I Love Shirley Hemphill

I realize you may have come here seeking solace, closure...some type of justification for what happened last night. If so, you're missing the point.

I don't care.

No really. Sure, you think that since I write weekly updates praising all things Probst and capturing the pixelated private frillies of the contestants that I am obsessed with Survivor. As such, you think that after a season of trumpeting the evil prowess of one of the most interesting contestants ever, capped with an embarrassing. gutless final vote that put a forgettable no one in the winner's chair that I'm going to let loose with an endless spew of barbed insults at society.

Not so.

You see, the point isn't that Survivor is a great show, the point isn't that it's a microcosm of real life...it isn't even that it's a good respite for women to bask in a sea of glowing abs or men to bask in a sea of eye-magnet silicon (granted - both good reasons, just not THE reasons)...

It's because it's a vehicle to sing the praises of Jesus playing basketball, herald the brilliance of hanging meat, and bask in the innate perfection of the essence of Shirley Hemphill.

Yes, you read that right. Let me explain.

I've been writing these updates now for what, 18 seasons? I remember watching the finale of season 1 with a group of friends and the room absolutely exploding in shouts, cheers, jeers (OK, and yes, perhaps a smidge of flatulence...) as the unique drama unfolded. It was...fun, captivating, filled with delicious drama. Yes even a little stinky.

Believe me, I know the score. Survivor - the show - is fun, but the true fun is in experiencing it with others, sharing the outlandish drama, and, of course, in poking fun at every possible opportunity.

As a long-time viewer, I can't help but gravitate toward contestants or drama that are...different, new, unique - because over time you learn that the the "good guys" are simply forgettable, fleeting, one in a million.

However, it's never just good vs. evil, ethical vs. unethical, asshole vs. saint; I judge how good a contestant is by one simple criteria: who has played the game the best.

Because that's all it is: a game. A game show, to be even more precise. And the motto of the show is "Outwit, outplay, outlast," ...it's not "Be nice, don't lie, praise Jesus," (although maybe I should pitch this concept to "The Word" network...).

So when Russel's speech says exactly that: "If either of these contestants has outplayed me, you should vote for them. If either of these two contestants has outwitted me, you should vote for them." ...he is, of course, right.

This is a GAME SHOW. People don't come onto this show to make friends; they come to win cash.

Does it surprise me still that the jury is upset when a contestant lies?

Yes.

Does it surprise me still that the jury is surprised when a contestant lies?

Of course.

Does it surprise me still that the jury has expectations that the ultimate winner accomplish the award by being straightforward, honest and strong at all times?

Sigh. Yes yes yes. Because the ultimate hypocrisy is that the second any contestant displays any of those attributes, they are targeted and swiftly booted off the show.

Erik's speech last night could not have been more wrong. The jury wouldn't have been "rewarding" bad behavior by voting for Russel, they would have been acknowledging his ability to beat them - plain and simple. So he lied to John; had he not, he would have been on the jury. But here he was in the final tribal council instead. That's called strategy. That's called outwitting, outplaying, outlasting...

The jury didn't vote for Natalie, they voted against Russel, and as such, they made a fool of themselves. They target the strong for elimination, but reward the weak for their bad conscience. It's atrocious, but I have to say, it is definitely consistent throughout the years on this show. The best players do not always win - in fact, I'd say it's probably 50-50 over that time.

Do I think Russel is a good guy? Who cares? It doesn't matter. He played the game the best - maybe the best ever. And THAT was the point of the game.

So Natalie goes home with a million dollars - good for her. As Probst said, her strategy of attaching herself to Russel and leeching off his power is an absolute legitimate strategy. Russel's one mistake was in not realizing that the jury's votes could (and would) be arbitrary. He was clearly shaken for not winning - it looked like the man was going to blow up - and, just like the jury, his expectations were too narrow minded.

Do the best professional sports players make the All-Star teams? Of course not (for god's sake, Tracy McGrady is leading right now and hadn't played a single minute all season long). Do the best people get promoted/elected/recognized/etc.? No, no, no and no.

So what's the lesson here? What do we take from this? How do we go on without something like this weighing on our minds, holding us back, festering in a fecund swamp of flim-flam?

The answer is simple:

Look to Shirl.

Bite down on some frog jerky.

Invite Mr. Excitement over for Beatles trivia night.

Defend the honor of Mrs. Cunningham.

Dream of the day when your neighbor's lot will be razed.

Stir some mushroom gravy in your Cream of Wheat.

For god's sake people, have a piece of friggin' pie.

Because when you're a passive audience member watching a formulaic TV show populated with countless contestants whose IQs rival the wattage of my fluorescent light bulbs, there just has to be a way to have fun, make it interesting, enjoy life.

Serve it up. Add some smarmy wit. Frown and smile at the same time. Pull that half-chewed pencil from behind your ear and write down our order: make us forget how much this can suck.

That's right, look to Shirl.

Hay hay hay.

Probst Beef

Hell is for Chillin'

"Prayer warriors?!"

People, do I really even need to write an update for this episode? I mean, c'mon, doesn't it just write itself?

Is this what humanity has come to? Rallying Jesus to help a yellow pantied-exhibitionist bimbette and a hairless manchild to "guide their hands" in pulling strings from a giant coconut-filled Ker-Plunk! game?

Sheesh.

I'm not sure I can go on. And I'm not talking continuing with this blog, I'm talking life here. If I am truly the same species as these two mushheads, is there really any point to my own existence?

Sigh.

OK, let me go through this strategically so I can get my thoughts in order...

1. Let's put aside - for the sake of this discussion - the god/Santa/Tooth Fairy debate, and focus on the critical point here: this was a REWARD challenge. Rule #6 when summoning Jesus to help you while you're a contestant on Survivor is "Don't waste Jesus's time by asking Him to assist you with a reward challenge; save your summons for the Immunity challenge, and only when absolutely necessary (i.e. when the other tribe members have been super bitchy)." Of course, there is an exception to that rule, but alas, Probst was not giving out a free car to the winners of the reward challenge last night...
2. If Jesus really wanted to help someone last night, shouldn't he have first answered my prayers to have Natalie's dress malfunction...? 
3. Jesus watches Survivor? 
4. Jesus clearly prefers Shamwow over the Prayer Warriors. Right after Natalie and the manchild prayed for Jesus's assistance, Shamwow predicted 58 coconuts dropping - and Lord Almighty: He delivered 58 friggin' coconuts. What's the lesson here? Easy: Jesus doesn't like it when people are whiny babies, asking for Him to do everything for them. Stand up, take control of the situation, wear your mullet loud and proud, and spew vitriolic hatred toward your opponent. Believe me, Jesus melts at such fortitude of character and follicle prowess.
5. Wait a sec, I thought Probst was a diety? Isn't that what we learned in CCD back in the 3rd grade? "This is the day Jeff Probst has made - let us rejoice and be glad." What am I missing here...?
6. There's a guy named "Brett" on the show?

Enlightening, no? 

Look, good for Miss Yellow Panties for being so committed to her beliefs, but you can't have it both ways. You can't ask for Jesus's help for you and Manchild to win the reward challenge, and then immediately go and tell Russell that you're excited to stab Manchild in the back and boot him off as quickly as possible. Not that I don't love the hypocrisy and deception, just that you can't conveniently justify the contradiction. 

Well, OK, you can - what do I care? It's good TV.

And Russell - holy geez - the man is truly a blessing. Not only did he get cocky, but he allowed his cockiness to sway his good judgment and threw his power right in his tribemates faces at Tribal by saying, "I think I'll keep my immunity idol for a souvenir," when told it was his last week he could play it. 

Literally 100% of the time in the past, this level of cockiness results in getting voted out, but Russell is clearly Svengali to the rest of these lunkheads. IF he gets to the final tribal, and IF he doesn't win (I would say unanimously, but we all know there are too many idiots out there who may cast a vote based on something completely insulting and moronic as "choose a number")...I vow, right here and now, that if that happens, I will...turn off the reunion show with at least 10 minutes remaining. I'm not kidding people! This is serious stuff!

We're down to the wire - here's how this should go down to make Survivor Samoa one of the best seasons ever:

1. Vanilla/invisible Mick gets booted next.
2. Natalie summons Jesus to help her win the final Immunity Challenge.
3. Natalie's clothes strangely get torn to shreds in the challenge, which she then loses, resulting in her getting voted out.
4. Russell, Jaison and some guy named Brett go to the final tribal council.
5. Russell tells the entire jury they're embarrassments to the human race, weak and pathetic, simply tools for his own benefit...although none of them could benefit him in the least, as they're so useless. He commands them to both vote for him and start praying to him.
6. Some guy named Brett winks at his old tribemates during his speech, then weeps openly as he thanks Jesus because Jesus told him that he would singlehandedly lead him to to final tribal council and then guide the jury's hand in writing his name down for the million dollars.
7. Russell wins 9-0; the real Jesus winks at Brett.

I'm going to Hell...

But no worries - it's warm, I can kick it with Ghandi, and besides, Pat Benetar had it all wrong, Hell isn't for children, Hell is for chillin'.

Until Sunday,

Probst Beef

Bacon Panties

Calculated risk.

It's a terse, anxiety-laden option with absolutely no guarantees. In many cases, it doesn't even mean the odds are with you; it simply indicates that the outcome you may be hoping for is one of perhaps many possibilities. But you consider it because at some point in the future it has the potential to make a big difference - a bigger difference than the alternative: taking the easy route.

In Survivor, calculated risk is typically bullshit. Nine times out of ten, it's simply a game of chance, because contestants really don't have enough (or any) information to truly weigh possible outcomes. Everyone's in it for themselves, and the moment you think you have a bead on the tribe's temperament, that's when you're gone.

However, our hero, Russell, took his first risk last night...and it paid off. Bigtime.

Russell's successful risk got me thinking about the success rate of my own strategic moves in 2009:

• Voted for an American Idol contestant for the first (and only) time: Lambert lost.
• Climbed Mt. Whitney: success!
• Ate a pork chimichanga from El Palmar the night before a big race: apologies to a random lawn.
• Purchased a giant Chocolate 150 pack from Costco: 6 kids showed up on Halloween.
• Confronted a loud, obnoxious teenager at 3am in front of my house: it was actually a loud, obnoxious, shirtless, beer-bellied meth addict...
• Left my job after 7 years: happiness!
• Switched back to caffeine after a year of decaf: more happiness!
• Ordered Paige a 3rd Irish Car Bomb on her birthday: loofah.
• Ran nearly 400 miles in Oct/Nov: personal record at the California International Marathon!
• Dutch-ovened my daughters during a bedtime story: heartfelt daddy-daughter bonding!

So, with that small sampling, it appears my success rate on calculated risks this year is approximately 50%. Not bad, but would that be enough to risk a million dollars?

Russell is a beast. A friggin' steamrolling, terminating, atomic-wedgying beast. Each episode he seems to get more cartoonish, more of a freakshow, more bizarrely callous, calculating and pinpoint focused on the end prize.

This general strategy simply does not typically work. If you're adept at the game, even if you have a history of numbers and alliances, you will be the main target in the final weeks. Russell's time was coming, and last night it came. He was dead on right about Mick's waffling, completely in tune with Jaison's potential flipping, and hyper aware to all of the scheming occurring behind bushes and down by the water.

Russell is no idiot.

And kudos to Monica; this was the sole episode in the entire season in which she wasn't a complete, useless slug. Her arguments were perfect - even if there was no chance of her sticking around - because they stirred it up: exactly what she was hoping to do.

But none of you were fooled into believing that Russell was seriously going to consider booting Shambo before Dave, right? I mean, that argument was exactly what Russell had used the past few tribals to boot the other tribe - he wasn't going to throw it all away now!

In the end, the two boots (Dave and Monica) were predictable and vanilla, but they were the right moves. Nine times out of ten in past seasons, the tribe in power absolutely would have risked their numbers to boot someone like a Shambo - and it would have bitten them in their sorry asses.

But not Russell. He's on target. He realized that while it would be preferable to go to the final jury against someone whom he could easily beat, he first has to get to the final jury. Worry about today first, worry about tomorrow tomorrow.

However, when he didn't play his immunity idol, I have to admit that I was amazed. This was seemingly the first, only, and perhaps last mistake that he would make. Why take the risk? If Mick and Jaison truly wanted to play this game they absolutely should at least flush the idol out. Sure it would be brutal back at camp with Russell - but he wouldn't have any more numbers with him - he would be gone 100% the next tribal.

But Russell took the calculated risk. He knew that Mick and Jaison are spineless ninnies who now don't even deserve the honor of basking in the warming glow of Russell's dutch ovens.

And Russell is nearly assured to be in the final episode.

One more week to go; many more things still to be determined:

• Who will make it to the final tribal council?
• What will Shamwow's Andre Agassi's mullet look like all "cleaned up?"
• How come Natalie's yellow dress is a filthy mess but her yellow panties are crystal clean?
• What was Natalie wearing under her miniskirt when she ran those yellow panties up the tribal flagpole?
• How much will Natalie's yellow panties go for on ebay after it's all over? (anyone else want to chip in?)
• (I have a hundred additional questions about Natalie, but I'll leave them to my impending stalking deposition)
• Will the jury respect Russell's aggressive play, or berate it?

Ah - the biggest question of all, right? Because in the end, do you go for the clean cottons, or the dirty dungies? The pristine panties or the soiled sacholders? The beautiful bun huggers or the dilapidated dutch-oven filters?

Not which one is less offensive...but which do you respect more?

OK, maybe I could have used different metaphors...but you get the point.

Russell has worn his skivvies with pride - wearing them down to their fibers and using every means possible to make them work for him. They're not pretty, but they don't need to be. They work. Hard.

Natalies skivvies are...OK, they're just plain tremendous. Really, if there is a way to improve upon those underpants, I want to know...

What was the point I was making again...?

Oh, right: don't be distracted by life's yellow panties. Honor resides in used and abused underwear.

Until next week,

PB

The Girl Who Refused to Eat Pie

I once knew this girl who had never had a piece of pie in her entire life.

Not a taste of berry, no hint of apple, never a single bite of lemon meringue, not even a smidge of pumpkin. Never a need for an "a la mode." Even cobblers were too close to "pie" - so no dice. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure about hair pie, but let's not split hairs (no pun intended) - that's more of a colloquialism than an actual cooked fruit dessert (sexual food fetishes aside).

This anti-pie stance wasn't because she had had some horrible, unfortunate pie-related accident in her past or anything. She simply refused to eat pie.

Of course, we were absolutely fascinated by this, albeit in an extremely judgmental and, let's be honest: personally offended manner. I mean, who the hell doesn't like a good piece of pie? It's friggin' pie for god's sake! How could something so intrinsically beautiful and delicious cause someone to go on a personal crusade never to let single crumb pass their lips?

It's nearly beyond belief bizarre.

I can't remember how we discovered this, although once we did it was all we could ever talk about with Pie Girl. Had her mom ever made pie growing up? Yes. She just wouldn't try it? No - it didn't look good. Did she eat other desserts? Yes. Was there any other dessert that she wouldn't eat? No, she loved desserts. Was she opposed to cooked fruit? No. Would she eat ice cream pie? Yes - that wasn't pie; it was ice cream.

This was nonsensical; if it were true, then how could anything else about her be legitimate? How could we take Pie Girl seriously as a human being? This girl was an absolute freakshow! The whole thing threw the entire universe out of whack...

We all had to do something about it: we could not go on unless we were able to get Pie Girl to try a bite of pie. This simply wasn't natural. Millions of years of evolution did not lead us to develop an organism that was opposed to pie. It wasn't right.

Pie Girl, obviously, was not happy to discover that we had made it our quest to get her to try a piece of pie. It wasn't a joke to her. But it wasn't a joke to us either. This was serious business. We wouldn't be able to continue on with our lives unless she tried pie.

At first Pie Girl adamantly refused to try any pie whatsoever. "Why? Why is it so important that I try pie? Why can't you just let it go? I'm not going to."

"Why is it so important to you that you won't even try a single bite?" we responded. "What is it about pie that causes you so much disdain that you won't so much as even try it?"

"I. Just. Don't. Want. To."

Unacceptable.

Of course, a few weeks later, the concerted effort to get Pie Girl to try a bite of pie - any pie - did finally wear her down. One evening a group of us were at dinner and, spiritually defeated, she agreed to do it. "Do you have a preference?" we asked.

"No - whatever you choose," she tiredly answered.

We were elated. This was it! Finally! The end of this inexplicable nightmare was near!

We selected a fresh piece of berry pie and waited in baited anticipation for the waitress to bring it. This was going to be like watching your first born child start their first day of school: a definitive first step toward open-mindedness and an expanded worldview. We were going to make a difference.

The pie came and the waitress set it down in front of Pie Girl. Eight people watched with hearts fluttering as she took a deep breath, cut the tip of the pie off with her fork, and raised it to her lips. She gave one last glance around the table - in hatred or gratitude, we couldn't quite tell - then popped in into her mouth.

She chewed once. Twice. Three times slowly, then swallowed. The restaurant suddenly get very quiet; all of the patrons universally connected in watching Pie Girl admit she was wrong in every facet of her belief system. Finally she put her fork down and pushed her plate forward.

"I don't like it," she said.

"You don't like the berries?" someone asked...

"No," she responded angrily, looking him right in the eye, "I don't like pie."

Look, I realize that by sharing this story with you I am putting into question every foundation you may have for understanding, categorizing and coping with this world. But there is a point in here. You, like I have learned to do, have to let it go. You can't control Pie Girl; not Pie Girl herself, and not the theoretical "Pie Girls" you may encounter in other facets of your life. Don't fight Pie Girl. Don't challenge Pie Girl. Don't try to make sense of Pie Girl. Just let Pie Girl flow over and through you like the wind.

You see, I was reminded of Pie Girl last night while watching Survivor. Here we have - perhaps without question - the greatest Survivor of all time: Russell. He's taken us from outwardly hating him with every fiber of our being to basking in his every sneer, his every scheme, his every thick patch of unkempt back hair. But we also see the writing on the wall...

His greatness is surely fleeting. He's on everyone's radar. 18 previous seasons of Survivor have clearly shown that anyone who tries to control and/or force things will get what's coming to them - and usually sooner rather than later. We want to enjoy the show...but we know that once he's gone, we'll have to root for someone like..Brett (wait, there's a guy named Brett on the show?). This causes us angst. We're unsettled. We want to do something about it...

But as I grappled with these demons last night (well, it was either demons or my third Celebration Ale...), Pie Girl popped into my head, and I remembered how I felt when she pushed that pie plate away: defeated. Useless. Confused, depressed and hopeless. And I did not want to feel that way again. I knew I had to bask in the moment. Enjoy things as there are right here and right now. Don't worry about what may happen, or about people that I can't control. Have another Celebration Ale damnit.

So I did. And wow - what another great episode! Multiple people voted for at Tribal Council. Yet another blindside. Foa Foa 100% intact since the merge, and now with 100% of the power. Shamwow shammed and wowed by both tribes voting exactly opposite of her. Tremendous stuff. As Jeff said, "I can't wait to see what happens next."

Let Pie Girl refuse to eat pie.

In the end, it only means more pie for the rest of us.

Until next week,

Probst Beef