The Mole - Episode 4: The Magnificent Seven

In honor of the passing of the late, great George Carlin, I pledge to use all of the Seven Dirty Words You're Not Allowed To Use On Television in this recap. Not only that, but I will use them as many times as is humanly possible. Not that I don't already do that in all of my recaps anyway, but at least this time, I'll have a reason. For those of you unfamiliar with these words, well, just know that there is more to comedy than 'Meet The Spartans'. Goodbye, Mr. George. Just so you know, I went into a gift shop today and asked for my gift. More Mole after the jump...

Alright, let's get this motherfucker started, shall we? Shit yes, you cocksucker. Everyone except Paul is bummed out that Bobby's gone, and understandably so. He was fairly Mole-ish to me, but at least he was a nice guy. A nice guy that everyone thought was the Mole. Anyway, the players are driven up into the Andes Mountains in Argentina for their next challenge, and holy FUCK, does it look cold out there. Freeze your tits off cold. New Jersey in February cold. Brrr. So Jon's already up there waiting for the players, and when they arrive, he lays it out for them by uncovering a big pile of fake gold bricks. Carry these bricks up to the top of this big-ass mountain, he says, and I'll put $250 for each one. The players are split into two teams, and Jon adds something else. The first team to arrive at the top of the mountain gets an exemption. Fuck yeah, motherfucker!

The teams have 50 minutes to get as many bricks as they can to the top of the mountain, so off the fuck they go. There seems to be two strategies here - one, go for as many bricks as you can to add money to the pot, or forget about the money and go for the exemption instead. Wait, did Jon say that the exemption was for the whole team? Shit no, he didn't. Hmm.

Mark's being a little cuntrag about it all and starts bitching about having Craig on his team, knowing that he's the biggest guy that's going to have the hardest time getting up to the top of the mountain. I can't really blame him, but come on - accept that responsibility and forget about the fucking exemption. Haul the bricks, get the dough, and be done with it. Stupid cocksucker.

About halfway up, Jon shows up again and tells the teams that there is one more part to this challenge - they're also going to have to haul a scale up the mountain, too. They have their choice of two scales, one that weighs ten pounds, and one that weighs twenty. They luckily get the lighter scale, and Mark throws a little shit fit about having to carry it even though he volunteered to do it.

So after Craig has like seven motherfucking coronaries trying to get up the mountain, the teams finally drag their tired asses all the way up to the top. Nicole performs her first act of extreme Mole-ishness by saying that her team would gladly give up all their money to get their promised exemption. Really? Did you bother asking anyone else on your team if they felt that way, too?

So both teams arrive, 57 bricks make it with them, and about $15,000 gets added to the pot. Right the fuck on. However, I was right about the whole exemption thing, and only one of the players on the team that arrived first gets it. Seeming Kristen hauled a HUGE part of the 23 bricks her team managed to haul up, the consensus is that she should get it, but Clay throws a shit-fit and insists that he should get it instead. He doesn't let up, so everyone eventually backs down and gives him the exemption.

So right when I start wondering when Craig is going to have the heart attack that we saw in the previews last week, it happens. The players get down to the bottom of the mountain, and whammo! Craig's put into an ambulance with signs of hyopthermia raging all over him. Poor guy. He really should lay off the fuckin' donuts every now and again, but hey, motherfuckin' hypothermia is motherfuckin' hypothermia, motherfuckers. I mean... fuck.

Have I used piss or tits yet? Shit.

So Craig and his great big man-tits are out of things for a bit, and Mark passes the time between challenges by scribbling maniacally in his journal about pretty much everything. I'm fairly certain he even knows what shade of yellow everyone's piss is at this point, and I wouldn't be surprised if he signs every entry he makes with 'XOXO, Mark', either. The players sit down to dinner with Jon, and being that he nearly died today, Craig's gotta sit this one out. Damn, the fat guy had to climb up a mountain, go to the hospital, AND miss a meal. Worst fuckin' day ever. Jon asks them how things are going with their journals, and there's a quick shot of Mark fussing with his as he sets it on the table. It's the #10 journal, which makes me think of Craig's claim last week that he and Bobby naked looked like a walking #10. Hmm. A hint towards Mark being the Mole? Perhaps. Anyway, Jon talks for a bit about the player's journals, and then asks them all to pass the books forward. Oh shit. Remember the bag-burning thing a few seasons ago? Oh fuck.

But wait - after Jon takes the journals away with him while the players eat, he brings them back to the table and passes them back out. Everyone thumbs through them, so we're certain that there hasn't been any switcheroo made or anything. They're all the same books, but as always, there's a twist. Jon has written down a few choice quotes from each of the players' journals, and with that information, he begins the next motherfuckin' challenge. Oh snap. Jon's going to ask the players who said what quote, and if they get it right, $2,000 goes into the pot. The players manage to get five of these right, but because Moley Molerson Nicole's stupid fuckin' ass chose to throw a signal to the other players when an answer was about her, Jon disqualifies that answer and takes back the $2,000 associated with it. Oh, and we also find out that Paul can't spell worth a shit. Thanks, New York City public school system! Dumb motherfucker.

Dessert is served and it's creme brulee', but who the hell lights creme brulee' with a cigarette lighter? Hmmm. Something suspicious there, I think.

Jon takes the players outside for a walk after dessert, and he asks them who doesn't think they need their journal anymore. No one wants to give it up, so it comes down to a rouchambeau. Alex is the odd man out, so he's gotta give up his journal. Hold on a sec, though - after he hands it to Jon, he gets it returned to him. He's then asked to collect everyone else's journals and hand those over, too. AGAIN. They're placed on a table about 50 feet away, and...oh shit. Those motherfuckers are SO getting burned. Get the marshmallows, cocksuckers.

WHOOSH! Jon lights a long fuse that leads to the table, and yup, those motherfuckers really are getting burned. No one's really pleased with this outcome, but Mark practically throws himself on the ground and starts holding his breath until his face turns blue. What a cuntbag. He angrily stalks off by himself for a little bit (probably to go change his tampon), and because of that, the selfish little cockslap leaves everyone standing out in the cold because of it. See, I'd leave his ass there. Either that, or I'd go find him in the van and run him over. Cuntbag. Go cry on your own time, weeping willow. Once again, I have to quote from the Good Book of Sheila From Big Brother 9 - if thou signs up for the humiliating degradation that IS reality TV, thou aren't allowed to bitch about once it gets harder to deal with than you thought.

So finally, Cuntface shows up again, and everyone makes their way back to the cabins. Being that Craig wasn't at dinner, he's still got his journal. Alex does, too, being that he was the one who gave his up to Jon. Potentially Mole-y behavior on both their parts? I dunno. Craig didn't have much of a choice in the matter of whether to go to dinner (or did he?), and we actually SAW Alex getting chosen by chance to give his journal up. I'm crossing that out of MY journal, the one that isn't currently on fire. You wanna sniff it, Mark? I love that book smell, don't you?

So the players go to their pre-execution dinner, and Mark's actually got the fuckin' balls to call Craig's absence from dinner last night 'an unfair advantage'. You certainly could've gotten hypothermia, too, man. Just think - it would've given you something else to endlessly bitch about. Wouldn't that have been nice? Jon tells Craig that he gets to keep his journal due to his absence last night, so he seems pretty happy about that. Unfortunately, the cost that comes at is missing everyone's interactions at dinner last night, but everyone fills him in on what happened. See, Mark? That's what happens when people like you.

Quiz time, motherfuckers! The results are in, and Jon drops the bomb that they have a tie for last. When this happens, the person with the slowest time gets executed. Jon tells us that the time difference between the lowest score is five fuckin' seconds. You believe that shit? Five fuckin' seconds. That's practically enough time for Mark to squeeze in another tempter tantrum. Jon does his screen-touching thing (does that even really do anything?), and whap! Victoria's out. Wait, what? Do the producers not want me to watch this motherfuckin' show anymore? Why not just have everyone put on Paul masks for the rest of the season while they're at it? Fuck!

So that's that, motherfuckers. We're now down to the final seven. I didn't get to use the word 'tits' very often, so I'll make up for it by saying that Victoria's were fabulous. The quick clip of her bouncing around in that cute little soccer outfit isn't making me look forward to seeing Craig's big floppy titties jiggle around the for the next few weeks at all. C'est la motherfuckin' vie.

Next week, Nicole's being a cuntrag, Paul's close to getting himself thrown out of a speeding van, and Craig looks responsible for it all. Wonderful. Absolutely fucking wonderful. Until then, I'll leave you with a cheer.

Ratshit, batshit
Dirty old twat!
69 assholes tied in a knot!
Hurray! Lizard shit! FUCK!

Say goodnight, Georgie. Goodnight, Georgie.

-littlebigmouth.