SUNDAY NIGHT’S EPISODE:
After thirteen minutes of scrambling through viscous goop and stacking artificial doughnuts on a pole, Rachel wins this week’s HOH. She dedicates her victory to “Brendon and Jeff, from me and Jordan!”
I swear to God, if Brendon doesn’t dedicate his cancer cure to Rachel, there’ll be hell to pay.
Porsche and Kalia are terrified and bewildered by Rachel’s victory: Why can’t they eliminate her? Is there no stopping this frantic, barking colossus?
Adam, meanwhile hopes to re-ingratiate himself with Jordan and Rachel, and maintain his reputation as the greatest floater in BB history — the guy’s more buoyant than a marshmallow combined with some other item defined by its buoyancy, both of which are suspended in an especially buoyant medium.
Adam takes offense that the ladies ooh and ahh over all the photos of Brendon in Rachel’s HOH room. Can he blame them, though? Brendon is incredibly handsome, with an amazing body, a brilliant mind, and a winning personality that charms all who are lucky enough to be within spitting distance of it.
Kalia tries to convince Rachel to make a deal, appealing to her fighting warrior-spirit as a fellow competitor who will stop at nothing to claw and chew her way to the top: “If Porsche is collateral damage, too bad.” (NOTE: This might not be an exact quote, as I was distracted by everything else in the universe.)
Porsche, like Kalia, promises Rachel she’ll take her to the final three if she is spared. In a cutaway, Porsche admits she’s lying.
Jordan and Adam talk about his girlfriend; he admits that he once called her Donna Martin in bed. There follows a charmless montage of Adam talking about Beverly Hills 90210.
(I sympathize with Adam, actually: When you’re insecure, it’s tempting to carve out an identity and seek attention via cheesy or obscure pop culture references, as anyone who has listened to me talk about Kale City or the British comedian Stewart Lee for more than 45 minutes can attest.)
Rachel is confronted with Pandora’s Box. She squeals appropriately in anticipation. She sees a video of Tori Spelling waving at her. It is revealed that Rachel could win a shopping spree with Tori Spelling, which is every woman’s fantasy. Will she open the box? (Of course she will.)
So Rachel walks into Pandora’s Box (it’s a room-size box) and sees — not Tori Spelling — but some muscle-bound guy from a previous season of BB. Rachel: “He’s not a celebrity!”
In another corner of the house, Adam hears the doorbell ring. Guess who it is? Tori Spelling! Adam freaks out. I think Ms. Spelling has had plastic surgery on her face, because she doesn’t look like she did back on “Bev-Niner,” which I watched as a young man; her cheekbones now look like they were designed by Frank Gehry.
Rachel, meanwhile, is trapped with “Mr. Pec-tacular,” who is still showing her all the protein powders and plates with his face on it.
Tori Spelling flirts with Adam. Then she announces a three-minute clothing shopping spree for the houseguests! They throw on a bunch of clothes — they can keep anything they’re wearing at the end of the spree! It’s a real spree, guys. It’s absolutely spreeful; polyphonic, even.
Rachel is forced to watch the fun from a monitor as Mr. Pec-tacular continues to annoy the shit out of her. I love Mr. Pec-tacular.
Eventually all the fun ends and our housemates return to the grind: Adam tells Jordan and Rachel that the newbies “don’t respect the game,” which is B.S. The only reason Rachel would keep Adam is because he’s so weak. How weak? Weaker than watered-down water; weaker than seven consecutive days (i.e., a week); weaker, even, than these jokes about how weak he is.
(My notes: “Is Rachel wearing leather hot pants?”)
Rachel nominates Kalia and Porsche for eviction, which means we can forever ignore her protestations about people “not competing” in this “game.”
WEDNESDAY NIGHT’S EPISODE:
Julie Chen? What’s she doing in my home on a Wednesday night? I wasn’t expecting her until Thursday! I didn’t even have time to clean — my basement still smells all mildewy from Hurricane Irene, and I’ve got clothes lying all over the place!
My friends, I am mortified.
Julie Chen explains to me that tonight’s is a special eviction episode! Man, just when I thought it was safe not to expect the unexpected — turns out I still have to expect the unexpected! I should have expected this unexpected twist about having to expect the unexpected, even when it’s least expected to expect it.
Adam talks to Jordan about how important it is for him to be in the final three with her and Rachel, but I’m too busy cleaning up my house for Julie Chen to focus on his jabberings! Julie Chen is not happy with the state of my kitchen: “Why is there an empty wine bottle in a toaster oven?” I’m so ashamed, I can’t even bring myself to explain my experimental “toasted wine” recipe.
Time for the Veto Competition: Houseguests must feed pies with contestants’ names on them to a giant talking shark. (I think the BB producers are channeling their anxiety dreams into competition design; I eagerly await the HOH contest in which ceramic dolls with the houseguests’ faces are sodomized and smashed by a mechanical gorilla wearing Les Moonves’s jowls.)
Breaking news: According to the Internet, which I am perusing for last-minute cleaning tips, a Republican debate is under way! I start watching it on my laptop while BB rages away on my TV.
As the Republican hopefuls rail against the job-killing scourge of regulation, Kalia is knocked out of the veto competition and starts crying. Rachel, in a cutaway, makes fun of her for this display of emotion. I’d make a joke about a pot calling a kettle black, but I’m afraid it would wind up being about my wish that Rachel would drown in a kettle after being concussed by a pot.
Adam wins the Power of Veto. Jordan and Rachel are ecstatic: Their floater has finally broken the toilet water’s surface! Porsche and Kalia will likely remain on the chopping block. If that happens, friends, I’m afraid Rachel will win the whole kit ‘n’ caboodle.
Meanwhile, Ron Paul is going off on the pharmaceutical industry’s nefarious influence on drug regulation. Am I hearing this right? Do I agree with Ron Paul on a matter of domestic policy? Have I entered the mirror-world of madness? Julie Chen assures me I have, and adds, “How long has this pair of socks been sitting by your kitchen door?” I try to convince her of the wisdom of my “outdoor socks” strategy, but she rolls her eyes and emits a series of contemptuous bloops and bleeps.
Newt Gingrich continues his habit of talking patriotic bumptuousness via his butthole as Shelly enters the Jury House. Jeff, of course, is thin-skinnedly apoplectic. Shelly: “I knew you’d be angry.” Daniele reminds Jeff, “It’s just a game.”
Jeff presses Shelly about her profound betrayal of America by trying to split up him and Jordan. (He sounds like Newt Gingrich!) Jeff is yelling at Shelly without pause, and he finally eclipses Brendon as my least-favorite BB player.
Okay, now it’s like five minutes later and Jeff is still railing on Shelly.
Newt Gingrich calls “Obamacare” a “disaster” that “can’t be implemented” and is “killing the economy.” Now he’s criticizing the media for “tricking” Republicans into fighting each other in an effort to protect Obama.
Ladies and gentlemen, Newt Gingrich is a floater.
Back in the BB house, Kalia is still crying in frustration over Adam’s victory. I sympathize with her: Adam will never turn against Jordan and Rachel — even though he once pledged allegiance to his fellow Newbies — because he still seeks the approval of the Old-Timer women’s evicted boyfriends.
Sure enough, he doesn’t use the Power of Veto.
What a punk!
After a frantic mental calculus, I determine that Adam is now my least-favorite player.
Porsche and Kalia plead their case. Porsche flatters everyone. Kalia brings the ruckus: “Adam, please start playing like an all-star, stop playing like a fan.” She calls out Rachel for complaining about people “not playing the game,” while consistently voting out game-players. Zing! I almost cheer for Kalia’s science-dropping.
Jordan votes to evict Porsche; Adam votes to evict Kalia. Rachel casts the deciding vote: Kalia is out.
You know, gang, it’s almost enough to make a recapper cynical. I don’t mind the fact that Porsche is doomed; I simply resent Adam’s continued survival. There’s no way he’ll win — does he think our friends in the Jury House will vote for him over Jordan and Rachel?
Or … maybe they will? Shelly and Daniele will probably vote for him. Maybe Adam’s the smart one and I’m the dumb one.
Over at the Republican debate, Brian Williams celebrates the “magnitude and spirit” of Ronald Reagan while the Verve’s “Bittersweet Symphony” — one of the most obnoxious songs ever recorded — plays in the background.
Now Brian Williams is praising the wisdom and tactical brilliance of Nancy Reagan’s “Just Say No” campaign. (A series of magical T-shirts and amulets that made drugs evaporate on contact.)
Then Brian Williams goes big: He introduces Nancy Reagan! She’s actually at the debate! The Republican hopefuls scramble to be the first to wash her feet.
Julie Chen turns to me: “Who is this Nancy Reagan person? What season of Big Brother did she win?”
(A little side note: I know Brian Williams is supposed to be America’s hippest news anchor, but he lost me with that saccharine stuff about Ronald Reagan — the president who made it cool to kill the American middle class. Maybe the union guys who run the cameras and lights under which Brian Williams cavorts should ask him what’s so hip about smashing organized labor.)
Jeepers, guys, I’m sorry I’m so grumpy! I think I’m feeling pessimistic about the future of our country for some reason.
In the BB house, that weird fortune-teller automaton starts speaking. It starts making bad BB jokes. How bad? Let’s just say it makes the Zingbot sound like Mitch Hedberg.
For the HOH competition, contestants must decide whether the sub-Zingbot zingers they’ve been subjected to are accurate. Adam wins and heavy-metal grunts in exultation. He’s guaranteed a spot in the final three!
Meanwhile, the Republicans debate the scourge of the HPV vaccine, which, yes, it’s true — helps prevent cervical cancer — but, more nefariously, represents a liberal government conspiracy to turn 12-year-old girls into sluts.
THURSDAY NIGHT’S EPISODE:
Adam shows off his HOH room. It’s filled with stupid, idiotic, bacon-based bullshit. I’m actually struck by how much I now loathe this portly porkophile.
Adam lounges on his bed like the king of the world while “the three beautiful women” fawn over him. Jordan slams Porsche, saying she “doesn’t deserve to be in the final three.” Wait a minute: What, exactly, has Jordan done this season? I can’t remember. Adam, to his credit, makes no promises. Maybe he’ll vote Jordan out; who knows? He’s gotta do what’s best for him.
This trips the invisible switch in Jordan that makes her defensive and ugly: “It sucks … I’m gonna be third out … and it sucks.” Good ol’ Jordan: so sweet and demure — until she realizes she might not get what she wants, and which point she turns into a flaming “sea-hunt.”
Forget everything good I ever said about Jordan.
At the nomination ceremony, Adam puts up Porsche and Jordan. He’s wearing a Duke shirt, which only underscores his douchiness — or his intelligence, depending on where you stand vis a vis Duke. (I trust you stand with me.)
In a cutaway, Jordan tells herself she needs to stop “lollygaggin’,” which almost makes my head explode, because I host a monthly comedy show called “Lollygaggin’!”
Forget everything bad I ever said about Jordan.
I’m still wondering which of the BB producers is sexually obsessed with me and coaching Jordan to send me secret messages via “the DaLollygagginci Code” as the contestants begin the final POV competition. It involves stacking semantic units in a BB-themed jukebox.
Porsche wins. Rachel cries because she failed Brendon. I’m not kidding: “I’m so mad at myself for not doing better … Brendon’s gonna be so mad at me.”
You know what, Rachel? I’ve given it a lot of thought: You should break up with Brendon. As soon as possible. You’re in a crisis. Yours is not a healthy relationship. Get out of it.
Jordan, to her credit, admits that she deserves to go home, as she’s been coasting on Rachel’s tear-stained coattails for the last few weeks.
Forget everything good or bad I’ve ever said about Jordan. Reset my opinion to “neutral.”
We go to commercial — apparently there’s a new movie about a dolphin with a cybernetic tail(?!). Say no more: I’ll see it five times! The sooner animals become mechanized, the sooner they can overturn human society and save the planet.
At the final POV meeting of the summer, Porsche moves off the block and is replaced by the only possible candidate: Rachel.
Adam is HOH, which means Porsche is the only voter this week. Rachel and Jordan address her. I forget what they say as they say it. Porsche evicts Jordan.
Jordan’s exit interview is interrupted by breaking news about terror threats in NYC. I’m panicked and upset — until the local news anchor says, “Don’t worry, you won’t miss any Big Brother.” (Not a joke.) At the press conference, Mayor Bloomberg says there are car-bomb threats and bridge-and-tunnel threats, before adding, “I’m off to my villa in the Caribbean for the weekend — good luck to you all.”
Seriously, guys? A “Tenth Anniversary of 9/11” terror attack would be the cheesiest terror attack of all-time and mark Al Qaeda as a bunch of sentimental douchebags who’d probably cry at that dumb dolphin movie I mentioned above: “Alhamdulillah, I can’t believe they built a robot-tail for that cute li’l dolphin! Sniff.”
It’s like Al Qaeda watched the Pixies reunion, the Dinosaur Jr. reunion, the Pavement reunion, and the Archers of Loaf reunion, and realized they were the only band of scraggly, sloppy noise-makers who hadn’t reunited.
Basically, if anything happens, I’m blaming J. Mascis.
Back in the BB house, it’s time for the final HOH competition. Our final houseguests — Adam, Porsche, and Rachel — are attached to a giant mixer blade, sprayed with gunk, and dunked into a vat filled with what looks like the piss of 10,000 elephants.
You’ve been warned, Al Qaeda: America means business!
The show ends.
I’m just going to come right out and say it: I hope there’s no terror attack in NYC this weekend. Why? Because it would have to be addressed — however clumsily — during next week’s BB finale, and I really, really don’t want to hear what Rachel has to say about it:
“I’m so mad at Al Qaeda! What if Brendon had been in New York that weekend? We’d never have a cure for cancer!”
“When I heard about the terror attack, I was like, what-EVER Al Qaeda! You can TRY to break our spirit, but you’ll NEVER succeed! America’s BACK, bitches!”
“Which city is New York, again?”
Be safe, guys. See you next week for the final recap!