LAST EDITED ON 02-25-19 AT 00:50 AM (EST)
Hello. This year I am reporting to you from my booth in the upper fronds of a very tall coconut tree on Buzzard Island. This is the Barry, Buzzard Island Basher. I have been banished from Exile Island, from this year’s Survival Island, from the Edge of Extinction Island and from every one of the countless Stupid Survivor Islands because of false rumors and innuendo. False I tell you. Innuendo!
This year I had to adopt the name Barry. The fuzz is everywhere.
And I am not a crook.
But they think I am. Imagine. Just because I relentlessly bash the pitiful bunches of castaways they managed to lure off the streets of an unnamed urban area (Ok, it’s LA), or second rate modeling studios, or the rejection door of various casting agencies, tempting them with dreams of money, success, sexual satisfaction, and what-not, they banished me to this outpost. Admittedly it hasn’t helped my case with them any that I manage to scoop the world with the ultra-secretive spoilers that wreck the Survivor producers plans every year. It’s become a thing between them and I, and this year they managed to get a Fiji Judge to issue an injunction allowing me no closer than this tree. I will be hiring new lawyers, and BTW anyone out there who needs to add Pro-Bono work to their resume is invited to apply.
Meanwhile, I do have time reserved on the Hubble telescope which NASA has graciously consented to turn the around a few times a week as it makes it’s pass over Fiji and focus on the Survivor activity. I had to promise them an Exec Prod. Credit for my upcoming Survivor Scandal podcast which may become (fingers crossed!) an Amazon Prime special. Netflix, you can enter the bidding too. Bring the bucks.
I also have a new super powerful set of binoculars. I don’t have the hang of them yet, but when I do they should be useful. It’s just that when ever the wind blows the whole palm tree sways, and I puke, passerbyers below should beware. Then when a coconut drops the reaction force also sways the tree. A 15 pound (7 kilos for you Canadians) falling 60 feet can of course be tragic for a passerbyer, but so far, no casualties. Just really mad passerbyers way down there. Nanny nanny noho down there, nyah nyah nyah! Can’t touch this! What? Is that your IQ. Back atcha Bub!
And I have my superspy naked happy girls providing flip-flops on the ground, and a relay team of monkeys and sea turtles to relay all they find to me – Your gracious and extremely dapper reporter – to be provided to you - the discerning audience. No problem. You’re welcome.
What? Get on with the first week’s spoilers? Well hecks yeah.
Problem. Mix-up. Miscommunications. The monkeys did the swimming leg, and the sea turtles did the land leg. Was supposed to be the other way, but the mynah bird I hired as an assistant is incompetent. Chatty, but incompetent. So I only have one spoiler, and this via the Hubble.
Spoiler #1: Apparently the survivors on one tribe are desperately signaling the NASA people to rescue them by sending a message using their clothing spread on the beach. Either that or they were so excited about starting their beach orgy that they just dropped trou as soon as they hit the beach. I vote the latter, but who knows.
Buzzard Island Basher Barry
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