Jeff Probst never lets me down. He’s always got that snide-ass attitude working at full blast. Just last night as he observed tribes trying to make fire, he commented something along the lines of, “Oh now we’ve got blood!” or “We have a finger down! Mayday! Mayday! Thumb is severed!” Okay, so maybe not so dramatic, but Mr. Probst is THE ultimate reality television host. His dimples have grown cavernous. His hair has gotten fuzzy and spiky all at once. He’s lost about as much weight as all the Survivor contestants combined. He’s grabbed onto an assortment of choker necklaces and button down shirts that are missing the top few buttons. And he became every man’s hero by offering peanut butter and chocolate in exchange for complete nudity.
Survivor would be nothing without Jeff “It’s Really All About Me” Probst.
Remember him on VH1 Music Jeopardy? It was a short-lived show. It was a GREAT show. But it did not cater to Jeff Probst’s strong points. Starvation. Mockery. Fire. Immunity idols. Agitation. The VH1 people even had Survivor contestants on for a game when Jeff Probst was still hosting double duty. Alas, that show did not have the same allure.
Jeff Probst would be nothing without Survivor.
Sure, I could go into all that jazz about outwit, outplay, outlast. I could talk about buffs and alliances. I could remind everyone of naked Richard hatch who’s now in jail and Sue Hawk’s speech about being thirsty and about Rupert the Pirate and the Australian outback and all those other things that Survivor is all about. But I won’t. To tell you the truth, I barely ever watch the show. I watched the first season because it seemed to be the only thing on whenever I turned on the television. I watched a few shows from a few other seasons because I was writing about it for various purposes and formats. And last night, I watched because I was too lazy to change the channel.
You know what keeps me hooked every time? Jeff Probst. I cannot tell you why. I think he’s arrogant. I think he likes to push buttons. I think he’s doing it on purpose. Actually, I know he is. We all know he is. All the contestants know he is. Imagine, being paid to mock emaciated people who are vying for money by stabbing each other in the back. All you need to do is stir the pot. Tribal council? My favorite part of the show. Why? Jeff Probst at his inquisitive, gettin-under-their-skin best.
[b] And THIS is why I love reality tv[/b]: It’s a platform for snootiness, annoyance, and all those other wonderful qualities that we can’t stand happening to us. Instead, it happens to others. And we get to watch.
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