Final opening credits. I'm left to wonder if they'll make the next theme song sound all Australian like a Foster's beer commercial. Personally, I'll miss the chanting.
CBS shows a commercial for City of Angels right smack in the middle of this ratings bonanza. Next season's prognosis -- ratings will surge for the hospital drama, bringing the number of loyal viewers up to a total of seven.
The last episode of Survivor opens with an early-morning shot of the four remaining unlit torches propped up and facing the beach. The immunity necklace hangs on Kelly's torch. Kelly is sleeping like some sort of misguided angel gone astray on some sort of path that I might know more about if I'd ever read The Bible all the way through. Richard stands, proudly, paunchily, watching the water. In a voice-over and then confessional, Rich says that time is running short and he feels very comfortable with the way things are going. History will prove him to be a cunning, yet keenly aware, bastard-muffin.
Sue is on the beach and she is rubbing sand all over her scummy, yet disgusting and immoral self. (Oh I'm sorry, I should have said this earlier -- I'm not a Sue fan. There will probably be a lot worse said later on, but seeing as how she's already made me sterile with her leg shaving, I think I'm entitled to have some choice words. Curse words, even.) So, anyway, Sue is slathering earth over evil and talking about how there's only about sixty hours left and she can stand it for a million dollars. Next we see her shaving Rudy (On his face! Thank all the deities that ever have been and shall be. It's only his face she's shaving!) with one of her razors. It's peach fuzz, she says, but he wants it shaven. Rudy is into nothing that is either warm or fuzzy. Rudy explains that the ladies got razors in their care packages and so after they shave their legs, he wants to shave his face. Rudy, why don't you just rub your face on Sue's thigh, starting a friction fire, and just burn your facial hair off? It'll be just like laser hair removal. Rudy walks off looking smooth and sinewy and crew-cutted. Kelly even notices, taking time out from her various moral crises which now include whether rice can feel pain when you bite into it and whether breathing air might somehow deprive some poor animal in Kenya of that same amount of oxygen.
At Rowdy Rudy's Diner, Rudy says they've cooked about two hundred pots of rice (all good, yum yum). He's personally lost about twenty-two pounds. If I were those pounds, he would have scared me into disappearing, too. As Sue and Rich pick up some rice (Kelly's not around, so we have to assume she's taking an anti-rice-cruelty stance), Rich says in a confessional that his body is a wreck. His hair is longer than it usually is (although it looks pretty short to me), there's no bicep left and he's lost thirty pounds, but his skin (especially the gut) is all loosy-goosy.