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The teams head for Utah, which the Weavers hate immediately. Because, you see, it's so ugly, especially Monument Valley with the glorious rock formations and other beautiful things. SO ugly. The teams hang around for a while, rappelling and so forth, and then they suffer the indignity of visiting a performing bear before hitting the Yield. At the Yield, the Linzes accidentally stumble on the right move by Yielding the Weavers out of spite, not realizing that the Weavers have fallen into last place after outsmarting themselves and taking the worst possible route. The Weavers react with their typical "we'll show 'em" brand of hooting and giggling, as if anyone is fooled, and then they return to their regularly scheduled bitching and complaining about how they're the only decent people left in the race. Ultimately, the combination of their poor driving and the Yield puts them firmly in last place, but of course, at the mat, they are not eliminated. Booo! What's more, Phil decides to give them a pep talk, which means that Phil and I are no longer speaking to each other, by which I mean that I am no longer speaking to Phil through my TV. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Previously on Weavers! In The Morning, Weavers All Through The Night: In Costa Rica, Tony Paolo almost drowned, and DJ couldn't believe his old man would be so selfish as to allow his lungs to fill with water when the family was trying to get somewhere. Parents are so embarrassing. Mama Paolo hoped aloud that DJ wouldn't get married, and somewhere, his putative wife caught her breath hopefully and didn't know why. The race headed to the sweltering landscape of Arizona, where teams explored the distinctive local culture in the form of a traditional go-kart track, just like the ones they used in the olden days. The weird little Roadblock pitted Mama Weaver against Tommy "Bone" Linz, making the whole thing into...well, not so much a clash of the sublime and the ridiculous as something far greater: a clash of two different varieties of ridiculous. The Bransens were non-eliminated, and then the families all executed a Roadblock that managed to be quite boring in spite of involving both the flouting of gravity and the possibility of airborne vomiting. The Weaver girls showed their class and sophistication by throwing trash out of a car window at the Godlewskis and keeping their pinkies in the air the whole time. At the Detour, the Linzes excelled while the Paolos bailed their boat in vain. The Linzes found themselves aced out of the win by the Gadzookskis, and ultimately, DJ, Mama Paolo, and the entire Harangue Gang were bounced from the game and went back to their regularly scheduled arguing and squawking and garbage collecting. Unfortunately, their Philimination was not the perfect outcome, because the Weavers were ramping up their awfulness to the point where I would rather be kissed on the mouth by DJ Paolo with tongue than sit through a massage and pedicure with Rachel Weaver. Also, Nick asked to be called "Alex," and vice-versa.
Credits. In the Sequesterville of my imagination, the Rogers family was made to sit in that boat for the remainder of the race after they were eliminated. I like the idea of Brock being all, "Oh...I don't know, Dad, you can do the rowing. I wouldn't want to go the wrong direction or anything. You know how I can sometimes go the wrong direction. Oh, wait – that was you! My bad!" And then Brock would sneak a cigarette and listen to something really bad-ass on his iPod, like Nickelback. (Brittney, you just know, would be listening to Carrie Underwood singing "Jesus, Take The Wheel.") (Which, incidentally, I am assuming is being marketed ironically, in the tradition of tragic Shangri-Las classics like "Give Us Your Blessings" and "Past, Present, and Future," because otherwise, it kind of makes me cry, and not for the intended reasons.) [BOMP.]
Commercials. The Amazing Achievement last week was Rolly obediently pulling the controls in a fighter plane? Wow. I am having a premonition that week's Amazing Achievement will be an extra-dramatic right on red. Or a merge. Merging is amaaazing.
We swoop in over the desert, complete with its stereotypical "Welcome To Arizona" Saguaro cactus, hired by the state tourism board, which is standing there in that "I want to wear a cowboy hat and dance with you and play the harmonica" pose that the Saguaro is always adopting, as if it is just waiting for its chance to be anthropomorphized. Phil explains that we are at Lake Powell, which was formed by the construction of a dam that flooded the desert, and which was the eighth pit stop. The best thing about this sequence, however, is the burnt-orange shirt on Phil. It's such a relief when Phil isn't working in sweater weather. He wonders whether the Weavers' "continued alienation" from everyone will affect them, and whether the Linzes can stop coming in second and grab themselves a victory in something other than farting. And making jokes about farting. And thinking about farting.
5:45 AM. The Goodlookskis, not so much pink today as a combination of yellow and purple, prepare for their departure. The clue tells them to drive what Phil says is 136 miles to Monument Valley, Utah. Phil calls it a "spectacular landscape." I'm not saying that's plot-critical, but you should keep it in mind. Monument Valley was big in John Ford movies, so they need to get to John Ford's Point, where they'll find another clue. It's really too bad they couldn't have started out in Manhattan by being sent to Martin Scorsese's Gritty Dumpster or Woody Allen's Homogenized Jazz Club. Christine is already shrieking as they get on the boat to leave the pit stop, and Sharon gives her first "chill out" lecture of the day. One suspects that it may be the first of many.
Christine notes in an interview that she had hoped the sisters would all get to know each other better on the race, and she's a little bit bummed that hasn't happened. As one of the EEFPs pointed out, of course, it's not so much that they haven't gotten to know each other any better as it is that they got to know each other and haven't especially liked what they found out. Familiarity may not always breed contempt, but it doesn't always breed affection, either, as you know if you've ever...well, known anyone. Sharon insists that even on a gabble-gabbling team like hers, Christine is particularly gabble-rrific, and Michelle adds that Christine will in fact talk every day until she fills her quota of words she needs to say that day. Unlike, I guess, the soft-spoken Michelle, who keeps to herself until it's time to say, "What do you mean, 'Oh, God'?" Michelle, on Christine: "It's just, like, you know...'shut up.'" I certainly feel Michelle's pain on that front, considering some of the people I've recapped over the years, Mirna. As if to prove Michelle's point, Christine does indeed shriek all the way to the parking lot, where they discover that today, their SUV comes equipped with a giant camping trailer they have to drag. There is no immediately obvious reason for this, other than the inherent humor in large, awkward objects. When they can't tip over on Flo, they're not quite as hilarious, but the point remains the same.
5:46 AM. Linzes. They interview that they've had about enough of losing the first-place finish at the last minute, and they're ready to come in first. "This leg, we have to get it," Tommy vows. They leave with their trailer. The Goodlookskis, meanwhile, prepare to get on 98 West, which the Linzes note with interest since they're on 98 East and see the girls heading the other way. They theorize that it probably has something to do with the getting of gas, which is exactly true. But not the getting of gas in the way Tommy usually would think of it, so don't even go there.
6:06 AM. Weavers. I throw popcorn at the TV. Rebecca interviews that coming into the race, they knew that everyone wouldn't be their friends, but they didn't figure everyone would hate them quite this much, either. Rachel adds, "The world we live in is obviously not loving and kind, so I think we're just sticking out because we're not as, you know, crude." "It's just so against our beliefs," Mama stresses. "To keep being treated so rudely." Let's see...would that be rudely like throwing trash out windows? Rudely like being loud on a bus when other people need sleep? Rudely like trying to get another team delayed by a tour guide? Rudely like snapping at people for perfectly normal spirited competition? Or would that be rudely like ridiculing garbagemen and talking about how women you dislike have fake boobs? I'm just wondering what kind of rude treatment is against your beliefs, and I'd also like to come back to the "not as, you know, crude" thing with regard to the boobs and whatnot, but I suppose we can save it for later.
Meanwhile, in the Linz car, Nick notes how they always seem to say something about their lead that then turns around and bites them in the ass. Perhaps they'll stop doing that, then. The Gadzookskis put gas in their car. The Weavers spew hot air in their car. Bickering sets in over on Team Goodlookski as they pull out of the gas station and Christine does one too many checks with the group about getting on 98 East. I think Michelle and Tricia could do with a little less consulting and a little more resting time.
6:27 AM. Bransens. Wally starts off his off-the-mat talk this week about how you can slack off more when there are more teams, but now it's pretty much just the good teams (and him, and the Weavers), so things are tight right now. "We're going to try to just be more aggressive," he says. I'm sure what he meant to say is that the Tonyas will try to be more aggressive and he will still be impossibly, depressingly slow. They head for Utah.
As the Linzes drive, they pass a sign that says, "Monument Valley Visitor Center." When they're by it, Tommy asks what the sign said. Nick: "It just said…" He realizes he doesn't know. "Said what?" Tommy asks. "I don't know," Nick finally admits. Yeah, I was kind of wondering where he was going with that. He seemed a little bit panicky, like he was going to sputter, "Uh...it said 'Don't Turn Here, No Sirree.'" He asks if he should turn around, but Alex maintains that since they haven't passed any roads since the sign, there's no reason to turn around. Behind them, the Weavers are all excited about discovering that they're ahead of the Gadzookskis. The Gadzookskis are not as happy to find that they are behind the Weavers.
The Linzes stop, and Nick asks some guys for directions to John Ford's Point. He directs them to turn back and then take a left. Nick blames himself as he drives off. The Weavers and Godlewskis then proceed to miss the same turn that Nick missed. Christine gets out to "help" Sharon turn the enormous Yukon/trailer rig around. When the Weavers see the Gadzookskis turn around, they decide they should, too, and the short version is that Christine is a really bad director, while Mama Weaver isn't the least bit concerned about directing her daughter to drive right off the road and drive all over the protected desert, so the Weavers get turned around faster. The natural wonder of the state of Utah groans for the first time at the magnitude of the Weavers' abuse.
Unsurprisingly, the non-rude, non-crude Weavers screech and holler out the window at the Gadzookskis as they pass while the pinks are still trying to turn around. The Linzes, who went even farther than the Weavers and are now behind them, also pass the Godlewskis, wondering what the hell they're doing.
Over in the Bransen car, newsboy Beth explains that there's clearly "tension" between the Weavers on one side and the Linzes and Godlewskis on the other side, and her family is pretty much trying to stay out of it, hoping that the nonsense between the other teams will distract them and benefit the Bransens. Wally declares his team "neutral...kind of like Switzerland." I bet they wouldn't be if they knew that the Weavers had already declared them not "nice." Furthermore, I'm not sure neutrality between good and evil is anything to congratulate yourself about.
The Weavers, because of a combination of being able to piggyback on seeing another team turn around and then being willing to drive off the road, wind up in first place at John Ford's Point. It's kind of ironic how they keep getting ahead through spying and lawbreaking when they're the only decent, respectful people here, isn't it? It's God's funniest joke ever. The Linzes decide as they pull into John Ford's Point in second place that they're going to do their turning around before they park so that they can just leave when they're ready to leave, but Sharon simply stops the pinks and they hop out. The Weavers pull the first number at the clue box, and the clue tells them that two team members will be riding a helicopter to the top of Elephant Butte to get another clue. The helicopter can only take two teams at a time. The Linzes get ahead of the pinks running to the clue box, but they don't see the numbers and the pinks do, so it's going to be pinks and Weavers on the first helicopter, and the Linzes will have to wait for the one. The first two teams are helicoptered up and get themselves clues, and then they turn to head back. Back at the base, Tricia and Sharon chat with the Linzes, and there is more anti-Weaver talk, including a discussion of the possibility of an impending Yield. Sharon and Nick appear to reach a deal that they'll Yield the Weavers if they hit the Yield first. Not like either of them wouldn't have done that anyway, but this way, they can be petty and make it feel like teamwork.
The helicopter returns, so the Weavers and pinks have their clue, which tells them to go to Moab, Utah to find Gemini Bridges. Phil explains that this is a 180-mile trip, and that Gemini Bridges is a rock formation, despite the fact that I think it would be a lovely name for, say, Jeff Bridges's granddaughter. The Weavers get on the road just ahead of the Goodlookskis. Meanwhile, Nick and Alex ride the helicopter up to the top of Elephant Butte. Tommy calls the ride "sweet" from the ground while Nick calls it "sweet" in the air, meaning that I think Beavis and Butte-head have been breathing a little too much of the same air. They get their clue and return to the rest of their team at John Ford's Point, where the Bransens haven't even arrived yet. The Linzes read the Moab clue and leave. Tommy is so enthusiastic in the car that Alex suggests it may be time for "a helmet," and I am suddenly thinking about Tommy in a harness, strapped to a jungle gym like Mike Myers. It kind of works.
Finally, the Bransens arrive and a couple of the Tonyas take the helicopter ride. They're sort of getting that sad Irrelevant Edit in this episode, where by the time they get to everything, there's nothing left to say about it, so they just show what's absolutely critical for plot reasons. It's like being about the third person devoured in a Stephen King book. The Tonyas return, and their family leaves for Moab in last place.
In the Weaver car, Rebecca complains that she "is not digging Utah right now." Rachel adds, "Whoever says the world is getting overpopulated needs come to Utah." Okay, I'll make you a deal, sweetheart. I'll go to Utah, and you can go to Calcutta, all right? Because a vacation in the southwest would do me good, and I think it's more than safe to say nothing would serve you quite as well as a trip to Calcutta. Rolly throws in his two cents: "God must have spent a little less time on this state." This is just so...sad. I mean, have you ever been in the desert in the southwest? It's absolutely gorgeous. They're in or near Monument Valley, for fuck's sake, and they can't do a damn thing but complain. What, I wonder, did they think the race would look like? Do you think they'd be bellyaching less in Bangkok? Or a Parisian sewer? Griping about how gross everything is everywhere you go is so unseemly. And of course, their mother is giggling along, because it would never occur to her to interrupt any of her children's asshole behavior.
Elsewhere, those Linzes -- the ones the Weavers find so crude -- are enjoying (imagine that!) the landscape. In fact, despite waiting through another entire helicopter ride, the Linzes are now right behind the Weavers. After noting what slowpokes the Weavers are pulling the trailer, the Linzes decide to pass, which Nick does. The Linzes give a war whoop on the way by, which of course results in scandalized talk in the Weaver car about how rude the boys are, despite the fact that it is exactly the same thing they did to the pinks a few minutes ago. I think the Weavers need to be followed around by a person holding up a monitor that shows, at all times, the footage of them taken five minutes ago. I'd call it the HypocrisyCam, and I'd put a sign at the top that said, "GOD HATES IMPERFECT RECALL." In spite of their indignation, however, Rolly does manage to make the point that the fact that Rebecca's going 51 miles an hour isn't doing their position in the race any favors. Over in the Linz car, the boys refer to the Weavers as "the Wicked Witch of the East and her two little monkeys." Hee. One of the boys follows with, "Somebody's going to come and drop a house on her head." And...seriously. She would deserve it, mostly for what she's doing to warp the brains of her kids.
In the Bransen car, the Tonyas are talking about the fact that they'd be up for something adventurous and exciting at Gemini Bridges. "I could go for something tranquil," Wally notes dryly. I wonder if that's because he's slow or something. Elsewhere, Christine tries to make conversation with Michelle and Tricia about how it's easier to navigate in the U.S., but they stonefacedly ignore her. See? They really are getting to know each other. And her sisters have learned that if they talk back, she just keeps talking.
The Linzes arrive at Gemini Bridges and pull the clue, which turns out to be the Detour. It offers Drop Down and Ride Down. In Ride Down, you ride bikes six miles into the canyon, while in Drop Down, you do a 270-foot rappel one team member at a time. The Linzes are dropping. They arrive at the edge of the cliff and suit up for the rappel. Tommy starts down the cliff. "If we lose a teammate it's going to be him," Nick comments. He then waits an admirably well-calculated beat before adding, "And we'll turn around and do the bikes." Tee hee. Nick has been funnier since he and Alex switched bodies.
In the Weaver car, Rolly says, "I've never heard one thing about Utah." Keep in mind, the kid is fourteen years old. "I have," Mama pipes up. "Mormons live here." (Miss Alli's Mom: "'And I think the Great Lakes are here, too.'") Mama continues, "Utah is the Mormon State." Rachel actually gasps, and then she says, "No wonder." First of all, HATE!, and second of all, how terrifying is it that the kids in this car are 14, 16, and 19, and it's clear that none of them has ever heard the connection between Utah and Mormons? Do they read? Anything? Other than religious publications? Cree. Pee. They get to Gemini Bridges and pull the Detour clue. They conclude that Rachel can't do the rappel (making that apparently one of many things Rachel can't do, including but not limited to the processing of alternative views), so they head for the bikes. They ride off, and the inability of the show to get the rights to the Wicked Witch's bike theme for right here is just so tragic. You'll have to hum it for yourself.
Megan Linz enjoys her rappel. She and her brothers continue down. The Weavers bike. Rebecca, falling off her bike: "This is the dumbest thing I've done in my life." She really needs not to be so hard on herself, because that's not even the dumbest thing she's done today that has been shown on television. Rolly proclaims that they're not going to be able to ride the bikes because of pokey Rebecca. Drama! Drama!
Commercials. OnStar will save your damn life. Don't you think it won't. I mean, you can get something else if you want to die of a heart attack face-down in a snowdrift with your keys locked in your car while you're out of gas and washer fluid, but don't say I didn't warn you.
When we come back, Mama tells Rebecca that the reason Rebecca can't ride the bike is that she has it in the totally wrong gear. Oops. Elsewhere, the Linzes are still rappelling. As for the Bransens, they finally get to the Detour, with Wally telling the girls to slow down (DRINK!), and when they read the clue, one of the Tonyas immediately says, "Rappel. I hate bikes." Beth asks Wally if it's okay, and Wally is very hesitant, but he ultimately agrees. I think Wally prefers the tasks where you stay close to the ground, but he wants the Tonyas to be able to rappel, and that's admirable. They start their rappel just as the Linzes are finishing theirs.
The Linzes pull the clue at the end of the Detour, and it tells them to get to Green River State Park in Utah, where they will spend the night. They'll get departure times in the morning based on when they get in for the night. The Linzes drive off.
The Weavers are biking. Or walking their bikes, really. The girls are griping endlessly about how much they hate Utah. "If anybody says, 'I'm from Utah,'" Rachel says, "I'm going to say, 'I'm so sorry.'" Kind of what I would say to anyone who said, "I know Rachel Weaver." ["Well, and like these damn-fool shut-ins are ever going to meet anyone from Utah again anyway. Cram it, potato-nose." -- Sars]
Wally makes his way down the rappel, as does Beth.
The Gadzookskis arrive at Gemini Bridges, and a Phil voice-over says that there was a production error relating to their camera equipment that caused their car battery to drain, and while they got a new car, they've dropped to last place. Assuming that's what it sounds like it is, which is that the camera guy screwed up and charged the camera battery off the car battery inappropriately, it seems like something for which you'd get a credit, so I'm not sure what's up with that, but you won't be hearing any more about it, so take what you will from that bit of exposition. Like the oldest son on Happy Days, it's something we're just not meant to ask about, I suppose. When they see the Detour clue, they immediately choose the Drop Down option.
Bransens, rappelling as the Goodlookskis approach. Wally inches down until he's finished, and the remaining Tonyas follow.
The Weavers finish the biking and get the clue for Green River State Park. They leave, but as is always the case when they "leave," they're not nearly gone enough for me.
Christine is just starting the rappel. "We have to hurry," Tricia comments, just as Christine falls backwards just at the edge of the cliff and conks herself, all, "Oof!" Sharon: "You mean with...her? Who just fell on the first little cliff area? No, I don't think so." Heh.
Rappelling, rappelling. It's one of those tasks that always seems like it should be exciting, but is actually very boring, because it's really just people hanging from ropes. ["Except when it isn't. Flo." -- Sars] The Bransens and Gadzookskis, in that order, finish the rappel and get to the clue box. They get on the way to the park for the night.
The Linzes arrive at Green River State Park and learn that they're the first team to get there. As such, they'll be leaving in the morning at 7:00 AM. The Weavers arrive second and receive a departure time of 7:15 AM. They park, undoubtedly feeling very good about their performance and especially about their position as the chosen people of God. The Bransens arrive, and they learn that they'll be leaving at 7:30. The pinks? 7:45 AM. They agree to "stay optimistic." They tape Christine's mouth for the night.
That night, the Linz boys entertain themselves by playing outside, while the Weavers sit inside their trailer thinking, as usual, about how the world is always stealing their lunch money and stepping on their dresses and making their Bibles all wrinkly. One of the girls pronounces the other teams "immature." And...threw trash. Tried to set up prank history lesson. Hooted out the window. I'm not saying anything, I'm just...saying. In an interview, Rachel says that they've all realized they're "on [their] own." Yep. No one to help them. It's like all the other teams are trying to win. Don't they know about God's will? God. I mean, "darn." Mama claims that they've tried over and over again to talk to people (…?) and "they just don't reciprocate." I'd love to know what she tried. Maybe she's counting the part where she told the Linzes to be more encouraging to the other teams.
Commercials. I move we allow Kermit a dignified retirement. All in favor?
At 7:00 AM, the Linzes tear open the clue that tells them to head for Heber City, Utah and find "Bart." Phil clues us in that Bart is a big old shark, and the teams will put on water skis, and...oh, no, I meant to say he's a bear. That's it. Yeah. You know, it used to be you had to find unfamiliar and exciting locations in Tunisia...now you have to find a trained trick-performing bear in someone's yard. I hope Bart isn't busy performing in a kid's birthday party when they get there, because that could make this quite challenging. In the car, Alex reads off the clue that they're heading specifically for Little Sweden Road to find Bart. Of course! There are probably a lot of Barts in Heber City, Utah. Better give a specific address so it's not too hard. Whew!
7:15 AM. The Weavers leave.
In the Linz car, the siblings speak admiringly about the landscape and how much Alex would love to fly-fish here. Over in the Weaver car, they can't believe how "ugly" the drive is. "Looks like a little pimple in the mountains," Rolly snots. I guess being crude is sort of the plank in the eye of the beholder, eh?
7:30 AM. The Bransens leave. 7:45 AM. The Godlewskis follow. In the Gadzookski car, Christine reads the part of the clue about how they can't "yell or run while on this property." "Yell or run," Michelle repeats while staring out the window. "Two big bad things for us." Heh.
The Linzes arrive in Heber City and realize they need some directions. "Make a right and ask this lady," one of them suggests. "That's a dude," someone else says. The lady-dude tells them that Little Sweden Road was about two miles back. The Weavers stop for directions as well. The Linzes are the first to arrive at the marked parking area on Little Sweden Road and the alleged location of Bart. They run up to a house with rather exotic plants and fancy doodads on the front porch, and the lady who emerges tells them to go around the side of the house to find Bart. When they get into the backyard, they find Bart, lumbering up a hill with their clue in his mouth. I guess Bart pays the bills on that front porch, so he is to be congratulated. Someone makes the obligatory "pick-a-nic basket" joke once they have the clue in hand, because if you couldn't count on a Linz boy to talk like a cartoon, you couldn't count on him for anything. The clue tells them to head for the Utah Olympic Park to find another clue. Phil explains that if you've forgotten, Park City, Utah was the home of the 2002 Winter Olympics, and he says that the teams will have to find the park and search for a clue. The clue also announces: "Caution. There is a Yield ahead." They head for Park City on 40, which is the interstate, which is a right and sane maneuver.
As the Linzes leave town, they pass the Weavers coming the other direction. The Weavers, for no particular reason I can think of, decide to duck down so the Linzes can't see them...or something...but the Linzes are quite aware of what's going on. They see you when you're sleeping, they know when you're awake...they're like Santa in that sense, which means that for the Weavers, according to the transitive property, they're kind of like God. Interesting. Didn't think that was going to come out there, did you? The Bransens are entering town as well.
The Weavers get to Bart's house. They think Bart is awesome, but you can tell Bart immediately hates them and wishes he could eat them. He doesn't, for insurance reasons. When the Weavers get the clue and find out that there's a Yield coming, they're not happy at all and agree that they'll have to really hurry to avoid being Yielded. As they look at the map in the car, Rebecca announces that 40 North will take them "too high up," so they shouldn't take that route. Instead, they decide to take something called "92," which isn't even particularly easy to find on a map, as the EEFPs found out. Once they're on this little winding road, Rolly notices some bikers, and he declares out the window, "You wish you were Lance Armstrong!" I'm sort of...out of things to say about how rude they are, but I'd point out that this is much more actively awful to strangers than most people have been in the history of the entire show. What did those bikers do to Rolly, exactly? Is this against Mama's beliefs? Why isn't she telling him to cram it?
The Bransens find their way to Bart. They get their clue and take 40 North. Go figure. The interstate! It's like they built special roads just to help you drive from one place to another in a hurry! The Godlewskis find Bart , and they get their clue as well. Getting on 40 North! And bickering along the way! Gabble gabble gabble!
The Linzes arrive at the Olympic park. The Weavers, on the other hand, have watched as 92 turned into a "scenic loop." And she's not kidding. It's actually called a Scenic Loop, as, again, the forum posters could have told you. What's more, they aren't able to turn around once they're in the loop because it's a narrow road and they have a giant trailer behind them. Rachel – the one who whined about the route in the first place – says, "We should have just taken the highway back to the interstate." "Yeah, we should've, but we didn't," Mama says. "Now we have to go sit through a Yield," Rachel pouts. Yeah, you probably do, smarty.
At the Yield marker (the second of only two), the Linzes do the expected and Yield the Weavers. Tommy explains that the reason they're doing this is that the Weavers are behind them, and they really want the first-place finish, so this will give them a bigger margin. As I've said a billion times, this is not how to best use a Yield if your objective is to stay in the game, but the way they're using it is consistent with what they're saying they want and with the information they have (they don't know about the scenic loop yet, obviously). On the other hand, their real reason for using it is powerful dislike of the Weavers, so while they turned out to do the right thing, they did it for a lot of questionable reasons. They certainly would have Yielded the Weavers no matter where the Weavers were in the sequence when they got to the mat. Anyway, once they get past the Yield, the clue is for a Roadblock, and it requires someone to put on skis and take a 60-foot ramp to the bottom to do a ski jump into a pool. When the jump is done, you get your clue. Nick runs off to do the jump, with Tommy fast-talking about how Nick is such a show-off that he hopes Nick doesn't decide to get cute and kill himself doing a "360 triple-deke." Considering that Tommy seemed at times like he might drive the go-kart off onto the highway, he's hardly one to talk.
Second to arrive at Olympic Park are the Bransens. The Linzes cheer for Wally and the Tonyas as they approach the clue box. Among other things, the Bransens are happy to see that the Weavers aren't here, meaning that they're in second place themselves, and the Linzes are amused at the arrival of every team that isn't the hated "Florida." Nick prepares for his ski jump, and to his credit, he at least tries something – specifically, he does a bit of a back flip. But I say "a bit" because he gets about three-quarters of the way around, meaning that he lands directly on his face. I mean, seriously. He lands on his face. His siblings, of course, laugh hysterically at this development. Despite the face-plant, Nick receives his clue, so apparently, your execution does not have to be graceful in order for the task to be completed. The clue Nick brings back tells them to get to the Salt Lake City library. No, seriously. They're going to the library. First the Great Wall of China, now? The library. As Phil gravely explains, the last team may be eliminated, even though there are currently only four teams and the finale isn't until December 13, three weeks from the night this episode airs. You decide what you think is likely to happen.
The Gadzookskis get to Olympic Park, and the Linzes – on their way out – are thrilled to see them instead of the Weavers. Tommy yells triumphantly to the pinks that the Weavers are Yielded, and that they're still not on the scene. The pinks are glad to hear it, especially since it means they're not last. With this, the Linzes are on their way.
In other news, Christine takes the Roadblock for her team as one of the Tonyas prepares to jump. One of the guys helping the Tonya calls to her, "If you live, let's go out!" Heh. She doesn't try anything tricky with the jump, just gets herself in the water and gets the clue. Her team leaves. Christine basically does the same, to the cheers of her sisters. Time to drive to the pit stop. The Gadzookskis hurry to get out of the way before the Weavers show up. "Let's hope it's elimination," Sharon remarks. You and me both, sister.
The Weavers are bitching in the car, but their Mama tells them not to "lose it." In fact, she thinks they should just accept the fact that they're going to come in last today, and they'll be eliminated. Rachel gives an unhappy snort and slaps herself on the leg. Ohhhh, she is so frust-rated. Yeah, strategy-wise it wasn't the right move, but I'd have Yielded them, too.
Commercials. You know, I wouldn't shop at Walmart.com if they were the last online retailer on earth and they shipped everything using chocolate chips as packing material.
As the Weavers continue lamenting their lot in life, Rachel says, "We're already the last nice family. And we're gone." Let me ask you...can you imagine yourself, even at 16, having declared your family -- out of any group of families -- "the last nice family"? Among other things, a 16-year-old should find that incredibly dorky. She's not eleven. This girl would be in about the tenth grade if she were being socialized normally, and that's way too old to say about yourself and your sister and brother and mom, "We're the last nice family." It's like she stopped maturing about seven years ago and has gotten nowhere. I mean, you could imagine it out of Carissa if she were a different sort of kid and wouldn't get smacked, right? That's the approximate maturity level. She was nine. Normal 16-year-olds just don't talk like this. Anyway. "The people who win," Rachel snots, "will probably spend it on a new nose and bigger boobs." You know, you have to shop so carefully on that QVC. Mix up a couple of digits, and instead of your "What Would Jesus Do?" bracelet, you get the "What Would Joan Rivers Do?" bracelet, and then it's just hijinks all over the place.
Meanwhile, in the Linz car, they can't stop speculating about what could have happened to the Weavers. "Maybe one of them got eaten by the bear," Nick hypothesizes. I wish. Nick and I are like funk soul siblings now. I'm always right with him when he's shit-talking people, and that's really one of mankind's primary forms of bonding. (This is why I don't go around telling people how nice I am. It's very limiting, socially.) In the Bransen car, there are prayers of elimination now that they all know who's in last place. In the Godlewski car, on the other hand, Michelle is a little snarkily sad that she doesn't get to see the Weavers find out that they've been Yielded.
As it turns out, the Weavers aren't in any particular hurry, because they've stopped to have some ice cream on Mama's theory that this is the best cure for what ails you. Specifically, it "revigorates you and injuvenates you." Can't argue with those syllables, although not in that order. Rachel says that only her "Big Mac" is keeping her from crying. So while they were behind everyone and they were losing, they...stopped for food? Seriously? Just...stopped? Wow, things sure have changed around here.
The Weavers finally get themselves to Olympic Park. They do their usual thing where they try to fool people into thinking they aren't really upset about finding that they're Yielded. In this case, however, it's invisible people, so I'm not sure whose benefit this is for, exactly. As they sit on the mat and eat, Mama announces that they knew they'd be Yielded because two teams were so "rude." Too bad her great strategy of attacking the last team to Yield her didn't get her anything in terms of results. Mama insists with a laugh that people always like them. She's never seen a situation in which anyone disliked her family. I suppose if you hang around with a very tiny number of people who are as tiny as you are, you wouldn't really find out what the rest of the world would think if you ever interacted with it. I almost feel like having raised these kids that way, she would have been better off just letting them stay inside that little box, you know? Her kids are like declawed cats – she's made them incapable of dealing with the outside world. She's crippled all their coping skills and made them into eternal crybabies. I'm not sure it's even fair to put them out in regular life with regular people, because they don't have the skills to handle it. ["It's not like regular people are going to be lining up for the privilege after seeing this shit on TV, either." -- Sars]
Meanwhile, in Salt Lake City, the Linzes are looking for the library, and Megan, much more filled with confidence than she was earlier in the race, decides to start asking people where to find it. They get directions from a lady and head off, with Megan noting that they know the other teams aren't far behind, and it's always possible that somebody else will find the library first. Elsewhere, we see Wally and the Tonyas in town as well, although it's one of those where it's just impossible to tell whether any of this is actually happening at the same time. The music thumps and accelerates, and the Linzes park their car and run for the roof of the library. "I'm coming, Phil!" yells one of the boys, absolutely and definitely doing his Ian impression, which is a little bit awesome, appreciation-of-history-wise. And now, the Linzes land on the mat, where Phil is waiting with a lovely greeter. "Miss Utah?" one of the boys says, looking at her. "Miss Latin Utah, even better," Nick notes. And it's gross, but slightly funny. Come on, give me a break. My other option for comedy is the Weavers, and they're unintentionally funny, which is different. Anyway, Phil finally gives them the first-place finish they've been craving. At first, Phil tries to fake them out with the news that they get no prize, but he quickly gives it up that in fact, they've won a trip to...Wyoming. And Wyoming is very beautiful and everything (not to the Weavers, of course, but to me), but still...I have to wonder, you know? You finally get your prize, and everybody else won Belize and Costa Rica and so forth, and Phil's like, "You get to go to...Jackson Hole!" To their credit, the Linzes look really excited and happy, and I suppose a resort vacation is a resort vacation. In fact, one of them says, "That's perfect." Maybe they ski. If they do, it would indeed be perfect. Phil points out to Tommy that for their victory, they even got the beautiful woman. The Linzes bubble with happiness, which means they are peaking at exactly the right time, and they're really the only team that is. This game, as much as any other, is really all about momentum.
Wally and the Tonyas are welcomed as team number two. The Gadzookskis come in . Welcome, pinks, you are team number three. Phil asks them whether they're happy about the Yield situation, and they pronounce themselves "very happy." Christine wraps up their day with an interview in which she admits that she likes to talk, but she vows that she'll "back off" if it's bugging her sisters. Which I think it is, so the backing off could probably commence any time now. The pinks high-five.
And now, we return to the straggling Weavers. The Yield runs down, and they give the Roadblock to Rolly (of course). They get the clue and get in the car, chattering about how they really just want to be eliminated. And this is where, in my ideal world, a giant mechanical claw would descend from the sky, pluck them out of the car, and drop them at their doorstep, because I despise quitters. You want out? Go home. I won't miss you.
They drive up to the library, and Phil tells them they're last. And then he tells them that they're not eliminated, and they're completely not happy about it. Phil calls them on their "unenthusiastic reaction," and Rolly says that it's because nobody likes them. Phil proceeds to take all their money and all their stuff. He then comments that they don't seem to even care what's going on. Mama explains that although they enjoy the race, she's not "up for" all the "personal stuff." Like sitting around at the Yield calling people names, for instance. That kind of personal stuff. Phil gives them a big pep talk (shut UP, Phil) about how other teams have been known to come from behind and win, blah dee blah. Mama interviews that she was ready to quit until Phil's "words of encouragement" told her that she could still win. She brags about how they got lost and Yielded and still "[came] back from it." No, you didn't! You weren't eliminated because there was no elimination, dummy! That's not a comeback! She pronounces them "ready to win." Bleh.
Executive Producer? Jerry Bruckheimer.
What's revolting to me about that entire thing isn't so much that Phil showed kindness to them, not that they deserve it. It's that the race has become so fucking soft. Phil shouldn't have to give a goddamn pep talk so you don't shrivel up like a mouse and quit. Phil didn't give words of encouragement to Flo; that was Zach's problem to deal with, which means that the team had to come up with enough drive between them to keep going, even if it all came from one person. If your team lacks the will to go on, then shut the hell up and go home, you know? This entire thing, with the stupid tasks and the easy everything and the random eliminations and Phil turning into a den mother, just makes it a different show. It's this Disney bullshit where it's all about who's mean and who's nice, and what's missing is a sense of urgency. The teams don't particularly seem to care, with the exception of maybe the Linzes, about winning.
I've barely seen any knock-yourself-out effort on the part of any of these people. They're sort of dinking around like they're on vacation, and that's why the season is boring. What has historically made the game exciting was the intensity of teams as diverse as Rob and Brennan, Guido, Ken and Gerard, Jill and John Vito, Millie and Chuck, Colin and Christie, Linda and Karen...they all had their own ways of manifesting it, but all really wanted to win. These people don't seem to give a crap. They bicker, but there's no passion for the win, and I don't care because they don't care. Maybe it's because with four people, everybody's only competing for $250,000 before taxes, which is not going to change your life. Maybe it's because the feel of the race is so much softer that there's no desperation. Maybe it's because the locations are so much less challenging that it has an amusement-park atmosphere and there aren't those genuinely challenging moments where you sense that people are really scared and not sure what to do. You're not going to get that desperate in the middle of Salt Lake City looking for the library like you will when lost in the desert in Tunisia or looking for a hotel in India where you can't speak the language, you know?
At any rate, I'd probably prefer to see the Linzes win, and Anybody But The Weavers I can live with, but there's really no way for the ending to be very satisfying, because I just don't care.
week: Balloons collide. Mama Weaver demonstrates that she doesn't understand what the word "waste" means, and continues to taunt and harass other teams as part of her ongoing attempt to walk with Jesus. And we're still a couple of weeks away from the finale. Which, believe me, cannot come soon enough for me.