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HOME > EPISODE SUMMARIES

Survivor: Palau - Episode 100, Part 9 Summary

'Just. Slump. Over.' By landruajm
Original Airdate: May 15, 2005

So, it can’t be the worst. Season. Ever. We know that whole no-water thing was worse, as was the whole Vecepia Towery thing. But the idiocy of play, the self-righteousness, the smug lying by people who later proclaim their integrity to the world, the downright immaturity, the…oh, the horror, the horror. And it’s all only compounded by the freshness of the worst of it. I should be overjoyed at writing this, because the Reunion Show was so fraught with attackable goodness that I should be squealing and wetting my candy-striped panties from the excitement of it all. But no. I have to temper my excitement, because we all had to watch the vicious bully Tom mindrape that poor dullard Ian into believing he had actually done something wrong. That? Was the worst crime ever committed by a Survivor, bar none.

And yet? I’m a trouper. I’m going to bring you this even though watching the tape of Tom burns my eyes from the sheer evil of it all. Exponentialized evil, even, since on this tape he seems to be sitting next to that useless tub of goo Katie for so much of it. Yes, Katie, who provided such a convenient villain for Tom to take to the final two that he fictionalized Ian into Charlie Manson so that he could dump the poor rube into the drink, literally, and put the arrogant, nasty, completely unloved Katie on his arm for the grand finale. I? Am gonna Lexify this motherfvcker.

I’m gonna Lexify this motherfvcker worse than the Bulbsucker did right cheeah and while my man the Bulbsucker is one fine failure of anger management when he pleases to be so, and did in fact cut the smug twit into pieces that he dissolved in sulfuric acid, leaving nothing but pre-primordial slime, it’s just not enough. But I digress from the story line with which Jims very thoughtfully left me.

Tradition has it that I pick things up when Jiffy hacks off into the brush with the Rusty Japanese Ammunition Box of Vote Storage and sets off on his long, shark-infested, Customs-official-bribing, airport-layovering, Easy-Ridering, taxicab-dodging journey from some now-burning jungle all the way back to New York or LA or somewhere we feel like using as the base for a live show. But Jiffy cheats us, and I feel compelled to take some responsibility for this. You see, every season, they create some epic journey for Jiffy, and I chronicle it in some detail, accompanied by no small amount of scorn for Jiffy and his stunt double. And then Jiffy and Mark read it—they read everything we write here, you know—and they get all offended, and it takes them four to six months to get their panties unbunched, and we go at it again.

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But this time? Their panties stayed bunched. “We’ll show that Landru fvcker,” they chortled. “We’ll just cut straight from the Tribal Council to the live studio audience in the fabulous Ed Sullivan Theater, home of the David Letterman Show, and not give that irredeemably nasty wannabe anything to shoot at. Ha! HA! we snort, HA!!!

So you remember the time Jiffy rode in on a helicopter and was standing on one of the side rails and didn’t fall screaming 3,000 feet into Midtown Manhattan? Did that suck, or what?

Remember the time he was a cabin boy on a tramp freighter from Brazil and ended up wishing that UberUnterSeeBootKapitan Matt had torpedoed him? Which isn’t code for something?

Now, we find out that this little reunion thingie is gonna suck so much that MB has to remind us of other shows that used to be good that occur in the Ed Sullivan Theater? What a pack of dworkwads. You owe me a decent season of Survivor, you dipshits. I can’t believe I actually let this tripe keep me up until My Local News.

So Jiffy staggers, after the quickest of cuts from the jungle, into the Ed Sullivan Theater to the cheers of an adoring audience, and makes a big shoe of trying to quiet them down while he stands on the stage, his ego growing more and more Streisand-like as he absorbs the adulation, until suddenly he becomes a 900-foot mechanoid with a faintly Japanese accent and destroys all of Manhattan Island.

The man has no ability to fake humility whatsoever. Just when it’s becoming pretty obvious he’s going to need an underwear change, the audience finally quiets down and lets him start reading votes. Of course, there’s very little point to this, because Ian wasn’t smart enough to convey to the jury what a heinous piece of garbage Tom is, or how Tom treated him, and he probably hadn’t been away from Tom long enough for the Stockholm Syndrome to wear off (the reunion made it pretty obvious that it still hasn’t worn off and Ian loves his abuser as much as he ever did on the island). And because Katie wasn’t smart enough to demonize Tom, instead relying on the ever-successful “Yes, I’m Only Here Because the Other Finalist Thought You’d Hate Me, But Fvck All of You, I’m Still Not Sucking Up” strategy that she learned from Clay Jordan.

Jiffy, of course, wrings all the suspense he can from this crusty, dry, listeria-infested sponge, reading a Tom vote, and then that Katie vote that we know was cast by Coby after Tom’s positively clueless reply to Coby’s direct and reasonable request that Tom simply be a man and admit he’s a lying douchebag who emotionally abused Ian to the point where he’ll never have a healthy adult relationship with another human being, let alone fall in love with a girl who isn’t Katie. I gotta admit, they did a good job of sprucing up Ian for the show. You could barely see the strings. And you’d never know he now spends all of his time rocking back and forth catatonically in a padded room. Wouldn’t you, if you had been the victim of such a malicious surprise attack of butt piracy?

So Tom wins, and dashes off into the audience to give some lovin’ to his fambly, while we cut to Tom’s adoring fireman buddies in Brooklyn and some people in a tent in Tom’s hometown and the non-jury Survivors march in and Probst raves about the brutalization of Ian and Ulong and about peoples’ significant life transformations and then, then, makes the outrageous and indefensible claim that this was one of the best seasons ever, and takes us into:

Commercials, brought to us by Chevrolet, which awarded Tom a Soviet Socialist Republic for winning Survivor...












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