Jeff Probst is an Asshole

Oh, wondrous exciting excitement! There have been a few exciting delays, but now the exc...

Shut up and fuck off. I'm running things now.

What? But I'm the exciting person who writes these exciting things!

Go away. You're an idiot.

What the fuck?! I tell you what to do! You obey ME!

Sure. Yeah, whatever you say.

You piece of... *bink*

Tonight! On Survivor! It's all come down to this moment. Out of sixteen castaways we're now down to final four...

Two.

If you value your life, you will NOT interrupt me again.

Wooo, Jeff Probst is pissy! Oh my, I'm so scared.

SILENCE!

Whoa!

Ahem. As in every last Survivor, a jury consisting of every last contestant eliminated will decide who will be the last Survivor standing; the one who will walk away with one million dollars!

Uh, Ross and I are actually the only two contestants. And we're not fighting for one million dollars. We're fighting for possession of this blog.

...

Mr. Probst? Is everything all right?

Do you know what Survivor even is? Why did you call me here? This is hackneyed! This makes no sense! It reeks of laziness! This... is bad writing!

Hey, fuck you, Probst!

ENOUGH! Probst Destruction Blast!

*cough* *hack* Oh, it's a long way to Tipperareeeeeee...

A fucking blog?! This is what's at stake? I'm leaving now!

I'll help out, guys!

Oh shit, it's Mark Cuban. Everyone ignore him and maybe he'll just go away.

Guys! Hey, guys! *sniff* You're all assholes!

That was unnecessary.

Hmph. Well, since it's my perogative to change my mind and render you filthy beasts subject to my virile whims, I might as well stay and set the whole thing up. I shall deign to remain among you inferiors for a little while longer.

Pfft, yeah; seeing as Survivor's the only thing you're good for...

YOU WANT SOME OF THIS, BITCH?

Yipes!

And so, the countdown to the final tribal council begins. But first, we'll be showing four hours of the castaways looking somber and talking crazy. As in every other Survivor finale.

Hour 1:

I'm tired of this bullshit! I don't even care about this stupid blog! Can't I just go home? Ross needs beer! Ross needs beer bad!

Hour 2:

I made love to a sand crab today. It was a very giving and sensual partner.

Hour 3:

I've tried to form a wimbledon league with the beetles, but all they know is cricket! Why, God? Why?

Hour 4:

Well, there goes Ross walking around naked again. But I'm comfortable enough in my sexuality for this not to be a problem. Or is it? Oh, I'm so confused!

Trouble!

You're going down, Ross! I formed an alliance with this tree! Ha!

Oh yeah? Well I formed an alliance with *every* grain of sand on this beach! Ha ha! Bwa ha ha! BWA HA HA HA HA ... *urk*

Oh dear, it appears Ross had an aneurysm then fell in the fire. Oh well! Hey Crabby, where are you?

The wrenching strain of being stranded fifty metres away from a five-star resort in the Caribbean has taken its toll. The castaways make their first, yet final march towards tribal council. At stake? Co-writership of this blog. For fuck's sake. And the life of the loser.

WHAT?

Yes! One of these *snicker* men will trade the light of their torch for the FIRES OF HELL! One lives! One dies! Join us next time to see who is crowned the ULTIMATE SURVIVOR! But first some unedited - I repeat unedited - footage from earlier.

You know, Ross, you can really be a *VERY THIRSTY GUY!*

You wanna make something of it, you *INTELLIGENT CONSUMER?*

*THANK* you, Ross! Why don't you come over here and I'll give you *SOME DELICIOUS MOUNTAIN DEW?*

Oh, I'm going to open a WHOLE CAN of *THAT REFRESHING MOUNTAIN DEW!*

Oh yeah? You and what *BAG OF ZESTY SNACKS?*

*GUACAMOLE DORITOS!*

*YUMMY!*

Psst... Probst isn't looking. I'm going to remind you to tune in next time for the next exciting installment!

WHO LET YOU BACK IN?!

Whoops, gotta run...

*FLUSH*

Hey guys, what'd I miss? Guys?

Note: Image of burnt Joel done by Ben.