings a little dance ditty, “They’re – so – pissed – off,” and they all make Oz jokes, the funniest of which refers to Ma Bleever: “Somebody’s going to come and drop a house on her head.”
Back to the Cleaver posse, where things are calm. The daughters would love something risky and adventurous at the next stop. Wally prefers tranquil and boring, and the girls all smile. A warm fuzzy moment, indeed.
Noisy chatters away in the Beaver vehicle and the others pretend to be asleep, even the driver. The Coneevers shock us by not missing the turn to Gemini Bridges, and they arrive at the next clue: Drop Down or Ride Down.
TAR-baby Phil? He ain’t sayin’ nothin’.
No, actually, he explains that a Detour is a choice between being gay and staying straight. One has all the plusses, one has all the minuses. (Raise your hand if you read ‘plusses’ as ‘pussies’).
Fun Fact: You can read about Uncle Remus’s Brer Rabbit and Tar Baby here.
In Drop Down, teams rappel down 270 feet of rock. In Ride Down, they ride mountain bikes on a six mile path downhill. Once at the bottom, they follow a path to the next clue box.
Coneevers choose rappel, telling the age-old ‘if you die, we’ll do the other’ joke. Har har.
Bleevers hate Utah, part the second:
Prissy: I never even heard one thing about You-taw.
Ma: I have.
Prissy: You have??
Ma: Mormons.
Prissy: For REAL?
Ma: Uh-huh. Utah is the Mormon State.
Prissy: *gasp* No wonder!
No wonder? No wonder, what? No wonder you are all sick little bastards? No wonder that teacher Beaver doesn’t know her state mottos? As most Mormons would term themselves Christian, I’m afraid you are dissing yourselves.
Fun Fact: Utah is the Beehive State.
The Bleevers get to the Detour and choose Ride Down. How easy it will be to take a little family bike ride. Down. Seems odd that gravity isn’t helping our bulbous little Sausage any. Maybe it’s the Rapture, and she’s pulling against a greater force. Dear Jesus, please whisk them away if it be your will. Amen.
Sausage hates the bikes. “Heggh-tah!” As my grandmother would have said. She can’t do it. She’s crying. Sausage turns bright pink all over. I think she’s gonna bust her casing. She needs a thorough pricking, stat. Rolly offers to help, but Ma slows down to ride with her. It seems Sausage is slow-cooking in too low a gear. She adjusts the gears and seems to do a bit better.
On the rock wall, the Coneevers are nearly finished, and sister bear receives high praise from the brothers. They all continue to encourage each other.
Rolly, king of the bikers, is getting frustrated because he doesn’t yet have the family sausage to carry around, so he doesn’t realize how hard it can be. “I don’t think Lance Armstrong could make it through this,” says Sausage.
Fun Fact: Mrs. Weaver apparently already seized Mr. Armstrong. That he lived to ride again makes them hate him all the more. I predict they will take his name in vain again soon.
Arriving at the Detour is the Cleavers. Girls want to rappel; Wally wants to take a nap. They get to the rappel station just as the Coneevers finish. Wally shares his fear of absolutely everything, including being alive, as one of the daughters heads down the cliff. But Wally’s an ‘oh shucks’ kind of guy, and he’ll go along with anything if it’ll give the daughters an experience. In fact, tomorrow they’re all trying meth for breakfast.
The Coneevers reach their next clue: Drive yourselves to Green River State Park, where you will spend the night. Tomorrow’s departure time is determined by the order in which you arrive.
Sausage still hates Utah, this time with a passion. She can’t breathe, which is understandable, seeing how much she’s yelling. Er...I mean, the air is thinner up in the mountains.
Wally’s on his way down the cliff when the Beavers finally show up. The Beavers have fallen into last place because TAR-baby ate their car battery. Man, I bet they’re maa-ad, heh heh. They choose Drop Down. Wally finishes and he and his harem head to the final stop of the day. The Beavers high-tail it down the cliff. One of ‘em tries going down in breech position, which is unsuccessful for most people, including her.
Butte, Noisy talky-talks everyone down in such a fashion that they want to get to the bottom just so they can stab her with a belay.
FUN FACT: There are lots of noisy birds in Arizona. My next door neighbor yells “SHUT UP!” at them a lot. The other day, I looked over our wall into their yard to see where these horrid grackles have roosted, and guess what? The noisy birds are IN CAGES. They? Are pets. Neighbor keeps them outside and shuts her doors and windows because she
The teams arrive at the campground without incident. Departure times for the next morning are as follows: Coneevers, 7:00. Bleevers, 7:15. Cleavers, 7:30. Beavers, 7:45.
That evening, the Beavers are determined to stay optimistic, the Coneevers play paddle ball, the Weavers feel sorry for themselves and eat some worms.
They’re not going to be rude, they say. They’ve tried so many times to be nice, but no one reciprocates. Everyone is against them and they hate this. I think we need to call them the B.A.leevers.
Fun Fact: The Butterball Hotline number is 1-800-Butterball. Sausage questions can be directed here: mphotline.fsis@usda.gov
Morning comes and the clues are stuck like spam mailers to the windshield of each truck. Alpha Male Coneever reads the clue: Drive to Heber-haberson...ity.
FUN FACT: What?
Just go, and find Bart, goddammit.
We are tricked into thinking it will be difficult to find Bart because he’s a BIG GIANT GRIZZLY BEAR, not a human, ha HA! Let’s see if anyone can figure it out. I hope they don’t think it’s THIS Bart the Bear, because he is way dead. Pretty sneaky, Phil.
Can you believe they all found Bart without so much as a lick of trouble? Well, all except the Coneevers, who overshot their pissing contest once again. And on the way to Bart, more pretty things to see. Rolly Bleever compares today’s sights to pimples.
Coneevers ask a lady for directions – er, that’s a dood, dood. They find Bart with their clue in his mouth, and it’s a cool moment until one of the guys does a Yogi Bear imitation. Don’t they know that Yogi is no Grizzly?
Incidentally, Bart is reading the script for the part of the bear in Scooter Libby's novel.
The Bleevers stop at Krispy Kreme and get directions from a guy there. I have no further comment at this time.
Bart waves bye-bye and the Coneevers continue on with their slimy clue, which tells them to go to Park City, Utah, to the Olympic Village. There they’ll find their next clue. Caution: Yield Ahead. That’s code for something, I’m sure.
Bart comes out running at the Bleevers when they arrive, but the trainer stops him. It’s okay, Bart. We understand. Ma Bleever gets her bark on and starts ordering the kids around. (Methinks the widow needs some oil in her lamp.) They are afraid they’ll be yielded. Ya think? They come up with the deft tactic of taking the only other road in Utah, which is the wrong one. They turn onto the dinky little road and come upon two bicyclists. Little Shit rolls down the window and mocks, “Neener, neener, you wish you were Lance Armstrong.” To which they reply by dropping their bikes and running away screaming.
Meanwhile, the Cleavers find directional help at a gas station and make their way to Bart and gush, “Oh, what a CUTE BEAR!” Yeah, I’ll bet he’s all cuddly-wuddly. Hey, I bet he’d fit in your camper.
No running, no screaming is the Beaver mantra and the Beavers are determined to get it right. They immediately run across the road into the yard, get their clue from Bart, and run back. But they didn’t scream. Much. Until they got in the car, and they got into a big fight about Noisy asking too many questions again. The other three? Hate her. And so do I.
The Bleevers are in hell; nature is shoved down their throats at every turn. A tiny glimmer of hope shines for us. Maybe there really is a God, and they will get eliminated. They piss and moan about how they should have taken the highway, and now they’re going to have to sit through a Yield.
Fun Fact: Dweeze made me watch this show. Oh, and I lied. It was really Landru who said I had Rolly hair. But at least he forgot about the cocker spaniel joke.
We arrive in Park City and Phil-baby is still wearing yesterday’s camoshirt. Ewww. He explains the Yield: A Yield is something you do before you decide to become gay.
The Coneevers Yield the Weavers, offering up the transparent excuse of wanting to put more distance between them so they can arrive first and win this leg.
This challenge is a Roadblock. Teams pick one team member to ski down a church roof and land in a snow bank. I was looking forward to this, until I found out they didn’t even have to do any tricks. This show sucks.
The other Coneevers choose Nick to do the task, and they think he’s gonna make a fool out of himself by showing off. Arriving next is the Cleavers, one of the daughters excited to give it a try.
Sho’ ‘nuff, Nick meets and exceeds his family’s desires, does a face plant in the swimming pool and gets his clue. “Drive yourselves to the next Pit Stop, thank God, hallelujah,” it reads. They must go 28 miles to the Salt Lake City Library, where the last family to check in may be eliminated. Dear Jesus, please. Amen. The Coneevers race to the car as the Beavers arrive. Both teams shout exciting news; the Coneevers yielded the Bleevers, and the Bleevers are still not here. And there was much rejoicing in the land.
Noisy Beaver screeches at the chance to do the ski jump and she runs to the task. Meanwhile, the Cleaver girl gets pillaged by neighboring jumpers. She takes off and lands in the water on her back. The Cleavers head to the Pit Stop, and Noisy Beaver takes her jump. For a moment, while she is under water, there is blessed silence. They get their clue and head to SLC.
The Bleevers are frustrated as they wind slowly through foliage. I can relate to this; I hate being lost.
FUN FACT: One time? On our way to Fremont, Michigan, for a week’s vacation, I was driving. The bridge in Grand Haven was up on highway 31, and the traffic was backed up for miles. I decided there just had to be another way around. The kids were crying (they were little) and I just wanted to get there. So I headed east, then north again. After a good hour, I discovered there is no other way to Fremont. (Breezy, are you laughing yet?) The good news is that by the time we got back to Grand Haven, the bridge was back down. Damn slow-moving freighters.
Then, as the Bleever chirrens cry, Ma says the words I long for. “We’re done. We’re done.” HOOORAY! The Bleevers are DONE!
Prissy: We’ll be the last nice family...and we’re gone. The people who win will probably spend the money on a new nose or bigger boobs.
Ma Bleever actually reprimands Prissy, telling her to take a deep breath and enjoy the ride. Good for you, Ma. Keep going.
The Coneevers speculate about the Bleevers no-show. They make bear noises. The Cleavers follow suit. Except for the bear noises. The Beavers just want to see the look on the Bleevers’ faces when they discover the Yield. They want them gone. The Bleevers get sad and eat ice cream. “It revigorates you and injuvenates you,” says Ma. Not.Kidding. They must be hungry, because all they had to eat earlier was a giant hoochie-mamma bag of ‘chato chips.
Prissy says she would cry if she wasn’t holding her Big Mac. Rolly’s eyes roll back in his head and he sees Jesus.
Finally the Bleevers arrive at the Yield, see their own shining faces smiling back at them, and it’s Pretend Time. Pretend like this is the best thing ever.
Someone comes out of the building and checks their blood sugar. They sit on the mat and eat, and Ma Bleever says, unabashedly, “I don’t get it. Most people *like* us. I’ve never been in any situation where I’ve been unliked [sic] in my life.” Shall we throw them a welcome home party?In Salt Lake City, the Coneevers are looking for the library. Sister worries that if they don’t ask for directions, somebody might actually beat them to it. Now you’re thinking! But we knew she was the smart one.
The Cleavers find the library on the map, of all places, and our sweet techno-savvy Wally says, “Well hopefully we’ll be able to zoom in on it.” He must be the Desk Chair Traveler.
The coneevingest Coneever and her brothers find the library after she asks for help, and they run like heck to the roof, yelling sweet nothings as they climb to the tower to rescue the Princess from Phil’s grimy shirt. Upon arrival, the brothers moan, “Miss Utah? Oooooohhhhh, Miss Latin Utah. Even better.” What?
Phil dubs them Team Number One, and says there are no prizes for this leg of the race. Bwahaha! He gotcha, din’t he! They win a trip for four to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Maybe they will torture the Bleevers by Yielding it to them. The Coneevers are truly excited about the prize, and are more excited about Phil asking them if they feel they can go all the way now. They boys shoot Miss Latin Utah a smoldering, sidelong glance.
FUN FACT: According to the US Census Bureau, Utah’s population is 89% white, 9% Hispanic/Latino, .8% African American, 4% Native American/Eskimo/Asian, and 4% Other. Which adds up to a grand total of 106.8%.
The Cleavers arrive and find they are Team Number Two. The Beavers are hot on their trail, and are declared Team Number Three. Phil asks them about the Yield, to which they cheer Noisily. Phil then notices they haven’t killed Noisy yet, and he takes that as a good sign. “Whatever,” says the domestic short-haired Beaver. Noisy defends herself in a lengthy recitative which is too painful to transcribe. Make her go away now.
Back at the ski slope, the Bleevers finish their healthy snack and watch the last few salt crystals descend the hourglass. Sausage breaks it open and sprinkles it on the remaining fries she stole from
Prissy wants to get this over with. She gets the next clue, finds it’s a Pit Stop, and says she just wants to get eliminated. They moan about this being the worst day ever. Ma slaps them for forgetting about her baby daddy. They lollygag around the library and drag their sundry body parts up to the roof, begging to be eliminated, and don’t bother putting all their underwear on over their clothes. Besides, that would be raunchy, and they don’t believe in that. Jezebel 3:6 says, Undergarments shall be worn under garments and over chastity belts at all times, thus sayeth the Jesus.
The excitement mounts. BYE BYE, BLEEVERS! Phil puts on his sad serious face. “Weaver family?” (as if he doesn’t recognize them by now) “You’re the last team to arrive.” The Bleevers giggle and cheer. “I’m pleased to tell you, however,” he continues in his sad voice, “that this is a non-elimination race and you are safe.” The Bleevers burst into the weepies and gnash their teeth. Phil seems a little disappointed in the team he’s desperate to keep in the race, for ratings purposes. Just this morning, Bert Van Munster seized Phil by the very balls and threatened his job if he didn’t make for the Bleevers to stay afloat. Phil trembles and says they are the least enthusiastic racers ever to not be eliminated.
FUN FACT: Mr. Wheeze spent a week at Bertram Van Munster’s house once. Mr. Wheeze roomed with Bert’s nephew in college, and I’ve known both Bert’s nephew and also his niece (different families) since birth. We call him Uncle Bert.
The Bleevers whine again. Nobody likes us, us against them, same ol’ shit, different day. Phil gives them a pep talk by taking all their money and possessions, then accuses them for their lack of hunger. Hmmm.
They argue. They love the race, but they can’t handle the personal stress. They are the outsiders and the underdogs, which makes them Sausage and the Outdogs. And that’s just not fair to them. Right Jim?
Phil slaps them upside the heads and throws them a bone. Ma Bleever seizes the moment and turns the ball around for her team. “You’re right, you sleazy sumbitch,” she says to Phil. Miss Latin Utah (that must have been a toughie to win), she jus’ stand there lookin’ wise, but she ain’t sayin’ nothin’. Slyly she hands the Bleevers their last place prize, which now becomes their only possession: The Book of Mormon.
FUN FACT: If tin foil touches the heating coils inside your oven, it will start on fire. Unless the oven isn’t on, that is.
We find ourselves in the Bleever End Times confessional. Ma Bleever is injuvenated and revigorated from Phil’s spanking. She wants to be amazing by coming back from all their trials and tribulations to win the race. They’re ready to win. And I am ready to turn the electric meat slicer on my ownself and take my ears off.
Next week on The Amazing Race: Ma Weaver goes after the Coneever men with a menacing threat heard round the world. She practices her shocking grasp maneuver on Rolly. And a balloon collision sends all the...oh, just forget it. There is no God. That’s it, that’s all, you can all go home now. The end. ¶ 12:55 PM 8 Comments
That is Good and Holy, Please Bring Back
the Regular Edition
Episode 7: “Don’t Hate the Players, Hate the Game”By Diamond
Actually, I don’t really mean that. Please feel free to hate both the players and the game. But hey, remember back when I wrote a summary for that other show, and I was all, Mark Burnett sucks, Jerry Bruckheimer rooolz, etc.? Yeah, remember that? Well, just forget I ever said it, okay?
By the way, before I get to the actual summarizin’, I should apologize for the atrocious lateness, but in my defense, the show was two hours. That’s like writing two regular summaries, you know. I’m just saying. Also, since there’s no new episode this week, you have a whole extra week to read it, so I don’t want to hear any complaints. At least, not about the lateness. Feel free to complain about anything else. For example, the lack of funny.
Anyway, previously on The Amazing Race, No Seriously, the Family Edition Really Sucks:
Continuing the race around
In the end, an elusive red coffee bean spelled doom for the Gaghans. I felt extraordinarily conflicted upon seeing them eliminated instead of the next-to-last-place Weavers. As a fan and viewer, this was clearly not the desired outcome, both because the Gaghans had grown increasingly likable, and because the Weavers seriously need to get off my TV. However, knowing as I did that I would be writing the next summary (this one here), I knew I’d have much better material with the Weavers still present. Either way, it would have been bittersweet. *sigh*
On to this week’s show. Who will be eliminated….next?
Commercials. Oh, I’m not doing the commercials this time. Not because I have anything against summarizing commercials, but because I fell asleep on the night the show originally aired, and didn’t wake up till after it was over. Which means, for those following along at home, that I watched the show only on tape, and when I do that, there’s no way I’m watching the commercials, especially not when the friggin’ episode is two hours long, and this summary is hella late as it is.
We rejoin the teams as they take off from the Pit Stop in Costa Rica. Phil is there too, wearing a hideous peachy-orangey colored shirt that really accentuates the manmaries. I don’t know if it’s that particular color or if he’s just let himself go, but man, I’m getting a little jealous. Anyway, the Fighting Paolos take off first, bound for a beach called Playa Maracas, where they will have to swim to a buoy to retrieve the next clue. Mama Paolo says she isn’t feeling so good physically, and it’s affecting her mentally. I didn’t realize it was possible for her to go any lower. What? I’m just saying.
Next off are the Dimz. One of the Dimz boys (don’t ask me to identify which one; they’re pretty much all blandly interchangeable as far as I’m concerned) says the race has been a learning experience, but he says he’d rather not have learning experiences, he’d rather be first. And while I normally would be quick to mock such a down-with-learning stance, the fact is, this is a race. Being first is the object here. So I will reluctantly have to praise his entirely appropriate perspective. (Sorry. I’ll try not to let it happen again.)
Leaving third are the Bransens. One of the Bransen girls (as with the Dimz, I have no idea who’s who or what any of their names are) says she wants her dad to step back and let everyone have an equal opportunity to do stuff. He promptly says he’ll do the swim, to which all of the girls respond, “Are you sure….?” It’s quite funny – they all totally know his creaky body has no business swimming, especially not with three very athletic-looking daughters right there. But of course, the girls complain to the camera that they want to participate, and, hopefully, don’t want their dad to drown, but they don’t actually say anything to him when it matters. Way to stand up for yourselves, girls. God, these people are boring.
The Paolos arrive at the beach and decide that Papa Paolo should swim, because, apparently, he’s the strongest. Never mind that physical strength and swimming ability have very little to do with each other, but whatever. I’m sure that won’t matter. The Dimz arrive soon after Papa Paolo, and one of the Dimz boys takes the swim. Say what you will about the Dimz, but physically unattractive they are not. Papa Paolo makes it out to the buoy, but apparently can’t make it back without drowning. DJ helpfully yells from shore, “Dad, don’t drown!” Because, clearly, it’s a matter of choice. He just doesn’t want to stay afloat badly enough. Anyway, unfortunately for us, Bruckheimer has a boat full of rescuers at the ready who help Papa Paolo not drown. Gah, these reality TV producers, they’re all alike. We get previews promising tragedy, and they NEVER follow through. It’s quite disappointing. Nick finishes his swim, and the Dimz get their clue, which tells them to go to the town of Grecia, and to find La Iglesia de Metal, which is, presumably, a metal church, I guess. I don’t know. Don’t really care either. The Bransens and then the Paolos also get their clues. All three teams get taxis and take off. Interestingly, Phil says it’s sixty miles, while one taxi driver says is two and a half hours. Those must be some slow roads.Back at the Pit Stop, the Pinkeyes are departing. One of them talks about how they have problems and they know they argue, but at least they’re aware of it. One of them (as distinguished from the “that one” and the “other one” and the other “other one”) takes the swim with little fanfare and gets the clue.
Election 2005 update: A banner at the bottom of my TV tells me that CBS4 is projecting that Tom Menino has won his fourth term as Boston mayor, with 64% of the vote, while Maura Hennigan has 35%. In the Salem mayor’s race, Kim Driscoll has defeated Kevin Harvey.
Last to leave the Pit Stop are the thoroughly loathsome Weavers. In wardrobe this week, the skunk-haired daughter has chosen to wear the pink hotpants. Can I talk about the hotpants for a moment? It isn’t bad enough that the Weavers have to be offensive with respect to the things they say, they also apparently have to do everything they can to offend my aesthetic sensibilities. I’m sorry, but people who don’t have perfect bodies should not be wearing hotpants. I’m not saying she’s fat. Hell, she may be thinner than I am. But also, I don’t wear hotpants. See how that works? And furthermore, I don’t care if you’re Miss Louisiana Assfuck – hotpants simply are not the slightest bit practical for this show, no matter what kind of body you have. So I am both offended and annoyed by the hotpants, and they need to get off my TV. As does the skunk hair. Yuck.
Skunk-hair says it’s better to be hated for you are, than loved for who you’re not. They’re being themselves, and they’re being hated for who they are. By which she means, Christian, rather than jerks. This is always my favorite part of the Christian experience – the persecution complex. *sigh* She goes on to say that they don’t want to be “buddy-buddy friends.” No! They’re competitors! They want to win! Because it’s impossible to be friendly competitors while still trying to win. Just ask every single one of the other teams.
Rolly takes the swim for the Weavers. From shore, Mama Weaver treats us to one of her trademarked prayers for God to keep Rolly safe. Which, okay, I guess if you’re going to pray about something, keeping your child safe is something I’ll allow. It won’t, however, stop me from offering up a prayer of my own:
Dear Jesus, please watch over this show and keep the viewers safe from the urge to scratch out their own eyeballs by throwing many and varied obstacles in the Weavers’ path so that they get eliminated. Amen.
Rolly finishes the swim without incident and gets the clue, while the Pinkeyes get a taxi. The Weavers get their taxi and ask the driver his name. He is Arnold. To which the Weavers respond with a loud, obnoxious, Arnold cheer. Arnold continues driving, trying to ignore them as best he can, all the while with a look of terror on his face all, “Dear Lord, what did I do to deserve this?”
The Dimz, the Paolos, and the Bransens arrive at the church to get the next clue, and proving that nothing is too tacky for Jerry Bruckheimer, they’re arriving right in the middle of a funeral. Seriously. The clue leads to this leg’s Detour: Brush or Barrel. In Brush, they have to paint a couple of cart wheels (that would be the wheels of a cart, not a gymnastics move) in a particular pattern. When they’re done, they’ll get the next clue from the artisan there. In Barrel, they have to go to a sugarcane plantation and load a ton of sugarcane onto a truck, transport it six miles, then find a clue stuck in a rum barrel.
The Paolos choose Barrel, despite the fact that past experience has shown that Papa Paolo is really the only one with any appreciable physical strength. Mama Paolo says she’s going to have more muscles than she has brains in her head when she’s done with the race. Which…doesn’t seem that outrageous a statement, given that it’s not hard to have more than none. Dimz choose Barrel. Bransens choose Brush.
Driving toward the church, the Pinkeyes proclaim Costa Rica beautiful, and a perfect place where one might spend a honeymoon. Except not now, because they’re with the sisters, so it’s no time for romance. I should hope not. That’s really not something I need to think about. Although I suspect it would involve a lot of screeching. In the Weaver taxi, Arnold remains stone-faced as the family yells, “Go, Arnold, go!” I remain awed at his amazing level of self-restraint. I would have had a hard time keeping myself from willingly driving into a tree.
The Dimz and the Paolos arrive at the rum plantation and start loading sugarcane. The Bransens taxi driver doesn’t know where she’s going. Oh no, will they be left driving aimlessly around the streets of Costa Rica forever, reduced to street urchins who must sell their bodies for food (daughters only)? The answer to this thrilling cliffhanger will come after the commercials, which I am not summarizing.
And…we’re back. The Bransens are still lost. The Dimz and Paolos are still loading. The Pinkeyes make it to the metal church, where the funeral has apparently ended. They choose painting. The Bransens finally arrive at the Detour site. Wow, I was worried for a minute that they wouldn’t make it. The Weavers find the church and choose painting.
Over at the plantation, the Dimz and the Paolos are still loading. Proving that, if there is indeed a god, he certainly has a sense of humor, DJ Paolo gets whacked in the face by a stalk of sugarcane. The Dimz finish and climb in their truck for the ride over to the rum factory. One of the boys informs us that he has sugarcane up his butt. Pleasant. At least his farts will smell sweet, I guess.Bransens painting. Pinkeyes painting. Dimz riding. Paolos riding. Papa Paolo singing some song that I’m sure is not Costa Rican. DJ Paolo saying, “Am I in hell?” And you know, when my mother tries to sing, we don’t exactly welcome it, but we also don’t say we’re in hell. So shut up, DJ Paolo. Weavers painting.
The Dimz arrive at the rum factory and find the barrels with the clues, but can’t quite figure out where the clues are. They just start banging on the barrels from various angles, and for some reason the thing that pops into my head is that they remind me of cavemen. Not sure where that came from, but I’m going with it. Eventually they do figure out that the clue is attached to the cork in the side of the barrel. Megan says they are not smart. But hey, at least they’re perceptive, so there’s that.
The clue tells them to fly to Phoenix, Arizona, and then drive to a go-cart racetrack. Wow, another racetrack? Man, that Jerry Bruckheimer is one sadistic motherfucker. Which is why we love him so (well, why we love him, apart from the fact that we hate him because he has very nearly destroyed this show with this stupid family edition). The Dimz take off for the airport. Back at the plantation, the Paolos find the clue and take off as well, but not before Mama Paolo yells, “What the hell are we going to Phoenix, Arizona for? I wanna go to New Zealand!” And again I’m conflicted. On the one hand, I agree with what her general sentiment seems to be, that the destinations this season are a bit lacking (just a little). Nothing against Phoenix (it is, after all, the home of our lovely Wheezy), but I’m sure I speak for most of us when I say we liked it better when it was a race around the actual world. On the other hand, it is Mama Paolo, and I’m reluctant to give anyone from that family credit for anything, so I’ll just say, you’re lucky you’re getting to go anywhere at all on someone else’s dime, so you’ll go to Phoenix, and you’ll like it.
Bransens finish painting, get their clue, and take off. Weavers finish, and Mama Weaver asks the artisan if they’re good, except she calls him “Mr. Artesian,” because…she thinks he’s a well, I guess. Or she doesn’t know how to read, and/or doesn’t know the meaning of either the words “artisan” or “artesian.” Did you know she’s a teacher? Boy do I feel sorry for the kids she teaches.
The Dimz arrive at the airport and decide, for some unknown reason, that Delta is the best airline. Something about flying through Atlanta. I don’t know. They find a flight that arrives at 9:35 in the morning and buy tickets, making no attempt to even investigate any other flights. They tell the Paolos about the flight, but it’s too late, and the ticket agents won’t let them on for security reasons. To which the Paolos respond by calling them morons. Yes, the refusal to violate, at best, their company’s policy, and at worst, the law, means they are morons. As assessed by the Paolos. Who didn’t even bother checking on flights on their own at all. Charming. The Dimz take off on the flight to Atlanta.
The Weavers show up at the airport, and upon seeing the Paolos, Skunk-hair starts flailing around like a lunatic and shouting, “The Cleavers! The Cleavers! The Cleavers!” Now, I am all for giving humorous nicknames to people, and I won’t even go so far as to mandate that they have to make sense, but COME ON. How can you come up with a nickname like the Cleavers, and not give it to the Bransens? I mean, hello? Wally and the Beavers? Way to swing and miss, Weavers. If it were anyone else, I’d suggest that maybe they were going for irony, what with the fact that the Paolos are nothing at like the “real” Cleavers, but I think we all know that there’s no way the Weavers are smart enough to understand the concept. Anyway, the Paolos eventually find their way to another airline, where they find a flight that gets into Phoenix at 9:20 in the morning. The Bransens and Weavers get on the same flight. The Paolos are much chagrinned about the presence of the Weavers. DJ Paolo then says, “Ever hear of ‘don’t mess with a good thing’? Right now we’re a good thing.” It seems like it’s in response to finding out the Weavers are on their flight, but it doesn’t entirely make sense, and the editing cuts are weird, so I don’t think it really is, but the reason why I’m reproducing it here is just because I want to get in younger brother Brian’s response, which is, “Then we should mess with you, because you’re a bad thing.” Ha! Brian is totally adopted.
At the Detour, the Pinkeyes finally finish painting.
Back at the airport, in a hilarious scene, the Weavers corner DJ Paolo and demand to know why his family yielded them. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a car full of psychos. Mama Weaver takes charge and looks like she's thisclose to throttling him.
They are totally scandalized when he tells them it was because they were simply trying to knock a team out decisively. Which, while it may or may not be true (it sure seemed like it was personal at the time, but it was probably some of both), is a perfectly valid reason for yielding someone. If your goal is simply to not come in last, the best strategy is to yield the team that is farthest back, to try to make them last by as wide a margin as possible. And in any case, the yield is PART OF THE GAME. There is nothing wrong with using it. It’s not dishonest, it’s not un-Christian, and it doesn’t make anyone who uses it a bad person. Mama Weaver doesn’t accept this, saying they’ve always been nice to him. Hmmm. I guess making fun of his father’s job and calling his brother a retard doesn’t count. Now, I’m not Christian, but I’m pretty sure lying is something that’s frowned upon. Anyway, Mama Weaver gets the last word in by threatening to yield the Paolos at some hypothetical future point, and it’s gross, because she calls him “Sweets,” and looks like a total serial killer.
The Pinkeyes get to the airport and get tickets on the flight that lands at 9:20. Or so they think. When they get into New York, the find out that they didn’t actually get reservations on the New York to Phoenix leg. It’s all gloom-and-doom, but they find out that there’s a flight to Phoenix out of Newark, so they hop in a cab over there, where they do indeed get on the flight.
Amazingly, they get to Phoenix first, where one sister proclaims it “hotter than snot.” Is snot hot? I didn’t know. Based on counting the marked cars at the airport, they figure out that they are first, to which one sister says, “We are smart women.” Well, no, not so much. I’d venture to say that you were actually quite stupid, because you didn’t check to make sure you actually had confirmed tickets all the way through when you first made your flight reservations. If you hadn’t been extremely lucky to not only find the flight through Newark, but also have time to get over there, you’d probably be hours behind everyone else.
The Bransens, the Weavers, and the Dimz land and find their cars, while the Paolos roam around the parking lot aimlessly, fighting, as they do. Aw, I missed the fighting. *eyeroll* It’s just so precious when a mother is prompted to yell at her son that she hopes he never gets married, because no woman would ever put up with his nonsense. And she’s basically right, but also, if the parents hadn’t put up with it his entire life, he’d be a much nicer person now. I’m just saying.
The Pinkeyes arrive at the speedway, where they get the clue for the Roadblock, which is 50 laps around the speedway in a “supercart.” Is that the same as a go-cart? I have no idea. Whatever. The one with the short hair takes it. Wally takes it for the Bransens. And then…the Weavers arrive. Mama Weaver takes the wheel. When she goes to get the information for the task, as well as her jacket and helmet, she practically orders the guy to be compassionate towards her. I do understand why this is difficult for them, and I’m sympathetic, but I don’t get any sense that the guy was about to be a jerk or anything, and seriously, using that tone is just rude. I hate these people.
The race itself is uneventful. There’s a minor fake-out where we’re led to believe the Dimz boy maybe is going to cause a crash with Mama Weaver, but as usual, nothing happens. On the sidelines, one of the Pinkeyes tries to give some seemingly-genuine support to Skunk-hair, who then tells the camera how much she hates the Pinkeyes, because they’re annoying, and they lie. Annoying I’ll grant, but they don’t seem like bad people, and I’m not sure what they’ve ever lied about, so whatever. I just don’t get this family. They bitch about everyone hating them, but then when people actually try to be nice, they get pissed off about that too. I hate these people.
The Pinkeyes finish the Roadblock first and get the clue for the Pit Stop, Fort McDowell, home to the Yavapai Nation, which totally sounds like “Yabba-Pie,” which makes me want to watch the Flintstones and eat pie.
Election 2005 update: Tim Murray has defeated Konstantina Lukes for Worcester mayor. In the Boston mayor’s race, Tom Menino now has 67% of the vote, while Maura Hennigan has 32%.
The Bransens finish the Roadblock in second, followed by the Weavers in third and the Dimz in fourth. In the Weaver car, Rolly and Skunk-hair sarcastically bitch about the Dimz boy, “a 20 year-old guy,” celebrating because he passed Mama Weaver, “a 46 year-old woman,” on the track. Yes, because god forbid anyone should celebrate about passing someone else in a race. It wasn’t a fistfight, it was A RACE. Just like this whole entire show is A RACE. Will they be allowed to celebrate when they beat your asses and win the million dollars? Is that okay with you? To top everything off, they immediately pass a garbage truck and take the opportunity to make fun of the Paolos again, some more. God, I hate these people.
The Bransens are majorly lost, so they stop at a hotel to ask directions. They get directions to the Fort McDowell Casino, but they’re not sure it’s the same place. The Beavers, however, don’t want to stick around and find out, and they rush back to the car, causing Wally to have the minor hissy-fit we saw in the previews. There’s not much more than we saw, and it’s really quite boring. Much like this family in general. *snore*Back at the speedway, the Paolos finally finish the Roadblock, while the Pinkeyes, the Weavers, and the Dimz are already arriving at the Pit Stop. The Pinkeyes are first, winning a vacation to Belize. The Weavers are second, followed by the Dimz. When the Dimz check in, Phil busts on the youngest Dimz (who did the Roadblock), saying, “Have you got a license?” Oh, snap! Or not. Phil is not really the king of snark, I don’t think. But perhaps I shouldn’t talk. Let’s just move on.
Driving up to the Pit Stop, the Paolos think they are last, not realizing how lost the Bransens were. Despite the fact that they know enough to count the cars at the Pit Stop, they don’t know enough to actually know how many there should be. So they still think they are last, and it leads to one of the most horrifying scenes in reality TV history – the Paolos putting their giant granny-panties and tighty-whities on over their clothes, making them look like a bunch of escaped mental patients, and making everyone watching the show collectively drain the country’s bleach supply in an attempt to scrub the images from their brains. The Paolos realize they are not last when the Bransens show up, but they are able to run to the Pit Stop, clad in their unmentionables, and check in as the fourth team. Interestingly, the Bransens run up while the Paolos are still on the mat, and the Paolos yell at them to go back and put all their clothes on before they check in. Most likely, they’re just doing it to be nice (weirdly, they do seem to be able to be nice to outsiders, just not to each other), but if you think about it, this actually is a brilliant move (or, I should say, would be a brilliant move in the hands of people who I could give credit to for being capable of being brilliant, which is to say, not the Paolos). If the Bransens check in right then, with no extra clothes, they may be unhappy and uncomfortable for the rest of the race, but I doubt it would do much to their racing capabilities, except possibly to make them faster, since they wouldn’t have much to carry. However, by encouraging them to go back to their car to put on clothes, they’re making them check in later, meaning that they will be leaving that much later for the next leg. Of course, I’m sure the Paolos didn’t actually put that much thought into it, but it’s interesting (to me, anyway) nonetheless. In any case, the Bransens go back, and, through tears, put on the extra clothes, including the seemingly obligatory underwear-on-the-outside. They still look ridiculous, thought not nearly as horrifying as the Paolos. Oh, and they’re not eliminated.
Can I just say how much I hate this non-elimination penalty? What is the point of taking away their possessions? I mean, I guess, like I said above, it’s to make them unhappy and uncomfortable, and stress them out. Which I guess leads to better TV? However, now that the teams know about the rule, it ends up effectively meaning “take away their backpacks and their toiletries, because they’ve figured out how to keep all their clothes." I don’t know. I just think it’s really stupid. And I hate the taking away of their money as well, because it’s just so obnoxious to have them begging, especially when it happens in poor countries. I don’t mind the idea of not giving them any new money, because that would actually have strategic implications – it would give them an incentive to conserve money on the regular legs. As it is now, there’s some incentive, but it would be that much more important if they could actually keep what they’d saved if they’re last in a non-elim leg. Just my opinion.
Twelve hours later, we lead off with sweeping shots of the gorgeous Arizona scenery, as well as a shot of Phil, who, while not nearly so gorgeous, is at least thankfully wearing a better shirt.
First to depart are the Pinkeyes. The clue tells them to drive to Fighter Combat International at Gateway Airport in Mesa, Arizona. Next off are the Weavers. Skunk-hair (boy, she talks a lot, doesn’t she?) says the other people don’t like them because they’re different. And she’s right. They are disliked because they’re different. Except she thinks “different” means “Christian,” when in fact it means “rude,” “obnoxious,” “hypocritical,” “immature,” “assholish,” “holier-than-thou,” “arrogant,” “screechy,” “standoffish,” and “annoying.” The Dimz leave next in a hail of clichés, followed by the Paolos and then the Bransens. The Bransens head to the casino to beg. Determined to live up to the name Wally and the Beavers, Dad pimps out his young, nubile daughters while hanging back creepily in the shadows. Unsurprisingly, the begging nets them enough cash, and they are on their way.
At the airport, teams pull numbered tags to determine the order for the next day’s task. The Weavers, unfortunately, get #1. The Dimz get #2. One of the Dimz boys asks the Weavers how they got there so fast, and one of them says, “We’re smart.” To which the Dimz boy responds, under his breath, “No.” Ha! I think I love him just a little bit. The Pinkeyes arrive next, getting #3, followed by the Paolos, who get #4, and the Bransens, pulling in last.
In the morning, they get their clues for the Roadblock, which involves taking the controls and performing a full 360 degree loop in a fighter plane. I hate this Roadblock – it’s just like the one with the centrifuge – they’re pretty much guaranteed to finish in the exact order that they start in, so what’s the point (I mean, other than to show a bunch of fancy aerial maneuvers)?
The first three take off at the same time, and the Dimz boys call their sister “Air Biscuit.” Is that as gross as I think it is? Anyway, before doing the loops, the planes all do a bunch of various twists and turns and flips and whatnot, and it looks totally unsafe to my untrained eye, but what do I know. All three perform their loops successfully. One of the Dimz boys starts teasing Brian Paolo about pulling on the joystick between his legs. Aw, dude, shut up. Leave Brian alone. He’s the only sane one in that family. It’s not like he doesn’t have enough shit to deal with. Before taking off, Brian and one of the Beavers share hug, and it’s both cute and weird. The first three teams land and get their clues, which direct them to the Grand Canyon.
Election 2005 update: John Hanlon has narrowly defeated David Ragucci for Everett mayor, Michael Sullivan has defeated Marcos Devers for Lawrence mayor, and James Harrington has defeated Jass (yes, Jass) Stewart for Brockton mayor.
Back at the roadblock, both Brian and the Beaver girl manage to screw up the loop and have to do it twice. The Paolos and the Bransens take off for the Grand Canyon.
In the Pinkeye car, the sisters express puzzlement as they pull up next to the Weavers, and the Weavers throw garbage out the window at them. Classy! As they pull up to the entrance to the Grand Canyon lookout, the get the idea that it would be hilarious to tell the park ranger guy to try to delay the Dimz (who are behind them) by telling them all about the history of the Grand Canyon, even if they say they don’t want to hear it. So, let me get this straight. In the Weavers’ universe, using the Yield, which is completely within the rules of the race, is a cardinal sin, but pulling shit like this and lying is okay? What.the.fuck.ever. Mind you, I don’t have a problem with what they did (except with respect to the fact that it’s totally stupid and unlikely to work, and not brilliant and hilarious they way they think it is), but I fucking hate hypocrites. Especially stupid ones. Not surprisingly, the park ranger guys totally knows what idiots the Weavers are, and rather than trying to give the Dimz history, gives up the Weavers for all the smack they were talking. Heh.
The Weavers make it to the Grand Canyon clue first, which tells them to drive to Page, Arizona. Unfortunately, none of them falls into the canyon. They are pulling their car out as the Dimz are pulling in, which prompts Skunk-hair to say that they play dirty. They do? Have we ever seen them do anything dirty? If they did, I don’t remember it. And again, do I have to remind them who it was up there trying to get the park ranger guy to delay another team? Aaauuuugggghhhh! I fucking hate these fucking hypocritical fucks.
DJ Paolo is really excited to see “the largest pothole in the world.” First of all, shut up, DJ. Second, the Grand Canyon is not a pothole. And right here I was about to geek out and give you an explanation of how potholes are formed, versus how the Grand Canyon was formed, and how they’re not the same at all, but I don’t have the energy, and it’s not actually funny, and this summary is way late already, so let’s just move on, shall we?
The teams are now on their way to Glen Canyon Dam, where they have to choose a tour guide to take them up across the dam. The guides are all lined up, and it feels just like an elementary school kickball game, and I start feeling really bad for the guides who don’t get picked first. Up on top of the dam, they get their next clue, which reveals the Detour, a choice of Bailing or Bearing. In Bearing, the have to use a compass to find a bunch of cards located around the water. In Bailing, they have to bail out a submerged boat and then carry it up onto the shore. Dimz and Pinkeyes choose bailing. On their way off the dam, the Weavers are coming in, and they try to high-five the Dimz, who flatly ignore them. One of the daughters wonders why the Dimz are so rude to them. Hmmm, yes, I wonder why? They then call the Pinkeyes “so rude.” For what? All it looks like is that they didn’t say anything at all when they walked by. Which…isn’t that what the Weavers did back at the airport a few episodes back, when one of the other teams asked them a direct questions? OHMYGOD will someone please just kill this family now? Please? I don’t know if I can take this much longer. Anyway, Weavers choose Bearing.
Out on the water, the Pinkeyes remark on the beauty of the…what is this, anyway? A gorge? A canyon? Anyway, it’s gorgeous. (Ha! Maybe it's a gorgeous gorge!) She also says it’s something you’d never do (on your own, presumably). But, why wouldn’t you do it on your own? I don’t get that. Whatever. A Dimz boy sees the Weavers go for the Bearing Detour, which prompts him to point out how the Dimz are going for the “more challenging” Detour. And maybe you might want to get over yourself there, buddy-boy. Things can be challenging in different ways. Not that I am giving the Weavers credit for successfully doing anything challenging, but I personally would have a harder time with Bearing, since I don’t know how to read a compass.
The Dimz locate the submerged boats, leading one brother to stand and Leonardo DiCaprio, “I’m king of the canyon!” I’m having a hard time deciding if this is lame or funny. I think I’m going with lame. Sorry, Dimz boy, try again. They get out and start bailing, using plastic containers and a small pump. The Pinkeyes are right behind them, and one sister helpfully gives instructions to another, telling her to “put it between your legs and pump.” Hey, hey, hey! I thought we weren’t going to have any of that here with just the sisters! Save it for the honeymoon!
The Dimz get enough water out of their boat to make it light enough to lift up and tip out the rest. They carry it up the shore and get their clue, which tells them to drive to Lake Powell, Arizona, where they’ll have to get in a motorboat and search the lake for the Pit Stop, which is a houseboat.
Waaaay back at the dam, the Bransens get the clue and decide to Bail. The Weavers find all their cards and get the Pit Stop clue. The Pinkeyes finish bailing and get their clue as well. The Paolos, after getting lost, finally find the dam as the Dimz, the Weavers, and the Pinkeyes are already on the road to the Pit Stop. The Weavers are unsure of where they’re going, so they stop to get directions. An unsuspecting motorist offers to let them follow him. Mama Weaver prays to God, asking to be led to the Pit Stop.
Please God, let the Weavers get lost and fall behind all the other teams, and get eliminated, if it is your will. Amen.
Bransens finish bailing. Paolos start. Presumably influenced by the stress of knowing they are in last place, they start to fight with an intensity not seen since the first few episodes. So lovely, these people. DJ tells his mother he could drown her and no one would ever find her body here. No one except for all the cameramen filming them. But otherwise he has a point. And then, because apparently he has to go out in a real blaze of non-glory, he has a near-complete meltdown over whether or not they can carry the boat instead of dragging it. This is really getting painful to watch. Someone just put this team out of its misery already. Hey, here’s an idea - is there any chance we could eliminate both the Weavers and the Paolos? That would be awesome. Bruck? Could you do me just this one favor? Please? The Paolos finally, mercifully finish the task, and we can thankfully get a breather and move to another team for a bit.
The Dimz get to Lake Powell first, but fail to read the clue and don’t go to the right place. Eventually, they figure it out and find the boats, but the Pinkeyes are now right on their tails. On the lake, the Pinkeyes eventually pass the Dimz because their boat, having much less weight, can go much faster. They make it to the Pit Stop first, and are greeted by a kid who looks like he could totally be Phil’s son. Phil tells them they’ve won a travel trailer. They celebrate politely, as if he’d just given them socks for Christmas. The Dimz come in second. Phil kind of busts on them again for falling behind, and one of the boys says, with a suggestive, slightly leering look, that maybe the Pinkeyes will share their prizes after the race. Does it strike anyone else as weird that the Dimz boys (or at least one of them – I can’t ever tell who says what) are lusting after the Pinkeyes (remember, they did it back in the first episode), rather than the Bransen girls? I mean, the Bransen girls would seem more likely, wouldn’t they, given that they’re much closer in age to the Dimz? And also, by my own estimation, they’re generally hotter. Is it maybe because their father is there? Or that they’re just extremely dull? It’s certainly one of life’s great mysteries.
The Weavers make it to the Pit Stop next. Phil notes that they don’t seem too happy, to which they respond that it’s hard, because they’re all alone. Because the others are all classless, says the blonde daughter. And because the Weavers are the only team that doesn’t curse, and the only team trying to live a Christian life. Oh. My. God. Where to start with this one? Firstly, she seems to be saying cursing is the main thing that defines whether one is living a Christian life. Nothing about being a good person. Just cursing. Well fuck that. I don’t want to be a fucking Christian if it fucking means I can’t fucking curse. And then. AND THEN. The only team trying to live a Christian life? Is she fucking kidding? As I said above, I’m not even Christian, and I can’t tell you how offensive this is to me. The level of arrogance it takes to make a statement like that is simply astounding. I’d bet good money that most, if not all of the other teams are Christian, and I’m sure they’d be happy to know that the Weavers have declared them un-Christian. God. WILL SOMEONE PLEASE GET THESE FUCKING PEOPLE OFF MY FUCKING TV?
In any case, they’ve checked in, so they’re thankfully off my TV for the remainder of this summary. I was very close to having an aneurysm there.
The Bransens find the lake and get in their boat. The Paolos get in theirs. Bransens. Paolos. The editing tries to make it look like they’re close, but I don’t really think they are. The Bransens check in fourth, leaving the Paolos to fight one last time in their boat before checking in, last, and getting eliminated. Mama Paolo tries to blow off the fighting as what keeps them together, or something, but enough already. Go away.
Next time on the Amazing Race: One of the Pinkeyes takes a tumble while rappelling down the side of a cliff. I think it’s supposed to be dramatic, but she only fell on her butt a little, not down the entire cliff, and besides, long ago and far away, I summarized the episode of this show where Flo had her meltdown while rappelling, and there’s no way they could top that, so lets just agree that it will be lame and move on. And a Dimz brother face-plants into a pool while wearing skis.
My thanks and everlasting love to TeamJoisey for the fantastic graphics. My thanks and everlasting love to everyone else, for, well, just being you. ¶ 12:07 AM 8 Comments
Episode 6: “Evil Triumphs And The Sun Flickers Out”
by TechNoirPrologue
In an expensively outfitted conference room, pictured at left, in Burbank CA, sometime in 2003.
Bruck: Now that Pirates of the Carribbean and Bad Boys II are out, we've got to get back to the Race. I know this race thing is popular. Hell, I might even get an emmy for this one. But it's no CSI and it's costing too much. Besides I'm having trouble keeping all of my women happy what with spending so much time out of the country. So think about this: The Amazing Race -- Americana Edition !! How does it play?
Bob: Great Bruck! You know that anything you come up with is a success.
Bruck: Oh shut up Bob. I don't need any sucking up. I need some show ideas.
Jason: Where would they go, Bruck? I mean, I know we're all about the country. We even hate Canadians these days, But how would we get enough material for 14 shows out of that?
Tiffany, who is swelling with child: I've got it! Make it families. Let's drag babies and grandmothers along.
Bruck: Wait Tif, that sounds like it could get expensive and dangerous. I like wrapping them in the flag, though.
Elise: Yeah, I think we can do that.
Missy, elbowing Tiffany out of the way: No, Bruck. We'll just have them drive around. Hell, they can go to battlefields and historical sites. Won't cost squat.
Bob: Who'd want to watch that?
Jason: Yeah, driving around gets pretty boring. And I don't know anything about battlefields.
Elise: Don't worry about that. We'll make up a battlefield. Nobody will know the difference.
Bruck: Get us some coffee Bob. You think you can do it Evan? What about the gays and the wifebeaters?
Evan: We've got this one covered. The whole trick is to make sure they're all really stupid. Like never heard of the great lakes stupid. That means no Asians. They're too smart and they can't drive.
Tiffany, interrupting: Then we'll have to make sure we have African-Americans.
Evan: Well if we get a black family, let's make sure they're black. I don't want one of those white black families that usually apply.
Missy: Wow, this could work!!
Bruck: Run with it. Now where did Bob go?
============
Episode 6
Previously on The Amazing Race: Six teams finally left the US to arrive at the American Section of Panama. They learned how to navigate airplanes, raced on the *ahem* Panama Canal, bungee jumped, prayed, and talked smack on each other. Some hit baseballs and others didn’t. The Paolos won the leg, though I can’t really understand how because they were using all of their air to yell at one another. As Dweezil so aptly explained. The Godlewhatevers arrived last in the best non-elimination leg yet. They wore all their clothes and looked silly, but laughed through it. At least they won’t have to spend the next couple of weeks wearing the same unwashed undergarments. And I won’t have to think about it every week. These things matter, boys and girls.
Aside: Here at Circle Of Productions, we try to reproduce the complete TAR experience. As part of this we bring you things like “Previously On,” promotional material because in addition to providing a Total Experience, we recognize that commercials are essential to the continuing success of capitalism. We provide value added in that the material is summarized, with commentary. While you may, of course, skip anything you choose, we believe that Circle Of Productions provides you with the finest Total Experience.
Interlude: Wherein we see Those Who Are No Longer With Us in very silly circumstances. By this time in the season one is always a bit shocked to find how easily those eliminated have slipped from our minds.
Promotions: Adam, conquering his claustrophobia in that iron diving suit from TAR 6, for GMC. A Dweeb in HUGE glasses (whose wife inexplicably carries a large cactus) wading through the trash searching for a credit card bill, for CITI. People in a grocery line for Progresso Soup. Some sort of retro wifely person who apparently still dusts for Pledge dust spray. I have no idea what this product might be good for. A black car emitting a Matrix-like green glow from its undercarriage for Gillette Mach3 Comfort Gel, “the best a man can get.” How sad for men! Cheap graphics for Aleve. A family having their picture taken and a whole lot of other silly views of the word “it” for ebay. *yawn* Some people I’ve never heard of for some show called “Yes, Dear” wherein apparently the men intend to have non-vaginal sex. Or something.
The Actual Episode: Ever enlightening, Phil, who is beginning to get a little rounded hunchback from lugging around those mammaries, explains what the Panama Canal is. He again recaps the last show. I won’t.
The Paolo’s are the first to leave. They are going to San Jose, Costa Rica by bus. Ahh, a comfortable ride I am sure. There will be three charter busses leaving ½ hour apart. We will now encounter the technique familiar to those of you who are seasoned TAR watchers: bunching. Then they will again acquire vehicles and drive to the top of Volcan Poas where they will find their clue on the rim of an active volcano while we will long, futilely, to see at least one of them plunge to a fiery death.
As they set off, Mrs. Paolo engages in extended brakage about how she hopes they appreciate her now. They don’t. Various families standing around in the middle of the night, all wearing huge backpacks and once again demonstrating that even the very clever and experienced camera operators can’t find a damn thing interesting in this abomination that is the “Family Edition.” Damn you, Bruck!
There is a lot of “por favoring” in general and “Heavenly father please guide us” brakage from the Weavers who explain that since they were small they learned to trust their family and God but not other people. (I know that you are looking for a rant about what kind of Christian values teach people that other people are bad and untrustworthy. Believe me, boys and girls, I want to provide you with that rant. But we are a mere seven minutes into what will be an interminable hour. If I start ranting about hypocrisy now, this ‘summary’ will stretch into the middle of next week.)
The Bransen Dad braks about how close his daughters are and how he doesn’t fit. The Weavers complain bitterly about not being able to find a cab. The Lint family offers adolescents braking about something that I can’t stand listening to. The Weavers still complain bitterly about not being able to find a cab. The Gagems, the only team with any remote charm, find that they are going 600 miles and while Twee, the tiny blond thing, asks if they have to run there. She’s got game.
Each team has $74 for this leg of the race except the Godlewhatevers, who have nothing because, as you may recall, the last arrivers in a non-elimination round have to give up all their carryables except passports. I expect there are those watchers who are beginning to salivate over the prospect of watching the Godless (because I can’t continue to type all those Godlewhatever letters) girls sell their bodies for a mess of pottage. I can almost hear the spittle falling from chins. But Phil, who certainly seems to be in the midst of some gender-reassignment process, has already offered himself as a holy receptacle, thereby rendering all of the men in the vicinity flaccid.
[Bruck: What’s the matter with you people? I took it out of the country like you wanted me to. And it’s still boring boring boring. Can’t you do anything right? Maybe we should give it the CSI treatment. Have them find a body or something.]
Much flash editing from team to team, in an attempt to make a trip to a bus station interesting. The Godless accumulate a few bucks and get to the bus station. So much for suspense. The Paolos hide in the bus station, hoping to avoid the Weavers.
The busses meander across the countryside during the daytime. The Gagems actually notice the scenery and the fact that some of the natives are poor. Bus #1 arrives with the Lints, and the Paolos still bickering. Bus #2 arrives with the Weavers and Gagems. Bus #3 contains the Godless and Bransens. It is dark again. If it weren’t racist and I weren’t such a damn liberal, I’d tell you that many of the families wander up and down the street looking for the place that their waiting cars have been parked. The Weavers pray loudly to be favored. Their God apparently resembles Santa Claus, but without the good/bad caveat.
Promotions: A large gasoline tank, for BP. Graphics and a lot of dweebs in white shirts using their laptops in a coffee shop for Verizon Wireless. Talking heads in a letterbox format bordered by green for BP. Some ugly people wearing long-sleeved red shirts for Toys R Us. Three chatty Kathies giggling for Olive Garden – all of the soup and breadsticks that you want for just $5.95. Unemployed yet beloved Vikings trying new forms of employment. One dangles a rubber ducky on a mace over a crib. A half dozen stand in an opening doorway holding plastic pumpkins for trick-or-treat. For Capital One. Some woman nattering about her car and an elephant for Mr. Goodwrench.
The families still meander, finally locating the parking lot. Some sniping as in “How’d the Brady Bunch catch up with us?” Mrs. Weaver, while struggling to remember how to drive a stick shift is caught saying most of the word ‘shit’ instead of her usual prayer. The vehicles race the 30 KM toward the volcano. The Bransen’s bicker. The Weavers pray to beat the other people. The Gagem kids sleep like a rock. And when they all arrive we find – bunching. The park is closed until morning.
Dawn breaks, rays of red-orange sun shining through the verdant foliage. The families race through the fog into the park, grabbing clues. A few glance at the volcano. I am disappointed that none ever get close to the edge. I mean, they could have given me a bit of hope. Their destination is the Doka Estate, a coffee plantation seventeen miles away. Whoa! Yield ahead. More driving. Mr. Gagem is nice to his family, telling everyone how well they did and thanking the youngest for running. Mr. Paolo tells the family that they did good, then looks at the view and admires it. How did these people get through the casting directors?
The teams are actually racing now which we know because there are quick edits from car to car. “On righto or lefto?” Go go go go. “I say we yield Florida” (the Weavers). Go go go go go go go. “Let’s give them a little gift.” Phil explains what a yield is. Since you have heard this very same speech in the neighborhood of 372 times, I won’t. Although I do love The Yield, since it brings out all of the mean in the players. The Paolos, amidst a scrum of racing to the yield, arrive first. With much glee they yield The Weavers who are in fifth place and no threat to anybody. However they are consistently rude, mean spirited, and holier than thou. Yet again, we have on display an important life lesson for those of you who go to work, live in neighborhoods, or have families. The players make such decisions based on who they like rather than who would be the most strategically advantageous. Oh, and another lesson. If you have huge man-boobs, wear loose layers.
Roadblock: “A Roadblock is a task that only one person can perform. In this roadblock, a person has to search through 800 pounds of coffee beans for the one bean that is colored red. Once they find that elusive bean, the plantation manager will give them their next clue.“ They each dump out drums of coffee beans, rake them out, and find either find it or not. *yawn* We see many close up shots of folks’ asses as they bend over looking for that “elusive bean.” My eyes burn.
Just when I think that I can’t take it any more, to my delight the Weavers arrive and discover that they have been yielded. They chew their nails and wait, more patiently than I would have expected. They are surprised to find that “they are all ganged up against us.” Meanwhile more folks find coffee beans. The Gagem mom continues to search for the red bean. The rest of the clan cheer her on.
Promotions: Ahh, commercials within commercials, all for odd letter combinations. TAR sponsored by GMC trucks, AOL where you belong and ZATHURA, in theaters brak. Zathura appears to be a movie brought to you by the Bush administration’s penchant for trying to make you pee in your pants. Small children and a pseudo-frozen woman combine with loud noises and quick editing to try to get you out of your Barcalounger. AOL continues its campaign to convince you that it is an alternative, competitive internet with – MORE FEAR and much brakage about viruses, spyware, and other things that are only vague concepts to most folks.
A Story About A Panda which may be of local interest only: We, and I speak of folks in the Washington DC metropolitan area, have little to be proud of these days, what with the Congress and the administration and the traffic and what not. But there is nearly universal agreement that we adore our baby panda. Now you know ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, that I am not sweet and that generally I am not a fan of cute. But like Wonkette I have fallen madly in love with our baby panda. This teeny tiny ball of fur has been on television since he was born. Our Local News in this Not Small Media Market leads off the news with stories of his physical or immunizations or first steps. He is a Star. And so adorable one can barely stand it.
Well as part of this local frenzy, the National Zoo(logical Park) held a naming contest for said panda. It seems that in the Chinese tradition people and, presumably pandas, do not get named until they are 100 days old, so there was plenty of time to whip up a local frenzy. The finalist names were Hua Sheng, Tai Shan, Sheng Hua, Qiang Qiang, and Long Shan. Unfortunately here in Your Nation’s Capital we are an unruly bunch. We had two local favorite names: Bling-Bling for obvious reasons and Butterstick for the description of the panda’s size when it was born. Well to make a long story short, the name Tai Shan, or peaceful mountain won. But our local folk have not acquiesced. We persist in calling the panda Butterstick. There are even shirts available for those who are unalterably stubborn.
And now back to the promotions: I was reminded of Butterstick by a promotion for Our Local News on the Station I won’t watch. Panda pictures, cute panda pictures, an adorable plethora of pandas for a feature about zoo personnel going to a panda preserve in China where there are 80 baby pandas. Panda panda panda. (Consider this foreshadowing … by the end you will need to remember that there remains some cute in this world.) Faces of people who look silly for American Express gift check. ACK! It is the political season. Tim Kaine says that his opponent, the fascist running for Governor in Virginia wants to outlaw all abortions, even in cases of rape or incest, unless the rape is reported within seven days and reminds us that especially in cases of incest, it may take a good deal longer than that for folks to report rape. Two small children drinking lemonade on a porch for Comcast Digital Cable. It’s Comcastic!
The Weavers make fun of the other players (““I hope those boobs cost a lot!” ), snivel about “nobody wants us here” but “we answer to a higher power.” I thought that was the Hebrew National slogan. Back to the Gagem family where the mother can’t find the red coffee bean. The boy says “Come on Mom! You’re under absolutely no pressure,” While the Weaver family says “Pray Rachel! Pray.” The other teams drive 94 miles to the small surf town of Jaco and locate a surf shop where Javier has the clue. The Weavers and the Gagems continue looking for the red bean while the other teams drive. And ask directions. And demonstrate why watching teams drive long distances is even more dreadfully boring than watching them flop around in airports. The Weaverchild finds a red bean and they take off. The Gagem mom finally finds the red bean, putting them in last place.
On arriving at the Roca Loca surf shop, Javier hands each team a clue that tells of a detour, which as you know, is a choice between two tasks, each with its pros and cons. The teams may go to the rainforest and cross some high rope bridges while looking for Mayan pseudorelics or them may go to a plantation where they gather and, using an incredibly clever pulley system, load 15 pounds of bananas onto a truck. The Branson’s arrive first followed closely by the Paolos.
The Paolos decide to move bananas discovering in short order that they are heavy. Doh! The boys can barely life them and end up carrying one bunch between the two of them. Dad handles them with ease. The boys are amazed that they are sniveling wimps and their father isn’t. I now see why they entered this race. It seems that the boys are unfit for any gainful employment and Dad is concerned about having to support them.
All of the other families go after the pseudorelics. The Bransens and Lints find that the bridges are “high.” This viewer is stunned by their insights. I suspect the rain is also “wet.” After expressing some concern about finding the relics, it turns out that they are about three feet high – difficult to miss – but they don’t appear to weigh much. Then Bransens, Lints, and Godlewhatevers cross the rope bridges and collect their relics. Four families are on their way to the town of Quepos to find the pit stop on a Pacific beach where a team may be eliminated. They are driving again. Hey, Bruck. When are you gonna get them out of the damn cars? This is sooooooo boring.
We now have the suspenseful race to the finish. The Weavers then the Gagems cross the bridges in that order. The Weavers get their SUV stuck in the mud and Mom Weaver throws her hands up in the air in despair shouting “I can’t do this! I’m sick of doing stuff I can’t do!”. I fail to understand why she isn’t just praying for a four lane asphalt road to appear. Or perhaps she could pray to be able to do the stuff she can’t do. Perhaps I am just obtuse.
Promotions: We will be treated to messages from sponsors including the Wild Bean Café, which I have never heard of. Talking heads for BP. This message is a total non sequitur to me. They speak of a sweet tooth and what a husband like, brak about life on the go, and then show that shot upwards at a pure white gasoline holding tank with a blue sky background and a BP sign on it. Maybe I am flawed because I remember that this used to be British Petroleum and am somewhat skeptical when they try to bill themselves as Beyond Petroleum. Adorable penguins wearing cameras for Duracell. Familiar beloved characters for Star Wars III, Revenge of the Sith on DVD. Soft background music and a heartbeat with women lowering their eyes for Start Smart. I think it is cereal. A teeny tiny impala jumping all over the inside of a car for Chevrolet. Guys gathering outside a building comparing the size of their .. um .. networks for Verizon Wireless. Quick editing of people I have never seen before for some TV vehicle called Close To Home. High drama, a hint of reveal, and entirely too much of Rafe for Survivor, Guatemala. Verizon again. I can’t bear it. A warmly colored very blonde child for McCain frozen mashed potatoes made into smiley face shapes. They are very very creepy. The Republican State Leadership Committee, Virginia Pac on the Virginia Attorney General race. Deeds doesn’t care about our families because of some crap that is incomprehensible, Bob McDonnell who will put violent criminals behind bars will protect our families. *ptooey* Oh I am so FRIGHTENED. My Local News That I Refuse To Watch in spite of the upcoming adorable panda feature tells me that they won an Emmy for the Best Late News Program. It was rigged.
The Weavers finally get unstuck. The Gagems finish their task, still being kind and supportive of one another. They were soooo miscast.
We are treated to a demi-race where the Paolos and Lints run to the pit stop carpet. The Lints are outrun by the Paolos have won a Vespa, ATV, or some such from the Wild Bean Café which I still have never heard of. They voice-over some sappy stuff about each other which is particularly hard to take since they spend all of their time yelling at one another. The Lints who we see very little of because they, apparently, have no personality arrive second followed closely by the Bransons.
The Gagems become the primary focus. Little Twee, pictured at right, explains to her Dad that winners never quit and quitters never win.
The Weaver family beats the Gagem family to the mat and, as Phil tells them that they are still in the race, the sun shining over the Pacific waves begins to flicker and dim. The Gagems, on their way to the mat talk about how beautiful the scenery is. They will be going back on vacation. Then Phil tells them that they have been eliminated from the race. The sun dims for the last time, and as the parents tell the kids what a good job they’ve done, our brave little Twee struggles to hold back the tears. As Phil insists on talking to the nine year old about how she lost, she can’t hold back the tears.
DAMN YOU PHIL! DAMN YOU BRUCK! You made the little girl cry!! You made the baby Jesus cry!!!
The crass bastards provide more promotions: The TAR talk show where we can talk to the eliminated, forcing more pain and suffering on the little girl. HAVE YOU NO HEART, BRUCK ??? An hysterical pregnant woman and FEAR for OnStar. A warm family around a dinner table filmed with golden light for Pillsbury crescent rolls. Flying cheeseburgers for Wendy’s. Those talking heads again for BP. They need a heavy dose of STFU. Shrieking and Mandy Patemkin for Criminal Minds followed by more shrieking and "schoolgirl suspects" for CSI: Someplace Else. Hey, I just realized that we're sneaking into a sweeps month. No wonder everything is about sex and fear. More shrieking, the Statue of Liberty, Tour Eiffel and Arc de Triumphe backlit with raging winds for something called Category 7: The End of the World. Hard to see many sequal possibilities in that one, although they clearly focus on the French.
Next week on The Amazing Race: (It is, of course, impossible to see how the Race can even continue after the horribleness that was this week, but I digress.) Mr. Paolo tries to drown. Mr. Branson gets pissed off at his daughters. They're just a bucket of surprises. But as you tune in next week, and I know you will, just remember that these are the people who make little girls cry, for ratings, and are happy about it. See? See Bruck smile? I can only suggest that you look at baby pandas until you remember that there is still cute in the world.
A huge thank you to Wheezy and TJ for graphics help. Carissa crying courtesy of TJ.
Addendum: I am ashamed that I had to be reminded. I apologetically credit Landru with the invention and trademark of the term brak. Thank you for allowing me to use it. ¶ 11:18 AM 8 Comments
