'Survivor': Raise your Hantz

If Edna ever says she wants to prove something to you, make sure there's enough toilet paper.

How’s everyone’s family doing this fine afternoon?

Dads, did you put your sons on the school bus this morning with the understanding that if they didn’t come home with a few smuggled cafeteria milks, a shepherd’s pie and at least $1 million in cash, they’d best not come home at all?

Did you storm into a faculty meeting demanding that little Leroy’s spelling test containing such gems as “Don” and “Cokran” be changed from a 7 to a 71?

Did you “hang out” with the other adults just long enough for a man who prides himself on, well, pride, to scurry away from you rather than being in your presence another nanosecond?

Well then congratulations. You can officially be Sean Hantz for Halloween in just 10.5 months!

In the meantime, you have to deal with the fact that your son’s getting the Lecter treatment in the South Pacific, a nod that couldn’t be more richly deserved.

Oh right, Survivor! I almost forgot.

There was an episode last night … kind of. If it weren’t for the family visits, CBS could’ve just rubber-stamped this one and thrown up a black-and-white screen at 8 p.m. that said “Cochran’s on the jury, Edna’s voted out and Rick’s wasting away. See you Dec. 14.”

But they didn’t. So let’s see what we learned.

Johnny come lately
Turns out this Cochran leg-crossing bit isn’t just a passing fancy. Oh, it sure is fancy all right, but with the way I imagine he throws any sort of ball, there’s certainly no passing involved.

As Ozzy dreams of coconuts and koi fish at Redemption Island, the JC of this jungle strolls in, sits down on his bed, channels his inner Tiny Tim (Ozzy!.MP3), crosses his legs and starts rubbing Ozzy’s back before graduating to outright fondling. This is all shot with the night-vision cam to give it that extra-special “what you are witnessing is a sex crime” vibe.

But Ozzy’s able to shake it off and get right into douche mode, telling Johnny the best way to get back at Upolu is to vote for him to win. When he asks Cochran what he’d do if he had to choose between him and Coach, Cochran takes that time to not answer and awkwardly examine the ceiling of the shanty instead.

Is that cork?

I don't know what it is, Cochran. Is it dripping on you?

No. I was looking at the patterns. You know, cork is good for sound. And it’s very quiet in here.

When Cochran finally regains his words, he renews his Loco-esque penchant for doing all of his thinking aloud, asking Ozzy if he thinks he has a chance to beat him in the duel. Of course you do, buddy. Everyone has a chance.

“He really doesn’t stand a chance.”

Grape Kool-Aid
Back at camp, flies are buzzing on some sort of lobster-style carcass, but a few are dining on Rick’s cadaver because there's less of a line.

I’m just busting your chops, Rodeo. I kid because I …

Oh no! Rick’s really dead!

Oops, false alarm, Rick blinked! He blinked, everyone! No need to summon the always-Australian-for-some-reason EMTs.

Holy hell, what the flip happened to these guys last night?! Rick’s so roasted it looks like someone filled his pillowcase with bars of Irish Spring and beat him with it, Brandon’s got so much ash on his face he may as well have been an extra in Backdraft … and Edna’s wearing a business suit.

OK, so I guess it’s just the two breakfast twins. Nope, there’s Coach staggering around like a mummy. But, in fairness, he looks like Sean Hantz’s precious million dollars compared to the muffin men.

Hey, Albert, Brandon just wants to have a morning prayer before everyone disperses. Before everyone disperses? Where does everyone go? I mean, besides trudging off at some point to bury your daily deuce, what else is there to do?

Edna pulls the passive-aggressive move of announcing that she’s not taking part in the prayer because she’s apparently not part of the tribe. She’s going to go cry alone in the woods instead. That’ll show ‘em.

“To treat me like a second-class citizen, is that true life?”

Edna, tune in to MTV for “True Life: Yeah, Pretty Much.”

The bitchfest continues over Coach’s breakfast, Bennie telling her “everybody gets deceived.” Well hey, Coach, Edna thought you were six strong. Oh, right, you are. So what is it exactly that you’re whining about, Edna?

“But you guys are telling me it becomes an individual game at five. Do you see?”

Yes, I see that you wish that were true, but now that I also see it’s clear you’re just making things up, can someone please rescue us from this nonsense?

We got Sprint tree mail!
Geez, someone’s pretty excited. Who’s that yelling in the distance, Edna?

“A 19-year-old high school dropout who’s advertised that he’s crazy.”

Señor Hantz, I presume.

“This’ll make you feel better, Ed.”

Awww, “Ricky,” you sure know how to make a girl feel special.

His pet name for his wife is actually Edward. That’s just Rick's thing. Incidentally, looks like he scored in the wife department.

It also looks like Edna scored in the sister department. Not that having a hot sister is of any benefit to her siblings.

Albert’s mother looks strangely familiar, and I’m starting to realize why Al begged out of the massage reward last week. It had to be torture to watch his mom give Coach and Cochran rubdowns.

Pete Wade calls his brother “Coach” and also manages to reference the fact that they’re brothers 2-3 times in the span of 2-3 seconds. The Wades are legends.

And then there’s good old Daddy Hantz. He’s had a long time to think about how much he really loves and misses Brandon … and it turns out it’s not that much. I know, I'm awful. But I'm having fun, aren't you? I am. Are you? Anyway, he reassures Brandon that “no one would ever be able to take your place. I was crushed looking over the pool of applicants.”

His final words? “Just make good decisions.” Uh oh. Santa might want to keep the Season 23 DVD out of Sean’s stocking.

The Duel
As if we didn’t know the outcome of this one already, once we’re shown a cross-eyed Cochran going comatose over the description of a challenge involving rope management (remember how well the last one went?), it’s safe to say you’ve got about 5 minutes to … I don’t know, get creative.

But if you did, you missed one helluva exciting duel. Seriously, you did.

Yes, JC was every bit as bad with the rope as you’d imagine, even looking up to the peanut gallery with a fake laugh after a particularly pathetic toss to get “reassurance” from Coach in the form of a quarter-hearted thumbs up and a look on his face like he’d just eaten more of that “cooked” pork fat.

As Ozzy calmly and deftly maneuvers his way through the maze, Cochran grabs onto the table controls so feebly it seems like the weight of it is going to catapult him over them mountains.

Heeding Rick’s “smooth and easy” advice, Cochran displays the kind of “smooth and easy” a bull exhibits when it's let loose in a china shop. But somehow, it’s working … kind of. As long as the balls stay on the table and out of the Pacific Ocean.

If Cochran were using these controls to animate a marionette, it’d be starring in a play about epilepsy.

Things get legitimately competitive when Ozzy has to go back to square one after losing his ball through one of the bigger holes. When someone in my living room stands up and swears excitedly at the TV, you can feel the excitement in the air, can't you?

It's not exactly the Ozzy Fan Club headquarters there every Wednesday.

Despite the high drama and some real opportunities for J.C. to defeat J.O. (the O stands for “off”), Ozzy proves the inevitable and treats Cochran like a five-year-old shooting airballs on an 8-foot hoop with his “Oh man, Cochran!” and “You almost got me!”

But Cochran’s so geeked about having hung in there that he details how this whole experience for Survivor’s #1 fan-turned-contestant has been “by far the most incredible moment of my life.”

And then Jeff Probst says, “Really?!”

Really, Jeff?

Yes, Probey. Not everyone gets flown in to work sitting at the open end of a military chopper. Not everyone has a room full of jean shirts, jean-looking shirts, khaki cargo shorts, and both shirts and pants all rigged up with so many carabiners and pulleys that it makes the cleaning crew at Mt. Rushmore jealous. Not everyone marries this lady.

Cochran came to the jungle wearing a sweater vest. He used to call girls in the fifth grade and make bizarre, anatomically impossible requests. He's his mom's masseuse.

He's ... his ... mom's ... masseuse.

So yes, having the opportunity to become a fake television star while playing for a million-dollar prize in a game over which he’s filled a lifetime supply of tube socks is absolutely the most incredible moment of his life.

I think it would be for most people. And I’m happy for him.

“I’m not the person I necessarily thought I was.”

Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good. Cochran already came in with the fairly inflated idea that he was the ultimate schemer, the comic relief and an eventual asset around camp because he was willing to nearly amputate himself on a daily basis in order to force-feed everyone coconuts.

Soooo, I’m guessing whatever he thinks of himself now is worse?

Just in case, Probst gives him a platitudes-aplenty pep talk to boost his ego. He’s 24! Is this really necessary? Yes, Johnny C. is a tender little guy.

And thus ends the journey of Johnny Cochran, but not before he demonstrates he’s already forgotten about almost making himself a human sacrifice last week when he nearly frolicked into a face full of flames. Once again, he turns his back to the exit and flashes a girlish wave to his peeps.

Keep your cross eyes on the road, Cochran.

Family Time
Let’s bring ‘em on out, Jeff.

Now we get to find out why Brandon was so bonkers over the Sprint showcase. No, it's not because of his dear old dad, it's because of Sophie's dad Thurston -- apparently.

As Sophie steps down to greet her father, Loco is grinning from ear to ear and even shouts out “Thurston!” To recap, Loco means Crazy.

Rick shows us there’s still some blood flowing in there somewhere as he clutches his wife's caboose while telling her he smells awful. Rick, if the way you smelled mattered, you two never would have made it to the altar. Awww, that was cute.

But now Ozzy is handed the unenviable task of choosing which castaways get to spend more time with their loved ones. And I’ll tell you what, if I hadn’t zipped through the episode again, I would have NEVER remembered that his first choice was Albert and his mom.

Maybe’s that’s because Pete Wade and Sean Hantz are in the house.

Pete uses the occasion of the bad news to sneak in a little consolation back rub to Rick’s wife. Boy, everyone's getting a piece! Ummm, Pete, Edna's cute sister is to your left and she might even wash your shirt when you finish up. You blew it, buddy.

Brandon flashes a “#1” finger to his father and we’re about to see that he’s every bit Russell’s relative.

The Visit
“Does rain get in here?”

I guess you can cross structural engineer and architect off the list. Yes, Mr. Hantz, it’s a shack without walls so it gets a little damp on occasion.

But it’s time for Coach to stump for some endorsement deals now that his Survivor career is officially in its final week.

He's so hot and bothered over this Sprint whatever-it-is phone that takes such wonderful pictures that somebody might want to keep a bucket of ice water handy ... and some condoms for the phone. Did he just say something about 3-D? Coach! Will somebody please slap him back into focus!

There’s just one problem: our boy Ben is a Droid man. Here’s hoping you win enough money to get out of that contract early, Coach!

Wade can worry about that later because now it’s time to pitch his "perfect final 3 scenario” to Ozzy. Oh man, this is going to be juicy.

“You, me, one other person.”

Well hold that phone from 1995! The Stone Ages just called and they want their strategy back.

You, me, one other person? I’ll admit, Coach has me beat, but just barely, because what I was thinking would be a perfect final 3 scenario for Coach was him, another person and then just one other person. Rick’s plan was a little more open-ended, but still quite good: Any 3 people. Doesn’t even have to include him.

Honestly, how could Ozzy pass this up? Especially with nearly 67% of the plan already in place. No wonder Coach’s teams beat Springfield in soccer nearly half the time.

Coach has said his piece: he wants two noble warriors fighting it out … and probably Brandon too.

Speaking of whom…
“It’s gonna be such an example to people. It’s gonna change people’s lives. Spit on the million dollars, spit on the sole survivor.”

Papa Hantz can smile and nod no more. Once spitting on money was brought up, his mood changed. “What are you here for?”

“I’m here to set an example for Christ, bro.”

a. Brandon just called his dad “bro.”
b. I think Christ is all set.

Brandon’s so blinded by his bellowing over wearing Jesus’ varsity jacket that he doesn’t notice his dad alternately staring at the ground and checking to see if the jungle canopy is made of cork.

“Brandon, are you kidding me? You came here to win a million dollars. Let’s not lose perspective. It doesn’t make me upset that you want to stand on the fact that you’re a Christian, but you’re also here to do a job.”

And that job is to sit on the fact that you’re a Christian and win a million dollars for our miserable Gestapo of a family.

Daddy would give Baby a C and frankly doesn’t understand how his son hasn’t been voted off yet. Too bad Brandon’s first-ever C isn’t the kind you can hang on the fridge.

Sean’s a little scrambled at how fully his progeny has taken to the religious brainwashing they gave him after whatever unspeakable acts he committed.

It’s time to work some biblical magic.

"God, uh, also wants us to be wice (yes, he said wice.) Be wise, make a good decision. Put your family in a good position or you can just go preach on a street corner and don’t worry about money."

I'm about to tear up. Is that from Proverbs or one of the gospels, Sean? This is touching stuff.

So, Brandon, what your father is trying to say is that you’re a cretin for forsaking your needy family for your precious "God." Like He's so cool or something.

“He’s got to begin to play the game and play it to win it. It’s the Hantz way, baby. You’ve got to put yourself in this final 3. Then at that point, that’s when it’s up to God.”

Ahhhh, I see it now. No, not the convenience-of-God bit – that’s bull pucky. The resemblance to Russell. You could see it in his eyes and teeth as he pleaded to the camera man and smiled over how bewildering his son’s mindset is.

When Coach’s favorite phone first beamed us a look at Loco’s loved one, I had no idea who we were looking at. From the shot we were given, there were no readily visible hints of troll-ism, so naturally I assumed this was either Brandon’s parole officer or a bounty hunter he was about to make acquaintances with for the first time.

At best, this could possibly be his older brother. But certainly not his dad, primarily because his father would have to be Russell Hantz’s brother, and this guy seemed closer to “male model” than “toadstool.”

Hey, it’s a sliding scale.

But it’s easy to forget that in the Hantz Family, generations only span 15-17 years, so sure enough we were looking at the very man who unleashed a little beast solely programmed to do “wrong things.”

And let’s face it. After some full body shots, we were gazing at a bit more gremlin than we first thought.

And Papa’s just getting warmed up
It’s time for Sean to pull out the Russell playbook and approach Coach in order to intimidate him into dragging his no-good son across the finish line.

This presents a good opportunity for Pete Wade to play a little game of "Statue" as Sean steps to Coach and eyeballs Petey with a “what the hell is this jerk doing here?” ‘tude.

But Pete just stands still, holds his breath and stares straight out into the ocean, the way he always envisioned acting if an ax-murderer were in his house.

Geez, Pete, first you cop a feel with Rick’s wife and now you’re playing third wheel on your brother’s date with his good friend Sean? Have a little class.

Coach calls it like he sees it and rightfully deems Seanie “a chip off the old block. They’re cut of the same cloth.”

It was one thing for Russell to do this. It was entertaining, I kind of liked it and, oh yeah, he was on the show! Sean’s just here on a hall pass.

As the bullying tactics continue, Sean is practically Eskimo kissing Coach telling him that Brandon will do whatever he says. And Brandon concurs. And what does Coach do? He runs away like Michael Cera after the pencil exchange in Superbad. Byyyyeeee!

And who could blame him?

Sean is the sports dad who decks the ref. He's the proud parent who confronts the volunteer coach in the parking lot over playing time. He's ... Russell's brother.

Over the course of whatever career he’s put together, I’d imagine our Coach has seen enough of this to last a lifetime.

Immunity Challenge
Feeling himself after his little pep talk to Cochran, Jeff tries to wax poetic about how this challenge is a metaphor for the game and looks to Coach for backup.

And Coach backhands him with gusto! THAT was awesome! Just stick to the play-by-play, Probst. That was a Dragon Slayer move.

… which is followed by another one after a particularly sweet turn of the tile. Jeff calls him out on that one.

Remember what I said last week about Jeff being a challenge hemorrhoid? Wait awhile. There’s more.

But first, Brandon exits to a standing ovation. He’s not the first one out, mind you, just the first to leave to a round of applause. What the hell was that about?

Brandon will explain it to you. Not the ovation, what his strategy was. But Jeff won’t allow any secrets in class. Brandon, would you care to share what’s so important with the rest of us?

"I've done things I can't even discuss without an attorney and a priest present."

Ughh, not THAT! The other thing.

Oh, he wasn’t even trying to win. Just making sure that Edna lost. Holy hell, Brandon. Are you a paid actor? Is this really how your brain works? Is your Dad really named Sean? Wouldn’t parents who named one of their sons Russell name the other one Wyatt or Wesley or Beaumont or Randy?

Edna, how do you feel about all of … never mind. No one cares.

After Rick paints himself into a corner with his last move, he says, “Thank you.” Thank you? Show me your SAG card, Ricky.

Paid actors or not, Edna says “at some point they’re going to have to realize it’ll be an individual game.”

OK, Ed, WHY DON’T YOU REALIZE THAT?! There was an alliance of 6, in which you admittedly were on the fringe, and now those are the 6 people left in camp, so start playing instead of groveling and bellyaching over how you deserve better just because you walked on a few backs and steam-cleaned a few pairs of slacks.

The Scramble
“Brandon’s so truthful he sticks his smelly foot in his mouth and gets in trouble.”

Brandon’s such a tool he’s referring to himself in the third person right now.

Brandon’s such a bad student and generally slow learner he equates “verbalizing absolutely every thought that crosses my mind” with truthfulness.

That’s not truthfulness, Loco. That’s idiocy.

And Sophie’s hating on you for your rudeness. And Rick is hating on you for … something else.

“Why kick her in the guts? It’s call like calling over a little dog – ‘Come here, come here, come here’ – and then whapping it in the guts with your foot.”

That’s kind of a specific scenario there, Rick. Anything you want to confess to us … or PETA?

For the record, Edna’s internal organs were not exposed when Brandon singled her out at the challenge. Can’t really say what happened between Rick and the neighbor’s dog.

Brandon then offers an oblivious apology and he hopes Edna “exsec”s it.

But Edna feels it’s more like beating your wife and then buying her a diamond necklace.

Somewhere in Texas, Brandon's bride slings a steak over her eye and yells, "Hey, I never got no necklace!"

“On Survivor, people aren’t as forgiving as Jesus Christ is.” Kisses, Sophie. You’re so above reproach it’s ridiculous.

Edna’s final plea to Coach, Al and Sophie is to live up to the “Honor and Integrity” motto they’ve been preaching this whole game. Have they? We know Coach’s bit inside and out and he never wastes a moment of confessional time to expound upon it, but I haven’t heard Al or Sophie say a damn thing about that. And I haven’t heard Rick say a damn thing. He’s not even here anyway.

Edna’s also big on playing this game “like real life.” Is that a Coach thing too? I won’t even pin that on him, but I’ll admit to glazing over on occasion. I chalk this up to some pie-eyed fantasy of hers, but Edna, girlfriend, Brandon is real life.

People are jerks. People are oblivious. People are inconsiderate goblins. They have Wal-Mart in Los Angeles, don’t they?

“Edna, provocatively, put something on the table.”

You stop that talk right now, Ben! Nooooo, no she didn’t. Impassioned as her pitch was, she laid out all the reasons why it’s awesome to keep Brandon around. Because he’s an objectionable, insufferable troll who happens to be television gold and a blogger’s best friend.

And while we’re rapping, let’s keep the words “Edna” and “provocatively” out of the same sentence, OK?

A shiver down my spine…

“All right, give it to me straight.”

Well let’s see, you ask too many questions. You don’t seem to pick up on social cues. You’re really odd in general. You’re helpful to the point of annoyance. Seeing you in business attire every day is profoundly off-putting. And despite your being a doctor, you don’t come off as all that intelligent.

Whoops. Sorry, Edna, I didn’t realize you were talking to Coach! Can I interest you in this diamond necklace?

And then we find out Coach has no plans to use his hidden immunity idol because at this point, it’ll destroy the trust he’s built with everyone. And he’s right. The man’s got it pretty dialed in right now. If he could only dial it on a Sprint G10,000.

Indecent Proposal
Coach gives a noncommittal response to Edna’s final overture and basically lays it on Al and Sophie.

So Edna decides to lie to them and says Coach is 100% on board with keeping her. Except to Edna it may not be a lie since she can’t read between any lines or understand the true meaning of what anyone says to her. After all, she’s pretty damn certain Coach is behind her.

And she’s willing to prove it to Al and Soph.

Break out the bibs because Edna says she's ready to eat one of Ben's Baby Ruths!

Despite her going out of her way not to swear, CBS blurs out Edna’s words anyway, shrouding her ancestors in dishonor. Well, I guess the offer was pretty shameful in its own right.

Then an adrenaline-rush follow-up laugh overcomes Edna … almost like she’s suddenly considering doing it anyway just for the sake of the snack.

We’d better move on ...

Tribal Council
What’s Whitney wearing? Damned if I know. What a bunch of prudes in the control room.

Edna forces Coach to say “Honor, Loyalty, Integrity,” which forces Jim to roll his eyes and bury his head in his hands for the 57th time in his stint on the jury. Keith does it too. But he’s on a seven-second delay.

At one point, Albert picks a maggot out of Edna’s hair, and Brandon says, “I don’t mind being a punching bag today.”

Thanks for the green light, Loco. You’re all right.

Edna gets way too much air time and I think even Jeff realizes we might as well just get to this predictable vote, even if it’s at the expense of depriving us Rick’s weekly flabbergastment.

Edna tells Brandon at the urn he’s not doing such a good job cleansing his family name, but compared to his father’s appearance, Brandon’s like her favorite laundry detergent.

No drama can even be contrived as Edna is swept out to Redemption Island, but not before Coach puts a defibrillator on The Awkward Hug Project and brings it back for the first time in about 8 episodes.

Man, if I had a nickel for every time Coach tried to negotiate an awkward hug, the Hantz Brothers would mug me and toss me in the Hudson River in a sack.

Edna puts on a brave face as her torch is snuffed, but the tears start once she hits the stairs and she greets Ozzy with a “Well, what do you want to know?” when she reaches shanty town. Nothing, Edna. Nobody wants to know anything you think you know.

But here is what we know. We know that Coach has a killer plan to take himself, Ozzy and “another person” to the final 3.

I know that if I were on the show, I’d be signing up for the Baby Ruth buffet to keep Brandon and Rick in the game, because it’d be a muffin walk over those two in the final.

We know that CBS is going to try very hard to make it seem like Edna may beat Ozzy in next week’s duel and I’m going to try very hard to believe that it’s possible.

I also happen to know that all y’all are the best readers in the whole blogosphere, so I thank you kindly, welcome your feedback in the Comments below and encourage you to spread the word until we return for the final Weds. episode of the season next week.

{If you have secrets too dark for the light of public consumption or just prefer to send me hate mail directly, you can reach me at oshanahan@repub.com}