Survivor: The Amazon - Episode 5 Summary

'What Would Penny Do?' By TechNoir

Previously on Survivor: Jabberoo throws off anyone who has a work ethic. Shawna b!tches and whines and pukes, literally. Goldieblocks and her Three Ho’s form an alliance and trick the Wicked Witch of the Law into voting their way. Shawna doesn’t get voted out despite being really, really stupid and voting for someone who bears no relationship to the night’s action.

Commercials, sponsored by Coors Light, whose motto is apparently “Cold Down Easy,” for which Jerri Manthey is suing them for trademark infringement; fast forwarding through football and other guy stuff to get to shots of twin cheerleaders, who end up in halters and daisy dukes, which is kinda making me strain against the ropes…OW! I mean the duct tape; “8 Mile” on DVD, which looks every bit as reprehensible in a TV commercial as it did in that trailer I saw for it a few months ago; some family guy in pain, for Advil, which is dissing Tylenol; young people dash to Vanessa Williams, then change their minds and flock to Marcellus Washington instead, for Sprint—and I must say, Marcellus seems to be recovering quite nicely from that whole Zed thing; telemarketers interrupt an ethnic family’s dinner to hoax them into thinking that the Fannie Mae Foundation is letting them buy a house; mountain climbers rescued from their own idiocy can now call ahead for a table at the Outback; CBS, for something called—I sh!t you not—“Mafia Doctor.” Y’all be sure and watch CBS Sunday, now, y’hear?
And we’re back.

Daybreak, in the mist, Jabberoo is waking up. Except Deena, who’s already up, building fires, breaking up firewood, rebuilding the Twin Towers, and rounding up Osama Bin Laden. She confesses: “I feel like I’m in control. I am alpha female, top dog.”

(Avert your eyes if you hate it when I’m an objectivist sexist pig—as if you know who I am, since I’m just some random guy who’s tied up—OW!!!!—I mean duct-taped to a chair in Technoir’s living room, and by the way, her little dog sure is yappy and it’s nipping at my ankles because she made me throw it about half of my portion of the roast duck earlier, but anyway, avert your eyes if you hate it when I’m an objectivist sexist pig):

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Well, Deena, at least you got one word right.

Jeanne is pissed off because the tribe didn’t vote Shawna off. For her part, Shawna whines because she wasn’t voted off, against her will. Yep, she’s trapped. Deena b!tches about her, too; “Shawna might as well buck up and play with the rest of us.”

Apparently things have gotten a little more militant in the chicks’ camp than I had thought possible.

Over at Tanquini, Alex is chopping broccoli. I mean wood. He’s swinging the machete violently. The tree snaps back and, unsurprisingly, whacks him in the head, drawing blood. Sigh.

We were promised a big Alex injury. Alex is in danger. He might get voted off because of his injury. Sigh.

Alex is bleeding a little. They bandage him up and tell him what a sexy b!tch he is when he’s bleeding like a stuck pig. They offer to beat him up some more, because it’s kinda giving them all a chubby.

Back to Jabberoo, where Our Lord and Savior Mark Burnett sees fit to show us a tarantula crawling up the Jabberroo flag. Ow. Something’s beating me over the head, and it’s not Technoir.

Jeanne calls everyone out for a little kvetching. She feels like they’re all talking about her. Deena practically spits and says that she was saying that “Christy wasn’t part of the team” and that it had nothing to do with Jeanne.

Jeanne’s paranoia is, understandably, not at all eased when Deena the District Attorney dissembles and plays the matter down. Jeanne is gonna sit right here by the fire and make the other girls go off into the woods to bathe their mostly lithe and glorious bodies and talk about her in secret.

Mark shows us a bird sitting on some tree that looks like driftwood. Oh, the point is the tree. We have tree mail:

We’re sending Jenna off alone

So maybe she can see Dave’s bone

They’re young and hot and not too wise

Let’s get ‘em drunk and part their thighs.

Rob is extremely pi$$ed off at Dave’s good luck. He’s pretty sure that Dave is going to be the first reality TV contestant since…I forget, some goobers on Big Brother…to actually get laid.

Mark shows us a crocodile. I don’t know why, but the man sure shows us some cool nature.

Jenna is the chosen one over in the other camp, and she manages not to gloat too much as dried-up not-very-attractive old Jeanne whines and b!tches and fights about the meaning of “is”.

After a little bit of paddling, the two lovebirds arrive at some swampy-looking place with a hut in the middle. Jiffy is waiting for them there. Dave poses, trying to look as cool as humanly possible, while Jiffy makes some lame speech about opportunity, since MB was clearly not quite bold enough to offer them a few bucks each to make a baby on national TV.

Dave and Jenna play house, plied with food, booze, a shower, towels, robes, slippers, and a nice soft bed.

Dave does a sort of a lounge lizard thing. They make small talk about their tribes as Dave pretends to be interested, waiting for Jenna to drink enough wine so that she’ll accidentally roll over and beg to be used like a naughty schoolgirl and…uhm, sorry.

What actually happens is that Jenna gets drunk enough to cough up enough valuable intelligence to completely throw the entire game into the crapper. Jenna is really not tremendously bright, although she is the only contestant in the category I like to call Objectifiable.

As Jenna spills beans, Dave partially slips out of his robe, showing off his remarkably hairless chest. Apparently he is the defending Mr. Rocket Science.

Both of them fidget. A lot.

After Jenna finishes giving up the secrets of the atom bomb, the moon program, Enigma, and the combination to the safe that holds the Ko-Hi-Noor Diamond, she looks expectantly at Dave, who tells her only that Alex is 33 and studly, and that Roger is old and a bastard.

Then he tells her that Rob likes Heidi’s boobies, and that all the Tanquinis think that Jenna has a great a$$.

Wow. I think Dave has a lot of experience with women, don’t you?

Dave showers…Jenna watches.

Jenna showers, complaining about the flimsiness of the shower walls: “You’re gonna be able to see, like, my boobs.”

Dave ejaculates on national television.

The fun couple prepares for bed. There are curtains around the bed, and mosquito netting. Dave makes up some crap about “twitching” before going to sleep.

Yeah, dude, that’ll cover up the fact that you’re trying to slide your hand between her thighs.

Mark Burnett shows us the moon. This is symbolic.

Commercials, sponsored by GM: Some chicks with a tall wedding cake in the back of a GMC truck, in which the wedding cake is not destroyed because GM trucks are delicate and ladylike; “Old School,” which is somehow still in theatres despite being universally reviled; Long John Silver’s, which is somehow still in business despite being both universally reviled and well-worth reviling; Home Depot crossbreeds with John Deere, Toro, and Honda to create an unstoppable Japanese mechano-monster that looks like both a bull and Bambi; Crest deeply cares about poor children; some old biddies gossiping about insurance at a Las Vegas wedding, but the duck that’s supposed to quack “AFLAC” is, thankfully, engrossed in a Wayne Newton show; blondes undulating down the street in aid of Gap Stretch, whatever that is; and CBS (CSI, where Grandma was high when she mowed down those toddlers playing in the street; Without a Trace, where some war hero disappears; and 48 Hours Wastes No Time Digging Into The Smart Family’s Business—is it just me, or is there something really fishy about that kid just turning up apparently mostly unharmed and merely “brainwashed,” which she appears to have gotten over in record time without deprogrammers screaming at her in a Motel 6 outside of Cheyenne for 48 hours or so?).

And we’re back. It’s quiet. Dave gets out of bed wearing pants. “Jenna was fantastic to sleep next to.” I guess that means she didn’t notice the twitching.

Dave makes Jenna eat in bed. She likes being treated that way.

She says, “We had fun. We didn’t hold back anything.” Honey, if you didn’t hold anything back, we definitely woulda seen everything you shoulda saved for the Internet.

Jiffy shows up carrying what appears to be a chamberpot. He orders them to attend him and anoint him with oil. He dumps some dried dung chips out of the chamberpot. They appear to be inscribed with the names of the surviving media whores.

Ruh-roh. Dave and Jenna are team captains. They’re doing the choose-up thing.

Dave wastes no time picking Heidi, since Jenna told him that they were special friends, and Dave is apparently a first-class bastard.

Jenna picks Alex, because he’s manly and athletic and the bandage is really sexy.

Dave picks Butch, Jenna picks Deena. Dave picks Christy, Jenna picks Rob, not having heard that he’s a dwork masquerading as…well, a dwork.

Dave inexplicably picks Roger, Jenna inexplicably picks Shawna. Dave is stuck with Jeanne, and Jenna with Matthew. Jeff gives them maps and new buffs, pats them on the butt, waves smarmily, and sends them on their way, the hormonal buzz of last night’s twitching clearly worn off.

Back at Tanquini ranch, Mark shows us the old Graven Image of Non-Booting, some wasps swarming on rotted fruit, and the traditional breakfast piranhas being roasted over an open fire. Rob is mouthing off. Alex is gazing sternly at Dave as he sashays up the path.

Dave spills the news. Rob immediately goes into a confessional to b!tch about Dave’s “loyalty.” Rob is extremely bitter. He dashes about the camp, packing. “I was mad when I found out my fate in this game would be determined by Dave. He cares about himself and apparently about Roger and about Butch.”

Well, first off, Rob, your fate in this game is going to be determined by the effectiveness of your chosen strategy, which is to be a goofy no-account clown.

Second, what are you trying to say? A Survivor contestant cares only about himself?

Wow. Better call “48 Hours” down on that one.

Over at Jabaru, Jenna chooses to shout out the bad news immediately as she walks into camp, unlike Dave, who coyly fanned himself and did the Dance of the Seven Veils before he spilled the news that he had subjected Rob to the unpleasant fate of going off to live with girls he wanted to fvck anyway.

Heidi whines, a whole bunch; Jeanne jumps up and down gleefully. It wasn’t until the end of the immunity challenge that I recognized this as foreshadowing. Silly me.

Back at Tanquini, the women arrive. There is a lot of clapping noise on the soundtrack, but no one is clapping. I conclude that this is the sound of Zen.

There are hugs, greetings, happy-to-see-ya’s, brak brak brak. Jeanne is impressed that people who want to beat her in a game are being nice to her.

Christy goes through her deaf spiel. She is impressed that all of the men do not run off into the woods screaming, “She’s deaf! She’s deaf! Oh God, the humanity, she’s deaf!”

Roger is surprised that Christy is deaf. He is a pig. He may as well run off into the woods, screaming, “She’s deaf! She’s deaf! Oh God, the humanity, she’s deaf!”

Back to Jabberoo yet again: the women moan hormonally as Rob, Alex, and Matthew arrive. Shawna takes one look at Alex and has to go change her panties. Deena is laughing her a$$ off at Shawna’s amazing recovery: “It’s amaxing what a little bit of testosterone can do for somebody.” Shawna begins to hump Alex’s leg.

Rob says, “I'm going to wait before I attempt any propositions of these girls.”

Golly. Good idea, Rob.

Commercials: Something about the Golden Gate Bridge collapsing because there’s a secret weapon at the center of the earth that some people have to go blow up…it’s a movie called “The Core”; the Western Whopper is back at Burger King, and I thank Jebus for this, because I adore those bad boys; some Ho for Jergens skin glop; CBS (Letterman, which isn’t Letterman because he’s sick right now, and so it’ll be Will Ferrell and Chris Rock instead; “Hack,” which has now lasted through an amazing three of my summaries and still sucks like Kelly Wigglesworth on a date with Jiffy, but will guest-star an amazingly used-up looking Bebe Neuwirth, who used to be sorta hot in an off sorta way; My Big Fat Greek Noun; and the absolutely execrable “Becker”); My Local Morning News, with a guest appearance by Harry Smith, who appears to have been edited into the shot between two of My Local Morning News anchors, one of which is a very good newswoman who has been steadily and unforgivably demoted by these clowns over a period of about 35 years, and the other of whom is a fat old white guy who has been getting steadily promoted by these clowns over a period of about 22 years but who should’ve been fired years ago, like especially when he got arrested by the FBI for illegal gambling, and here’s a true story:

So this fat old white guy who used to be a reporter and is now an anchor and shoulda been fired years ago gets caught up in this gambling ring and is, famously, busted by the FBI. And about a month later, it’s DMV day here in Maryland, because all our license tags used to expire on the same day every year, and everyone in the state had to go get their new tags by March 31. So it’s March 31, and a friend of mine is standing in the interminable last-minute line at the DMV waiting to get his tags renewed, and this moron reporter, who was fat and old even then, 20 years ago, walks up to him and asks him why he was so dumb that he waited until the last day to get his tags renewed. And my friend Tim looks the camera in the eye and says, “I don’t know, Mike. Why were you so dumb that you got arrested by the FBI?”

So, y’know, living in a Major Media Market isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be.

Let’s see, Saturn Ion; a puma, a hawk, and…uhm… a Grand Cherokee (disclaimer: I own one, and I love it because it’s made me much more masculine and stuff, although it clearly didn’t keep me from getting tied, I mean duct-taped, to this here chair); and The Smarmy But Trusted Anchor Of My Local 11 PM News, who wants to tell me about how cool the war is (OW! Technoir just put duct tape over my moustache and pulled it off slowly because she doesn’t want me b!tching about the war…) and about The Smart Family’s personal business; and Mattress Warehouse, which is the kind of fine local commercials you get when you live in a Major Media Market.

And we’re back:

It’s twilight. For some reason, we are in a jungle. The moon is shining. There’s some kinda weird semi-samba soul music happening.

At Tanquini, Christy feels like she’s on a team, like she’s being treated right, like she’s not being singled out for hideous mistreatment because she’s different. Perhaps this is because she’s not stomping around proclaiming her differentness, like she did when she arrived at Jabberoo, but she seems convinced that it’s because they really, really like her here because they’re making bright lanterns and shining them in her eyes at night, because Butch is making an extra effort here so that Christy will put in 110 percent.

Or something.

It’s sunrise at Jabberoo. Alex is yakking. “Hey, guess who got the most votes for hottest girl in the game? That’s right, Shawna…you! Guess who got the most votes for biggest package in the game? That’s right, Shawna…me!”

Shawna needs to go change her panties again.

Deena is unamused.

More cool nature stuff—a hawk or a falcon or something. A dragonfly in a swamp.

Jeanne gets treemail, which is oddly lacking in verbiage. It is a basketball, with the words, “Rock. Chalk. Jayhawk.” inscribed upon it.

Okay, okay, it wasn’t that, but it was some similarly inscrutable word jumble kinda thing.

The tribes arrive at immunity beach, where Jeff snatches the Graven Image of Not Being Booted and admires the new tribes. He tweaks Heidi about it; she says something lame. He tweaks Alex, who is “stoked.” Shawna stops licking his knees just long enough to go change her panties.

So they have to pick 5 words out of a word jumble, and then paddle around in canoes collecting flags corresponding to the words that were in the jumble. Tanquini takes the early lead, going one word ahead, but then screws up, and Jabberoo gets to the paddling first, and stays one flag ahead through the whole thing, despite Jiffy’s best efforts to convince us otherwise, and wins the Graven Image of Jeanne Saying Oh Sh!t.

Jabberoo gloats.

My theory is that they are gloating because that was a really boring 12 minutes or so of television, and I not only watched it, I took notes. And they made money for it. This is why I’d be gloating, if I were them.

Commercials, sponsored by Alavert: Alavert is a non-drowsy allergy medication that melts in your mouth, but why would I let some drug melt in my mouth when I could be letting M&M’s melt in my mouth, I mean, who are these idiots?; someone’s Magic Bus, except it’s not The Who, it’s maybe Quincy Jones or maybe not, and it’s cool music and the commercial makes no sense, so Coors Light has to tell me at the end of the commercial that that’s who it’s for; Pro-Retinol A, which decreases wrinkles so dramatically that I can’t tell that Andie McDowell is getting really old and dried up and never could act much anyway; three ho’s for Wal-Mart; something called GMAC Real Estate, but I thought GMAC was the people who came around to break my knees 20 years ago because I was behind on the payments for that Chevette; kids ask for broccoli, haircuts, and gasoline, when all they really wanna do is go to Orlando and hump Mickey’s leg and have Daddy’s Disney Visa credit card pay for it; CBS for CSI, where Grandma is still high and still running over those meddling toddlers; some annoying old biddies for CVS, which is a regional drug store chain that may or may not exist in your part of the omniverse, so this must be the local segment; Land Rovers do all kinds of things in commercials that they couldn’t do in real life without a professional driver and a closed course; and My Local News, which is still convincing me that I need to care at 11 PM what exactly that Elizabeth Smart kid was up to.

And we’re back, where Mark shows us a vulture. God, I love Mark.

The Tanquinis return to camp. Jeanne b!tches, because the real title of this episode should’ve been Here Jeanne, Have a Nice Hot Steaming Cup of Shut the Fvck Up, You Whining Sack of Story Arc Being Brought To An Abrupt Close.

The girl Tanquinis go fishing, knowing that the men will never see through such a ruse and figure out that they just want to powder their noses in private. Jeanne instructs them that they have to vote together, because she hasn’t had that nice hot steaming cup of STFU yet, and she decides that the best way to choose a victim is to draw straws. Because that’s what she thinks the men are gonna do, too.

Is she dead yet?

Dave drags Heidi off into the woods. She likes it. Dave poses and offers her an alliance and a chance to lick his smooth pecs. Heidi thinks out loud: “I’m the key factor in the whole voting process tonight.”

Yes, Heidi. Now shut up and don’t complain when he holds you by the ears.

We paddle off to TC. Jiffy looks for reactions to the tribal switch. Jeanne was excited by the switch. Heidi loves Jenna.

Jiffy asks Christy how “her assimilation has been.” Christy looks blankly at Jiffy, whose mechanical eye is blinking red as his robot arm reaches out to inject her with Borg bodily fluids.

Jiffy asks people what they’re basing their votes on. Christy says, “alliances.”

Butch gulps. Hard.

Jiffy asks Roger how he’s voting. Roger says that he is voting out “the weakest link.” I am speechless.

Jiffy points a question at Heidi about how she’s voting. She stammers. The women are cluing. The million-pound sh!thammer hits Jeanne as she clues.

Butch votes for Jeanne. The camera tells us again that Jeanne has, most definitely, clued.

Christy votes for Butch. Dave votes for Jeanne, the camera revealing that the Magic Marker of Fate looks all wickery and stuff this time around.

Jeanne votes for Butch. Roger votes for Jeanne. The camera tells us yet again that Jeanne has clued, and she is most assuredly not amused.

Heidi pretends to think before writing, as if she didn’t decide to go paws up for Dave as soon as he offered her and her bolt-ons an out. She writes a name, which is the only concealed vote.

Jeanne is pi$$ed. Butch is grim. Roger is grim. Dave is smarmy, and Heidi shoots a glance at him as Jiffy traipses off to “count” the “votes,” betraying her major turncoatedness yet again.

Jiffy reads: Jeanne, Butch, Jeanne, Butch, Jeanne…and “Gene.”

Sigh. Speechless again.

Christy is grim because she knows who cracked. Heidi is grim because the million-pound sh!thammer just hit her, and she knows she just effed up big-time.

Jiffy says something irrelevant. We fade to credits.

Commercials, sponsored by Coca Cola (“Coca Cola and Survivor: Real.”)…uhm, yeah, right: A shaken Coke joke commercial entitled “Karma”; “Tears of the Sun”, billed as the best military thriller since “Blackhawk Down”; some guy with a headache and no water wants Excedrin quicktabs, which melt in your mouth like M&M’s (I think we’re onto a theme here); a car…a desert…wedding imagery…a city….wedding imagery…Saturn Ion….huh?; Saturn congratulates the Jabberoo tribe on its stunning Junior Jumble victory; Letterman is somehow tied into sports; CBS (Starsearch).

Next, on a special Wednesday Survivor that will happen because either basketball or the invasion of Iraq starts next Thursday:

The Tanquinis share a tender moment when they all hug and celebrate finding a way to serve that nice big hot steaming cup of STFU to Jeanne; Shawna changes her panties, licks Alex’s ankles, and changes her panties again.

Jeanne’s Parting Shot: “I’m too nice for you people, you’re all a pack of liars, and in the game of life, I’m the winner.”

Sure you are, Jeanne. You’re just a slightly less wealthy winner than the rest of this season’s ho’s.

Thanks for reading.

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