Monday, September 20, 2004

The Amazing Race for Best Reality Program. Woo!

I was worried that The Apprentice might win.

UPDATE: In keeping with the Amazing post, here’s the latest TWoP recap - a must read simply for Colin’s meltdown with the broken ox in the mudpit.

Okay. So. Colin runs out into the field and gets behind the ox with the rope in his hand. Christie, unlike every one of the other seven people who has participated in this task, chooses to stand on the sidelines and do nothing, in an apparent attempt to keep her feet clean. In Stage I (Colin Is Sane, Mostly), he says fairly breezily to Christie when she asks him how he’s doing the task, “I can’t control where he goes, baby.” And indeed, Colin is at the ox’s mercy, as it leads him in a random diagonal cutting across the field. “Be looking, okay?” she nags. In Stage II (Colin Becomes Concerned), he says, “Which way?” “Be looking on the bottom,” she offers, as if it’s a very silly question. In Stage IIIA ("Babe" Is Colin For “B****"), he tightly says with frustration, “You’re not even helping me look, babe, you’re just standing around.” In Stage IIIB: ("Babe" Is Christie For “A******"), she says, “There’s not much I can do, babe. It’s—it’s underneath. It’s in the plowed area. It’s gonna be deep; that’s why you have to really be looking in the plowed area.” Why wouldn’t she at least walk with him if that’s what she thinks? Sigh. In Stage IV: (Christie Pokes The Sleeping Crazy), she says, as if he’s a dimwit, “Do you understand?” In Stage V: (Blast-Off), Colin says, “I UNDERSTAND!” And then he goes back to plowing. But just for the moment.

[...]

In Stage VI (Human-Animal Miscommunication Troubles Us All) Colin shrieks, “Where’s he going?” as the ox wanders off the field. Well, yeah. I mean, the ox doesn’t know the rules. The saying isn’t “smart as an ox,” Colin. In Stage VII (Exploring The Futility of Ordering Around An Ox Who Probably Doesn’t Speak English), Colin hollers at the ox, “NO! In this field!” You know, my parents’ dog is a lot smarter than that ox, and I’m not sure he knows very many words other than “squirrel,” “out,” “walk,” “Daddy,” “Mommy,” and “BlackDog.” (BlackDog is the dog across the street, who is his best friend. He and BlackDog would never Yield each other.) I don’t think the dog would understand “In this field!” Plus, what has Colin done for this ox? Why would the ox listen to anything he says? The dog only pays any attention because my parents pour tomato juice on his food.

In Stage VIII (Colin Instantly Becomes A Legend), he says, “Oh my GOD! My ox is broken! This is BULL****!” Yes. You heard right; his ox is broken. Just his luck, Colin has wound up with the world’s only broken ox working for him. And it’s not broken in the sense that it’s injured, unless he suspects it of having one leg shorter than the others in such a way that it goes in circles. No, it’s broken in the sense that just as you should be able to pick up a Jack-in-the-box, turn the crank, and have the little guy pop out, he thinks you should be able to pick up a rope, tell an ox where to go, and he should go there. And if he doesn’t? Well, he’s obviously broken. Flawed! Colin has been given nonfunctioning equipment!

[...]

In Stage IX (Christie Starts Asking Questions Just To Be A B****), she says, “Colin, is it possible for you to control him? Please answer me when I talk to you. If there’s any way possible that you can not wander aimlessly...” In Stage X (Colin Clings Desperately To The Very Few Marbles He Has Left), he says, “Do you know how hard it is to look down and try to drive him? Do you realize how difficult that is?” In Stage XI (Colin Fastens On The Only Possible Explanation, Which Is Preferential Treatment For Others), he says, “It wasn’t this hard for the other teams. I guarantee you that much.” See, that’s where the arrogance kills. Because if he had any humility, it would occur to him that this was because he might be doing it wrong. And then he might think to himself, “What might the other teams have thought of that I did not?” But I don’t think he thinks that way. Like, ever.

Anyway, in Stage XII (Deserving Each Other, Part One), Christie says, “Grab the plow!” In Stage XIII (Deserving Each Other, Part Two), Colin screams, “I CAN’T GET HIM TO GO OVER THERE!” In Stage XIV (Nothing Says “I Have No Argument” Quite Like “Calm Down"), Christie says, “Calm down.” In Stage XV (Them Animals Scare Easy), Colin screams, “WHY DO YOU KEEP TURNING?” (Ox: “Because you are a lot funnier than writing my name in the mud with my tail again, and moreover, now I am immortal!") In Stage XVI (Provoking For Provocation’s Sake), Christie says, dripping contempt, “Colin, why don’t you learn how to control him?” In Stage XVII (No One In His BMX Club Will Talk To Colin Now That They’ve Heard Him Scream Like A Little Girl), Colin screams, “I’m tryin’!” In Stage XVIII (Having the Upper Hand And Making Sure Everyone Knows It), Christie says, again dripping contempt, “Listen to yourself. No wonder you can’t control it.” Easy to say in the non-plowing role, isn’t it, non-plowing non-plower? “I CAN’T MAKE HIM GO OVER THERE!” Colin shouts again. In Stage XIX (Turning Into A Freudian Mother-Related Nightmare), Christie says, “I don’t want another word coming out of your mouth.” In Stage XX (Unfortunately, Yes, He’s Talking To Christie And Not The Ox, As You Know If You Watch The Insider Videos), Colin doubles over with one hand on the plow and the other on his knee and whimpers—yes, whimpers—“Oh my God, I hate you.” In Stage XXI (She Is A Lovely Person Also), Christie says, “Oh my God, just plow.” And in Stage XXII (Just Plain ... Awesome), Colin leans back, looks at the sky, grimaces as if he is in a movie about eternal suffering, and...waits for guidance? Hopes to catch some rain in his mouth? Tries to look at the front of his own hat and fails? Hard to say.

[...]

Colin continues his Heart of Darkness moment as his ox drags him across the mud field. “Whoa! Whoa!” he yells. “Slow him down, Colin, now,” Christie instructs, as if that’s not what “Whoa! Whoa!” indicates he’s trying to do. “Stupid ox!” Colin snaps, briefly turning into a second-grader who can’t close his thermos. ("Stupid thermos. Stupid lid. Stupid Batman.") “Nooo! Stay in the field!” he yells. The ox now realizes that Colin wants him to stay in the field, and immediately starts trotting in straight lines. No, not really, but wouldn’t that have been tremendous? If the ox had been like, “Yeah, I’m totally trained to walk a grid pattern; I’m just [messing] with you.” “Well, we’re obviously not doing it the way that it’s supposed to be done,” Christie says. Of course, she can’t be expected to do much more to contribute than (1) stand around; and (2) make it worse, so I’m sure that by “we,” she isn’t referring to herself. “Get the **** over here and help look,” he demands. “It’s so deep, Colin,” she hesitates, not so interested in getting down to business when it’s going to get her “Texas” shorts dirty. “I don’t care,” he says right back to her. Heh. “Walk through with your feet until you feel it!” And the editing would suggest that she finds it almost immediately, but I doubt it. They leave and grab the pit stop clue.

That was so awesome, I may need a vacation to recover.

Sadly, we have the finale tomorrow night! Two whole hours of Amazing Race goodness. Who will be Philiminated in the first hour and who will win the $1M? League people, go take the bloomin’ quiz if you haven’t already.