INTERNET:

Subject: The Finale, IT SUCKED!
I have watched Big Brother from day one. I felt like I knew these people, I mean, I watched the shows, watched them live on the Internet, always holding my breath on every banishment show. I waited 3 months watching these people all the time, posting, spending $145 voting, chatting all the time, and this is all I get at the end?! I would appreciated if someone from AOL or CBS would email me and tell me if there really is going to be a Big Brother 2.

We have our top people on it, but first I need some more money and I want to piss on your head.

Subject: Re: Crippled Wins!!!
This Eddie is not crippled ...he is more fit than most people.

Yeah, he can "more fit" into a one-legged pair of pants than most people.

Subject: Eddie--please read
>From the moment you went into the house, I liked you. You never lost sight of the most important thing, that it was a gameand you were there to not only play, but to win. I am so proud of you!

That's all well and good, since he won, but if he had come in third he would have gone back to being what he was to begin with: a low-rent 7th-year-of-College schmuck stumbling across the Quad on his crutches in July nursing a schnapps hangover. Would you be so proud of him then?

Subject: Re: Eddie is the funniest guy there
Eddie was the only truly honest one on the show.

Let's see ... all CRETINS are liars, and you are a CRETIN -- so, therefore...

Subject: WE ARE GONNA MISS THE BIG BROTHER SHOW....
WE ENJOYED THE SHOW, CBS JUST DIDNT GIVE THE BIG BROTHER HOUSE GUEST ENOUGH TIME TO REUNITE... "UNLIKE THE SURVIVOR SHOW". AFTER 3 MONTHS I THINK THAT THEY DESREVED TO HAVE BEEN AWARDED THE TIME YOU USED TO SHOW A REPEAT OF SURVIVOR.

First of all, unlike "The Survivor Show," our ratings were abysmal. We were lucky they didn't schedule us in the 30 seconds between the local news and the Lotto drawing. Secondly, we missed most of "Survivor" while we were inside the house so we were glad to be "awarded" a chance to watch an episode. That Colleen is sort of cute, don't you think?

Subject: just my view
i just skimmed through the posts here and can't for the life of me understand why Eddie's handicap was even mentioned in the posts here. i mean did Eddie wear a sign announcing that he had a disability? Eddie won because Eddie was honest from the beginning.

No, Eddie didn't NEED to wear a SIGN because he ONLY HAD ONE FUCKING LEG! And yes, he was honest, here -- honestly one-legged.

Subject: Josh You Are a Winner!!!
Josh, You have got to go for movies or tv. You made watching the show a lot of fun. You are cute, sensitive and fun. I applaud your vote for Eddie. It was such an unselfish thing to do. I wish you the best in whatever you choose. You are a winner!!!!!

At least someone out there appreciates Josh's dancing. Rest assured, my little dove, Josh will be "going for movies or TV!" Going DOWN, that is, on every half-human movie or TV casting director with a phone.

Subject: Re: Crippled Wins!!!
Eddie won simply because he was disabled. to thing america would respect and thing highly of such a person. Cassandra should have won. But that would have made sense.

No, it would have made sense if I had won.

Subject: Re: WASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSUP???
BorinGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! big
time !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Another passive-aggressive precinct heard from...

Did you know that some dinner bowls from back in the 1940s were glazed with a lead-based red? Deadly eats!

Later everyone else was drunk and The Producers favored us with some of the European Big Brother theme songs. As the der hippity-hopsch German-version blitzkrieg'd across the sound system like Teddy Roosevelt and The Rough Riders (which version, by the way, Correctin' Curtis misidentified as the French) Josh did an extended Chippendales-style dance of seduction that included a belt looped around his neck and a flash of his butt.

We putatively considered he was dancing for the many teenage girls agog on the Internet (where there is no editing); but was he? Josh further indulged his European whims by encouraging Curtis to massage some blue hair coloring softly upon his scalp. One day with no women and this is what we get.

Curtis said of the dancing, "That was the grossest thing I've ever seen!" But, Curtis why were you watching?

The dismantling process that will be the next two days began with The Dog getting ripped from our house and given to some staffmember for adoption. As she lead Chaquita away, I saw that she had on one of those Working Woman jacket-things with the wide flaps in the back that incorporate the common American fat into the power presentation. They can share infinite burritos the dog and she.

They hit us with that and left us there while they do what they do in the booth. I assume they were showing nostalgic montages grouped by subject (laughing, crying, fighting, fun, etc.).

The Host came back to us and, in a sorry attempt to dulcify the final bust-out said: "Eddie...you and the other guys are staying." The lone woman, Jamie, was gone -- kicked out of the house and out of the money. Wasn't it nice of Julie The Host not to single Jamie out by saying her name?

Jamie and we engaged in some crisp and efficient good-byes. Jamie leaned forward to hug each of us in her little black toreador pants like the ones Mary Tyler Moore used to wear on the "Dick Van Dyke Show."

We, the boys, went into the backyard as is our custom. Someone shouted over the fence, "Hang in there guys!" We shouted back but the realization hit us all that we're all coming away with some scratch so we weren't stressed.

What's weird about this situation is that the people yelling at us are watching the show on TV while they lean out of their windows or whatever. We talk to each other in normal voices and they jump into our conversations from across the street. We went back inside to wait out the next two days. What the hell am I gonna do when I get out of here? Some kind of vigorous eco-vacation seems in order.

Today, well, have you ever left some bread in the cupboard and forgotten about it for a couple months? And then, one day, you discover it and can't resist the urge to open it up. That's what today was like. It was as close to pretending to be on death row as any of us are likely to get. We're waiting for tomorrow. We sat around talking about our "Big Brother" life, our hopes coming in and going out. We revealed all of the people we had nominated. We laughed and laughed and laughed. Then the conversation trailed off. Jamie tried to dance but she can't dance.

Tomorrow, the last loser leaves and then the remains all get various money prizes based on the audience vote. C'mon America do your part.

Sleep deprivation is helping towards that end, as it is. During the challenge, as we learned various things, Curtis kept saying: "The answers are better than missing them." Meaning -- oh, you know what he meant.

Cass is coming back sometime soon, they won't tell us exactly when. Josh, for his part, doesn't want to find out anything about how he's being portrayed or received in the public eye (doxa-- can I throw that in here?) but Eddie, on the other hand, wants to know everything.

Our egos are balancing on toes like ballerinas as we anticipate our imminent release into new careers of celebrity. Some evidence of this was provided to us by The Producers. They gave us "The Big Brother Board Game" to play with. Curtis opened it and set the boxtop upright at the end of the table like a title. I've always been annoyed by this; this and the way some people roll dice and move their piece directly to the appropriate square rather then counting off each space one by one. Anyway, the game has little cardboard cutouts of generic houseguests with plastic bases, dice, votes, etcetera. We've got pop now, we have a home version just like "Wheel of Fortune"!

We got another challenge to play, some sort of murder-mystery-deal. The salient element of this event was that Jamie read the rules out loud. She pronounced the word "saboteur" as "sab-uh-twah." Curtis corrected her. Then she proceeded to pronounce it "sabba-tur," "sabba-der," "seb-uh-turr" and "say-buh-tour." Almost as astonishingly hilarious as The Cincinnati Bengals.

Saturday brought us the final and forever Nomination Show. This will throw the last someone out with no prize money, the ultimate loser (oh, yeah, excepting all the showbiz opportunities they'll snag).Cassandra came back and sat with us throughout the show. She told us about her media tour, how she flies first-class, and that the Olympics are getting terrible ratings but the Fascist Party isn't concerned because "the right people are watching." Eddie sat looking bored as Cass (I resist the urge to call her Mama Cass) told us she has absolutely no regrets and she has been immersing herself in music after starving for it in here. She also left us with this cryptic warning "beware the cuddler..."

As for the nominations it breaks down into three pairs Josh and Eddie, Curtis and Jamie, the dog and I (hohoho) and so we all got marked. This time they waited until the very end of the show to tell us, however. Sentimental for last month, they wanted us to savor the wretched anxiety one last time.

The interesting thing was the supposed criteria for the voting. Jamie and Curtis voted against sexual tension (we could safely call this "The Big Cotton Mather House") and for maintained containment. Eddie and Josh voted on the basis of who "deserves" the money more. Eddie having one leg left him out of Josh's vote and Eddie didn't vote for Josh just because he figured Curtis and Jamie would make plenty of money in their time while Josh is basically lazy and without skills. The dog and I split up our votes beforehand (since we knew the others' tendencies) so we could make sure everyone would be nominated (haha). Finally, I got someone to go along with my plan, brilliant pooch.

Cass left us, through the mystical redroom backdoor this time like a crewmember. She has gained just the perfect amount of weight back and looked great. We acknowledged the host's banalities for about three minutes with grudging grunts and then the show ended, the cameras remaining open on us saying and doing nothing. Finally, Curtis piped up, "Let's eat. What do we want? How about the bacon and egg spaghetti ?"

I thought to myself: "I never want to see blonde pine again."

Eddie tied a dark red ribbon 'round his old lifemask. Three long years ago his mother's brother died of AIDS at 6:00 A.M. He remembers the time because the sound of the bodybag being zipped shut woke him up. This is the side of himself that Eddie has been suppressing throughout our incarceration. I almost feel that he may win because many viewers instantly recognize that his gruff exterior hides a heart of living gold. Almost, since now that he's coming out with stories like that above he may alienate people with his sentimentality. You know how that works.

We've been studying our "fake or real?" headlines from around the world in order to compete in our weekly challenge. I'd forgotten about the narrow Brothers Grimm-like scope of the massive news companies, I can't recognize the tone of the stories, I'm rusty, i.e., Juan Valdez honored by Colombian government (we said false, since Juan is a fictional character), Josh named to People Magazine's top 10 eligible bachelor list (Josh hesitated but then admitted it was probably false).

My detector is way off. George had to assure me a couple days ago that "The Motor City Madman" (Ted Nugent) was popular enough with people his age to land a book on the New York Times bestseller list (The Nuge has apparently written a book.) I was befuddled by that but I should not have been.

I'm still trying to flog my idea about vote control and distribution (that's where we would prearrange our nominations so that each of us got two votes and so would all be nominated) but our attention spans are at nanoseconds. We'd rather gang up on one wounded gazelle; our ectopically pregnant moment of doubt has given way to entropic rapture resolving in petty and confused acts.

I found out that before the banishment show Jamie had a private bedroom conference with Eddie. She gave him a kiss and poem to say good-bye, just in case. Now that they're both still here I wonder if there's any peanut butter left, I could go for a sandwich. I'm sick of watching the dog chase the chickens. That dog will never catch them and even if he did what would he do? He wouldn't eat it. Maybe we would. The dog hunts our food. That might make a good video.

Right off the top, as a teaser or a hook, the host gave us a choice of which banished houseguest we wanted to have come back and visit with us. Everyone (Will, Jordan, Karen...) had made little plea videos. We picked Cassandra pretty quick although Eddie wanted Brittany. He looked like the proverbial "cat that ate the mouse" when we overruled him and chose Cass. She could do the best job with information, she'd know what we'd need to know. Brittany, in her videotape, said we needed to cheer up in here; she said we were "sad and a little bit boring."

We were lulled for a while when they went to tape for the rest of the first half-hour of the show. Jamie dreamed of bubblegum ice cream while George kicked back on the couch in a toga. The host then lowered the proverbial boom on us and started reading the banishment vote totals:

Curtis 3%, Eddie 14%, Jamie 32%, George 51%. George was out, no surprise. I'd been nurturing a theory that Jamie might be gone because I believed other women would actively vote against her while the other three nominees would provoke nothing but apathy. Jamie seems like the kind of woman who could get crushed by other women out there if they had an anonymous chance to give her a hit, a privilege likely denied them in a real-world situation. But, anyway, that was all wrong -- my mind is failing. I hope it's not ALS or some other degenerative neurological disease.

By this time the departures are routine and we're all out of enthusiastic good-byes. George packed up and said, "You guys have all been cool." (At a rate of 75 times a minute.)

So the old guy leaves and we head out back to gauge the crowd reaction. The live show days are the best for us to get a sense of where we stand in world awareness. Curtis climbed the garden fence and perched there waving to the throng over the wall. Eddie climbed up, too. He balanced there with great agility and started rapping a little something. The hiphop house has now becomes a reality, and it's Curtis (NOT Charles) in charge.

Good-bye Mister Barney Rubble, your fractured fairytale has come to an end and stuff like that. I hope you didn't do anything mean to us like steal food or toilet paper when you left.

Our weekly challenge is called "in the news" and since we're almost out of here we bet the max $$ (50% of our grocery allowance, what the hell!) The Producers will give us some real and bogus headlines and we must guess if they're true or false; we haven't been allowed to look at the papers, etc., this entire spell. Sample headlines (and our guesses) included the following:

GW Bush called a reporter an asshole (False, no way)

A Tie-dyed bishops' Mitre that once belonged to Nancy Sinatra sets sales record on EBAY (false)

Nude photos of Jamie are posted on the Internet (false, and she says if there are they're doctored fakes)

Geena Davis wins bronze medal in Archery at Sydney Olympics (true)

One of the major presidential candidates picked a Jewish running mate (true, Curtis heard someone talking about it at the Emmy Awards)

Dollar-coin bearing likeness of Jefferson Davis issued this week to commemorate assassination of Rosa Parks (we guessed true since we didn't know who they were talking about)

Daily Variety says "American Big Brother Cast Voted 'Most Boring' in Worldwide Poll" (we guessed false, although Curtis thinks it's possibly true)

Jordan has her own TV show (false, too soon)

Sucking Redi-Whip directly from can shown to prevent cancer in mice (true, the medical establishment finally caught on)

In a recent poll, the dog was rated more popular than 3 of the houseguests (true, only 3?)

Well, how did we do? Have we lost touch?

We waited around while they set up a microphone in the redroom. Today we were to record our version of the "Big Brother" theme song. By the way, they haven't yet let me hear the real lyrics. This was not really what I wanted to do in here, I was trying to escape all that. Even though my singing sounds like sand and sheepskin passing through a woodchipper I nailed my parts in one take and sat for two hours suffering. Curtis has a "good" churchy-voice as I've mentioned, but George's voice was very strange. It sounded like The Great Gazoo hiccoughing while riding a buggy over cobblestones. As punishment for our work we had to listen to it back and they said they were going to edit a video to go with it. Great, then everyone will get a good look at George's "rock and roll tattoo" that he painted on before this ordeal today. Unfortunately, he did it standing in front of the mirror and, so, "sworn to fun -- loyal to none" looks like some technical entry in Leonardo DaVinci's diary. Because we're so close to the end we all laughed at him loudly; we're no longer concerned about the group vibe, just filling space.

Josh got his prize for yesterday's contest: he did the weather, live from beside the pool. He attempted to banter back to the weatherwoman as she made sly sexual innuendoes. She was way too sharp for him. I guess it was kind of fun to see him get treated like a bimbo, I don't know.

George donned the familiar "Space Chicken Man" costume and did a little skit for one of the cameras today. Jamie played fake-news-reporter and talked into a croquet post as George walked into the shower stall from whence he intended to launch himself into outer space. Jamie had on a little stretchy black talk-show host dress; uncharacteristically, she only brought one of these with her and she doesn't wear it much (modesty is a facet of power).

George has a cartoon imagination, imposing Atom Ant over his deeply felt angst at getting FOUR nominations. It reminded me of when my Grandpappy (who was born in the 19th Century!) suffered a stroke. I, at 3 years, suddenly became his peer and we tried to fry an egg on the sidewalk because "it was hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk." As I grew older, I learned that one could not, in fact, jump off a roof holding an umbrella and expect the umbrella to function as a parachute. Some people get by very well in the real world with this sort of thinking, so it remains to be seen if George is out of the game or just spinning another riff to distract us.

The Producers gave us a contest to play and the winner would get a chance to "do the weather" on the CBS morning show. We waited in the bedroom for a while and when were let out the backyard had been filled with over one hundred pug-dogs. Our goal was to be the first to find our little own Chaquita among all who were there. Distracted as we were by this glorious sight (there was even a one-legged dog) only Josh thought to remember the Emmy-ticket-hunt and he ran back inside and found Our Dog stashed in the storage closet. What is it with this routine? Are these some weird Dutch social-psychology tests? What part does the United Nations play in any of this?

Jamie was aghast; she had moved herself into a powerful position weeks back, dominated all of us, and then she, so secure, relinquished her power in order to bind us as a family under her Queenly vision in communal concert. What a fool she has become, so in love with her own completeness.

The fact remains that some of us still must be kicked out, with the remaining three to win, place or show.

We've been told that George points at a houseguest's "lifemask" (plaster masks we made of ourselves and decorated, we did this on the second or third day) at an appointed hour and that's how he signals his wife and her cronies and they hit the phones harder than the NRA. He shrugs and says, "Guyzzz, I don't know nothin' 'bout bootin' no houseguests!" We're too tired to attack his cheap camp but I hope silently inside we're all going to try and take him down. Just don't talk about it in front of the cameras!

GAWD! I finally got to hear the "Big Brother" theme song. Our challenge is to write lyrics for it. You have to realize I'm not allowed to listen to music in here. Other than during the dance marathon I have been musicless, although Curtis is actually a stunningly good singer and has regaled me with selections by Gilbert and Sullivan, as well as excerpts from "Moses und Aaron" by Schonberg (that's all he knows!) The barren anguish of the "Big Brother" theme song cannot be described but, anyway, here are the lyrics that I submitted for the contest:

Life is living for life,
Can't you live the living life?
Life is not afraid.
Today is for living a life
Living in a life today
And to today "Life-ing"lives.

Ah, well, I couldn't really concentrate, the music sucked. I'm sure someone else will come up with something plausible. Perhaps, The Producers will let us hear the actual lyrics, too. I've set my sights low, so there's no way they could be worse than the shit I wrote.

Jamie made a huge tactical blunder by utilizing an unopened and full box of Rice Krispies to prop up a sign out in the backyard that read: "Happy Birthday Dennis, Jr." The dog (who also eats chicken droppings) ripped it open and dug in, thereby ruining them as far as we were concerned. The acutely neat Curtis was especially cruel in his taunts and jibes. Jamie was mortified and then increasingly defensive as we teased her for several hours. It is getting male in here.

We did a live show Saturday, with the nomination process as part of it. One by one we went in and spoke to the camera. At the end they tallied it up and announced that George, Eddie, Jamie and Curtis are "Marked for Banishment." It was pretty uncomfortable but I suppose more vicious and therefore more viewer-friendly. This will all be happening so fast from now on that we won't really be able to grab the rudder much.

"Vee all die ah-lone," Jamie would say in her phony French accent.

"I'm gonna start laying down the law around here. I'm the new sheriff in town," Eddie said.

"I'm rooting for you Eddie," George said. "Can I make you an aluminum foil star?"

"Chicken Head!" Eddie replied. That's Eddie's new twist on George's nickname.It is fortuitous that Eddie needs a star since that is the only shape George seems to be able to fashion or even recognize.

We have quickly divided into two new camps: the storyline camp and the be-real camp. The storyline camp want to compete and play out the various plotlines they feel have developed inside the house. They want to spend the rest of our time here making good TV. The be-real camp want to have fun, be ourselves and enjoy each other in an atmosphere of tranquility beyond the lure of notoriety.

We had a long discussion about how to deal with the planes that fly over trailing banners addressed to us. Should we play off of them or ignore them? Curtis rambled on about "The Reality of the Signs" and he exclaimed (QED) that the planes do in fact exist whether we ignore them or don't. Since he is the only houseguest that has actually gone out into the world and returned he has taken on pedantic airs. Since, Curtis knows he beat Eddie in the vote his ego is going off unchecked, he's trying to fill Cassandra's role as counselor and rock but he just comes off smug. It's eating into Jamie; that and the fact that she's the last woman here. She is in the be-real camp at the moment. She refuses to acknowledge the planes overhead because they're all part of the showbiz side of this experience and that's not real. Also, she cannot pee outside here and must wait her turn in line with the rest of us.

As the group mentality diminishes, fertile one-on-one conflict can now intensify. We'll find ourselves dealing with each other individually in a greater ration. There's also more apparent leg-room in here now.

Has anyone noticed that Josh's face appears almost frozen? He can manage to move the muscles around his mouth to create only a feint smile, but otherwise, not much facial movement. Even when he talks he barely is able to round out his words. It bothers me a little to watch him talk.

That lame duck Curtis is so boring and so bad for our show. How they let him on in the first place is beyond me!

It's painfully obvious to Cass that she'll be going on Wednesday. I'm not convinced. She cooks, she cleans, she keeps everyone alert and onto other things around them. She is like the great and powerful Cleopatra and without her we'd have a bunch of kids running the show.

Jamie doesn't care about anyone but herself. She is trying only to say things she thinks the viewers will like. Trying to come across as a sweet innocent, kind, loving person. BULLSHIT!! She is extremely two faced.

What George is trying to do is get everyone to walk with HIM so we will all come out winners. Then the public will not perceive us as money-hungry and will understand just how close we have become to each other living in the house together. Actually, we'll all lose by doing this.

Eddie thinks he's really smart by pushing this "I'm-in-it-to-win" attitude but he's scared of getting voted out, probably more than any of us. This is because his girlfriend is an ice-cold nutcracker. She's back in Germany right now sharpening her metal talons. At first, Eddie thought he could bang Jamie but then he backed down out of fear. The next day he put up three posters of his girlfriend over his bed. Talk about your cold shower!!

Curtis went to the Emmy Award broadcast. They gave him a tuxedo and everything. He looked good in the ol' black and whites. I need to get me a nice tailored suit when I get out of here.

When he got back he said: "It was off the hook!!!"

Curtis brought news: Obi-Wan Kenobi died, Jennifer Aniston married Keanu Reeves (I thought she was gay!), and Curtis had to leave the Awards ceremony twice to go to the bathroom.

"Wow, Curtis, the look on your face!" exclaimed Jamie.

Curtis gave us every detail he could recall: He was on the red carpet doing an interview with Rudy from "Survivor"; he saw a friend who was a lawyer from TNT and he said some other stuff but I didn't hear him because I was still reeling from the shock of knowing that Obi-Wan (my Obi-Wan) was dead, for real (not just in the movies).

"People are watching, they know all our names, they know who we are." And he said some other stuff about rating and endorsements but I don't remember because I was still morose over the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Plus, I got bitten by a greenfly and it itched like crazy.

There was another banner overhead today, too: "GEO'S RACIST/SEXIST RR SKITS OUTRAGE VIEWERS"

"That's some funny shit!" Eddie said.

George is starting to realize that the redroom is NOT REALLY confidential. We've run out of toilet paper and The Producers want us to either spend $40 to get more or go WITHOUT it!! We're going to be using paper towels and The Producers say that if we flush the paper towels and have a backup, the plumbing fees will come out of our food budget! They must REALLY want us to WALK!!! George pressed an index finger to each side of his temple as he listened to The Producers explain that if we walked out, we would forfeit any prize money. Wednesday brought the big banishment show to our selves. The Host asked, "How ya doin' ?"

We said, "Eh...soso..."

"Are you going to leave; walkout?"

We said no.

They sent Josh into the redroom to fetch another briefcase, the dog tried to follow him. This time there was no money, only a little kit to make a banner for the airplane to fly. George set to work.

So, we didn't walkout of our show. I've been tryin to tell everyone it would be smarter if we divided up our nominations so that we were all on the block, like this:

George: Josh, Eddie
Josh: Eddie, Cassandra
Eddie: Cassandra, Neil
Cassandra: Neil, Curtis
Neil: Curtis, Jamie
Curtis: Jamie, George
Jamie: George, Josh

I think that works out to a seven-way tie. Then, the public can make the choice and we'd have serenity.

If you ask me, the whole walkout thing was sandy particulate in the clear-eyed morning on the eve of deleterious savagery. If there were to be a SOCIAL STATEMENT made in BigBrotherHouse it would be to apply this system to a national mental healthcare network. If we broadcast 24-7 from all of them we could fund free mental healthcare for the millions of low-income and indigent in America that could take advantage of the service. I doubt they would quibble with having their intimate lives shown over TV and Internet channels. They probably wouldn't even really comprehend it. It would be much better than the current system we have now, the TV would be exciting and educational and the whole thing could be funded by advertising revenue.Speaking of advertising, they came back to us pretty quickly after the first commercial break, faster than usual. They wanted to grill George on the walkout thing. He just mumbled a little, so they cut away from us again. They were gone for a while.

We waited tensely, as always. Today someone will be crowned King of the Chumps for being the first person kicked out since they offered us the money.

Without warning, the host suddenly slammed back to us over the loudspeaker and simply dropped the statistic on us, with no dramatic buildup whatsoever. The vote tallied up thusly: Curtis 13%. Eddie 41%, Cassandra 46%. Cass was out.

So there will be no Chump-king, she doesn't get that honor. I do know that she was the third most popular houseguest in the AOL poll, after Brit and George. So there's your answer -- she was George's next target.

He gave her plenty of fake overhuggings and Cassandra-you're-so-great-take-cares. Cassandra was pretty cool about it, she saw it coming; no doubt for many weeks.

We followed her outside as is the custom but this good-bye was honest and quick-- Cass is too sharp to try to pander to with a lot of excess and hollow farewells. I watched her walk away and she got a hug from some big muscle-bound guy (broke my heart, I thought we'd grown close) and, anyway, that was that.

We then went out back to gauge the crowd outside from the decibel level of the applause and shouts.

They took Cassandra in the studio and we waited another 20 minutes. Then, as is the routine, she said a final good-bye to us over the loudspeaker. We were all actually and truly depressed. I don't know if this banishment thing just gets more draining each time or if we need Cassandra around in here more than we wanted to believe.

The host sent us out back to watch as our banner was flown across the sky above. It read: "Live Long and Prosper GAB"; GAB are George's initials. He's kind of owned the whole plane-banner issue.

"Yeah, great..so what?" We all said in our own ways. Jamie's way was to collapse on the bed in her now private bedroom. She slept for about 10 hours.

>From now on, The Producers are speeding up the nomination process. It goes to
once-a-week until the end of our time here.

As soon as some of this good fuel got into our bodies we underwent a transformation as obvious and tawdry as the dated special-effects scenes in "Altered States." We sat around the dinner table smiling and suddenly George looked up and said, "We holded the cards all along!"

Prelude: Josh finally spilled his guts about what Brittany told him secretly last week. So we now know that George's family (and, in fact, his whole "town") have mounted a phone campaign to banish anyone that might be a threat to his victory. They have a friend at the phone company who let's them call free of charge and vote repeatedly. George was sickened by this, although he did not talk to his wife through the cameras as I imagined he might. Maybe he will later. The idea of there being a world outside of our happy valley is naturally frightening to us and so after dinner we all started thinking about how we could stay in this good, safe place forever.

George said, "We holded the cards all along!" He rose from his chair and started pacing like Mussolini and ranting like RD Laing about communal relativism and social conscience. (Note to Producers of next "Big Brother": get 10 severely handicapped and/or insane people off the streets and put them in here; solves two problems at once and will definitely score big in ratings.)

George whipped out the "Big Brother" rulebook (yes, there is such a thing we were each given one when we arrived) and flipped through it like an American Faust. What is it that he doth seek and what will he give to gian it?

"There's nothing in here that says we can't all leave at the same time."

What's this? A strike? Unstorming the ramparts? We were seriously discussing it.

Eventually, everyone agreed (with only Eddie retaining a few slight reservations) that before they announce the banishment on Wednesday we all might just get up and walk out of here so every one wins.

The reasons: social statement, television history, seems like a cool thing to do, bliss and peace retained, pride. People are packing their things as I write; packing up all the sweet feelings we've evolved in here, watch out world.

Well, George wouldn't take the $50,000 sure-thing and leave, although he thinks that amount of money can put one of his daughters through college. Maybe he knows that's not true and he's just playing the martyr. This would indicate that all his pretensions are strategic. It's like Judo for George, play the forces that attempt to bind you and use them to your advantage.

We got word that one of us could win a chance to go to the Emmy Award broadcast (for those of you out there living under a rock, the Emmys are like the Nobel Prize awards for excellence in Television). We started assuming that The Producers would offer the money again AND a trip to the Emmys to one of us, if that person would leave immediately. Suddenly, George was saying he would take it this time, if they offered. He said the most satisfying part of it would be knowing that he would be sparing Curtis, Cassandra, and Eddie from possibly getting kicked out this week.

The Producers announced that "a ticket to the Emmys has been hidden somewhere in the house and the first one to find it gets to go." So, there it was, no offer just a Netherlandish hidden-treasure-game. I refer to it, thusly, with respect for, as Curtis deduced, the REDROOM is technically part of the house and it was inside the same REDROOM that he found the ticket; taped to the back of the door it was, as a matter of fact. I guess the significance of the Emmy trip boils down to:
1.Getting out of the house and away from everybody.
and
2. A chance for CBS to exploit or attempt to publicize the Big Brother show itself. For Curtis, specifically, it might help him to avoid getting voted out.

Bringing "TV Land" (in the abstract) into our consciousness has made us consider again the crowds of lunatics and people that surround the house in which we are trapped. As I have mentioned, people throw stuff over the wall, yell and scream at us etc. So the ratings must be good, we think. Curtis will be able to tell us more when he gets back. He's clever and hopefully he'll grab the chance to look at a newspaper or something.

During the search for the golden ticket, Jamie started to go outside but I reminded her that they had said: "inside the house." She said, "Isn't outside part of the house?"

I answered her not for I know that the poor diet she maintains here has caused her to become sluggish and stupid. It is also affecting Eddie, he sleeps most of the day away from weakness and he rants on about how there is no racism in America. This is a point on which I can help everyone. My diet is still good and my brain has maintained its solid level of mediocrity. In the coming days, I will make it my duty to improve the eating habits of the houseguests. I'll be like the Sri Chinmoy of fried eggs.

To keep things ebullient, The Producers threw another game at us. It was based on "The Price is Right." We each told them one thing we really wanted from a drugstore out in the world: chocolate, shampoo, whatever. Then one of the other houseguests had to guess the price and if they were within a dollar of the correct price then we got that item. Apparently, the economy (is that supposed to be capitalized?) has gone all out of whack for only one of us was able to nail the price-guess and so, Curtis got a new T-shirt. George was grumpy because he didn't get his chocolates. He said, "Hey, don't worry about it guys. It's cool." Crafty. He's calling himself "The Big Chicken" these days. Yeah, chicken like a fox!

Anyway, did you see Wednesday's show? Let me tell you what it was like for us: sit, sit, sit, wait, wait, wait. They cutaway from us every chance they could, as viciously as Wendy O Williams once wielded a chainsaw. We kept thinking the show was over but it just dragged on and we waited (and I in delirious pain). They were discussing us, dissecting us. We could hear the cameras swiveling, the focus whirring and zooming in on one of us or another. But we didn't know what was going on.

The big thing of the night was they offered $20,000 to anyone who would leave the house right then. No one really seriously considered it, so they brought out another suitcase filled with cash and raised the total to $50,000. That stalled Curtis, and George heaved a dimwitted sigh -- but no one bit. Looking back, I know that my tooth pain was making me dizzy, rapturous. Suddenly, this Dutch hovel was an Asgardian Palace. If I'd had my wits about me I would have taken the cash and left.

Between the money and the filler tapes they were showing, we were hardly in the live show at all. I think it boils down to them wanting one of us out of the house because the show is too placid. But that's the point, they don't know what people want. We do because we're the people.

We were told before the show to dress in military fatigues, The Producers' way of telling us they knew we are entrenching against them. They did their usual torture scenes: Julie, the host, taunting us over the money, letting the nomination tallies sit with us for a while before revealing the "winners", just seeing all that cash was torture (but not too bad), worst of all they brought Brittany back and let her talk to one of us privately in the redroom. At first, we assumed Jamie would go in BUT Brittany said she wanted Josh, specifically.

People try to communicate with us from the outside world. They throw messages over the backyard fence, they fly planes overhead with banners, there's even some nut with a megaphone who shouts to us and warns us what The Producers are planning to do to us next. But this was different, Brittany has now seen all the old tapes and she knows the intricate workings of the house here. Only she would know how to communicate to us in our own funny-accented code. This could really give us a third eye. We all waited with rabbity-hearts until Josh came back out to common area. He was now the man who knew too much. He giggled and tried to look dopey as he shot off some palaver: "She said don't worry about the editing everyone looks attractive, she gets asked for autographs now, Karen says hello...and some other stuff that I can't tell you."

We, of course, started asking him what those things were and demanded he should tell us. Only Cassandra possessed enough vestigial humanity to ask further after Brittany's well-being. They cutaway from us and went to commercial and we all felt kind of ashamed. They didn't offer the money to us again or raise the offer. I guess that's that. I thought they'd try again, though. What can do to us next?

Today, naturally, we all pestered Josh in our own ways to divulge to us (secretly) what Brittany had revealed to him. He's holding strong but it's only been one day.

We sit around like jaded veteran TV stars. We all have developed an innate since of where the focus of our continuing story physically resides. If that isn't where we are we just sit around tossing cards into a hat until we need to make our entrance. Josh was the story today, so I concentrated on trying to train the dog to do tricks. This is our weekly grocery-money challenge. We each have to get the dog to do a different trick. It's not going too good since the only tricks the dog likes to do are:
1. Fruitlessly chasing the camera mounted atop a pole in the backyard as it noisily pans and scans us.
2. Leaving little surprises that unerringly anticipate where George will be walking.

Now, if these were included in the contest we would have a shot at winning but as it stands we have a better chance of teaching the dog to beat Curtis at chess. Another airplane flew over us with a banner that said something about "George" and "Backstabbing." In response, George tried to spell out "Go to Hell" in bedsheets set out in the backyard. It was hard to read and I doubt anyone up there noticed.

OohLala, Jamie has tried (almost) every seduction she could to get Josh to spill his guts. The new currency here has definitely become information from the outside world (but only information pertaining to us, I mean). Due to the magic of severe boredom, Josh might get lucky and forget what he was told anyway. What does it matter? No matter what we know, no one wants to leave. Why don't we want to leave? I think we're afraid we're gonna miss something big in here. It stands to up to the logic of this inverse world, this place is pregnant with unconsummated tension. But I have a feeling it will remain unconsummated eternally. All the ever-expectant minutia is intoxicating. Are we evolving? Do we NEED this new way of living? It wasn't worth $50,000 to give it up. The next couple people who get kicked out will walk away from this with not-a-cent. I won't be one of them, believe me. I will be here until the end. I'm no sucker.

Jamie and Josh were huddling together inside behind the fence around the pool.I huddled with Eddie and the dog as he (Eddie) drank a couple Heinekens.There is strategy afoot at last. But they're all too late. Eddie and I didn't really conspire too much. I just want him to think I'm trying to win so he'll give me that phony respect he doles out like melted M&Ms (that is: he thinks he's being generous by giving away fucked up candies and I should be thankful but also a little put down).

The house is awash in struggles with urine irritated skin and Navaho Josh accidentally ate a whole box of digestive biscuits. George claims he exercises by swimming laps early in the morning but we all said: "So what? The pool is only 4-feet long."

I'm actually getting a lot of work done in here, despite the distractions. I wanted to come in here so people could see me and how I work instead of always wondering how and why I can stay inside for days on end; they usually suspect I don't do anything except maybe masturbate and watch TV. Now they'll know: I'm the king of tedium and still master of my own domain. Check the tapes.

The Producers made us watch excerpts from our audition reels. Who were those people? We laughed a little bit and politely complemented each other on how good we did to get selected and how our tapes were special tapes etceteras. Really, though, we were attempting to interpret The Producers' future schemes against us from the selections they made. Their method of showing ourselves to ourselves is one of the main ways they tip their hand. When they pick on someone in a specific way it lets us know, vaguely, what the television audience sees of us and what consensus image we are being allowed to project.

This information is important but not simple (i.e., Brittany was most popular) the small talk and whispering will continue through the night and then Wednesday we'll turn the page to another week of fun and DENIAL. Don't forget to vote!!

Josh: Made himself a shirt that said "Happy Birthday" but he painted the "B" backwards.

Curtis: Sat and watched Cassandra do laundry.

Cassandra's left breast seems to be stretching. It could be the cheap Ikea beds. I therorize that she is getting it squeezed between the wooden slats. We have no clothes washer or dryer so she could have got it caught in the wringer – or she's not getting enough Vitamin Gee Whiz.

Discussion of winning now dominates house. There are two camps: "Survive" and "Get Paid", or as I call them: Delaware and New Jersey. George wants to get paid. To prove this he spends a lot of time lolling about in his underwear, a major strategic blunder. Eddie has copped Cass's reason for winning, namely "to provide for his family." Awwwh--(sigh).

What kind of advertising floats this show? Are we talking Lexus or Wal-Mart here? George said "I hope it's both." And he rolled over splayed before the bedroom night-vision camera snapping the band of his thong underwear with a sound like a sump pump exploding while sucking the fat out of Linda Tripp's jowls.

The voices came again from the walls and they ordered us to go off into separate rooms alone and think for ten minutes about why we deserve to win the money. Jamie went outside. I took a nap and when they called us into the redroom (moorder) to tell them what I came up with I just cribbed one reason from each of the other houseguests since we had been discussing this all day anyway.

NEXT: the exciting puzzle challenge and football season starts.

We blew the puzzle challenge in a big way, assembling maybe 17% of it. We lost 50% of our grocery money. Football season starts tomorrow. Since CBS carries the AFC games maybe we'll get to do something involving that.

Josh put 5 eggs in his mouth and Jamie drank pancake batter. They both claimed to be sleepwalking due to stress. Curtis had a pained expression on his face at that excuse (more on that later, but first...).

George was again dressed up as "woman" (that is: makeup, tiara, bikini top over t-shirt) and he washed the dishes in a big plastic tub looking probably a lot like what Princess Diana looks like right now. Afterward, he continued his tedious naval-gazing about "I shoulda gone to college" this time cornering Cassandra for 37 minutes. Then it was onto domestic whining (awwh, shoot).

George: "I miss my family, how about you?"

ME: "No, George, I don't miss your family at all."

George seems to laying the groundwork for what he would deem an honorable exit, he'll just say he's glad to go since his family needs him.

We played a "true or false" game. A statement was read aloud concerning what one of the houseguests did or did not do at some point and then we had to guess: "true" or "false"; winner to be allowed to send video letter to loved-one.

We learned the following:
1. Eddie DID NOT eat dogshit on a dare.
2. Jamie has met Donald Trump several times.
3. Curtis peed on a chair in his living room once while sleepwalking (see above).
4. Cassandra was in her Homecoming court at high school, her hair caught on fire and she thinks wine-bottles with wax dripping down their necks are pretty.
5. Josh was charged by a rampaging bull at a rodeo.

In our dim beige state nothing comes easy. We couldn't even keep score right or remember quite whether some things were true or not: had these things happened or were they stories we told in the house to pass the time and fool one another. After a heated 25-minute-long discussion of rules and technicalities we ended with a tie.

Eddie and I are the only ones to still lift weights. Without the threat of fights like in prison the motivation isn't there anymore.

We're evolving past socialism at the moment. There is a scheme afoot to split the money evenly between the survivors as of now, no matter who actually wins. Eddie was vocally opposed, he felt we needed to respect the integrity of the game and then he quoted Eminem. George was just tired of talking about money altogether, although he did add that he would take the sure thing if it got worked out. The others varied, but the money question is hanging over our heads. I think it would be wiser to cut side deals in secret, promising money to people if they don't vote for you. At any rate, the nomination process will be completely public and everyone will know who voted for who; I mean, what other degradation have they left for us? All this talk about sharing is avoidance. And the money's not even the issue, there's just something about being a winner, we should all admit it.

George cut out little silvery-paper letters and misspelled "Happy Aniverasy Teresa" up on the wall outside. Curtis could not help himself and so he had to correct it. He tried not to be too condescending and he even joined in with us all as we sang the old "Happy Anniversary Song" from The Flintstones (sort of to the tune of "The William Tell Overture.")

Eddie: "The friendship I've found in here means more to me is more than 500,000 bucks."

Cass: "But every nomination from here on out is gonna feel like a personal attack."

Eddie: "Brit was a threat to me getting paid. Even though 500,000 ain't that much."

Cass: "I want the money so I can take care of my Mom.

To ease the sorrow, Cassandra and I watched the gang play football in the yard, waiting for someone to take a spill on the patio tiles. After the aquatic basketball accident a couple weeks back, we figured our chances were pretty good.

I'm going to ask the producers why they don't give us product placement stuff. We could get a much better variety of food and drinks in exchange for endorsements. Don't tell me they value the pure-science concept of the show over money! The rating must be huge.

Jamie thinks it is great that Cass is teaching the average Anglo what African-Americans are really all about. Jamie says that all they ever see on TV is stereotype and Cassandra is changing all that just by being herself. The ratings must be huge!

Josh admitted that he and Brit had shared a tender good-bye before the start of yesterday's live show. They promised to stay friends and they decided not to kiss. And she said: "Don't ever change!" I got a sick and fearful feeling in my gut. George busted in and said: "What's that noise?!" We told him to shut up.

When George talks to Eddie he talks like a 6-year-old girl, all hero-worship and gushing. He puts Eddie on a pedestal but how long can Eddie balance there? Sooner or later he's got to go after George, they're both competing for the regular-guy vote. George did confess that the Big Brother contest has given him a bloodlust, this being his first foray into competitive attrition in an hermetic environment. He actually said: "This must be what it feels like to be in the Super Bowl." The ratings must be huge for this show.

Josh walked around with a frown on his plunger-sized lips. He spent an hour in front of the zit-cam today (the bathroom mirror). He's thinking that from now on Brit will only see him through the lens so he wants to look good in close-ups. The crew of the show came in and cleaned the mirror after he was done. There's a camera behind it and they get a lot of good scatological footage from it.

George said to us guys that he thought Jamie sucked at co-hosting the show. "This TV stuff ain't so hard," he said. Later, however, he sat with Jamie in private. Holding her hand softly, he listened as she unloaded all her guilt about knowing that Brittany was getting banished before the rest of us found out. George nodded a lot and offered, "You did a great job co-hosting." Suddenly the guy's Richard the 3rd, what gives?

The truth is we don't get to see tapes, everything that happens in here leaves no fingerprint. We may discuss what fragments we remember but all of us are looking at the big picture (the money). As soon as George cuts his stupid dyed-green-hair Brit will be forgotten and we can get on with kicking people out, which is the point of the show.

Cassandra, for example, can now expand a little (she dug out her Hendrix shirt) and be more overtly charismatic. She used a comforting session with Josh as an opportunity to rub his biceps. Now that Brit won't be sucking in all the screen-time-oxygen around here, we can all make our bid for "most popular"; although what that got Brit was exactly nothing.A strategy needs still to emerge. We've been busy fighting with the show itself. Now we need to turn on each other.

My diet in here needs to be mentioned. I try to concentrate on combining legumes such as peas, beans and lentils with grains such as corn or buckwheat. This is your protein. Beans and rice equal steak. Then add broccoli or spinach. Coffee is important to me. The garden they gave us is located in a shady nook and doesn't produce well. However, it is the perfect place for me to hide the miniature cellular fax system that I use to send out these transmissions.

Jamie interviewed different people in the house as the show went by. Chen would say, i.e., "Jamie, interview the person you think is most scared of being banished." She picked George. Everyone was reading her face to see if she would reveal who was leaving, since she knew. I think everyone thought THEY were the one, no matter what Jamie did. She handled everything like a real pro-am. She thinks this house is her airlock between the dumb life she left and the fields of Hollywood.

We sat around some more while they showed tapes or interviewed scientists or whatever.

Finally, Chen made Jamie reveal the exile. Brittany was sent out. Her good-bye took forever. Josh was devastated, devastated that he had no real feelings to exhibit and so was forced to cobble together a little pageant-level acting for the all-seeing eye of the TV audience. George did his level best to pretend to comfort him. We have a vague feel for the storyline in here. Eventually, Brittany dragged her enormous suitcase and her enormous ass out the door. It's kind of a shame because I was getting to like her with black hair. As she would put it: "She d'int win the money."

So now we had to sit there while they did the post-mortem in the studio. After about a half-hour they let Brit say a last good-bye to the houseguests. She asked if we missed her yet and we said, "Yes!" But, really, it was already clear that now that she was outside we weren't clicking anymore with Brittany and our final farewells were awkward and forced. She said she found out her dad was proud of her. Then they cut her off and we all agreed to meet up later when this was done. Maybe at the gates of Disneyworld or something. How about the LaBrea tar pits? That's appropriate.

Josh went outside and started watering the new sod they had put down in the back yard. At dinner, we all got an extra portion.

Cassandra said she might have to leave the show if they keep making us do this kind of thing. The producers say they're just doing their jobs. They also went after Cassandra on the race question. Earlier, Eddie had said that "There is no race problem in America!" Cassandra made just the slightest expression but didn't bother to take it up with him. She doesn't want race to be her talent in the house. In a way it is strategic because she really does want to stay. But eventually, I figure, the producers are going to try to stir it up -- especially since Curtis is probably finito as of tomorrow, leaving Cassandra as the only non-Anglo in the house. By the way, the producers forced her to answer the questionnaire.

They don't like our peace pact, they want us to "stop being superficial." Here they are nature and when the wind speaks we must obey. But they can't stop the mad rush of entropy; it is a far greater force than television, after all.

Our weekly challenge is a puzzle and I like that: no talking while we work on it. Brit has donned a pair of bifocals and dyed her hair dark to play the role of the scholar. But even that couldn't prepare her for the game that we played later.

The producers compiled our answers and we broke up into teams to try to guess who were the consensus thisses or thatses. Most brave: Cassandra. Sloppiest: Eddie. Longest in the bathroom: Cassandra, messing with her hair. Most two-faced: Jamie, also voted most honest. Most likely to get banished: Curtis, you don't go against online polls in here.

The vote is almost over now and the lines have been redrawn. Eddie, for one clearly sees himself as a "contestant" in the house. George made one last foolish attempt to save himself from banishment by dressing up in drag like a cross between BlanchDuBois and Janis Joplin. He smoked a rolled newspaper and did a testimonial for "George's Nipple Erector Formula". Tomorrow we'll find if anyone was watching.

They had us in a square dance to end our dance-marathon-challenge. Cass didn't like it much cuz it was so Anglo-centric.

Same with the mud game they had for us. We had to crawl through mud carrying a little baby doll. The object was for everyone to pass through the mud trail without besmirching the babe. The producers made us lay out the course (dig our own grave) and actually it wasn't mud but garden manure. We threw it down, wet it, and set out a staked trail of ribbons we had to crawl under. Eddie took charge of the whole thing like he was born to it. When we dumped out the bags of crud Jamie made a face that expressed the first open sign of distaste that she couldn't repress for the benefit of the cameras. Finally the stuck-up priss is unleashed. If you saw me smiling during the mud game that was why.

Well, we won the game and afterward Eddie viciously beat the baby doll and soon enough everyone was mudwrestling. Everyone but me, Cassandra and the dog, that is. Cassandra has dreadlocks and if she got mud in them it would be hell to pay. The dog and I took another nap. Cass was worried later that not mudwrestling might have made her look diffident, again.

The producers have been trying to make us guess who nominated us -- yawn -- they can't break us, but they try. Besides the fact that we don't have a dishwasher in the house, they also locked us in one of the bedrooms and made us play another touchy-feely game where we had to tell everyone what we thought was sexy about them. There's an unwritten rule that if you talk about sex you get more screen-time, so maybe they were just trying to be fair and let us all look like leering fools for a while.

The next day we had to put on a beauty pageant. George made "butt bread" (a loaf of bread that looked like a butt, with a big stripe of cinnamon through the center) as his "talent". I actually think he was just using the opportunity to make himself an entire loaf of bread that he knew damn well no one else was going to eat. Cassandra read a poem and sounded like Percy Dovetonsils. Curtis did "The Riverdance" by bobbing around the room like a condom full of spit. Jamie half-stripped to showoff her beauty, Cassandra sadly refused to don the bathing suit and Brit put hers on and looked like nothing less than an old East German dog-eater.

Cassandra made a speech to wrap things up and she said something about solving the problem of world hunger that was so brilliant it didn't at first dawn on me that it could actually work (since this was supposed to be a joke beauty pageant I wasn't really focussing) and while I was looking around for a pencil to write it down I forgot what she said! Anyway, she and Brit and Eddie won.

I took another nap and dreamed about Roma Downey.I was awakened by the sound of an airplane overhead. We all rushed out and looked. It was trailing a banner that said "Vote George--Save Brittany."

The beauty pageant winners got to order out for food (like a last meal: anything they wanted--the prison metaphor continues). The non-beautiful among us got locked into a room while they feasted under their bejeweled crowns and tiaras.

In the room, we discussed the fear of banishment that is gripping most of the house. Some people have been balancing the poll results against the nominations; I have been and I think Curtis will be sinking "Whooa Like a Rock..." but George is trying his best to lose. First of all, the airplane banner has led Brit and others to wonder why someone would attack George that way. Maybe he's been talking shit in the private red-room conversations (they're private to us, at any rate). Even worse, today he dressed up in mock Arab garb and went into the redroom and made a plea to the cameras in a (very poor) TV-Arab accent. We know because he rehearsed it for us and we were aghast. He said a lot about convenience stores and cab drivers etc. Things being what they are in here, no one warned him off of his fantastic idea. Let him seal up the tomb and fight it out for Curtis for the few remaining molecules of oxygen.

George made all kind of plays today; he illustrated his desperation in mummery, grotesque, freestyle dance and good old-fashioned televised pleading. As he jumped about holding hands with Eddie, George looked for all the world like a 2-year-old who needed to pee. And yet, in his disarray, he found the will to address the outside camera directly and attempt to reach out to his demographic: drunks, slobs, fat people, people who need 1/2 a million bucks, roofers and roofers sons.

The interviewers who play with our minds in the redroom have the most unctuous, smug and condescending voices this side of the Trent Lott. They went after George today because they knew he was skittish. They asked him if he would jump on a trampoline naked if it meant he could stay and possibly win the 1/2 million. He said he would have to ask his wife first but even so he didn't think he could do it, no way no how. When he told us this later Brit jumped in and said she'd do it in a second. So did Josh, In fact, between them they figured they'd do it for $20 dollars.

Eddie came out of his interview mumbling about how "They were breaking my ballz in there." The interviewers remind us that we have obligations to the show (as per our contract). They want to keep an eye out on the drama in the house and if there is none (and there is none) then they need to manufacture it for the tapes.

Suddenly, some kind of godawful go-go music came blasting through ever loudspeaker in the house. We got up immediately and commenced to boogie. Someone shouted "Turn off the lights!" And so we danced in the dark. George grabbed his ass and spread it and started yelling "Sloshy (Josh) don't do that!" He just can't let that "Do a guy before I kissed a guy" comment go.

Tomorrow I may give you a run down on the dietary program here and I might enumerate the contents of the kitchen cabinets. At least the dancing will be over.

Before the big live show the producers come over the speakers and preen us for the telecast. They give us all a little goose to remind us that we're in the big time now and this is professional entertainment so be upbeat and energetic because it's time to chew ten Rolaids and hit the stage.

We all just want to live peacefully in our little Dutch house but they won't be having it. We tremble as this ritual approaches, but when the spotlight hits we shift into gears we didn't know we had. The best way to deal with the tension in this "ten little Indians" scenario is to avoid it, pretend it doesn't exist.

There are many helpful defense mechanisms that will serve us well as we become enveloped in the passive-aggressive cosmos:

SIMPLE DENIAL: Jamie sticks to her method of throwing dice to determine for whom she will vote. This way everyone is just a number to her, even though she has to actually say their names to the camera anyway, but she tells herself the choice was random. Everyone has determined that Jamie is trying to start a showbiz career with this show, and if she won -- that would LIKE REALLY help, but most people just ignore that and pretend she's just a nice beauty-queen, soft and sweet, who is definitely not out to get them banished.

TEMPER TANTRUMS: George was so disturbed by Josh's comment from a few days back ("I'd do a guy before I ever kissed a guy!") that he now vibrates with anger whenever Josh is around. George will pout and yell at Josh because he's intimidated by his alleged bisexuality.

INDIGNATION: George admitted to us that he had made a mistake and hadn't actually seen Jimi Hendrix live. He had actually seen Frank Marino and Mahogany Rush, but not Hendrix (or Dan Marino, for that matter). George has perhaps been hitting the homemade brew a little hard, and I'm not sure that stuff isn't half poison. But Eddie and Cassandra would have none of it, they had spent the days since George lied about Hendrix looking at him with a little bit of awe and some respect. Now they castigate him self-righteously because they feel he has fooled them and wounded them.

HOSTILE SILENCE: This helps us deal with the host of the live show, and all the producers and handlers in general. When the live host asks some big loaded question usually we just sit there quietly until she repeatedly prompts us for an answer. Tonight she called us "feisty" (sardonically) because of something Curtis mumbled, and then there was dead air for 24 seconds.

RATIONALIZATION: Jamie won the most recent game and so her prize was awarded her tonight. The prize was having to choose between talking to her dear old mommy or a Hollywood casting director (Tony Sepultura) for two minutes in the red room. She said that since she'll be seeing her mommy soon enough, once she gets out, she would choose the casting director. She went in the room to meet her destiny. When she came out she was so flustered she accidentally touched the dog's butt when she went to pet its tail. Jamie said that Tony Sepultura told her: 'Move to L.A., take acting classes and totally commit yourself.'

"It was worth not seeing Mommy for great advice like that," Jamie said.

DISPLACEMENT: We often explain the votes we cast for banishment in terms of the reasons that the person so marked would LIKE to be out of the house, as if we're doing them a favor. In this way, we can shift the guilt to them for being too needy.

AVOIDANCE: For example, as they read the nominations tonight Eddie made a puppet out of a spoon and Brittany said it looked like a "Trojan." Brittany also used the term "screwing with my hair" to refer to the multiple dye jobs and bleaches she gives herself (see REPRESSION).

MINIMIZING: The live show host revealed to us the results of an online popularity poll. Viewers ranked us in terms of popularity. Curtis was dead last with 8% of the vote but he said: "that's not bad since I was only a few points behind the next highest person."

Finally, the nominations were announced, people were marked, and the big live show came to a close. Everyone was nominated except for me, Jamie and the dog. Eddie said: "Can we eat now?" and CBS cut away to "Intimate Care" starring Heather Fleece Dent. You know what?-- People Rule!

"I wonder why there's no women in there," said Cassandra. "How about some strong women like Anita Hill (testifier) and Lauryn Hill (superstar)?"

"There's no women because I want to meet MY idols-- after all I'm a man. I want some insight into making it big; that's what I intend to do after this show launches me out there and shit," Eddie answered.

"If I get three choices," George said, "I'd have to put a choice in for my wife. For her, I'd pick Julia Roberts (movie star). Then there would be a woman in my group."

"Are we talking about a dinner party here or are we just meeting these people on the street?" Jamie asked.

"I would have Jesus (son of God) over for dinner," Curtis said, "but it would be pointless just to run into him on the street."

"I agree, if we're talking about who we would want to run into on the street the choices change," I said.

"Look, I ain't having any fucking dinner party!" Eddie yelled. "Let's just assume that we get to pick the circumstances of our meeting. They can all be met together or individually."

"Ok, I'll agree to that. But what do we get to do with them? Do we just meet them or does a conversation take place?" Josh asked.

"Whatever!" Eddie replied. "It's your fantasy."

"Ok, Walter Pidgeon (movie star) first of all." Josh started counting out on his fingers.

"Hold it. Of anybody, in all of history, that you could meet-- you pick him. Who is he?" Curtis asked.

"He was in 'Million Dollar Mermaid', my favorite movie." Josh informed him.

"All right, but what about Ghandi (architect of modern India) or Abe Lincoln (US President)?" Curtis asked incredulously.

Eddie was staring at Josh as if he were trying to figure out how to bite off Josh's nose in a single swooping movement.

"Ghandi and Abe Lincoln are dead, that's ridiculous. Hey, did you every see that movie 'Dead Presidents'? That was fucking hilarious." Josh said.

"There was that guy who was on '60 Minutes' who was totally way-smarter than Stephen Hawking (physicist); it would be cool to meet him or Oprah (talk-show host)," said Brittany, apropos of nothing whatsoever.

I changed the subject, "Do you think our show is more popular than 'Survivor' by now?"

"It has to be," George said, "this is way-more real. I watched the first couple episodes of 'Survivor' before we came in here. You could guess who was gonna win. It was definitely gonna be that black guy. They rigged everything."

Suddenly, over the loudspeaker, the producers shouted out at us: "Of the houseguests, who would you choose to be stranded with on a desert island? Eddie, you first."

Eddie picked the dog. Five of us picked the dog. Jamie refused to answer. Brit said she would take a human, but she wouldn't name names.

The producers shouted again: "Brittany, go to the redroom." Brit stumbled off with a dazed look on her face. We were all worried for her, actually. But she came back smiling a few minutes later clutching a handful of snapshots of her friends and family. We adjourned to the yard and passed them around. It was weird seeing other people, outsiders. I reflexively compared the people in the pictures to whichever houseguest they most resembled.

While we pretended to be interested in Brittany's pictures, the dog grazed intensely on the painted squares of grass that make up our backyard. The dog was trying to get sick again and I wasn't going to clean up any more dog vomit. Cassandra was getting her period, so that meant we would have to make Josh do it.

Because we have uneven gender equivalencies guys are going to have to dance with guys, and this is a problem. Hours of planning have gone into how we can accomplish this and not offend our hetero-masculinity. I started telling everybody about Berlin, Germany and some of the pretty queens I met there and also how in the mining camps they used to dress half of the men up as women (everyone drew lots) and have these big dances. All of this effective, age-old, men-without-woman wisdom interested no one. We settled on locking our fingers together with the merest of touches and sort-of boogalooing side-by-side. This satisfied the rules requirements and we wouldn't have to look another man in the face. We miss the stripper now, for sure.

Another trick to this challenge is that they can call everyone out for an "All Dance" at anytime. Then we all have to go outside to the dance floor and dance to a short selection of elevator music. They did it today at 5:30 a.m.Finally, the big moment came and Curtis cut in on Brit and started dancing with Josh (Slosh)-- this awkward switch was accomplished amid much use of the still mutating "funny-accent" that's been infecting the house like tuberculosis; I have mentioned it before. Now it has taken on a Russian tang and a hint of Victorian-era British waif.

So we sit around and wait to do our 1-hour turn on the dance floor to win this challenge. I have to tell you Brittany is starting to look pretty good lately. Her green hair has been washed out by chlorine and sun to a silvery tint. She, like most of us, has become incredibly tanned and she's taken to wearing a tight sweater. Could this be the moment when she steps forward now that Karen (her surrogate mother) is gone? Overall, the balance of power in the house has shifted towards the more mature and cerebral: The Women, aligned with Curtis (Christian) and me (invisible), and to a lesser extent Josh (cute). If the vote were to happen now the cornpone George and the meatball Eddie would be gone from this vegetable house.

And still more games to play. We were given an envelope of paper slips (like in a fortune cookie) each bearing an answer to a question from the producers that one of the houseguests had given in the redroom. We were supposed to guess "Who Said It?" Example answers: "Drinking is a gift", George said it; "I'd rather do a guy than I kiss a guy", Josh said it. Jamie (Hollywood) won. The prize will be given out on nomination day, two days hence.

The "Rather do a guy..." thing really gave us something to talk about and we sat around in one of the bedrooms telling dirty puns and stories like we were at a slumber party. At the center of this blue-fest was good-old George, he rode Josh pretty hard about that comment. Josh seemed genuinely embarrassed, after a while. George is getting sloppy, showing too much of his crude side. Josh for his part grabbed Brittany and took her away to the other bedroom in a show of mock-machismo. They've been sleeping (literally sleeping) together again, a lot. Do the producers really think Brit will give it up on TV after all these years? Could be, I mean, she wants it to be special, right? I don't know. I wonder what the Atlantic City oddsmakers are saying.

After the kids quieted down Cass and Jamie and I sat around talking about what the ratings are like for "Big Brother." We think they're probably very good. It's definitely a show that we all would enjoy watching.

And today another game. The producers know how to run a zoo. We were confronted with a reminder of the outside world: inflatable plastic sumo encasements. I could taste the tequila. We wrassled and Eddie was victorious. His reward was a massage.

He went into the redroom blindfolded and we sat in the common area. We heard him bitching loudly as he was slapped and kneaded. It was very disconcerting. Perhaps he was in on some gag the producers were having over on us. Eddie shouted something garbled, unclear. Curtis translated: "He said: 'I feel you touching my ass' I think." It sounded more like "Get this over with fast." We looked at Curtis for a while and watched tilt his head back, daydreaming.When it was over we gathered around Eddie and discussed the slim shred of excitement. He said the massage was total BS and he was this close to getting up and busting the guys jaw. He was sure it was a guy. "He was dancing around like Tonto," Eddie said.

By the way, after talking with Cassandra, I have learned that Eddie is not in fact Latino in any part but just an Italian guy from New York. My mind was on the trying to make all the races come together. I can get like that when confined.

Well, the discussion continued and the dinner wasn't much to speak of. The idea came out that maybe the whole massage was a stunt and they had Letterman or somebody go in there and they were taping it for a comedy bit. Curtis said maybe it was Will. But everyone dismissed this because they didn't think of Will as having much of a sense of humor.

As the night wound down, Brit confided in everyone that she sometimes lies and misrepresents her feeling in the red room, and even in the house.

"Yes, and the sky is blue," I said.

George was visibly disturbed by this revelation. The banishment vote looms.

First we had to paint our bodies with paint. We got to pick an animal and another houseguest would paint us up to look like that. The men wore Speedos and the girls wore one-piece black bathing suits.

"I'm too big for Speedos!" George said as he volunteered to be painted up like a cow. I knew he was showing false bravado to cover his fears about our upcoming challenge. He had been studying with Cassandra all week. The challenge is about finding your way around on the U.S. highway system. Cassandra was so sweet and patient, not at all condescending. I could tell she wanted the extra grocery money. It's a widely known fact that she has a sweet tooth.

Somehow, Brit ended up painting Slosh's (Joshua's) body. She threw away her sponge and rubbed him with her open palms.

As we were going along painting, the producers reminded us over theloudspeaker: "Jamie must paint her entire face!" Seeing her like this has made me change my feelings towards her. She seems pathetic, like a Queen cast down into the dungeon. Who was it that ratted her out to the red-room interrogator? Did Karen go after in the post-banishment debriefing?

After the paint game we sat around the BBQ, chilling.

"Did you see that nun in the crowd on Wednesday?" George asked.

"I saw her." I said

"She was looking at us." George said.

The door to the house slammed open. Curtis walked out (still painted like a tiger) but he stayed close to the door like he was waiting to be invited to join us. In his consistently mortifying "funny accent" he said, "Brit you are one ugly dinosaur--hahahaha..."(NOTE: words can't do justice to the sound of Curtis' laugh, logon to the webcast and listen. It won't take long, he does it every ten fucking seconds.)

"Are you tired Curtis?" Brittany, who had removed her body-paint some time ago, asked. Suddenly she was kind and understanding; finally, someone else in the house was willing to be the fool for a while.

"I just put a French-bread pizza in the oven." Curtis informed us.

We aced the challenge so we get 20% extra grocery money this week. But George thinks he has been redeemed and wants to make a big deal about it. He was the last person to have to answer questions (surprise)! After the way he fucked up the jump-rope he thought he owed it to us. When we won he hugged Cassandra for five minutes. She's very smart, anyone who is nice to George seems to get some kind of protective halo around them for a week or so.

"I felt like the fried 'Chicken Man' out there." George said.

There is some dispute over George's actual nickname. Initially, it was Will that dressed George up like a rasta and made him do the funky-chicken. Will had called him "Chicken George" which had a more piquant flavor to its shades of meaning. As soon as Will got tossed, however, the name devolved into "The Chicken Man" which is cuter, paler and putatively intended to refer to the way George dotes on the chickens outside. Only Cass, Eddie and I still use the old term, but only occasionally so no one notices. The reference to "Roots" caused embarrassment only as long as Will was around. But we took care of that problem, didn't we?

I'm reminded, also, of the time George ran into the house claiming that one of the chickens had caught its little neck in the garden gate. He held the chicken like a babe and caressed its lifeless form. I was suspicious immediately and I wouldn't be surprised if George had some kind of violent crime in his distant past. Or maybe he was a soldier in Vietnam. We'll never know, I'm sure, unless of course it somehow suits him to tell everyone ion order to advance himself towards the cash prize that awaits one of us. By the way, we never ate that chicken. Where is it?

Lord, I almost forgot about the cash prize. Is that why we're here?

George confessed to us that the highway challenge and all the studying he did for it made him start thinking about going back to school once he gets back on "the outside." He said he felt like he could succeed in school this time and that it would really help hi