Survivor: Come Sail Away

I watched "Survivor" last night (though I missed the first 10 minutes) for the first time in about 5 or 6 years. Eh. It's a silly show.

I liked that the Asian team pointed out the diversity of cultures represented among those five people. "Asian" encompasses a lot of territory (as do the other groups, but the 5 people in the Asian team represent a huge chunk of the planet, even without anyone east of Vietnam).

I also liked that the first crime to be committed was by the old white guy stealing a chicken. That seemed appropriate.

I didn't really see the Hispanic team. With four teams of five people each, there was a lot of ground to cover in a short time frame, especially when you through in Jeff Probst and all his rules and gimmicks.

The worst part of the whole show was that afterwards, we flipped over to "Celebrity Duets" and watched an hour of possibly the worst television I've ever seen. I got the Styx song "Come Sail Away" stuck in my head. I learned that Cheech Marin, though a solid art collector, is not much of a vocalist. I was reassured that Wayne Brady is one of the worst hosts imaginable in a wide sea of terrible reality shows. Marie Osmond has self-esteem issues. Little Richard talks like Yoda with less wisdom. Every Simon Cowell-produced show needs a jerk-judge. Dionne Warwick needs work. So does Aaron Neville. Taylor Dayne is still alive. Xena isn't that bad of a singer, though as a blonde and without all her Xena gear, I would never have figured out who she was on my own. And lastly, I could have spent that hour staring blankly at the wall and made better use of my time.