Survivor: Thailand - Episode 100, Part 9 Summary

'"Official Transcript"' By landruajm

So it's pretty effing clear where the show ends and the reunion picks up. After Jiffy solemnly intones that he'll go tally the votes, he disappears for about 5 months, as signified by a really crappy edit, and returns to a sound stage in L.A, where Our Lord and Savior Mark Burnett has faithfully recreated the final TC, as signified by the fact that Brian no longer has a gray spot in his beard and Clay is about 40 pounds heavier, since he's consumed about 436 pots of etoufee and 1,462 crawdaddy po boys since about four seconds ago--you know, back before the crappy edit. Yo, Mark, can I be your continuity ho?

And out of respect for my good buddy Sherps, I won't be the one to make fun of ole' Porn Boy winning by the narrow margin of Clay's big fat stupid cracker mouth and all, and I'll just pick up where I'm supposed to, that being while Brian is still celebrating and Jiffy stands aside from the pack to admit that we're no longer in the jungle:

TRANSCRIPT BEGINS

Jiffy: Well, if you're like me, you're wondering how we got here, when Jane Clayson is better-looking than me, and Julie Chen's not busy bouncing her little bobblehead up and down on something, if you know what I mean, and Meredith Viera is ferchrissake hosting the syndicated version of Regis' stupid game show. I mean, how did I get here? This is not my beautiful house. Where is that large automobile? Oh, and what happened in this season of "Survivor"? Anyway, sit through the next few minutes of crap and we'll get to all that. Especially the part about Julie Chen's bobblehead.

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Commercials: Some jackass singing about Radio Shack, to the tune of "Jingle Bells, Batman Smells"; some other jackass singing about GMC SUVs; speaking of jackasses, some more of the Bush administration's lame efforts to tie every social disorder in America to terrorism and therefore convince us that it's not only worthwhile but important for us to bomb anyone who isn't US back to the Stone Age, if W feels like it and he can get permission from Karl Rove (haven't you learned anything from the movies? Only really, really BAD guys spell "Carl" with a "K") and Colon Powell; and another in that annoying series of Old Navy commercials.

Jiffy: Brak brak brak, it's a reunion show. Brak brak brak, I have no idea how people win this game, but congratulations anyway, Brian.

Brian: Thank you. Thank yuh ver-uh much.

Jiffy: Brian, you're one of the smartest players ever to play the game. Can I touch your totem pole?

Brian: Only in a simulated way. And you may never, ever touch my mullet.

Jiffy: What's the secret of your simulated success?

Brian: I am Stuart Smalley. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me.

Jiffy: I notice that your wife is in the audience, and that your nose appears remarkably unbroken. Who did your makeup?

Brian: It's simulated.

Jiffy: Clay, how on Urf were you stupid enough to manage to lose to this guy? I mean, you are indisputably one incredibly stupid cracker bastige, and yet Brian made it so obvious that he was trying to be the slightly less gay reincarnation of Dicque that you almost pulled this off. So what I want to know is, would you please comb your fvcking hair?

Brian: Clay is a remarkable competitor, and brak brak brak oh, is the vote over? Well, Clay is a dramatically stupid cracker bastige, and I couldn't have lost this if I bent over and asked Helen to lick me, which she always kinda wanted to do anyway.

Jiffy: That's nice, Brian, but I was talking to Clay. Now, Clay, why did you just blow off three people who were BEGGING you for one tiny little reason not to vote for Brian?

Clay: Well, first off, I thought Jake would stand up for his fellow cracker. I mean, we're both real white and from the same part of the Confederacy and all, and I just thought I had that one all wrapped up in the flag, if'n yew know whut ah mean. I just didn't think he could hate lahk that.

(Stage note: Tanya sits in the back row coughing uncontrollably throughout most of this segment, while Robb fondles her knee, Jed licks her ear, and Shih Ann/Daria squirms to avoid the flying germs. It never occurs to MB to have Tanya shot up with curare to prevent this unfortunate noise, even though he must already be in possession of some, having just hung out in Brazil to shoot S6.)

Jiffy: But you get my point, right?

Clay: Yeah, I git your point, I ain't that stupid, you fancy-pants Yankee queer.

Jiffy: Go on.

Clay: Well, as fer the rest, Ted had me cold. I am a nasty little racist piglet. And Helen, I just figured that was her hormones or whatever. Nuthin' I could do about it.

Jiffy: Brian, you were one seriously two-faced piece of crap. Why'd you end up choosing Clay?

Brian: One word: enlightened self-interest, followed by a whole bunch of other words, all of which were spoken to me by my mullet when I was making my momentous decision while thinking about simulated sex I have had with many persons, some of whom were probably women.

Jiffy: Yeah, great. Guys, quit hogging the microphone, we only got an hour here. Answer the question, shut up, sit down. So let's beat this dead horse some more. Nah, actually…Ted, where did this racist stuff come from? That took me by surprise.

Ted: It took me by surprise, too, but it was a message that beamed through the tin foil that lines my brain, in between me grinding on Ghandia--who I actually did want to have sex with, because I'm attracted to everything, including pigs, dogs, cows, you, Brian, Clay, Ghandia, wet 50-pound bags of flour, two-legged dogs, and oven mitts--and some conversation I had with Helen where she told me Clay was a racist and I should beat him up at the last Tribal Council so it would be more dramatic when she beat up Brian like he was on the witness stand in a Perry Mason movie.

Jiffy: Is it fair to make that vote based on hearsay?

Ted: I don't know, but since I did it, yeah, sure, of course it was. I mean, duh, how stupid are you, anyway, Jeff?

Jiffy: Now, Helen, you're the one who supplied that information, then you were on Brian's butt (in a simulated sorta way) for doing something based on hearsay, and how is this fair, I ask you? What if Helen had a grudge against Clay, which I know is really hard to believe since she just spent 37 days telling us how much she disliked the guy, but what if she did?

Ted: Aren't you wasting time here, Jiffy?

Jiffy: Okay. Why were you guys so stupid that you didn't hook up with Jan and Helen, or with any combination of humans involving Jake, and get rid of these two guys who were, as even emaciated mental defectives like you could tell, completely controlling your minds?

Ted: Well, Jake was desperate, and Helen is ugly and kind of a whack job, and Jan is an emotionally unstable drunk, and besides, I was still sorta goofy from grinding on Ghandia.

Jiffy: So Jan, what about that?

Jan: Ah wuz too stupid to play the game, ah wuz jist waiting for people to bring me drinks with umbrellas.

Jiffy: Helen, you just turned around and killed Jan with your Evil Laser Eyes. Why's that?

Helen: Well, she's such a stupid drunk beeyotch that she got us both offed. She had it coming. Can I do some more of my Sue Hawk act now?

Jiffy: Jan, how dumb are you? I mean, you got Porn Boy and his evil little crawfish hovering over you, telling you you can maybe have third place if you do their bidding, line up for slaughter, and help them vote out the Wicked Witch of the Seals, and you go along with it?

Jan: Kin ah have a beer?

Jiffy: Helen, how frustrated were you that Jan was such a dumba$$?

Helen: Excuse me? Did you not just see the Evil Laser Eyes?

Jan: Ah'm so sorry, Hel-uhn, ah screwed up.

Jiffy: No, you didn't screw up, Porn Boy was supposed to win all along, silly! And anyway, no one can understand how incredibly stupid you get after 39 days on an island with me, Mark, and Uncle Cameraman, who is, after all, one of those funny kinds of uncles. But you feel like you had some control over the situation, and you'd do it differently, now that you're not under our hypnotic mind control?

Jan: Shoah, but ah realluh feel like ah was a functioning robot.

Helen: (Snorts) Sure, except for the functioning part.

Jiffy: Helen what made you trust a greasy sack of pornstar crap like Brian anyway?

Helen: I'm about to undergo six or eight years of therapy to try to clear that up, thanks so much. But mostly because he stroked my ego and implied that we were the only ones who would do any work.

Jiffy: Did you change your mind after seeing the show?

Helen: Sir, yes sir, thank you sir, may I have another, sir?

Jiffy: You would've voted for Clay?

Helen: Sir, yes sir, thank you sir, may I have another, sir?

Jiffy: Will you turn around and give Shih Ann a really long kiss on the thighs for me right now? And don't be shy with the tongue.

Helen: Sir, yes sir, thank you sir, may I have another, sir?

Jiffy: No. Let's revisit the painfully obvious; Helen, Ted, Jan, and Jake voted for Brian, and Ken, Aaron, and Penny voted for Clay. So Penny, what made you vote for Clay?

Penny: Everything is about me. Jeff, if you can tell me my ring size, I'll bury my face in your crotch while you steer me by my little troll-baby ears.

Jiffy: Yes, we've established that repeatedly, Penny.

Penny: Well, Clay really tried to get to know me, and I didn't realize it was just because he wanted to get in my pants.

Jiffy: And Clay was the one who successfully talked you into voting for Jake the night you got offed. Why didn't you just do him?

Penny: I was saving myself for Ken, back at Loser Lodge, because I didn't realize Aaron had her nasty mannish body wrapped around him already.

Jiffy: Clay, what really happened? You were trying to set her up?

Clay: Well, I was just being nice to her, figuring I'd be putting someone on the jury to vote for me. Plus, y'know, she fvcks anyone who's nice to her, I figured, what the heck, even someone like me who has to be a mascot at the Klan meetings might have a shot at a little of that.

Jiffy: Up next, that whole Ted/Ghandia thing, as if we need to see that yet again, after it's already been done to death and repeatedly plugged tonight.

Commercials, brought to you by Chevy trucks: that stupid pick-everyone-up-in-a-Trailblazer-in-the-desert commercial where a guy lands a Harrier and then commutes with four cowboys and two chicks to some unnamed destination; the first of many, many iterations of a stupid Sears Christmas sale commercial that we've already seen sixty or eighty times tonight, since Sears has decided, for some reason, to sink all of its advertising budget this week into CBS Thursday night; a bunch of food-related lies about Mickey D's; another in the really dumb Dell Interns series, which is somehow even less entertaining than that punka$$ b!tch Dell dood series; something about a rambunctious 2-year-old…oh, it's a Pampers thing, I wouldn't understand; Dove soap, which I like because it leaves me smelling all perfumy and femmy and stuff, which is really good just before I walk into the bar at Hammerjacks to try to pick up chicks with tattoos and piercings instead of morals; that fvcking Sears commercial AGAIN; and CBS (Late Show, with Tom Hanks as a guest, plus the Survivors, then a very special Faith Hill Christmas special, then some dumb new series about a court, which I will watch because it stars Annabella Sciorra, who is pretty much the sole occupant of my Reserve List these days).

Jiffy: Okay, let's talk about that whole Ted and Ghandia thing. Here's some footage of Ghandia feeling up Ted's leg and stuff:

(Footage of Ghandia leading Ted on)

Jiffy: So Ghandia, you were leading him on totally. What's up with that?

Ghandia: It was important for me to be touching someone and stuff. And, y'know, I was practicing for my new career in filing spurious sexual harassment suits, since it's pretty clear that my career as a Survivor was a miserable failure.

Jiffy: Okay, so here's the footage you've already seen a gazillion times:

(Footage of Ted claiming he's not attracted to Ghandia, even though for some crazy inexplicable reason, in the middle of the night he popped a chubby and started anally penetrating her)

Jiffy: So, Ted, for the first time we have an incident that affects peoples' families, outside of the game. How'd you get that shite past your wife?

Ted: Fortunately, my wife, to whom I am 648 percent committed as long as no other women rub up against me, is really stupid and believes everything I tell her, because North Carolina isn't a community property state.

Jiffy: And then she actually saw the episode.

Ted: Well, yeah, but like I said, she's really really dumb.

Jiffy: What about you, Ghandia? Enquirer said you and the old man were Splitsville.

Ghandia: As part of the legal settlement that allows me to continue to be married to him, I am going to say here and now that I'm really, really sorry I'm such a big sleazy ho that I started rubbing Ted's leg until he started grinding me in a way I really liked until I realized it was going to be on television and I could use it to try to off him and be one of the last remaining two non-white people on the cast.

Jiffy: Well, I'm glad that everyone's spouse understands that it's a weird environment out there and it doesn't necessarily mean anything when Survivors start touching each others' filthy unwashed bodies. I mean, y'all KNOW I made Wigglesworth and Manthey shower before I did 'em, right?

Penny: How come you didn't make me shower?

Jiffy: Trust me. I showered afterward. Okay, so the other big humiliating moment I can throw back in your faces is the non-merge.

(Footage of Jiffy's famously smarmy "I certainly didn't say anything about a merge, since that would've been a direct violation of Mark's orders and it would screw up this setup where we for some reason think it's a great idea to have another Pagonging" scene.)

Jiffy: So Shih-Ann, how dumb did you feel when I yanked that sucker out from under your shifty little HR-weenie feet?

Shih-Ann: Dumber than when I believed that guy I had sex with really was Boomer Esiason.

Jiffy: Ken and Aaron, you were real happy there, why?

Ken: Shut up, Aaron, I'll do the talking, you dumb beeyotch. The simple fact is, we thought we were playing "The Mole," and Shih-Ann looked so much like Dorothy that we thought she had to be the Mole. And I never liked her anyway, and she better not come trolling for executive recruits in my precinct.

Jiffy: Okay, it's time to start our random segment in which we give a few seconds of face time to each of the losers. Robb, you're up first.

Robb: I'm still really obnoxious and stupid, but seeing it on TV humbled me so much that I almost didn't try to get laid for a couple of days. But I let my dad pierce one of my nipples as punishment, so everything's cool now.

(Footage of Robb choking Clay and then admiring his own efforts to choke a man fully two feet shorter than himself)

Jiffy: Put on a hat, Robb, your hair looks really stupid that way.

(Footage of Robb on the night before his evisceration, trying to convince the Sookies that he's had an epiphany, he loves everyone, his idiot behavior is the result of being unloved, and he's no longer a complete moron)

Jiffy: So, you even fooled me with that rot, huh?

Robb: Yeah, I'm totally changed and stuff, dood. Yo, Shih, wanna do the horizontal bop?

Jiffy: Next, we'll look at what a bunch of casting morons we are:

(Footage of Stephanie's audition tape, in which she looks vaguely like Jennifer Aniston and does a huge striptease thing)

Jiffy: Too bad that bag of ho never showed up, or I might've gotten to do more than just Penny.

Commercials: That dumb commercial where a 4-year-old girl asks for a power saw and blames her dad, for Home Despot; a NetZero ad attacking AOL; the absolutely fabulous United States Postal Service, which has never lost one of your packages just before Christmas; yet ANOTHER improbable, ridiculous, and overblown anti-drug ad from the Bush administration…

Let me be perfectly clear here: I do not, in fact, condone the use of illegal drugs (and trust me on this, for a period of many years, I condoned it in a very big way), or the abuse of any substance, legal or otherwise (and trust me on this, I occasionally put myself in the position of condoning my own abuse of certain legal substances in a very big way), but these ONDCP people are uncontrollably sh!tting public money on a campaign that has, provably, had absolutely no effect on the rate of use of illegal drugs (I'm not making it up--you can search the Web for cites to studies on this and on the notion that public money spent on the demand side of the drug problem would be FAR more effectively spent on treatment than on public relations), all for the twin purposes of: (1) looking good in a fight against an industry from which the U.S. government has (in the past--I have no evidence of current government involvement, except of course for what I read in the Enquirer) covertly profited, and in which it has absolutely no interest in cutting back, because that would allow way too many people the opportunity to improve their lives, to the financial and political detriment of those who populate the government; and (2) promoting its own imperialist agenda of using the threat of anti-Americanism to allow the United States to engage in a broad war of aggression against countries whose main crime is to possess oil that we don't).

Uhm, sorry about that, three ONDCP commercials in one evening is WAY over my tolerance, and by the way, did I neglect to mention that the last, aforementioned, ONDCP commercial is one of the most racist pieces of footage I've ever laid eyes on? Sorry, damned tangents, back to…dancing rolls of wrapping paper, for Rubbermaid (we've previously covered my entire position on Rubbermaid ads); some variety of Shout; more from the United States Postal Service, which does not have a large pile of mail addressed to you sitting moldering in some grave in some postal facility somewhere and which, if delivered, would never be stolen by your beloved letter carrier; CBS, for the unfortunate reincarnation of Star Search, which will be live, to increase the schadenfreude that we all so adore, which in turn was called to CBS' attention by the infinitely excreble "American Idol", and which will, I am given to understand, be hosted by the enduringly unentertaining Arsenio Hall; CBS again, for the Late Show, again; and a bunch of local stuff, because, as I believe I've already told you, I live in a Major Media Market and you, unless you are Technoir, Silvergirl, Fester, or someone else local about whom I am unfortunately forgetting, or you are one of the New Yorkers, live in the freaking provinces and I'm sure that you are perfectly happy about it, even though I'm very sad for you. But I'm willing to concede that that's a me problem and resume the transcript that was so rudely interrupted by ONDCP and others.

Oh yeah, and a news tease telling me that Trent Lott's going to quit tomorrow. Nah, not really. But I had to work that in, just to leave you completely convinced that I'm as Republican as the day is long, in case you're the FBI and you're reading this and you've traced me back to a specific IP address, or unless you're Pooh, who has not only my IP address but my home address, my work address, my mother's address, and the address of the house where she's going to dig a pit and put me at the bottom of it, where she will lower stuff to me in a basket, saying, "it puts the poodle in the basket…I said, it puts the poodle in the basket, dammit!!!"

Okay, okay, back to:

Jiffy: So, Stephanie, after your audition tape, I really thought I had a shot at doing you.

(Footage of Steffi stripping down from lingerie to seductive music, building a fire nekkid, and skinny-dipping)

Jiffy: So, like, where was she, really?

Stephanie: It was really humiliating getting outclassed by such a pack of wussies, and as God is my witness, I'll never fail at anything ever again. Now git over here and sire my children, boy.

Jiffy: Aaron, convince America that you're not really, really stupid. I mean, you were the Survivor hot chick this season, for sure…

(Massive puking sounds from Tanya, Stephanie, and Penny, accompanied by footage of Aaron's Survivor Fun Bags, 2nd Edition ™)

Jiffy: So, I noticed that a few days into the game, you started covering up those massively phony juggs, Aaron.

Aaron: I did?

Jiffy: How do you think you did, considering that you're just as big a loser as everyone else who's not Porn Boy?

Aaron: I think I worked real hard and over…over…uhm, beat that, uhm..ster…stereo…that thing you said everyone had of me.

Jiffy: Jed, you were a pretty strong fella, what the heck happened to you?

(Jed weeps)

Jed: Brak brak brak sour grapes.

Jiffy: They wanted you out so bad they tossed their cookies on a challenge, right Shih-Ann?

Shih-Ann: Oh, crap, did the fact that I was off to the side giving Ken a hand job give that one away?

Jiffy: Did you know that, Jed?

Jed: Sorry, I was combing my hair and oiling my muscles. You say something?

Jiffy: Coming up, we'll show you the locale for the next season, but first:

Commercials, sponsored by Radio Shack: A repeat of the dwork singing "Jingle Bells, Batman Smells," aka the Radio Shack Song (the repeat rate on commercials during CBS Thursday this week was truly stinkerific); Lowes' nightly challenge to the Home Despot commercial that aired in a previous segment; some chick taking a shower, for Caress; a commercial that proves indisputably that Capital One kills anyone who doesn't hold one of its credit cards; some big nature thing, for the Diamond Industry (you got a pretty severe rant in the last commercial break, I'll spare you one this time, but believe me, I'm storing one up for you on this topic); more Mickey D's, pimping its Dollar Menu (did you know that if you get only two or three things from Mickey's Dollar Menu, you get just as fat just as quick as if you paid full price?); CBS, for "Hack," which I have covered in a previous rant (with which some fool had the temerity to disagree), and "CSI Miami," which really really sucks, and for the Miami-Minnesota game on Saturday, and for the Early Show; and a bunch of local stuff, over which I think I've insulted you just about enough--feel free to message me privately if you need some other reminders about how I luxuriate in a Truly Major Media Market while you toil away your entire miserable life in squalor in some place where you can't drive for about 10 minutes and see the grandeur that is the seat of Your government. Or the seat of Your government's pants. Or something.

(Footage of Ted's massage)

Jiffy: Want a drink, Ted?

(Footage of Survivor 6, which will occur in the Amazon. We are all so very glad that we will not be playing, and we will all hope to see someone very much like Jiffy being swallowed whole by an anaconda. Which brings to mind an idea Technoir and I had while we were talking about this on the phone the other day…we never really saw what the tiebreaker was for Survivor Thailand, since there never was a tie, but wouldn't it be really cool if, in the event of a tie vote in Survivor Brazil, the tie victims have to stick a hand in the river, and the one that comes up with the most remaining fingers unmolested by piranhas wins?)

Jiffy: We're running out of time, and we still have a few people to torment. Let's see…Jake, why'd you turn into such a quivering sack of Jell-O ™ when your wife showed up?

Jake: Well, Penny's cute, but the sex isn't real good.

Jiffy: Tanya, let's all weep over your personal tragedy.

Tanya: Well, day-um, Jeff, I booted about a gallon of water on national television, isn't that pretty durn tragic?

Jiffy: No, no, I mean about your father dying.

Tanya: What? My daddy died? (Weeps)

Jiffy: Right. Let's take a break.

Commercials: The stupid "Survivor" computer game; some odd dancing, for cotton; that bloody fvck-awful Sears commercial, again; a dreadful commercial about some drug that helps you when you have excessive urinary urgency, and I gotta tell you, if I got that kind of problem, I cannot imagine never having mentioned it to my doctor, and I cannot imagine never having heard of this drug, which is, no doubt, very good for those folks who have this unfortunate problem, which I do not mean to belittle so don't bloody write to me or Ayak or the alert button about it; the Crest Spin Brush Pro, which both cleans your teeth and satisfies your prurient urges like no other combination product on the market, if'n yew know whut ah mean; the many, many uses of Hidden Valley Ranch salad dressing mix; Jesvs H Chr!st on a wobbly crutch, if you show me that g0ddam Sears commercial ever again I will burn down the nearest Sears, hunt down Sears' ad agency and bulldoze it, and hunt down the CBS time booker and lay waste to him/her and everything/everybody he or she loves; and CBS, for the Late Show, again.

Jiffy: Okay, we're about outta here, so let's go to John for a second; John, you really, really sucked. You okay with that?

John: It's not my fault these heathens don't understand the value of having a TV-ministry quality preacher in their midst, and I'm sure that The Lord will rain hellfire and brimstone and dead frogs and crippled Laotian hookers down on their houses and farms and day-care centers for all time to come, until the trumpets sound, the skies open up, and my TV ministry makes me a few million clams.

Jiffy: Right. Now for some vital information: go to E-bay and buy Survivor stuff, which we're auctioning off for charity. The stuff includes all the torches and all the crap we didn't burn and the condom I wore when I did Jerri Manthey. Also, sign up for Survivor 7, and study some book that I've never read, if you're one of those people who hangs out at places, like, oh, I don't know, www.survivorblows.com, because we're arrogant enough to think that if we tell you something like that, you'll believe it, study the book, base all your decisions on whatever it says, and leave yourselves vulnerable to further mindraping by Our Lord and Savior Mark Burnett.

(Oh, and thanks, as always, for reading.)

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