Love Is In The Air, Rats Are Everywhere

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Snugglebunnies And Girls Who Don't Eat

Previously on At Least We Know It Can't Be Any More Damn Boring Than Vanuatu: A bloated cast of twenty washed up on the beaches of Palau where, almost immediately, they sent Wanda off to sing of sequestration. Poor, hot, hairless Jonathan was banished along with her, destined to spend a month learning all the words to "If You Tanked At Tribal Council, Clap Your Hands." The next time you see him, he will be incoherent, alternately gnawing on a lanyard and playing the recorder. Then there was a double-whammy reward-immunity challenge that was won by the new Koror tribe, meaning that they got to take home fire. They were so grateful for their victory that they celebrated by sacrificing their box of flint and steel to the gods having jurisdiction over the bottom of the ocean. In better news, the challenge sent Ulong to tribal council, where the tribe decided that tattoos are marginally less irritating than bossy buttinskys are, and Angie escaped booting in favor of Jolanda. Now, there are a highly manageable seventeen people you're supposed to be keeping track of, know, good luck. Count their legs and divide by four. Er, two. It's something like that.

We enter on night-vision Koror on Night 3, where they have not just returned from tribal council as have most introductory night-vision tribes, but instead theirs is the heartbreak of the "tragic" loss of their flint. Because after all, here it is, nighttime, and there's no fire. There is a close-up of the coconut monkey, followed by Tom's melodious voice saying, "Another day in paradise." Which is a really bad song, by the way. So bad that I'm surprised we haven't yet heard it on this season's American Idol, since they've been hauling Tiffany out of mothballs and all. Anyway, Tom's comment serves as the perfect segue to Caryn's whineterview that although they won immunity at the challenge, they of course dropped their flint into the water. Coby, elsewhere, is having a chat with (I think) Gregg, in which Coby points out that losing your flint in the water during a game show is, in terms of sudden shock, a lot like a car accident. You know, without the crash, injuries, trauma, insurance adjusters, court case, neck brace, joint and several liability, enormous damage award, appeal, settlement, contingency fee, and eventual complaint to the Lawyers' Board of Professional Responsibility. Other than that? Same.

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