The Amazing Race Family Edition Finale Thank God that’s finally over.
By Team Joisey

Really, do I need to write another word? If you didn’t watch this contemptible show, consider yourself blessed. If you did watch, then you’d rather not resurrect the whole thing. This abortion – excuse me, “family planning” – season was a litany of failed ideas – a communion of idiots crucifying the one decent reality show left.

We can blame the whole debacle on two people: Jerry Bruckheimer, whose very name reveals he is both a Nazi and a Jew; and Bertram Van Munster, whose very name reveals he is both a Romanian vampire and a kitschy TV sitcom character. And they did it all just to save a little Jew Gold on plane tickets.

Back when this show was good, contestants went around the world to visit fascinating, photogenic and exotic locations for 40 seconds. Not this time.
Oh, hell no. This time they towed campers through fucking Utah.

For weeks on end.

And it sucked.

Really sucked.

Really. Sucked.

And the finale? Sucked the worst of all.

The final challenge, the very moment that decided the winner of the one million dollars, was a kindergarten Colorforms puzzle of North America. It all came down the the fingernail sliver that is Rhode Island.

Rhode Island.

Shit.

Previously on The AbsolutelyNotAmazingInAnyWay Race…

Phil blathers on for 10 minutes or so, recalling all the loathsome halfwits eliminated in prior episodes, and the brainless mistakes that led to their doom. The words “wandered aimlessly” are used more than once.

Despite having suffered through every dismal episode of the season, I can’t remember half these people. Tony Aiello and his daughter-fuckers are a complete blank. There were two families from Louisiana – but only one Nazi Stasi bitch who was eliminated when Herr Schroeder got lost 40 feet from home.

Those other Cajun cretins, the Brocks, were eliminated when the teenage son delivered a big million-dollar passive-aggressive “fuck you” to his domineering asshole dad, knowingly driving 1800 miles toward elimination just as Dad insisted – even when he knew Dad was wrong.

There was a Black family named The Black Family. There were the Paolos, a family of Noo Yawk Eye-talians who lovingly threatened homicide each quarter-hour. There were four shrieking harridans who share Godlewski DNA, and a deep dislike for each other, and one of them burst in to uncontrollable tears each week.

And there was Twee.
Sweet innocent Caressa. An eagle-eyed sprite who ran the race with her musically gifted older brother Bully and their loving, nukular fambly parents, "Mom" and "Dad." But perfection only takes you so far. The Gaghans were eliminated when an opponent's pleas to the Lord sparked a miraculous appearance by the Blessed Holy Red Bean of Antioch.

God smote the Gaghans, and Caressa's tears were inconsolable. Yes, Phil Keoghan makes babies cry. And not just because his bulging mammaries don’t lactate.

No more Nazi, no more "Shut up, Ma."
No more "Coming 'Round the Mountain."
No more Miss Lousiana Assfuck Princess.

Sigh. All the interesting and likeable folks are ... OK they were never cast.

But a lot of shitty teams are gone, and we are left with these three teams:

The Beavers. Tired old Wally Bransen is “running” the race with his Stepford daughters – all lithe young blondes so eager to rut that they’ve taken to displaying their pudenda to passing motorists and/or testosterone-laden opponents. Except for those uncontrollable sexual cravings, they have been completely focused on the race and avoided squabbling with the other teams. They've made very few mistakes – other than that "Let's bring Dad" decision. The team survived a non-elimination last place finish, and rebounded quickly by playing "Flash Gash for Cash" in a parking lot. Thanks to a key sponsor, British Petroleum, these slick little Beavers have a lifetime supply of gas.

The Lints. Twenty-something siblings from Cincinnati, they also have a lifetime supply of gas – this family is seemingly powered by methane. They’re full of vim and vigor; plus vinegar and perhaps slightly overcooked pinto beans. They survived a sprint to the finish and avoided elimination in the very first leg, but have been competitive in every leg since. They've won one leg, finished second five times, and third twice. While no one could have predicted these four steroid-laden simians might outmuscle a 35-pound, nine-year-old girl, their real advantage has been an ability to outthink… uh... umm… well, they are pretty muscular, after all, ain’t they?

The Beleavers. In the beginning, God created the universe. When that was finished, he went right to work creating religious hypocrites. The Wicked Widow Weaver, her clothes-bulging, pustule-laden daughters, Sausage and Stay-Puft, and their faithful pup Collie have often turned to the Lord for divine guidance in their quest to eradicate good will in the name of Jesus. Their arrogant duplicity has made them outcasts among the racers, which works well with their perceived moral superiority.

They’ve been playing the role of Persecuted Christians, and mourning the untimely death of Ray Weaver. Daddy was a worker at Daytona Speedway, and one day he darted out onto the track – only to have his body parts thoroughly dispersed by a 100-mph racecar. Probably driven by a Christmas-killing Jew. Some would say it was horrible accident. Some would say devastating tragedy. Others might say it was a suicide quest to escape the sight of the ever-tightening Pink Hot Pants of Jesus. Only the Lord knows, and the Wicked Widow Weaver knows to trust the Lord in such things, because the Lord has been so darn helpful so far.

When this final leg begins, we are stranded in eastern Montana, where cattle and sheep outnumber people by the millions. That's a lot of hot cowboy sex. We’re on some anonymous ugly shithole ranch, undoubtedly rented with a measly handful of Bruck & Bertie's damnable Jew gold. We see a few scenes of the "mandatory rest period" during which the Beavers and the Lints enjoy a robust "card table and folding chairs" banquet. The Beleavers sulk nearby. Adding to the horror of the ongoing Christian Persecution, the Lints and Beavers make several sacireligious references to The Last Supper.

The final leg of the race-that-isn't-a-race-and-isn't-by-any-stretch-of-the imagination-even-remotely-amazing gets underway with the departure of the Beavers at 3:04 a.m. They are told to fly to Montreal, a large settlement in a vast arctic archipelago previously ignored by reality TV. This is the low-budget, boring-as-possible iteration of The Amazing Race, so a trip to the Great White Wasteland sure is fitting.

While visiting this latitudinally challenged wilderness outpost, our racers might encounter French words, or even worse, a Canadian accent. That qualifies as a monumental language difficulty in this worst of all possible seasons. But to Bruck & Bertie, it comes at a significant cost savings over an actual visit to actual France where actual smelly French people might spit on actual arrogant Americans.

At this point in time, France is currently on another continent, currently hostile to American foreign policy, and thus not currently eligible for The Amazing Race: Extreme Xenophobia Edition. (The French only love us when the Germans drive tanks into Paris.) As a clear example at how travel-challenged this season has been, one of Wally's lovely little Stepford Beavers is intrigued by a trip to Can’tada. ... Until Dad points out the language difference.

“French?” she says, “Crap.”
See? Already she’s translating the nouns.

When teams arrive in Montreal, they will have to look around a subway station for their next instructions. (I’m going to dispense with the “clue” label, because this show stopped giving “clues” years ago. These are printed instructions no more cryptic than the instructions distributed with Ikea bookshelves.)

The svelte Beavers set off, towing their ever-present grimy trailer, affectionately called Wally. They review the provided plane tickets. Teams will be allowed to search for faster plane connections, so expect much faux drama over that.

The Lint Family departs at 3:08 a.m. amid a flurry of words, all sports-related clichés about trying the hardest. And a fart joke.

The Beleavers get rolling at 4:02 and inexplicably taunt the teams with a one-hour lead. Faithful Collie declares his team the underdogs. Wicked Widow Weaver extols Collie for managing to achieve some level of pubescence, and for tolerating the nauseating sisters without yet rushing headlong into high-speed traffic. In this smug family so convinced of imminent Rapture, young Collie may be the only one worth saving.

The first two teams arrives at the "international" airport in Bumblefuck, Montana and begin to shop for another plane. Preferably one with those newfangled jet engines. And time is ticking away. Luckily, Our Lord and Savior Jesus hand-delivers the Beleavers to the airport in time to make that first flight, and we are all off to Minneapolis.

Yeah. Fuckin’ woo hoo – Minneapolis.
Did I mention this season sucks?

When the group lands, the Beavers split. They locate a quicker connection to Montreal. The Lints and the Beleavers find an even better connection through Toronto, and fly off together. When that plane arrives, both teams sprint for the next airline counter. After a long run through the terminal, Phallic Lint and Collie Beleaver collide at the counter and collapse together on the floor. They get up laughing over the incident, and Phallic helps Collie "get up" and claps him on the back good-naturedly.

Among rational humans, this would be a moment for laughter, a break in the tension, a small respite in the heat of competition. But from across the airport the Wicked Widow Weaver shrieks that some man is touching her son. She summons Homeland Security, the Anti-Gay Alliance, Rev. Wildmon and the entire Vatican Swiss Guard. She later explains to her family that Phallic was "pushing" Collie.

Leaving Mom to fabricate tales of persecution, Big sister Sausage congratulates aggressive little brother Collie for “getting down and dirty.” (Ick. The thought of any incestuous relations here is downright nauseating, and I’m not going to make that joke. Not me. Unh-uh. I’m not that twisted. But I’m sure Collie has noticed his size 14 sisters bulging out of their size 5 clothes, and if the Pink Hot Pants of Jesus have inspired nocturnal emissions, well then I’d rather not even bring that up. So to speak. If Collie wants to hump their legs, well, that might be the best Sausage ever gets.)

Over at the Lints camp, Phallic is angry over Collie’s illegal tackle. Upon further review, it is easy to see that Collie deliberately pulled Phallic’s backpack, causing Phallic to stumble to the ground while Collie attempted to sidestep a collision. “They suck,” says Phallic. (Can't be true. The Beleavers are far too uptight for oral sex.) “They’re rude and obnoxious,” says Makin' Lint, “and its getting personal.”

We cut to Commercials, which normally I would discuss, but we’ve got two hours to cover, and frankly, my time is more valuable than any advertising on this piece of crap television show. The sponsors are BP, which gave away a lifetime supply of gas; AOL, which appeals to the sort of moron who needs Internet training wheels; Sears, where selfsame morons purchase cheap appliances; Chase, Toyota and T-Mobile. There’s no more Roaming Gnome because Travelocity got the word that this particularly crappy version of the show would not actually involved travel of any sort above hauling grimy campers through Utah for weeks on end.

When we return from commercials, we begin to understand what’s become of The Amazing Race. In a moved copied from the reality-killing editors at Fox, we are shown the exact same two minutes of footage we saw before the commercial break. Yes, this is CBS, but not every viewer has Alzheimer’s or ADHD.

The Wicked Widow Weaver, once again displaying her ignorance of something as simple as air travel, approaches an airport employee who pities her stupidity. The woman ushers the Beleavers into some back office, where the fat, pimply daughters are sold as whores to strapping lumberja… oh, no. That’s what I hoped for. Instead, a secret society of Radical Christians arranges for the Beleavers to be whisked ahead of the others, transported by Gabriel’s Silver Winged Vessel of Superior Morals. The Lints? They have to settle for a human conveyance, also known as the very same exact airplane.

Up in the sky, The Beavers rub themselves contentedly, blissfully ignorant that the other two teams found a better flight. We get another Alzheimer’s recap, where Phil describe the subway tunnel challenge.

Lints and Beleavers arrive in Montreal, and search for minivan taxis capable of hauling all four teammates and the cameraman. It’s a difficult moment that requires much pointing and shouting, and in the case of Collie, some pidgin Spanish in a French speaking province.

The Lord sayeth: Let there be Ted.
And there was Ted.

The Beleavers pile into a minivan taxi, and instruct the driver to take them to the subway station. The Wicked Widow Weaver asks the driver’s name and he responds, “They call me – Ted.” The Beleavers respond by chanting his name, flashing cleavage and winks, and butchering basic French phrases.

Haaave you met Ted? Ted is an Archangel – not in the Gabriel's golden trumpet, first lieutenant of God's Army mold, but more in the earthbound John Travolta, loose feathers in my windbreaker mold. Ted's the scruffy Archangel. And the Beleavers just latch on to Archangel Ted like he was that last bottle of communion wine.

The Lints, meanwhile, find a driver with a Caribbean accent whose name is not as important as his desire to see a big tip. He's black, which is a metaphor for absolute evil. When the Lints ask him to drive fast, he asks if they have "big money" for him.
Battle of the Network Cab Drivers: Greed versus Faith.
(Not that those things have ever been mutually exclusive.)

Somewhere over Saskatchewan, the loose Beavers tense up when they get the word from the pilot that their landing will be delayed. This adds to the suspense, I suppose.

Archangel Ted’s Silver Chariot of Redemption delivers The Beleavers to the subway station in the center of Montreal. The Wicked Widow Weaver hypnotizes Ted to wait for them while they fetch their next cl… instruction.

Each with its own pros and cons.

Phil reveals a Detour called Slide It, or Roll It.

In Slide It, teams have to travel aboot 20 miles to an ice rink, and try curling, which is basically shuffleboard on ice. In Roll it, teams have to travel aboot 20 miles to an aboretum, where they have to use lumberjack tools to roll four logs along an elevated course.

Both of these tasks look incredibly simple, not the least bit scary. Boring, cheap and stupid. This is the final episode? Can’t we have something a little more dangerous, like in previous seasons? Hang glide into caverns? Leap off a cliff? Climb atop a bridge? Fellate a homeless guy? (Oh wait. Tara did that for fun.)

The Beleavers emerge back on the street, and Archangel Ted appears before them with his Silver Chariot of Redemption. He assures them he knows where he is going, and the Beleavers, um… believe. Foolish Christians.

The Lints arrive at the subway station and run through various tunnels, passing the unseen clue box despite an 11-person production crew scrunched into the corner. The Beavers arrive in Montreal and begin looking for a taxi. Oh my Heaven! Archangel Ted has taken the Beleavers to the wrong arena. The Lints are lost in the tunnels, and retracing their steps. Oh the drama.


Commercials.
Not gonna mention the new GMC, or King Kong, or Alka-Seltzer, or Hallmark moments that can turn a mature young woman into a small child. I will mention Poppin’ Fresh the Pillsbury Doughboy only because if heredity has any validity, Collie Beleaver might as well get a big hat right now. And despite this marketing, biscuit dough probably makes really, really bad tacos. Febreeze is here, but there’s no insipid Family Moments. Probably because there’s no one still alive who wishes well for the Beleavers.

When we return, the wandering Lints stumble into the instruction box and the Detour. They chose “shuffleboard on ice,” but their driver is completely ignorant as to the location. The well-groomed Beavers hail a cab and head for the subway station.

Archangel Ted uses a cell phone to get directions to the correct arena, which is on the complete other side of the city, miles and miles away, and probably a waste of a good hour. Inexplicably, the Weavers cheer this news. During the ride to the correct rink, Archangel Ted gives them tips on curling. God intervenes again when the Lints ask someone on the street to direct their driver to the arena, and they are sent off in the wrong direction.

Finally, the Beleavers arrive at the correct ice rink, and with the help of Lord Jesus, they Walk On Water (subzero version) for the first time. Master curlers assist, Archangel Ted observes, and we get a nauseating crotch shot as Sausage throws the first puck, called a “stone” at the target, called a “house.” This is a challenge fit for our charming Beleavers: Throw stones at houses.

The Lints arrive at the wrong rink, and stand around puzzled. The Beavers arrive at the subway, and run past the instruction box, then find it as they retrace their steps. Like good little Beavers, they choose the logs.

Wicked Widow Weaver throws a stone. Stay-Puft throws a stone. Collie throws a perfect bullseye, proving again that he, and not Jesus, has been the one force keeping this team alive. Unfortunately, he can’t read. Collie, Montreal is NOT pronounced “Montel.” Makes you wonder how this team would do with a challenge that involves geography.

This “clue” tells them to drive to the American Pavilion from the World Expo of 1967. The next instruction box is on the fifth floor of the exterior staircase. The Beleavers climb in the cab, and Archangel Ted is already phoning for directions. Yes, the man is a professional cab driver, and he has to phone for directions to one of the most recognizable landmarks in all of Can'tada. Weavers again cheer this hopelessly lost driver, because he is, after all, Archangel Ted.

Lints arrive at the rink. Begin the task. Despite some clowning, they fail to fall on their asses. Beavers interact with logs. (Code for something, I’ll have ask the Weasel.)

Archangel Ted finally gets un-lost, and mutters, “Thank God.” The Beleavers latch onto this comment as if Ted were delivering them from Israel. They grill Archangel Ted about his love of the Sweet Baby Jesus, and share their belief that God has truly guided them into Ted's hands. Pfft. If God were truly guiding Ted's hands, he'd bitchslap them all before driving headlong into 100 mph traffic.

Tummy Lint gets stoned, and his brother shouts, “Go, Boner!” Prick Lint throws his stone. Wally and the Beavers complete their first log.
Beleavers find the geodesic dome of the American Pavilion, and stupid little Stay-Puft says, “that’s pretty crazy they built something that cool back then.” Once again, Archangel Ted prays to God that he’s found the right place. What the Beleavers don’t understand is that even an angel would be happy to push these lunatics out of his cab for the last time.

Makin' Lint throws her stone into the house. She does fall on her ass.

The Beloved Beleavers get lost, but eventually climb the right stairs and retrieve their next instruction, which directs them to an industrial warehouse. Another exotic location for Bruck & Bertie. Nice job dudes. The challenge here is to find the instruction box at La Porte J and get the next envelope. The Beleavers go back to the Silver Chariot of Redemption, and provide more metaphoric handjobs for Archangel Ted.

The Lints are looking for the American Pavilion, and one of the indistinguishable brothers tells the driver to “Andale.” Makin' Lint suggests asking old people for directions to this famous building (constructed in 1967) because “those ol corpsefuckers were around at the time.” You know, ancient times.

The Beavers can't get the log up, and the Beavers are getting frustrated.

Commercials.
Verizon’s V wireless camera/phone/web browser with keyboard … Kmart … Citizen’s expensive watches, with a racecar-themed commercial designed to make the Weavers cry… Nestle prepackaged cookie dough in holiday shapes. Snap off a piece with your kids today … animated spiders zonk out on cough syrup… Jim Carrey gets to boink Tea Leoni … a bunch of CBS promos… send flowers or we’ll kill Christmas… Lord of the Rings onstage. Huh?

Back to the Beavers, and those uncooperative logs. Ever-helpful Wally coaches two of his lovely Stepford Beavers through their first “log” experience.

Archangel Ted’s Silver Chariot of Redemption is humming along the highway, and the Beleavers are having a prayer session to sing Ted's praises. The Lints ask their driver to pull over – again – to get directions to the American Pavilion, which is clearly visible from where they are. The Stepford Beavers finally complete the log thing, and head for the American Pavilion. Archangel Ted and the Beleavers find the warehouse, and break out in a gospel revival.

Detour.
This Detour involved a trapeze school located in the industrial park. One member of each team must swing upside down on a trapeze, and then catch on to the hands of a professional trapeze artist swinging on another bar. Since neither Sausage or Stay-Puft can actually be held aloft by anything other than heavy cranes, faithful puppy Collie is drafted and gets his instructions.

The Lints eventually find the instruction box at the big golf ball, and head for LaPorte J. The Beavers steam toward the ball. Collie succeeds at swinging amid shrieks of delight from his over-inflated siblings. The next envelope directs them to Stade Olympique where they have to drive a golf cart through the single open entrance. Archangel Ted whisks them away, while the Wicked Widow Weaver praises Collie, and give him a biscuit and a belly rub.

Lints arrive at the trapeze task, and Makin' Lint gets all excited at the chance to swing with someone other than her brothers. Phallic Lint declares he will do the task, and Makin’s enthusiasm is quickly crushed. Naturally, Phallic fails. Repeatedly. But this is a determined Phallic, and he's still straining when the Beavers come.
Arrive. At the trapeze place. For the swinging.

Speaking of the Big O, the Beleavers arrive at Olympic Stadium and spend most of the rest of the day driving around the place in a golf cart looking for the entrance.

And now that Blonde Beaver #3 is ready to swing, Phallic Lint is overcome with performance anxiety.


Commercials.


Nope. Don’t care.



Back to the show, and Phallic overcomes his problem and hooks up with the swinging man. Off to the stadium! Of course they get lost, and have to ask for directions when they are only 200 yards away from a massive stadium.


Blonde Beaver #3 completes the trapeze task in one try, and they are off to Olympic Stadium as well, catching up with the Lints outside. Meanwhile, the Beleavers are attempting to drive the golf cart through metal elevator doors. Now everyone is in a golf cart and looking for the door.

Beleavers get on to the field first, and find they will need to search the 50,000-seat stadium for one of three boxes. Each box has a staggered departure time for a charter flight to a mystery location.

All three charter flights leave within a 10 minute period the next morning. An inconsequential difference, yet we spend 9 minutes of airtime looking for a stupid ticket. There’s no fucking way it matters which flight you are on. Bruck & Bertie are gonna bunch them up again a mile from the finish line. They know it. We know it.

But Bruck needs these racers to look busy in order to fool the few remaining viewers, so he places these useless envelopes behind three random seats. Much drama ensues as the teams wander aimlessly through the seats. Wicked Widow Weaver falls asleep on a cot. Sausage and Stay-Puft decide to stop looking, and Collie squats by the cots, panting and licking himself. We get a hint that perhaps the Beleavers have lost contact with Heaven and are about to quite the race. No such luck.

Commercials.
GMC is promising a webcast challenge unworthy of even this dismal broadcast … Dogs get lost, let's inject them with an ID tag … Sasha Cohen, hot enough to melt ice, and I'd buy whatever she was selling but I really never saw what it was … BobbyJon Thornton in Bad News Bears … some power tool toothbrush … and Pepcid AC, which would have been advisable before this broadcast began … a buncha CBS promos … aw fuck this let’s go watch the Beleavers wrestle with a crisis in faith.

When we return, Collie's incessant whimpers manage to annoy his crybaby family to a level where they get off their ever expanding asses ... and go stand around while he fetchs the last charter plane ticket. The Beleavers decide to skip those restful midfield naps and go straight to the airport. When they arrive, they moan about being on the last of the three flights. Maybe you should have looked a little harder for the ticket instead of that staging that weepy drama, you fat little shits. Burn in hell for making me watch that.

Eventually the three planes take off nearly simultaneously, and each team makes a little speech about giving their all, final day, team to beat, a million dollars, yada yada brak brak brak.

The secret mission planes soon land in ultra secret location. Toronto, of course, the only other major city in Frozen Mooseland. This place is easily identifiable by the big needle of the CN Tower. Sure enough, teams have to ride to the observation deck of the world’s tallest building, and use binoculars to find their next location somewhere on the ground.

Both the Beavers and the Lints deduce that "Le Tower CN" is probably that big pointy thing visible for hundreds of miles. The Beleavers have to stop at QuikeeMart and prosteltyze until Apu gives them a map to shut them up.

The Beavers mount the pointy thing, and Wally tells them to spread. I suspect this is an attempt to distract the Lint team. Soon all three teams get to the top of the tower, and stand around staring out the window. Yes, we're getting close to the end, and this is an action challenge. The Beavers complain about getting sweaty, and the Lint brothers immediately train their binoculars on the sweaty Beavers.

When The Beleavers arrived at the tower, Collie made a little small talk with the elevator operator.
“How long have you been in your job, Adam?”
“Three years.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“It has its ups and downs.”
“Literally.”
Does anyone else think this was scripted?

First the Beavers, then the Lints, spot the big yellow banner at the go-cart track next to the river. The Lints run for the elevator. The Beavers stick around and use the view as a life size map to plot the course to the next stop.


Despite watching he other two teams cluster together, whisper excitedly and point at a single specific location, The Beleavers have no idea where to look. Luckliy they are now alone at the top of the tower, nearer to God than all other people on earth. They drop to their knees and beg the Lord to help them.




Bzzt... You have reached the Jesus Hotline. Our Lord and Savior the Sweet Baby Jesus can't take your call right now because he is currently occupied with the New York Giants. If you'd like, you can leave an Angelus after the bell. If you are calling about the New York Mets, please be advised that franchise has exceeded the allotment this holiday season. From all of here at the Sweet Baby Jesus Birthday Hotline – Happy Holidays!



Commercials.
... but who can wait? We need to know if Sweet Baby Jesus will return to Earth as Savior and Lord!

When we return, the Lints are pressing up against the Beavers in the elevator, and both teams hope that The Beleavers screw up. Sure enough, up at the top of the tower, Stay-Puft is using the reflection in the glass to examine her zits. Collie is looking out the window, and Mom is looking at the wall while imploring Jesus, or Collie, to save them. Surprisingly, it is Sausage who actually spots the flag.

Off we all go the the instruction box by the river. sigh. When the three teams arrive, they find another Detour.

Pros and Cons, ya know.

Phils says this is something unique to Toronto. “Ship” involves sailing across the harbor to a restored old boat. Yup, that’s unique to Toronto all right. Never seen the “old boat in the harbor” thing before. How clever of you Bertie. This season, when they get to the old ship, someone needs to climb the mast to retrieve a flag.

The other choice is Shoe, which involves traveling to The Bata Shoe Museum. They must choose a pair of shoes, and then search through 100 barefoot women to find the one woman who fits the shoes. I don’t buy a lot of women’s shoes (most of mine were gifts), but this seems pretty odd. In a crowd of 100 women, a random pair of shoes will fit only one of those women? And is this challenge here because Bertie has a foot fetish?

Lints aren’t completely stupid – they choose Sail. The Beavers, veteran shoe shoppers, pick Shoe. The Beleavers, who are incapable of purchasing clothing that fits, wisely choose Ship.


While the Lints and the Beleavers raise the sails and move across the river, the Beavers go off and find the shoe museum. And are immediately certain they chose the wrong task.

The Lints arrive at the other ship, retrieve the flag, and the next set of instructions. They are off to find a boat ramp in Queenston, Ontario, near Niagara Falls.

The next event-that’s-not-really-a-challenge is a ride in a jet boat into the Niagara whirlpool, where they have to snag an envelope off a buoy.

As the Lints run off, the Beleavers approach the docked ship, confident they are in second place. Cut to the shoe museum, where The Beavers are struggling with a tight fit. Wally: “we’re getting screwed.” Such is the plight of Beavers.

Commercials.
BP reminds us they’re still a benevolent and loving megamonolithic oil company … Victoria’s Secret models in their sexiest underwear selling perfume, I believe (I’ll go back and check) … And how to follow a wank-worthy VS commercial with an ad for “The 40-Year-Old Virgin.” … AOL … Chase, with twins, but not those nasty Olsen skanks … Mr Goodwrench will keep you safe if Jumani elephants run down Main Street … Ghost Whisperer is STILL ON? Jennifer Lovetodoit in a haunted comedy club … a few other shows no one watches … Julie Chen … news blurb on the NYC transit strike … Lexus … and a travel commercial for Ontario, Can’tada, what a coincidence!

Back to the shoe museum and the Beavers finally locate Cinderella. She gives them a lovely yellow envelope, and they are off to the boat ramp. Along the way one of the girls actually asks, “Isn’t Niagara Falls, like, a huge waterfall?” *sigh* I supposed when you are a blonde Beaver, cute has to be good enough.

Back at the river, Collie is sent to fetch the flag atop the mast. “Go on Collie, go get it! Attaboy Collie!” … which he drops as he climbs down. Miraculously, it falls onto the dock. The Beleavers head for the boat ramp.

The amazing race to the boat ramp. The Lints are driving along, headed for Queenston, when Tummy "Boner" Lint makes this observation: “We just did a complete circle around the United States.” If you are wondering why they call this brother “Boner” … well, check out the lump in his pants!

The Beavers are driving along the same stretch of road, taking the Queenston exit and hoping that the Beleavers don’t win because “the Mom is a wacko. “

These two facts, perhaps more than any other, are why no one is watching at this point.

Now off to the Beleavers car, where we see them in the same stretch of road. Stay-Puft has to remind Mom which way to turn to get to Queenston. Mom doesn’t think they are going to Queenston. Huh? With one million dollars on the line, and a finish line probably less than 100 miles away, Mom has forgotten where she is supposed to go! How does this imbecile ever get home from work each day?

Once they arrive in Queenston, the Lints ask a jogger for directions to the boat ramp. Once they arrive in Queenston, the Beavers ask a jogger for directions to the boat ramp. “Yeah,” he answers. “I already told your friends.”


The Lints arrive at the dock and board a boat just as the Beavers drive up. The boats zoom up the river, through the rapids and into the whirlpool. The Beavers are soaking wet and so excited they are screaming.
The Lints retrieve the last envelope, and it directs them to find the finish line in Lewiston, New York.

Lewiston, New York, that hotbed of vibrant culture. A center of global commerce, modern art, technological marvels and international relations. Yes Ilse, we’ll always have Lewiston.

Lewiston, New York. Population: 16,257. Land Area: 41 square miles. The town does not even have its own high school. Oh, but they are six miles away from Niagara Falls – which might have been a nice place for a finish line. There are several parks with a nice view of that little waterfall thing. Spread a little Jew Gold, and you have the best visual finish line in TAR history. But no. We’re gonna finish on a local bike path 10 minutes down river from one of the great American natural wonders.

Bruck & Bertie, you cheap rat bastards. I hope you choke on that Pagan Jew Gold!

Lints and Beavers head for the shoreline and Lewiston, and the Beaver girls are pleading with Dad to run fast when they hit dry land. Beleavers arrive at the dock and take off in their jet boat, which is probably faster than walking on water in this case. Unfortunately for the viewers, the Niagara whirlpool is downstream of the famous falls.

Lints arrive at the dock in the park and open the last envelope to find a Roadblock. In case you’ve forgotten what I wrote 5,000 words ago, the final challenge is a big jigsaw puzzle. There are 71 pieces, representing all 50 United States, however many states there are in that hockey-lovin wasteland, and a few Central American countries that may or may not have been visited by The Amazing Race.

A million dollars is at stake, and it is a stupid kindergarten geography puzzle.

The Lints head for the puzzle, with Beavers hot on their tail. Only one team member can work on the puzzle, so we have a final Rand McNally challenge pitting Prick Lint against Wally “Just hold on a minute” Beaver.

Tense music build. The Beaver girls are nervously cheering – “Dad, we love you.” The Lint siblings are nervously cheering – “C’mon, Shorty!”

Both teams have half the puzzle completed, and we cut away to watch the Beleavers zoom around in the boat. Collie collects the last clue, and they head for the park.

Puzzle building… tension building. Cincinnati’s Prick Lint can’t locate Ohio. Makin’ Lint does a little dance, or perhaps that was a seizure. Damn kids today.

Eventually, all the big pieces are in the puzzle, and both boards are down to the stupid little annoying states like Vermont, Connecticut, Delaware, NooJoisey. Eastern Liberal Shitholes that oughta be pushed off the map anyway in George Dubya’s America.

Prick puts in his last piece, and slaps the board. Nova Scotia falls out. Wally thinks he’s completed the board, then realizes he somehow lost Rhode Island. While he reaches for Rhode Island, the Lints grab their packs and sprint for Phil and the finish mat.

The seven previously eliminated teams whoop and holler as the Lints and Beavers come running down the path. The Lints have separated and are screaming at each other. The Beavers are all holding hands and telling Dad how proud they are. And we are supposed to be fooled into thinking that there is an actual footrace going on? Ha!


The Lints sprint on to the mat, and Phil is there to greet them.

Twenty five days, 50 cities, and more than 600 consecutive hours together as a family, Lints Family, you are the official winners of The Amazing Race.

The Lints cheer, they cry, they kiss and hug. They wave the Beavers onto to the mat.

Phil congratulates the Beavers. No one pays attention. Phil asks the Lints what this feels like. No one pays attention. Makin’ Lint says she’s done running, never gonna run in her entire life. No one cares. Phil talks about Wally. No one cares, except Twee, who cheers from the crowd.

Brak brak brak. My girls are great. Blah blah blah We love you dad. La la la Lots of integrity. WE DON’T CARE. The only thing America wants to see right now is this: The Wicked Widow Weaver and The Geometry Puzzle.

And sure enough, in a season full of miserable disappointment and missed opportunities, we are denied even that small pleasure. The Beleavers come trotting to the mat, undoubtably skipping the puzzle because the Lints had already finished.

Phil welcomes the Beleavers, and the applause is underwhelming. Brak brak brak, Dad is dead, Mom is great… Mom say “Collie wouldn’t give up, Sausage is made of steel, and Stay-Puft has kept her eyes on the Lord.“ Personally, I thought she was keeping her eyes on the Krispy Kremes. But the Lord works in mysterious ways.

A few more maudlin quotes about the wonders of family, lots of milling around hugging each other. Caressa leaps into the arms of Stay-Puft. That last pose on the winner’s mat. A last smirk from a Lint brother.

*Poot*

And at last, we are free. Free of the festering stench of The Amazing Race Family Edition.


******

Good news.
Phil returns to say:
"Coming this February: Five continents, 60,000 miles, and 11 teams of two."

The real Amazing Race will return.



Praise Jesus.

  ¶ 2:40 PM 4 Comments

  Episode Ten: It Still Hasn't Ever Fucking Ended, This Story by Landru

Oh, look. It's another episode of TAR and I'm summarizin'. Look, Survivor is on. I ain't summarizin' that. Newp. Not me. I been...demoted. I shoulda been more articulate. I shoulda been more personable. I shoulda written better summaries, like Dweeze and Wheeze and Teejze and other, more lucid entities in the pantheon of Circle Of. But no. I am an inarticulate, non-personable, lousy-summary-writin' TAR writer, destined to become the one god on Olympus with no believers, no followers, no belief in my divinity to sustain my ability to make the rain fall and the sun shine and small, perfectly sized thunderstorms appear o'ertop the about-to-be-smote heads of my followers' enemies. Since, y'know, I'm a little short in the follower department. Damn. Shoulda thought about this when I helped draw the Circle, huh? Next time? It's gonna be me and The Circle of People Who Push Popsicle Sticks Into Their Ears, you betcha.

You know the rules. It's a TAR summary, I have to whine about it not being Survivor. This dates back to the very-nearly-famous-even-in-places-other-than-Ilse's-mind blue taxis summary* I wrote during TAR...beats the fuck outta me what season it was. It was back when TAR hadn't jumped whatever it is bad shows jump in a perfectly non-clichéd world. There were blue taxis. They were in Brazil. They sucked clues outta dancers' buttcracks. They made some poor old ladies hang-glide down a cliff. The Bickersons cheated. I dunno what season it was, but y'know what night I was writing that summary? It was the night that nurse John in Survivor: Marquesas needed Kathy Vavrick O'Brien to pee on his hand. The Best. Summary. Joke. Ever.

And all I got was blue taxis. Fuck this fucking show.

*Actually...y'know what? Having found it (it was from TAR2) and linked to it and reread it, I'm discovering that this thing actually is a fucking classic. It was my summary debut. It started the blue thing and the commercials thing. I invented snot poetry and the Transportation Terminal Mob Scene. And it is actual documentary evidence that I invented brak brak brak and you people should be paying me royalties for using it. And finally: this summary made Ilse fall in love with me. No lie. That alone transcends all other human achievement. Give up, disease-curers, crop geneticists, and Nobel Peace Prize winners. I bagged Ilse.

Had enough whining? No, actually, I don't think you have. Here's some whining for you:


(Photo credit: Someone we stole this picture from, and Gothmog)

Want more? Nah, I thought not.


  ¶ 10:00 PM 5 Comments

  Episode Nine: The Neverfuckingending Story by Kimmah

You know how sometimes a good thing just drags on and on until you just want to kick it death and watch it die a quick, yet painful death? You know, sort of like Friends? This is what The Amazing Race Family Edition, Final Four is becoming. This group of people will NOT go away. The four most nerve-grating teams in the history of reality television and they are STILL ON MY TELEVISION this week. Why? Why? Why? And, in a cruel twist of fate...well. I'll tell you that part in a minute.

Last week on TAR, Jesus Mama and the Holy Roller Kids were saved by the Phil at the mat with a non-elimination leg because everyone knows that God loves a whiner. Around the world, good Christians threw their Bibles at the televisions and and cursed Jerry Bruckheimer as the most religiously offensive family on network t.v. managed to salvage another week in the spotlight that is TAR 8. I threw up a little in my mouth at the sight of them blathering about their goodness. Smack them already, Phil. You know you want to.

Have you checked out the link on CBS's page where you can see Phil's own photos? I did because I didn't have any pictures to help make this summary interesting. I have to say, I'm impressed with Phil's ability to take pictures of himself?!

Phil at the ranch:



This week's episode begins with the teams going to Park City High School--who said that this season was boring? High school is FUN, folks. That's my kind of excitement!!! /end pathetic attempt at perkiness. The Linzes--who I thought were the Lintzes all this time--are the first to leave. They find out that they will be helping a team inflate a hot air balloon. This will be no problem for them since they are nothing if not chock effing full of hot air. They are visibily glad that there will be no academics involved in this leg of the race, although frankly, it isn't as if they were in any real danger of being smoked by the other teams. This has to be 16 of the dimmest people ever gathered together in SUVs.

Oh, look, clouds! Thanks, Phil!


The first three teams all arrive at the high school and get to camp out at the school, thinking that they are going to have some advantage over the team that was A. yielded and B. in last place and C. nearly eliminated oh, and D. has no money. Bwahahahahahahaha. This is The Amazing Race. There is no penalty for being last, not when there is a prime opportunity for bunching to occur and that is exactly what happens, even though hot air balloons can easily launch at 5 a.m. Mama Weaver, ever the Christian good sport, taunts the crowd as she arrives, asking the Lintzes if they are sorry that they wasted their yield. Nothing like raving in the manner of a banshee to bond with the other racers. The woman is about three inches from the precipice of insanity. Make that two.

The Lint family gets to inflate their balloon first, for all the good that does. The other teams quickly follow and soon the Bransen family is in the air with the Lints. And then they are a little TOO close to the Lints as they manage to nearly have a mid-air collision with them. You can see how that would happen, what with only the wide-open sky for them to try to manuever around in and all. Sadly, they all survive and no one is dashed to the ground in a spectacular crashing fireball. That? would have put the Amazing back in TAR. None of the Weavers are thrown from their balloon, either, despite Rolly being dragged a bit on takeoff and a jolt or two that had me giddy with excitement and a landing on a steep hill where they manage to degondola safely. The teams read "clues" and learn that they have to find the oh-so-exciting Heber Valley Railway in Heber City.

Excuse me while I take a nap during the most boring "race" ever. I can't believe they even get away with calling this The Amazing Race. Where the hell is the FCC? Race implies excitement. A race implies competition. Amazing implies things that amaze or awe. The only word in the title that isn't false advertising is the. This show is most definitely THE. The shit. The suckiest reality show on CBS. The saddest decline of a once-great show in reality television history.

From Phil--a picture of barbed wire. Evidently they don't have that in his land of man boobs and sweaters.




Anyway, back to the monotony of four groups of incompetent related people stumbling around the American West looking for boring things to do while being filmed. Oh, look, in Heber City, it's a Detour. A Detour is a choice between two tasks.



One of them will make people sweat, the other will require luck and someone to fuck Phil off camera in order to make things go their way (example, Mama Weaver and the magic red bean or the Black Jack hand). This Detour involved building 20-feet of railroad track (cue I've Been Working on the Railroad) or lugging 400 pounds of coal to fill up a steam engine. The track building emphasizes precision. The coal task empasizes brawn. Evidently, this day was opposites day in TAR land--maybe the high altitude was affecting brains or something--because the Lints decided to do the precision task despite being much better suited for all things brawny, as did the Godeshuthefuckups and the Bransens. The Weavers chose the coal task despite being much better suited for all...oh, well, I guess they were really fifty/fifty, weren't they?

Train Art a la Phil:



The Lints set to work building as do the others, while Mama Jesus and her disciples haul coal. The Holy crew comes up with a rather efficient relay system, which is impressive from a group that didn't know Pennsylvania was a state. The railbuilders are less effective. The Lints complete their task, but it doesn't pass inspection. Meanwhile, Team Bransen is being led by Daddy Wally who is better a swinging a sledgehammer than he has been at any other physical endeavor thus far. My hope that he would bash someone in the face doesn't happen, but one of the Bransen Look-Alike sisters does get bonked on the head, which is always good for a laugh. Unfortunately, they are able to soldier on with their task, so we are left with four teams. The Weavers are kicking ass and taking names, in a Christian manner, of course, and they manage to finish their task and pass the Godeshutthefuckups. This group of Look-Alike-Sisters is the biggest clusterfuck of females I've ever seen assembled in one family unit. How the hell have they managed not to get run over, lost, or fall into a crevass yet? It is their luck that they weren't sent off to India or China or some "real" foreign country, or they'd all still be lost over there. As usual, they bicker and fuss and fight during their task. I don't even pretend to know which sister this one is, but I think her overall deameanor speaks for itself. This woman is a walking disaster.


They cannot agree on how to complete their task, so they snipe. And bitch. And complain. And fight. Somewhere, a corportate sponsor paid money to put this shit on the air. They finally finish their task and get in the car, where they still fight and one of them whines some more and then the tears come in. I hate this group almost as much, no, actually more, than I do the Weavers. At least the Weavers are 3/4 children.

Please take a moment to appreciate Phil's artistic side. Perhaps someone had to take a pee break on the side of the road? Or maybe Phil thought that the reflectors looked pretty? Who knows:



The teams are told to drive to Salt Flats (I'm not even going to pretend like they were looking for a "clue"). Once there, they found the Tree of Utah and then were told to drive 400 more miles to Bear Lake. Teams would be departing from the Lake the next morning at 15 minute intervals--can you say "contrived bunching TAR style?" Why, yes, yes you can.

The next morning, the teams get up and get ready to go, but the Lints family is screwed by CBS. Their vehicle's battery has been drained. Not by any fault of one of the dumbass Lints brothers or the sister. Not because someone accidently left the light on in the back of the SUV. Nope. It is drained due to a CBS production error. This throws the Lints family from FIRST to FOURTH. As far as I am concerned, The Amazing Race is now officially over. It is bad enough that inept, shitty teams schelp around the United States pretending to look for "clues" in some faux "race", but when Bubba the cameraman juices up his equipment and as a result penalizes one of the teams and the team isn't given any compensation for something that is totally and completely not their fault for no reason other than I suppose it will add drama to the show? Fuck that. TAR, you SUCK. This show is stupid.

Photo break because my nerves need to be soothed--here is a road courtesy of Phil. No idea where it is or why the foliage is so out of focus.



Because I have a job to do, I'll tell you the rest, but please note the underlying tone of pissed offedness from here on out:

The teams get to the next fucking stop where they are faced with a stupid Roadblock that uses the inane phrase Cowboy Up, which I am tired to death of hearing and would venture to guess not one stinking soul on the TAR staff has ever used correctly since they evidently suck ass.

Even Phil knows this is a lameass challenge. Look how uninspired this photo is:


Two members from each team have to ride a damn horse and herd six cattle 1/4 of a mile. This challenge sucks, too, like most of the show. Where are the broken donkeys or balancing pots on your head? When the teams finish the "challenge", they are given what the TAR producers think is a clue. They've really stretched their brains on this one. "I'm Old and I'm Faithful." I swear to God, it is as if this shit is being produced for third graders. The task that they have to complete at Old Faithful is mind-boggling in its sheer stupidity. Keep in mind, this show is called The Amazing Race. They had to put a minimum age on the contestants because they didn't want anyone to get hurt doing the challenges or anything. Fuck. For the next leg, the teams will:

GO WATCH OLD FAITHFUL ERUPT.

I shit you not, folks. This is what the once mighty TAR, winner of Emmys has been reduced to. Go watch a geyser erupt. And not one that you might have to wait around on or do any sort of hunting for. Oh, no. Go stand around and watch the geyser that erupts like clockwork every 90 minutes. You can find it even without the stupid red and yellow flags because there are signs, sidewalks and national park guides to take you there. If you miss them, the throngs of people will surely lead you there. The only difficult thing about the entire stupid task will be suffering through the smell because Old Faithful smells like ass. This is not one of Phil's photos, but it did come to mind when I thought of "smells like ass" for some reason.



The Weavers were in the lead leaving the horsey challenge because the girls were so used to riding things. On their way out, they have a little power struggle with the Lints family because only one team can use the road at a time. The Weavers are outbound and the Lints are inbound. The rules give the Weavers the right of way, much to their delight. I have to admit is at least a little bit entertaining because it breaks the monotony, but it's also infuriating because the Lints family shouldn't be last due to a cameraman's fault. I don't like them well enough to really get too mad about it for them personally, though. I'm still seething about it from a show standpoint, though.

The Weavers arrived at the park first and despite 134 different indicators that I mentioned previously, these dumbasses had to ask someone to take them to the geyser. *bang head repeatedly* They watched Old Faithful with the Bransens and I half expected Mama Weaver to tell her children this was the Statue of Liberty since she has such a keen grasp of key American points of interest. The two teams haul ass to find Phil, but then, the unthinkable happens. When they arrive, they are told to step on the mat TOGETHER.

WTF???

Remember when I started this godawful summary and I ranted about the fact that something never end? Well, this leg of the race is NEVER going to end. Ever. It's a double leg! Aren't you glad? Aren't you happy? Yet again, another week of four families racing across this great nation. Woot! Do you realize that a team hasn't been eliminated since, like Halloween? Actually, it was November 8, which was practically Halloween. We were all still eating Halloween candy. It will be FOUR weeks between eliminations...unless they decide to drag this out again, God forbid. So, I bid you farewell with the follwig picture of the whiney sister. Her expression pretty much sums up how I feel about the show at this point:

  ¶ 12:10 AM 3 Comments