Survivor: Pearl Islands - Episode 13 Summary

'Scout's Honor' By FesterFan1

So it’s 8 p.m. here in the good ol’ Eastern US, and I turn on the TV expecting to see a montage of Panamanian blood loss and Rupert shrieking at the moon and Savage’s daily Smalley-isms and Osten quitting (Again) and Jiffy puffing out his chest and throwing his torch down like he’s freaking Moses-on-the-Nile and Jonny Foreplay’s bad wrestler impersonation after bad wrestler impersonation (OK, as if there are GOOD wrestler impersonations to be had. Can you dig it? I knew that you could.) while he does that ridiculous Whitebread-excuse-for-a-gang-sign-that-would-get-him-killed-faster-than-you-can-say-Suge-Knight-if-he-were-actually-in-South-Central finger gesture and Darrah’s David Putty (yeah, that’s right) stone-face and Lill, in full BSA regalia, groping young men. (Which, truth be told, the BSA hardly needs after the year it had, but I digress.) Instead, I get what seems to be Ed Bradley announcing Saddam Hussein as winner of Survivor: Mesopotamia. And I think perhaps I’ve overslept by about 30 years. Then it hits me…Stupid Ravens game ran long, which means I’ll be up ‘til the wee hours watching this dreck so’s I can report the happenings to y’all post haste. And I don’t even get paid for this…

Previously on Survivor:
16 Americans (well OK, 14 Americans, a space alien with a coke addiction that’s rotted her septum clean through and a robot built by Cooter from the Dukes of Hazzard) took the Love Boat of the Damned to a group of Islands off the Pacific Coast of Panama. There they were forced to jump ship wearing nothing but the clothes on their backs. They were given 100 Balboas (roughly equivalent to $3.72 US) to go shopping for Mark Burnett (who was apparently too busy to stock the pond for them). They washed on shore near a small fishing village and proceeded to go “Amazing Race” on the locals. (Side note: If we make it out of the decade without the 3rd World rising up because they’re sick of ‘Reality’s Finest’ treating them like the dope-smoking high school drop-out manning the express check-out lane at Wal-Mart, it will be a miracle.)

The Morgan tribe was about as organized as the annual ADD convention, the Drake tribe, on the other hand, complete with in-house pirate and translator, looted the village better than Noriega in his prime. While Tijuana screamed at store clerks and Ryno crossed the entire island to try to book passage without money, a map, or any comprehension of Spanish, Sandra told the local shopkeepers “You see that Black chick with the nasal voice? She’s stuffing mangos down her shirt.” and Rupert started a “Shoes for Oranges” program.

Once at camp, the Drakes found life at Jesus’ “Loaves and Fishes Island” to be to their liking. Meanwhile, Morgan didn’t fare quite so well on their beach, located somewhere near Dante’s 6th ring of Hell. While Rupert was pulling fish out of the water faster than a Kodiak bear on meth-amphetamines (which he no doubt scored from Christa), ‘Scoutmaster’ Lill was busy losing the last fishhook and Osten was complaining about…well, everything.

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During the first 11 days, the Drakes, blessed with an Eco-Challenge ringer and Grizzly Adams, treated the Morgans, cursed with the biggest Paper Tiger in the history of the planet and a guy who may actually have been constructed out of paper—and snot, with the kind of respect usually reserved for a prison bitch, winning the first 6 challenges. Then Drake got sloppy. They threw a challenge, had to rent out Rupert to show Morgan how to fish using something other than a fork and a catcher’s mitt, then proceeded to squander their lead faster than the Red Sox in October.

On Day 19, MB, our Lord and Savior, broke his own 1st Commandment: Fire=Life, by bringing back the 6 players booted out of the game to compete for another chance. So now, Fire=Life except when it doesn’t. Thus the world was unmade, and the pit of fire spit forth Lill and Burton to torment our souls and make the babies cry.

The tribes then merged. Lill joined up with Rupert, et al. and turned on Andrew and Ryno. Then she got with T and Darrah and turned on Rupert. Then she got with Sandra and Christa and turned on T. Then she got with Darrah and turned on Christa. Then she got back with Sandra and turned on Burton (although mostly she was just turned on by Burton.). Somewhere in there Jon pulled a “Ferris Bueller” and faked a dead grandmother. Even that didn’t get him laid.

That pretty much brings us up to date. 4 are left. God willing there will be a winner at the end of this clusterfvck, and maybe a little life lesson we can take with us. Come with me, won’t you?

Day 37:
Our Gang wakes up to the dulcet sounds of a troller. Jiffy pops out with a tray full of danish and mimosas. Damn MB, these folks have been out here 5+ weeks and all you can spring for is Continental breakfast? Very classy. Lill hugs Jiffy a little too closely for his (and my) comfort. Breaking the death-grip, Jeff tells them he has one more thing for them and sprints off to the boat.

Lill: God he’s hot. Do think he’d wanna join my troop?
Darrah, Sandra, Jon: **stunned silence**

Jeff returns with letters from home. Lill immediately begins to bawl. We will call this Ground Zero of Lill’s mental collapse.

Lill: You wanna join my troop?
Jeff: I’d love to if it weren’t for the fact that I’m too old, the uniform would kill my rugged Eddie Bauer image, I have no interest in earning merit badges when I have Supermodels who want to do me nightly, and frankly, the very concept of your “Den” scares the bejeezus out of me.

He then leaves…because he can. Sandra, Darrah, and Jon are not so lucky.

Darrah (confessional): It’s hahrd wayen ya hayvn’t tawked ayin thurty sayven days. (Translation: Being a complete statue is difficult. I have a renewed appreciation for the dead people I work with on a daily basis.)

(We now rejoin Darrah, already in progress…) Ayuh jes wanna know ifn mah dawg is OK…Oh ayund mah faymly. (Translation: Only my dog understands me.)

(WARNING: The following passage contains graphic images of a grown woman reduced to tapioca pudding.)
Lill reads her letter from home, bawling her eyes out. Her face turns about 3 shades of crimson while a bulbous mass (probably a second evil head) pushes out from her skull. She blubbers something about winning and losing and Pete Rose. Sorry Lill, Pete gets his tips from Phoenix and his money’s on Darrah. But I’m with you on the whole “Pete Rose makes me cry” thing. It’s a travesty what’s happened to that man’s hair.

Jon watches this pathetic display and rolls his eyes. You know you’ve sunk to a very low and nasty place when Jonny Feathersword can claim the moral high ground.

Jon (confessional): If she cries in the finals, we’re all screwed. I mean who wouldn’t want to vote for a crumpled-up shell of a woman who’s lost all touch with reality, refers to herself in the 3rd person, and imagines every man she meets in a patch-ridden khaki shirt with a kerchief around his neck? The therapy alone is going to reach six-figures.

Jon tries to get Lill to admit that there’s a Final 3 pact with the girls, but she just ignores him. This is known as silent affirmation.

Jon: It just pisses me off that Sandra has jumped ahead of me in the food chain. (Memo to Jonny Fartknocker: The barnacles on your TC boat have jumped ahead of you on the food chain. Matter of fact, Darwin scholars everywhere have given up on the platypus for the moment and are now trying to explain your tired existence.)

Lill: I don’t want to be 3rd. I’d rather be 2nd or 1st.
Jon: Well, duh. You do understand that there’s no way in hell either one of those chicas are taking you to the finals, right?
Lill: Darrah, do I have your vote?
Darrah: Wayl Liyull, Ay’ll tayl ya. Ya gots lots of frayunds on that thur joory. Hayl, I dunno ifn Ay’m evun gawna be thur masef.
Lill: What the hell did she just say?
Jon: No.

So Lill goes off to sulk. Darrah asks her to come back to talk to her. But no, Lill got her widdle feewings hurt so she took her frisbee and went home. Here’s a good place for me to remind y’all that Lill is, in fact, 51. Years. Old. Very mature.

Lill (confessional): No one wants to take me to the finals because I’m nice. (Umm, no. No one wants to take you to the finals because that would mean having to spend a whole day alone with your crazy ass.)

Jon uses this opportunity to work his magic on Darr-uh.

Jon: You know Lill’s gonna go all hearts and flowers on the jury, right?
Darrah: **unintelligible** (I’m guessing it boiled down to “yes”.)
Jon: You’d be better off with me and Sandra. We both curse like sailors and stab people in the back for a living.

Meanwhile, Lill is working on Sandra.
Lill: Darrah hurt my feelings. I don’t want her to play in my sandbox anymore. Besides she’s a challenge machine. I mean just look at her. We don’t stand a chance against that kind of physical prowess.
Sandra: Whatever. As long as it’s not me. My name’s Bennett and I’m not in it. Yo, Jonny!
Jon: Yessss?
Sandra: Lill here wants to dump the challenge whore.
Jon: Sweeeeeeet.

Jon (confessional): I’m not worried about losing to women in the challenges, despite the fact that I have never actually won a challenge myself and have lost to them on a pretty routine basis out here. I’m a man fer chrissakes, and once Darrah’s gone, there’s no way I can lose to Madam Granny-panties or a woman who thinks a push-up is a kind of ice cream.

Immunity Challenge #1, “I’m With Stupid” and Tribal Council #1:
MB breaks his 2nd Commandment: The Jury Is Only There To Observe. It’s Trivial Pursuit: the Pirate Edition with the jury able to compete as a team against the 4 individuals. (Side rant: MB has become ridiculously transparent in his machinations. First we had the “Outcast” challenge that couldn’t have been more rigged to suit Burton’s physical abilities. Now we have a challenge that is so outrageously unfair, it’s hardly worth actually doing. Jeff should’ve just said “No Immunity for you!” and had done. I get that we wouldn’t want a repeat of the “Anyone Wanna Swap Tribes?” debacle, but do these “twists” have to be so completely staged?) This battle of the brains included such tough questions as “What’s the best way to avoid a shark attack? A) avoid sudden movements, B) never make direct eye contact, C) cover up open wounds, D) don’t go in the water.” (Those of you who didn’t answer ‘D’, stop reading now. I don’t want to be held liable for your brain imploding.) 4 of the 5 get this wrong.

To no one’s surprise (except maybe delusional Jon), the jury wins. Bummer. Now they can’t vote Burton out a 3rd time. Jiffy gives the sword to Christa. She immediately pawns it for a dime bag. Immunity dispensed with, it’s time for the tough questions…

Jiffy: Who was your letter from Lill? (That’s SO not funny, Probst, you little monkey turd. We just got her to stop crying from this morning.)
Lill: **Sob** My **Sob** Husband. Waaahhhhh!!

Jiffy: What’s going through your head Darrah? I mean, besides how Bocephus, your hound dog, is doing.
Darrah: Mumble, mumble, Final 2, mumble, mumble, Lill sucks, mumble.

Jiffy: That was enlightening. Sandra? Where’s your head?
Sandra: On top of my shoulders, mutha fvcka. You trying to start sumpin? I can’t even take a piss break without these muthas talking shit, and now you wanna start?
Jiffy: Back off, Sandy from the Block.

Jiffy: Lill? You hearing voices too?
Lill: I piss whenever I want to.
Jiffy: OK…
Lill: I’m nice, dammit. Nice! I hate what this game has made me. I used to be sweet little Lillian, now I’m demon-spawn. Waaahhh!!!
Jiffy: Christ. Someone get her a hanky.

Jiffy: Jon? Everyone here hates you. Contemplating suicide?
Jon: Hell no. It worked for Clay, it’ll work for me.
Jiffy: Umm, Clay finished in 2nd.
Jon: Don’t bother me with details. I’m workin’ here.

Jiffy: Time to vote, you freaks.

Lill votes Darrah: I saved your ass twice and you won’t take us to the finals. Master says vote you out.
Darrah votes Lill: Dang ol’, dang ol’ whiner.

Darrah is ousted, 3-1.

Darrah’s final words: (I think some of those words were English, but about all I could pick out were “that sucked” and “Lill and Jon are snakes”. Is there any more to say, really?)

Back at camp…

Jon: Do you think she knew she was going?
Sandra and Lill: No.
Jon: Liars.

Lill walks around without pants talking about her “big target”. This, kids, is what we call an “overshare” and it is wrong on more levels than I care to address here.

Lill (confessional): Darrah came after me. Can you believe that?! Good thing she’s gone. (Unintended Irony Score: 10 points)

Day 38:
Sandra, Jon, and Lill arrive by boat to the beach at Pirate’s Cove in the pouring rain. Jiffy’s waiting with a bunch of torches and some flare guns disguised as muskets. He tells them that they have to make a tribute to the lame-oids who are no longer here due to their own stupidity, but not the Quitter-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Oh no. There will be no saluting of him. Not on Jiffy’s watch. He has been excommunicated from the Church of Survivor, and is to be made example of. Thou shalt not cross MB, under punishment of reduced attention whore status. Are we all clear on that? I SAID, are we ALL clear on that?! Good. Don’t make me tell you again.

Jiffy tells them to take the torches to the ship, brak, brak, brak, say something nice, brak, brak, brak, blow the damned thing up with these pop guns, brak, brak, brak, try not to burn your eyebrows off like Matt did, brak, brak, brak.

The ceremony had all the sincerity of those Thank You letters your mom made you write when you were 7, so I’m liberally editing what was actually said. It’s better this way. Trust me. It’s what they were thinking anyway.

Nicole: Lill: Dumb as a bag of hammers. Jon: She was hot, though.

Drippy Snot-face Ryan: Lill: You will always be my endless Geekboy love.

Michelle: Sandra: You backed the wrong horse, sister. I hope the sex was worth it.

Trish: Jon: I enjoyed sleeping with you. (Somewhere in Maryland, Trish’s husband is taking a chemical shower while his bedding burns.)

Shawn: Sandra: Damn, you ate like a pig. A sissified pig. Jon: Fvck you…again.

Andrew: Lill: I will NOT be ignored Andrew.

Andrew’s-Bitch Ryan: Sandra: Who were you again? Seriously.

Rupert: Jon: How ya like me now, Fatboy? Sandra: I would’ve never made it this far without you. Not that I’m gonna share any of my money. And would it have killed you to make some underwear with the sewing machine?

Tijuana: Lill: Jee-zus your voice was annoying.

Christa: Sandra: I love you, Boo. Sorry I threw your ass under the bus with the whole fish thing.

Burton: Jon: I have such a man-crush on you it isn’t even funny. Lill: You are my Boy Scout wet dream.

Darrah: Jon: Couldn’t you have said yes once? Just ONE time?

And just in case anyone forgot about the QUITTER, we get shots of his lonely, cast-off torch, him being attacked by a pelican, him nearly drowning, and Jiffy telling his punk-ass to go home...for the 100th time. OK. We get the point. The guy sucked majorly and is an embarrassment to human kind, but no amount of torch-snuffing antics is going to make us believe Probst’s a bad-ass, mmmkay?

The three proceed to fire at will on the boat and it goes up in flames, incinerating thousands of dollars of auction items. That’s OK, MB. I’m sure the kids with AIDS will understand your need for melodrama.

Immunity Challenge #2, “Who Gives a Squat?”:
I’ll give Burnett this much, he’s steadfast in his evilness. The Final 3 IC just seems to get more and more brutal. I imagine the ASS Final 3 challenge will involve the remaining masochists having to balance on their elbows and knees, while supporting a 50 lb. weight on their backs. Fortunately for this crew, all they have to do is balance on a small floating raft using only their hands and feet. Sounds easy? I tried this myself, and lasted exactly 5 minutes before my 2-year-old decided to play “Thomas the Tank Engine’s Dark Tunnel Adventure”. I guess there’s something about a butt sticking in your face that you can’t ignore. Now these guys didn’t have the shock of someone trying to ram a train up their hoot, but I know it sucked all the same.

Jiffy: You are one wack bunch. An insane Scoutmaster, a WWE wannabe, and a potty-mouth mom.

Jon: We are not The People’s Final 3.

Jeff: What’re you thinking about Sandra?

Sandra: How much my ass hurts and how glad I am that my kids aren’t behind me.

At 15 minutes:
Jon: So this is what it’s like to last 15 minutes. I’m completely numb.
Lill: I feel great. I do this for fun back home.
Jeff: Sandra? Worth a million dollars?
Sandra: Yeah, like I’m gonna win this.

And at 16 minutes…Sandra’s out.

Jon: Lill, let’s make a deal.
Lill: No. I’m gonna need money for my lawyers once the BSA sues me for defamation.
Jon: Do you understand how deals work, you crazy bee-otch?
Lill: Shut up, Jon.
Jon: If you give me immunity, I will take you to the Final 2. That’s what a deal is.
Lill: Why would I do that when I can beat your ass anyway?

At 30 minutes:
Jeff: If the first 15 were the longest in you life, how were the last 15?
Jon: I think I’m blind.
Jon: You know you don’t want any part of Sandra in the finals, Lill.
Lill: You know what? I do aerobics. My knees are great. My ankles are great. I could bench press your ass if I have to.
Jiffy: You’re screwed.
Jon: Yep.

At 2 hours (Yeah, right. I wanna see all the footage before I believe either one of them last 2 hours.):
Jon: I’ll give you immunity if you take me to the Final 2.
Lill: Are you deaf, or just stupid?
Jon: Did you say something?
Lill: Exactly.

2 hours, 45 minutes (Give or take 2 hours). Jon is out. Lill wins immunity.

Lill: I had to win, because, as I may have mentioned, everyone hates me.

Lill (confessional): Lill wantsted it, Lill had to have it. Not that tricksie Sandra or that false Jon, precious. No precious, this was for Lill. And we won it, didn’t we precious? Jon tried to trick us, but we didn’t listen, did we precious?

Sandra (confessional): I’ll be damn shocked if that crazy lady doesn’t vote my ass out tonight; not to mention totally fvcking scared. Don’t leave me alone with this wacko. I’m serious. Hey! Where you going?! I said don’t leave me here…

Jon (confessional): This was not the screwing I had envisioned when I signed up for this. I am so gone tonight.

Jon: You know everyone REALLY hates me, right?
Lill: Not Burton.
Jon: Will you let the Burton thing die, already? It was college and we were experimenting.
Lill: But he’s MY Eagle Scout.
Jon: Let. It. Go. What, a 6-1 win isn’t good enough for you?
Lill: If I can’t have him, you can’t either.

As they pack up for Tribal Council, Lill starts singing Amazing Grace. Simultaneously, I try to pierce my eardrums with pretzel rods. Coincidence? Where’s Simon Cowell when you need him?

Tribal Council #2:
Jeff: You guys got to blow stuff up today. Anyone you were glad to burn in effigy?
Jon: Burton. He’s my special friend. And Rupert. This guy should be “Time” magazine’s Man of the Year. (Bricks in the Grand Canyon, Jonny.)

Jeff: Sandra, how’d it feel to lose so quickly?
Sandra: Shut up, Whitey. Who knew grandma had skillz?
Lill: Not me. And I thought Jonny’s grandma was dead.

Jeff: Now remember, Lill, you’re choosing who you wanna sit next to in the finals. No pressure there, but only 2 people in your position have won. So you might wanna think real hard **coughJONNYcough** who you wanna take with you. Like I said, no pressure.
Lill: Oh, I wish Burton were here to tell me who to vote out.

Lill votes Jon. Sandra is stunned.

Jon’s final words: I lied, cheated, and stole, and look where it got me.

Day 39:
Back at camp Sandra continues to kiss Lill’s ass. She is frighteningly good at this.

Lill (confessional): I came into the game not knowing a whole lot about it, and I still don’t.

Sandra (confessional): Show me the money, bitch.

Lill and Sandra get in a boat to row to the final Tribal Council…3 days later, they arrive.

Good. That gives us enough time to hear the musings of the jury. This is known as filler.

Ryno: Dude, I can’t handle this kind of pressure. I have a hard enough time deciding whether to go to Taco Bell or Burger King.

T: I have absolutely no concept of how this game works.

Burton: Just once I’d like for someone to tell me the truth, dammit. But hey, I am sleeping with Michelle.

Christa: The 2 most unlikely people are left. Far out. That is so, like, totally deep.

Darrah: Thayuh scrood me ovur, ayund naw it’s mah turn to say somethin’. (God save us.)

Rupert: It should’ve been me, dammit. I have dreams too, ya know.

Jon (sporting a “That 70’s Porn Show” mustache): I’m way cooler than either of those chicks. I mean could they grow a cool ‘stache like this?

Final Tribal Council:
I’ll spare you all the tired old schtick that Jeff ALWAYS opens these things with. We all know that the jury has the power, blah, blah, blah. Enough already.

Opening statements:
Sandra: I’m a team player and a total vote whore.

Lill (channeling Bob Dole): My strategy was to be Lillian Morris. Lillian is kind. Lillian works. 3 different people told me they would take me to the Finals. They lied. Lillian’s here anyway. (This is perhaps the worst opening statement ever. Nothing like chastising the jury right out of the gate.)

Jury questions:
Ryno: You were out of this game for 10 days. Why in THE hell should I vote for your cheese Outcast ass?
Lill: I was out for 8 days. (Apparently, they didn’t have a calendar at the Outcast camp.) It sucked. It’s not easy being green, and it’s not easy being an Outcast. And it certainly wasn’t easy sleeping on a cot next to that bubble-gum snapping idjit Nicole.
Ryno: Sandra, did you ride coattails?
Sandra: Hell no, bee-otch. Once Rupert got smoked, tell me whose coattails I rode? That crack junkie who can’t even dress herself properly? Please.

Rupert: Lill, you’re a lying liar, liar, pants on fire. Tell me I’m wrong.
Lill: I was honest with you right up until the time I lied to your face.
Rupert: Huh?
Lill: We talked about our families and our lives. That was all truthful.
Jeff: You see what I have to deal with here?
Rupert: **Boggle**
Rupert: Sandra did you know I was going home on Day 27? Because, really, as you all know this season is gonna be all about me.
Sandra: No. I voted Jon because I’m dumb. I got back to camp and trashed the place. You were the one who said trust Drake. So really, it’s your own dumbass fault.
Rupert: I know.
Sandra: I know you know.

T: Why shouldn’t the other person win? Yadda, yadda. (Christ. Why can’t the earth open up and swallow her whole? If I have to go through another season with that asinine question, someone’s going down.)
Lill: Forgive me.
Sandra: No. you have to say something bad about me. Remember though, I get my ups. Just saying is all.
Lill: She has a potty mouth and rode coattails.
Sandra: Bitch, I do not. Damn. Anyway, this chick right here was so paranoid about each and every one of you that she flipped on ya. B’lieve dat.

Christa: You say “I’m sorry” a lot. Why? Oh and what’s up with all that lying? Aren’t you supposed to be, ya know, a Scout or something?
Lill: Huh? I’m sorry. I don’t really understand. Oh, and I didn’t lie until all of you were around. So really, I’m an honest person. It’s YOUR fault I lie.
Christa: Sandra, your so crazy, girlfriend. What was the craziest idea you ever had?
Sandra: Believing I could take your dumb ass to the finals with me.

Burton: How would you define your survival skills on a scale from 1-10, with Osten being a 1 and me being a 10?
Sandra: 5. But only if I got stranded somewhere with readily available produce.
Lill: 7. Because of the fire and water thing. I can do that. I can find water, and I can boil it. I even know how long to boil it.
Burton: Yeah. I think you’ve thoroughly explained the “getting water” thing.

Darrah: How did you get here? (Give ‘em Hell, Darrah!)
Sandra: You all were too busy stabbing each other in the back to worry about my tired ass.
Lill: I followed my alliance until I didn’t. Then I used my head, and this is where it got me; in a No-win situation.

Jon: Can I vote none of the above? (**crickets**) Sandra how do you feel you represented Puerto Ricans?
Sandra: I think I represented Puerto Ricans very well; at least the lying, temper-tantrum-throwing, camp-sabotaging, foul-mouthed ones.
Jon: You represented the Scouts. Did you do it well?
Lill: No.

Final words:
Sandra: What you see is what you get with me, unlike that multiple personality chick right there.
Lill: She’s right. I totally suck. But so do you all.

Jeff: You’re voting for a winner…brak, brak, brak. You want to see your name…brak, brak, brak.

Rupert votes Sandra: I’m happy for you. Not as happy as I’d be if it were me, but still, I’m pretty happy.

T votes Lill: (I have no idea what she said. I rewound it at least 10 times. It still makes no sense. Something about strategy…I guess. Somebody get her off my TV…now.)

Jeff: I’ll go tally the votes. Psych!

Jeff goes down some stairs and along the beach…and reemerges in LA.

And here they all sit, with replica clothing and all. Where the hell did Sandra find another one of those gawd-awful pantsuits? Lill’s make-up is courtesy of Krusty the Clown.

Jeff: Whoda thunk it? (Well, enough people to have betting shut down about 2 episodes into the season, but let’s not split hairs, ‘K?) Ms. As-Long-As-It-Isn’t-Me and Ms. I’m-Too-Nice. Here’s what’s at stake: bragging rights (bragging rights? Is he serious?), a GMC Envoy, and a little check for ONE. MILLION. DOLLARS. There are 7 votes in here. For you math scholars, that means it takes 4 to win (I’m looking at you Red Sox fan).

I’ll read the votes…

Sandra
Lill
Sandra
Sandra

The winner of Survivor: Pearl Islands…Sandra (Cue hugs and crying…)

Alright, enough of me. Go read Landru’s transcript.

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