When Jason opens the box, it is the veto medallion, only it's gold. Or, you know, golden. Kind of like movie theater popcorn. I can never get used to the fact that officially, that stuff is called "golden flavoring" instead of butter. What color, after all, is "golden"? I'm sorry, what was I saying? Oh, anyway, they're calling this The Golden Veto, unsurprisingly. This is the last veto of the season, and the last shot at taking a nominee off the block. What makes this one "golden," however, is that if it is won by a nominee, the nominee can take himself or herself off the block. Incidentally, as Wing and I were saying recently, all vetoes should work this way. It's absurd to have a veto you can't use to save yourself, and this gimmick would be far more interesting if you could save yourself. The way they set up the veto this year, it's not surprising that it was almost never used. The veto holder has no power over who's nominated when they use the veto, so they have very little control over what happens. Without knowing who will go up instead, it's very risky to use it, considering that you will wind up pissing off (1) the HoH; and (2) whoever subs in as a nominee. Then, factor in the fact that the only person you might make happy is the person you veto, and that person probably has a target on his back anyway. In the end, the cost-benefit analysis suggests that except in special circumstances, you wouldn't use it. The only way you can set it up so that people will use it with any regularity is to either tweak it in some way (to give the user more power over who subs in) or to let them veto themselves. After all, any sane person -- any sane person -- will use it to save himself if applicable, right? Right?
Oh, and Danielle finds the Golden Veto "scandalous." I shudder to think what word Danielle would use to describe, say, a public figure taking bribes while smoking pot with a hooker in a bunny costume, because she certainly has worn the hell out of "scandalous."
Food competition time. The group is told that they will all have to dress formally for a dinner party. Because they've recently scored the new threads from the America's Choice competition, I will give them credit for the fact that they all do look pretty good. All three of the women have black dresses, Marcellas is in a black suit with a white shirt, looking quite the male model, and Jason is one of the only men I've ever seen who I sort of like in a cream-colored dinner jacket. Yeah, it's a little bit Dean Martin, but he has a whole strange retro thing going anyway, so I can overlook it. Furthermore, I am nearly giddy at the fact that he has gone back to combing his hair, now that the government scientists have presumably harvested whatever life-saving fungus they were using his head to grow. They pick teams, and Danielle and Marcellas wind up going up against Amy and Lisa. Everyone is then sent into the back yard, which is set up with a quasi-Gothic layout that looks like they're having dinner at Dracula's country house. Lisa describes it as "sexy as hell," which I think might be a little too much, given that it's still a big phony yard with cameras and lights that look like they came from a high school football stadium. Of course, Lisa finds "hi" sexy, too, so I suppose she's easily pleased in that regard. They all walk out and sit down at the big, long table, finally noticing that on another table, there are several covered plates of food. They know enough about reality television to surmise that covered plates of food are never good news. Moreover, they have all been supplied with buckets beside their chairs. No, no, producer types! When I sent you that note that said "PROVIDE BUCKET IN CASE OF ABRUPT VOMITING," I meant for me, not for them.