Clearly, Lillian is an empty pot. Lacking any discernible inner workings besides the tinny, tenuous morality of the average chump raised on MTV and Taco Bell, she waddles through her reanimation on the Pearl Islands a clueless irritant capable of the most insidious gaucherie, committed wholly under the hoisted flag of outcast revenge. All the while croaking her intent satisfaction at being a bovine receptacle for the schemes of others. Beyond the grunt of abstract comeuppance, Lillian has little else herself.
Lillian was eager to argue her illusionary skittishness to “start a lie” but has now lied; she claimed to harbor “a lot of guilt” for joining the cabal seeking Rupert’s demise but, in the end, lies to Rupert and votes him out despite saying, “I love that man.” (Such love Rupert could’ve done without, trust me.) Lillian is “sorry” for opting to take her Reward Challenge prize because “Rupert would catch fish... I can’t catch fish... I don’t want to make anybody mad... I’m just not that good at the game.” She takes the sail, gets tipsy, doesn’t catch a single fish, and swallows Jon’s plan to oust Rupert. Over all this perfidy she sobs to Jon (the devil himself!) about being “such a bitch” (Jon, of course, responds with a “Thank God!”) and then ultimately does all these horrible things she’s bloodying herself about. “Burton and Jon keep pounding into my head...” evidently congratulating herself for not having her own mind. Besides decimating every last remnant of her verbalized personal code of standards, Lillian does bob her head up and down awfully well.
She and Burton, arrived back on the Survivor set under utterly pathetic false pretenses---such as each were somehow victims of some great polarizing evil---when each were ejected for merely being participants in a television game that weekly requires someone to be ejected. I can’t find much mystery in that. I mean, someone has to leave. The fact these people were pumped-up in self-importance (let’s say self-righteousness) by Survivor producers, i.e.; dubbed “The Outcasts” (I suppose it could have just as easily been “The Nazis”), given tribal status, and allowed to boo-hoo and invoke respectability for all their cry-baby self esteem fissures, due to being “voted off,” was fairly nauseating.
It was also like Alice In Wonderland. Now that, for example, Burton and Lillian have lied, been deceitful and flaunted their cronyism, and actually had the effrontery to vote off fellow Balboa tribe members, are they the new devils? What are the Survivor people to do to discharge justice among the new “outcasts?” Or is time up? This manufactured, perplexed pig has been given enough lipstick.
Of course, here and there yokels crack when deified for maudlin shortcomings. Lillian was made a rock star for being a complete loser. At least Burton accomplished some actual feats before axed. Lillian couldn’t find a water hole, or tie an adequate fisherman’s knot, or keep fish hooks from being lost; much less exhibiting any adult social skills. So, when she was allowed to return to hallowed ground she became the avenging angel of death to her former inquisitors. Burton, on the other hand, simply began working it.
From inflicting wounds to Morgan for voting her out, and to Andrew specifically for “not getting back to me before Tribal Council,” Lillian swept gladly, swiftly into the Drake camp because she was able to feel wanted and loved again---the ultimate emotional peace for a compassless moron---completely dumbstruck to the prospect that she was so “loved” because she was indeed traitorous to her former tribe and was now a panting lapdog for any Drake directive. She remains important in all minds, including notably her own, as long as she sits there and soaks in and executes the varied orders and commands supplied by Burton and Jon, amid promises of Survivor glory for nothing more arduous a trick than rapt fealty. Lillian is so dimwitted that she, again, bluntly counsels both her two suitors to spell out her future requirements more slowly, more often. A good idea would be to listen to taped instructions while sleeping. During the Reward Challenge catamaran cruise, Lillian tells Jon, “you just need to let me know what’s going on,” and “you may have to tell me a couple of times,” after he regurgitates the tired get-rid-of-Rupert/Final Three scenario, just hashed over a few days ago by Burton. I suppose a hamster would be slightly more difficult to train.
Yet, I think even Burton may be growing weary of this Lillian character, no matter how servile she remains. While Lillian was falling off rope ladders and receiving ample face burn while plummeting from swinging ropes during the Reward Challenge, partner Burton charged onward to a significant come-from-behind victory against Rupert and Jon after putting together a pirate flag puzzle. Lillian irrupted into an orgasmic wail---a curious, typical bit of buffoonery left for those who fail to contribute much to an effort---and began grabbing Burton hysterically, finally throttling his head askew and planting a big wet one on his lips. Burton annoyed, recoiled, “Oh my god... quit doing that Lil... come on man!” I suppose having a crazy old woman tugging at your head and neck repeatedly while screaming riotously in your ear is not entirely fun. Therefore, it wasn’t surprising that he later asked Jon to join him in the Final Two, “I want to hang out with you that last day... and you and I partying our asses off.” It is plain that Burton wants to one day get drunk and celebrate with one that is equally grounded in such an ability. A wacky drinking bud suddenly seemed wonderful.
The almost mythical Rupert is no longer a lingering question mark, he is now gone. The disappearance of so huge a figurehead, one so in domination over virtually every known “Survivor” skill and endeavor is disconcerting. It seems tragic. I personally thought Rupert deserved to be crowned the “Ultimate Survivor” many episodes ago---so magnificent were his abilities and character. But in the end he got weaseled out by some lesser lights (Jon, Lillian) and some pedestrian opportunists (Burton, Darrah and Tijuana) who fused themselves out of Rupert’s own woeful inability to choose his disciples well and in turn, inspire them to play his own dazzling though quixotic game.
Rupert’s a different sort, mind you. A complex web of sorrow and fear and isolation---apparently marking a bitter childhood---spun with his own admirable wellspring of pluck and fortitude, mined surely to steer himself aloft of his sordid black holes, and all this mix channeled through willfully unrelenting physical and mental strength. He is also copiously self-aware which loosens the mind to think forcefully and maybe, regrettably, over analyze all sorts of nonsense which might explain his many wandering bouts of insomnia as well as his frantic triumphs over his demons. He structured his Survivor master plan upon a mirror of his personal evolution: a merit-based system of selfless hierarchy that would reward the most skillful and honor bound survivor with victory---that ultimately he thought would be himself---and as he saw it, reward the less skilled and less forthright contestants with descending placement in this hierarchy, by itself handsome payment for efforts launched; all consigned by measured work ethic, honesty, and social contribution to the tribe. Each tribe member would supposedly be satisfied to end up voted off at their particular prescribed time because this was their fate within the tribe: “Letting everybody here realize that they’re finishing in places of honor.” Rupert saw his role as the oracle who would open the hearts and minds of his fellow tribe mates, “to build them up to be a winner and still lose.” Basically, Rupert wanted to banish the competitive game. Bring everyone out of his haunted schoolhouse. Naturally, not everyone was willing to lose honorably, especially among the rabble he opted to fraternize.
One distinct failure was his pride in his own masterfulness. During his nighttime travails, Rupert would call out to his wife, Laura, that “I want everybody to see I’m the best damn survivor that has ever been... I am IT.” This is pure daydreaming. He desired to “direct everyone’s actions,” believing all would plop down into line once confronted by his superior ability and wisdom. This is not only daydreaming but becoming fully intoxicated. Though one does have to admit that for the most part Rupert did live up to his star billing. Yet, he couldn’t see beyond his heavenly nimbus that the hour would come, as it comes to all, when a victory would slip away, even perhaps fleetingly, and others would have to man the bulwark against further erosion. And it is here he failed. He chose unwisely to collect the likes of Jon and Lillian to stay the course with him. A guy like Rupert should have known better.
My personal opinion was that Rupert lost the game when he turned his back on Morgan’s Andrew and Ryno when the two tribes merged. His blind prejudice for someone who just happened to be from the opposing tribe, scoffing at someone who shared his selfless view of tribal community, was his instant undoing. Andrew Savage was his friend in more ways than one and he failed to take advantage of it. Both men shared the same vision. They were spiritually conjoined yet distant due to smaller loyalties. Rupert had even fallen into an easy friendship with Ryno who joined him during his temporary fishing forays for Morgan. When voting Ryno out (again, for being a Morgan) Rupert mentioned as an aside that if things had been different he could’ve contemplated trading him for a few Drake members. He should have listened to his own heart beforehand. He should have made things different.
Another reason Rupert may have lost his vision was his distrust of males. Rupert had admitted to Burton that he reminded him of “that role every jock in my life has taken. I was beneath you guys,” being the target of constant harassment because of his weight and size, being “that fat little terrified kid” in school at the hand of male bullies. He was clearly more comfortable in the company of women, cleaving Sandra and Christa to his side, voting off the “jocks” rapaciously, as well as spending “hours” in the morning chatting with his final executioner, Lillian. His final suicidal act of self-delusion and weakness came as he sought out Lillian as the ultimate arbitrator of truth and justice on the closing dark hand of betrayal orchestrated by Jon and Burton, shimmering into solid mass just after Jon and Lillian’s reward cruise. He did not seek a confrontation with either one of the males---the dealers in “the stink of rot and death”---but he would take a seat before Lillian, “I’m going to ask her exactly what he talked about and she WILL tell me.” When Lillian was asked by Rupert, lying there together under the stars, she blankly denied any collusion. Rupert was transfixed, “ She said ‘No!’ I know now that Lillian will be wholehearted with me. I wanted to hug and kiss her.” They both were shown holding hands, bonding, and Rupert pulled over Lillian’s hand and kissed it. Mother, sister, wife, friend... the nurturing female allies that refused to laugh at him during school terrors; the ribbons and curls and tiny smiles that tended to his sensitive, tattered soul. This is the one who could make him feel safe and secure---”I have Lil on my side!”---amid the bruising muscles and egos that were attempting to thwart his judicious dream---onward together through yet another Tribal Council. Rupert then looked around, and his neck had been wrung by ‘ol Lil. Things could have been a lot different if only he could have lifted his veil of tears.
Email webmaster
Write An Article!
![ETV Store](<IMG SRC="images/store.gif" WIDTH="129" HEIGHT="17" BORDER="0" ALT="ETV Store">){kind=link}