Brent bitches about how putting him in the blimp today is a "waste" of his "talents" and he is "very upset about it," because he's not a "troublemaker" and -- yes, still -- he "started the brainstorming that came up with that idea." Which: there is nowhere else he should be, because if his freaky aggressive pointlessness in the group meeting is any indication, he'd probably cause anyone he approached to cancel their membership. "No, honey, they've got sweaty crazy people working there now. I can't do it anymore. No bulk goods are worth that." So he complains and bitches and it's like, he's like a human brownout. Like there's so anger and disgust and whatever, but it just doesn't come through at all. Like in ten years his foundation's going to be cracked and there will be spiders and finally somebody's going to say, "No wonder there was no water pressure; this pipe has been leaking into a standing puddle for ten years." You know? Lots of hustle, not a lot of energy. "So at this point, I've kept my mouth shut [HUGE FUCKING LIE] and I hope we win the task but...I am a true. Team. Player. But I definitely am not happy about it." Because to really "give his all," I guess, he requires that everyone follow his horrible suggestions to a letter, or else he's being "obstructed" by the shallow volleyball players of his high school years. Fuck that. You're thirty years old and yet have not noticed that other people have rational thoughts as well, and thus might be able to teach you a little something. Go join Mensa, ya douchebag.