Survivor: The Amazon - Episode 100, Part 9 Summary

'Let's Get Out There and Sell Heidi's IQ' By landruajm

At the risk of stepping on the tootsies of my poodlicious darling Pooh (trust me, I’ll do something to her tootsies later on that will make it all better), we’ll pick up the Reunion Show as we usually do, in the jungle, by the firelight at the final Tribal Council. The votes are cast, we’re looking intently at the tribe of two and the jury to see if they’re wearing makeup yet, and suddenly Jiffy blows cover and admits that we’re going back to New York. Bastige. How dare you deprive me of the fun of making fun of you pretending that a sound stage in New York or LA is the jungle? Bastige.

Jiffy mounts a Jet-Ski down by the riverside (and let me tell you, that Jet-Ski has never looked happier) and zooms off to New York, belching pollution into one of the world’s most fragile ecosystems. Not to mention what he did to the Amazon.

It’s almost as much pollution as Matt spewed into one of the world’s most fragile ecosystems with his little Viking deathboat stunt a half hour ago (in our little TV universe). But that’s Lisapooh’s beat, and I dare not walk it without her holding my leash.

So hilarity ensues as Jiffy: procures a ride on a tramp freighter by offering to serve as a cabin boy, if’n you know what I mean; gets dumped back on his Jet-Ski somewhere in the territorial waters of New Jersey; edges up to look longingly, significantly, and ratings- and vomit-inducingly at the Statue of Liberty (okay, okay, this isn’t a political thread and I should just shut the heck up, and I promise I will, and I gosh-honest mean no offense to those of you who hold politically opposing points of view, to which you are entitled and for which entitlement I will beat the crap out of anyone foreign or domestic on your behalf if you so desire, but I gotta point out that said Statue was a gift from a certain Western European nation whose appellation was, until recently, associated with fried potatoes, sweetened batter-fried toast, tongue kissing, onion soup, and intimate tickling); boards a subway, where staunch New Yorkers give him looks that would suggest they’d be happier about a wino shambling up to them and offering a hummer; stops off for a quick visit to one of New York’s famous adult bookstores to drop a few quarters (the camera doesn’t show us which videos Jiffy prefers); gets accosted by two prostitutes, eight street preachers, three guys selling electronic gizmos, and one New York City police officer who thinks Jiffy is loitering with intent (okay, okay, it’s Ken); and finally, spots the thing that marks Nirvana for all of us, the “Late Show with David Letterman” sign on the Ed Sullivan Theatre. Whew. Finally life is worth living; here is a place where we can deposit the Vaguely Amazonian Ice Bucket of Fate. The audience inside applauds wildly, although I’m not sure if it’s because of the Ice Bucket, Jiffy, or the “Late Show” sign. I’m guessing the latter.

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I believe that I can safely say that this is the worst Jiffyplop ever. Ever. And truly, I’ve come around on that whole Jiffy thing the last season or so. I almost like him, although that sorta makes it burn when I pee, and…well, I digress.

So we’re in the theatre, and unlike the previous areas of overlap between me and my beloved Poohdle, this is clearly my business, because it’s after the top of the hour and it’s not my fault they overlap these things so dreadfully. Let’s just hope that Pooh and I aren’t making the same jokes.

The camera pans former Survivors in the audience—I think I recognized Ethan’s greasy curls, and there must’ve been others in there, because just after the most hideous production error in the history of the series (a “Jenna’s Family” subtitle over a stage shot which, as Shakes pointed out here, finally and affirmatively gives away what you’ve known for the last two hours if you have a brain in your pretty little head), we get a nice tight shot of The Dicque. Y’know, to the extent that anything involving The Dicque can be “tight.”

So back to the stage, where everyone is cleaned up and stuff, all made up and different-looking. Matt is shaved, with his hair standing up on end a little, some flesh on his face, no longer possessed of that great U-boat captain look we’ve come to adore. Jenna is looking very glam, but I gotta tell you…I’d no longer do her. That’s right, it’s my dirty secret. Jenna is the first contestant in the history of Survivor on whom I had an actual crush-like thing. But only in her unglamorous jungle incarnation. Very earthy, very sensuous, that. Yum. Maybe after she’s like just out of the shower or something, before she’s had a chance to dress up as a swimsuit model. I could cook her breakfast, because she’s still probably kinda hungry from that 39 days of starvation, and girls really like a guy who satisfies all of their hungers, and….

Oh. Uhm, sorry. I digress.

So Jenna is clinging to Matt’s arm. It is obvious to everyone watching that they are screwing. There is just plain no question about this; if you’re out there, Jenna, don’t bother arguing. I love you anyway, babe, and if I can’t have you, then Matthew should. You have my blessing. And I know that was important to you.

Well, it’s time to adopt the transcript format y’all pay me for, because this whole narrative exposition thing is just getting wrapped up in Jenna’s long silky legs, and…stop that!…okay, here’s the transcript:

Jiffy: So, Matt and Jenna, how many votes you think you’re gonna get?

Matt: Well, Butch is my beeyotch, and Christy thinks Jenna’s a skank-ho, but everybody else will vote for Jenna because of that whole pheromones thing.

Jenna: Matt, you ignorant slut! Alex and Heidi will vote for me because they’re my homeslices, and everyone else will vote for you because you locked them in the torpedo room until they promised to do things your way!

Jiffy: Yeah, yeah, can the false humility, ya leeches.

(Matt and Jenna continue to cling to each other, then Jenna removes Matt’s hand from her a$$ and links hands and arms with him as Jiffy gets up to crack into the Vaguely Amazonian Ice Bucket of Fate.)

Jiffy: First vote Matt, second vote Jenna, third vote Jenna, fourth vote Jenna, aw screw it, they’re all for Jenna. You suck, Matt.

(Pandemonium ensues, there are hugs all around, camera pans Jenna’s family, correctly this time, the rest of the cast comes in, camera pans some other Survivors who I’ve long since forgotten…)

Jiffy: So how did a spoiled sorority ho-bag get all six votes, including Christy?

(Clip of Christy’s “evil step-sisters” speech.)

Jiffy: How did Rob become the smartest player never to win the game? What was the number of the U-boat that Matt commanded and how much tonnage did it send to the bottom of the Atlantic during that horrible summer of 1942? Who are these people on the stage with me? All that and more when we come back.

Commercials

Something about monks and AOL, and y’know, if priests would just stick to the Internet I think our daily news would be a lot less ooky, don’t you? I thought so; some new Jerry Bruckheimer movie about a really bad ride at Disneyland; that Coors Light commercial where a guy with a guitar sings an ode to “the wingman,” who’s hanging out with Heidi while his buddy tries to get into Jenna’s undies, and seriously, for some reason I actually like this commercial; oh, another of those stupid ghost guy in a fedora commercials for Buick, of which I can’t, by law, own one for another 30 years, and I’m pretty darned old…do they only whip out these ghost guy Buick dealies for “Survivor” reunions? I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in any other context…

(We’re back; Jiffy looks relaxed and casual as he congratulates Jenna and asks if she’ll still blow him for peanut butter.)

Jiffy: Jenna, you’re the youngest Survivor ever, the youngest winner, you won more immunity challenges than anyone who doesn’t sleep with their mother, you’re the only Survivor ever to pull the incredibly dumb stunt of giving up immunity, you are universally hated by women whom men don’t particularly feel like fvcking, and still…well, Christy, what the heck is up with that?

(Christy’s evil stepsisters rant, again.)

Christy: She outwitted, outlasted, and outplayed me.

Jiffy: No, really.

Christy: She promised if I voted for her, I could go to the ball.

Jiffy: Christy is working with an interpreter for the deaf. We’ll exploit this concept more later on.

Jiffy: So Jenna, for 36 of 39 days you were a total spoiled, selfish, piece of crap, and let me just insult your parents one more time by saying that you’re an only child like it’s a bad thing. (Editorial note: your humble transcriptionist is not an only child, he’s just had sex with a few of them and really, really liked it.) Fair?

Jenna: Yep.

Jiffy: In the last three days, something happened.

Jenna: I grew a lot, I lost my whole alliance, I went from a drunken sorority sister who had sex a lot to total womanhood where all I do is rub soap on myself and Heidi. I saw myself and said, "Boy, I'm annoying," which explained all those guys with the chewed-off arms. And then, of course, I lost that really attractive Rush Zetas sweatshirt with all the beer and, uhm, other stains. That was pretty darned profound, there.

(Jenna is still clinging to Matt. They are stroking and fondling each other, which you can tell because Jenna’s getting hard and Matt’s getting wet.)

Jiffy: Was Matt the most deserving?

Jenna: Absolutely. No one other than Matt deserves my hot monkey love, unless he doesn’t know how to fix peanut butter. And if I had laid a finger on Rob, everyone would’ve kicked my butt because he’d have been insufferable.

Jiffy to jury: Is it true?

Jury: (consults Magic Eight Ball, answer is uncertain)

Jiffy: Matt, you were a complete idiot about the game, but by the end, you’re carving up everyone like roast capon. The one thing that never changed was that everyone thought you were nuts.

(Clip of Matt sharpening the machete: Christy: "Matt is creepy. He's creepy. He is creepy. Creepy. Matt. Creepy. He is. Matt. Creepy. Matt. Creepy. C-R-E-E-P-Y.” Oddly, there is an ASL sign for “creepy,” at least, there apparently is, because Christy keeps making the same gesture.)

Matt: It was an act. NEIN! It really was. I needed people to think that I was insane, or allied shipping would have continued to get through to the British and our war effort would have failed. While I deeply regretted the loss of life, it was necessary for me to sink those tankers.

Alex: I was there when you got two votes at Jabberoo. You LOST it, dood, you just totally lost it, and you were sharpening the blade and babbling about making a torpedo run at twelve knots and figuring the firing solution and running your mouth about depth charges and…from that moment on, it's funny, we joked about it…you were…

Jiffy: Wrap it the fvck up, Alex

Alex: From that moment on…

Matt: I got real dehydrated because this isn’t Oktoberfest, or Asparagusfest, or Lobsterfest, or Jerryfest, or any other kind of fest, out there. And I won a Knight’s Cross, you know.

Jiffy: So we set up this whole battle of the sexes thing, but it was actually the same-sex stuff that stirred things up. More when we return from the streets.

(Footage of babes bathing. And posing. And bathing. But mostly posing.)

Commercials, brought to you by Saturn

That stupid Saturn “leaving college” commercial; a gangster and a hip-hop chick (sorry, I’m not connected to that whole hip-hop thing, although I’ve got a Y chromosome and…well, you really don’t care who I would and wouldn’t do, so we’ll just drop that, except for Jenna jokes) for Vanilla Coke; the American College of Gastroenterology (girls, does it make you hot that I can actually spell “Gastroenterology” in a program that has no spellchecker?) wants me to know that my abdominal pain, bloating, discomfort, and constipation mean that I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome! And I should call 1-800-NO-SH!T1 (do not take offense—I actually suffer from this malady, although not anywhere nearly as badly as most sufferers); some very, very odd piece of footage for Degree deodorant for Men; a porcupine, a skunk, and a teddy bear for Snuggle, which reminds me of one of my favorite songs, that entitled “The Hedgehog Can Never Be Buggered”; some Wal-Mart customers camping, where elderly bears greet them in little red vests and welcome them to the woods before directing them to the bulk paper towels aisle; and CBS (the Raymond Most Certainly Can Be Buggered season finale, and the Judging Some Chick Who Sucked Even When She Was on NYPD Blue season finale, involving a marriage proposal from that guy who’s been in umpty-gajillion failed sitcoms on NBC, and (gasp!) a kid in danger…

(And we’re back.)

Jiffy: Pitting the men against the women put the men on the defensive and cast the women as underdogs. Guys, you were totally goofy. Alex?

Alex: I'm a slut.

Jiffy: Shawna?

Shawna: I'm a slut.

(Clip of Shawna breaking down, then getting all wet and frisky when Alex roars into the chix camp.)

Jiffy: Shawna, you were ready to quit until Alex showed up and made your little man stand up in his canoe.

Shawna: Before, I knew I was sick. Suddenly, I had to make a decision, there were men around, and while I still felt like crap, I wasn’t gonna let anyone else have all the fun, especially not other cute girls. So I got all perky and started rubbing up against him.

Jiffy: Alex, anything going on there? Alex, you seemed to move on to every other slut hanging out at Belly pretty fast…anything between you and Shawna?

Alex: We're good friends. So we’re having sex, it’s not like I have to marry her or something.

Shawna: Hwah?

Jiffy: Rob, you're a virgin, you always got picked last in gym, and I believe that Roger just gave you an atomic wedgie. Has your social life picked up any?

Rob: I got a girlfriend. Really. It’s just that she thinks I’m lying scum, so, y’know, we have these interrogations every night where she trusses me up, especially my…

Jiffy: Yeah, we get it. So, something we didn't count on was what happened with the chix:

(Clip of chix bathing again, with Heidi’s quote about "the cuter girls…")

Jiffy: Wow, where do we start…Jeanne?

Jeanne: Well, they’re all skinny little hooahs, Jeff. Whaddaya expect? Besides, I was too busy martyring myself to notice their perfect breasts, their flawless skin, their…

Jiffy: Heidi, why did you guys go off together?

Heidi: (shakes bolt-ons) In case you didn’t notice, Jeff, I’m not a guy. I’m a ath-uh-lete. I always got picked first in gym, and people made fun of me for that. Besides, Mark told us it would be good television if the three of us went to a little pool in the woods and rubbed each other.

Jiffy: Jeanne? So they’re younger and willing to work it, and you weren’t?

Jeanne: What-eva.

Jiffy: Deena?

Deena: They out-whored us. If I could have out-whored them, I would.

Jiffy: Really?

Deena: Yes.

Jiffy: Rocket scientist, do guys get along better than women?

Dave: Sure. We can snap towels at each other. And besides, we were sneaking around in the bushes looking at the girls’ breasts.

Stan Marsh: Ah-ta.

Jiffy: Joanna, is this normal?

Joanna: Hallelujah! Lie prostrate before my Amazonian groove-thing, little man!

Jiffy: Janet, did you smuggle in the granola bar?

Janet: No, but I did smuggle in a side of beef. How’d you think Butch got there?

Jiffy: Next up, Rob's probably the smartest player to never win. What were the keys? Plus, we return to crassly exploiting Christy.

(Shot from Butch's home town.)

Commercials, sponsored by Coors Light (cold down easy, for which Jerri Manthey is still suing for copyright infringement (I swear I’m going to keep using that joke until you people laugh at it.)

Once again, The Wingman….I’m singing it now, in fact…Wing-maaaaaaaannnnn; once again, the Carpathian Brothers for AOL; anthropomorphic toenail fungi (I’ve been waiting my whole life to write those three words), for Lamisil, and they sure are cute; a happy couple's digital vacation pix, apparently involving filthy travel perversions, for Kodak, from a little disposal camera; children acting responsibly, for the Disney Visa card…the child says to Mickey Mouse, "You don't know what I had to do to get here," leading me to conclude that perhaps Mickey should stick to the Internet too; CBS (CSI Miami, with an exploding meth lab that, sadly, does not incinerate David Caruso, and the Hitler movie that CBS thinks is going to save its sweeps bacon, and the incredibly annoying Star Search finale); My Local News; a child that thinks the firefly in its jar is Tinkerbell and that this will get her to DisneyWorld; a guy bent over a barrel (say it with me, Fester, TN, and Silvergirl: ewwwwww), for some local car dealer; and something elaborate for Busch Gardens and other things local to an area that is about 150 miles from me.

(And we’re back, with Jiffy in the audience)

Jiffy: Storms in Midwest, brak brak brak, people who got the generator hooked up so they could watch Survivor, brak brak brak, we decided it would be humiliating to bring these poor folks here to give us some sympathetic publicity and so New Yorkers could laugh at them. And what’s even funnier is we seated them behind Rudy.

(Jiffy makes his way back to the stage, telling us about the process of walking as he goes along, the camera having trouble following him.)

Jiffy: We've also had our own weather problems, we were supposed to be in Central Park, but my Jet-Ski got picked up in a tornado that blew me to South Park instead. Hello, point that damned camera at me, you wankers! Anyway, Letterman let us have his house for the show, since he’s off figuring out what major medical condition will next cause him to have to hire Jiminy Glick and Sherpa Dave as guest hosts.

Jiffy: Anyway, one of our most memorable contestants was Christy, and not just because she was deaf, but also because she’s deaf. And, of course, because she’s deaf.

(Christy's letter)

Jiffy: So, Christy, help us exploit you some more.

Christy: I was getting better. Then those beeyotches lied to me and I died. Fvck ‘em.

Jiffy: I told you that you sucked. When did you wise up?

Christy: That time in the bushes when you….

Jiffy: Right, so do you know what happened when you got voted out?

Christy: Everything in the history of mankind is Rob’s fault, including my bad plan, Heidi’s breasts, and Landru’s obsessions with Buggy, Pooh, Jenna, U-boats, and…whatever all that other stuff is he’s obsessed with.

Jiffy: Like you had a plan. Jenna, Heidi, what if Christy had said she'd go with you guys?

Jenna: It would've been on, but we still wouldn’t have bathed with her because she’s not as hot as we are.

Heidi: Yep.

Jiffy: Rob?

Rob: All she had to say was, "Rob, I worship your love monkey."

Jiffy: Okay, that settles it. You suck, Christy. You just…plain…suck. Fair?

Christy: (Weeping) Yep.

Jiffy: Rob, you're a Geek God. What's the key?

Rob: Listening from hiding places, spreading false stories and innuendo, only groping the women when Alex is standing on their other side and blaming it on him, and farting on Roger when he’s asleep.

Jiffy: I'm thinking of Thailand, and what happened to Jan and Helen.

Rob: Why the fvck would I care about Thailand, you fvcking moron? Get back to talking about me.

(Clip of Daniel and Ryan on the balance beam.)

Ryan: (buries head)

Jiffy: So what's it like to be a pair of pantywaists?

Ryan: Like anyone believed that was you on the Jet-Ski, you huge media whore.

Jiffy: Daniel, you had malaria.

Daniel: Yes, I was sweaty and convulsing and cramping. Would you like to hear about it, or may I take a cheap shot at Roger?

Jiffy: Next up: What made Heidi and Jenna get naked and was I looking?

(Shot from Jenna's home town.)

Commercials, sponsored by Coke (Vanilla Coke and Survivor: REAL)

Gangsters and Simon Cowell, for Vanilla Coke, which would’ve been a lot better if Simon had twisted the guy’s head off, which anyone knows is what would happen, even those of us who watched about three minutes total of “American Idol”; the extremely tired old multiplying bunnies commercial for Visa's check card; a stunt giraffe on a closed course for Toys R Us; some author person who tells us that her pregnancy lasted three years…it's her novel, and she takes her stuff to The Brown Store, formerly Mailboxes R Us, and we are duly unimpressed; some hair chick who is not Jenna believes in the miracle that is Pantene Pro-V; CBS (the King of Queens smells fish and eats it; “Yes Dear” still sucks; Nobody in Their Right Mind Likes Raymond's brother’s bachelor party; and some other dumba$$ crap starring some guy from “The Full Monty”; then Dave, then the CSI season finale, then Without a Trace, then Hitler, again, and damn that was a lot of CBS self-promotion when it could’ve been earning money); Lance Armstrong for Subaru, because…oh, uhm, sorry, all my Subaru jokes are politically incorrect, even on OT; happy touristy things for Orlando; and My Local News and the severe weather that really didn’t touch us at all, or anywhere particularly near us, but came close enough that there are some angry green splotches on the edges of the radar.

(And we’re back, with Jiffy in the audience again, talking to his very own mom, of which he apparently has one, or at least someone who’s willing to admit in public that she birthed him, and he duly gives her a Mother’s Day kiss, as she squirms and tells him to stop it with the tongue.)

(Film clip of next Survivor, off the coast of Panama, with a land steeped in a history of piracy; it's The Pearl Islands, it has a turbulent history, brak brak brak…fake pirate battle footage…exotic, dangerous, sharks, stingrays, dolphins, sea turtles…WTF? Dangerous sea turtles? I mean, y’know, dolphins and foul-tempered sea bass with frickin’ lasers on their heads, sure, but sea turtles? The show begins during the migration of humpbacked whales…(and I hereby assign the entire Bashers’ board to do a thread of not less than 100 entries on humpbacked whales, their migratory habits, and what they’re likely to be doing as the Survivors watch them…each tribe will have its own island, marooning will be unlike anything previous, brak brak brak.)

Jiffy: People are still talking about Jenna and Heidi getting nekkid for PB and chocolate.

Jiffy: (Moans and squirms a little) So, Jenna, have you been stoned to death and exiled in your village?

Jenna: Ah, fvck it, dad will let me do anything for food.

Jiffy: Uhm…Heidi, you're a school teacher? Y’know, public eye and all that?

Heidi: I have a supportive family…and I was skinny and disgusting looking, so nobody will know it was me.

Jiffy: Just don’t tell them what else you did for food, girls.

(Clips of skeletal Survivors)

Jiffy: Deena?

Deena: Losing two cases of Coke to those bastiges was one of the most depressing moments of my life. I almost quit. Oh yeah, and I’m fat.

Jiffy: Heidi, you’re really bright for a slut with huge silicon floaters. In fact, you’re smarter than Dave, who is nominally a rocket scientist. Why didn’t you rely more on your intelligence?

Heidi: It would have dazzled them too much. You have to check your pride at the door. Or on the living room floor. Or on some guy’s roommate’s couch. Or in the ladies’ room. Or the mens’ room. Or in the back seat. I’ve checked my pride in elevators, closets, motel rooms…wherever.

Jiffy: When we get back—absolutely nothing of importance.

Commercials

The Buff collection; Bausch and Lomb eye health vitamins, in a mawkishly awful little freakshow; pulsating chix, to "She's A Lady", for Coors Light, which is still an arm of fascism; squeezable Skippy, leading me to a meditation on the squeezeability of chunky peanut butter, which is odd, because I absolutely detest peanut butter in any form; something to calm just-shaved underarms…oh good, Dove deodorant; Polaroid, since Kodak got in its licks earlier; and My Local News, yet again.

MAJOR NEWS FLASH

The camera sweeps in toward the stage from a high, wide angle, out over the audience. There can now be seen, for a fraction of a vidcap second…

A large picture of KIM POSSIBLE, being held up by an audience member!!!

You can see this amazing sight right here.

That’s right, kids. AnotherKim has pulled off what no previous Blowhevian Reunion Show attendee has ever done—she got us noticed on national TV, even if it was an inside joke that only we get. Or noticed. Whatever. It brought a tear to my eye, and it damned well better bring one to yours, or me and Fester and TN will come to your house and beat you up with giant foam turtles and stuff. Oh yes we will.

YOU GO KIM!

(Any of you who know me know bloody well that I am absolutely, positively, NOT given to woo-hooing…so appreciate these awesome props for A-Kim for the heartfelt thing that they am. Or me and Fester and TN will come to your house and beat you up with giant foam turtles and stuff. Oh yes we will. And I don’t even know Anotherkim.)

ANOTHERKIM, ladies and gentlemen!

(Note: I have subsequently discovered that it was A-Kim’s minion Thunderkitten who was holding up the sign. So we’ll shout out to Thunderkitten (whom we also don’t know) too…although we didn’t see any kitties being held up to the camera, and respectfully suggest to Thunderkitten that she might wish to toot her own horn, but still...)

THUNDERKITTEN, ladies and gentlemen!

Jiffy: Brak brak brak E-bay, S7 applications.

Jiffy: The 8-ball survived Butch's fire…

Heidi: You’re damned right it was Butch’s fire. Don’t you ever forget that on the night I got booted, that hydroencephalic moe-ron set the damn camp on fire.

Jiffy: Roger and Daniel, tongue-kiss for a national audience?

(They do, as we fade and roll credits.)

(Editor’s note: There is a joke in this transcript that most of you—all but about three of you, in fact—will not get. It is a tribute to a dear real-life friend who actually had Jenna to win from the beginning and, furthermore, had absolutely no idea about the existence of the casino spoiler. He kicked our a$$es. Further, there are a number of other jokes that cannot possibly be understood by anyone but individual ones or twos of you scattered about this fine continent we call North Vespucci. So forgive me n stuff.)

As always, thanks for reading.

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