BB: Mr. Right, Mr. Wrong AKA #BeefSauce

excuse you 2

Hay’s youth is showing. She’s very smart, but only 21 and impressionable. She’s mature, an ‘old soul,’ for her age but her adult life has only just begun.

Hay is completely on the outs and it’s really sad. However, especially since production is giving her a bulletproof edit, because she is so young, CBS might think they have a winner – a new, young star, who can come back in future BB seasons and play better – like Boston Rob when he first started out.

Then we can see the evolution of Hay, throughout the seasons of the show, like the aforementioned Rob. That might be a better future for Hay, after striking out, this season.

JC has been getting into real hot water, with Tyler, but if he can cease and desist, I will continue to support him. What’s going for JC, strategically, is that Tyler needs him. JC isn’t going anywhere.

On the personal side, JC should dump his romantic feelings for Tyler, like he did for Fessy. Only talk to Tyler on a game level, because right now, JC is coming on too strong, and I don’t want JC to take himself out of the game.

My strategy for JC (and Kaycee) was to avoid being HOH, since that puts you on the spot and forces you to show your cards. However, if you are going to remain in the shadows, you also have to be ready to go up on the block, as a pawn.

The division of labor that has worked for Level 6, is that people like Tyler and Angela, take the heat, as HOH, and the ninjas, the shadow masters and the moles, like Brett and Kaycee, take a different sort of heat, going up on the block, next to the target.

JC hasn’t touched the block, which is great. But he hasn’t taken the other role, as the ‘face’ of the organization: the HOH. I don’t want him to touch the block, so it may be time for JC to win a HOH and put some muscle behind his punch.

JC really wanted to win the last HOH, with the spinning and the pie of doom, but he was first out, as usual. Still, for this week, at least, JC will get what he wants: Kaycee won her second veto; Scottie will go home (again).

JC has also calmed down, to Tyler, at minimum, on his real plans to evict Angela and Kaycee. However, next HOH comp, JC needs to push his crushes, on Tyler and Brett, to the side and put the pedal to the floor. This is JC’s time.

This battle-back is just a setback (Rewind. Groundhog Day, Doctor Who). Get rid of Scottie. He was already voted out and has outlived his usefulness.

Scottie doesn’t know when to stop talking. The juice isn’t worth the squeeze or having Sam (!) as a swing vote. Hay just needs a light touch, and she will get rid of Sam, and then be evicted, the week after.

A bitter jury is a lame tactic, but it’s still a tactic. This is why I have been pushing for the Level 6 civil war to happen sooner, rather than later – so that there will be, at least, someone from Lvl. 6, in the jury, with enough BB mist, to sway the vote. It’s a counter-intuitive strategy, but going forward, it seems jury management will include more than just GBMs.

August 24: “This doesn’t make sense.” RIP Scottie

“Yes, Level 6 doesn’t care about Bay and Rockstar’s jury votes, but as more Foutte members join the jury, they will form a voting bloc, with their own definition of reality and their own demands for justice. By the time the Level 6 people hit the jury, the narrative, for the finale, will be set, and it will be too late.”

I am glad #Tangela will be cancelled, even post-BB20. I never saw the attraction. Their personalities just don’t click. Angela, the Queen, deserves someone better than the villain, ‘Interview with the Vampire,’ Tyler.

when I hear tangela

Nighttime for Vampires


Alli met Jeff on a bustling, hot, sticky night in New York, at the Blue Fin restaurant in Times Square. She was eating a few bar peanuts before Jeff arrived. Jeff was a djinn, specifically an afrit.

No one would have been able to tell, unless they were looking for the signs: the deep, ruddy color of Jeff’s tawny hair, the slight, maroon shade in his otherwise brown eyes. On closer inspection, his fingernails tapered into sharper points, than normal, and his teeth, beyond the front ones, seemed to be all canines.

Alli knew these details already and rose up to hug him, when he appeared, like a whirlwind coming through the door, all swirling overcoat and long, dark blue scarf.

“You look just like Aro said you would,” Alli exclaimed, “You look great!”

“So do you,” Jeff, the afrit, answered humbly, “It’s an honor to be able to meet the new Sky Avatar.”

Embarrassed, Alli waved the compliment off, “What are you having?”

They ordered a large set of California rolls to share, and a couple of glasses of Chablis.

“Where have you been recently?” Alli asked, before using the chopsticks to pop a sushi piece, with avocado, into her mouth.

“I am staying in the Yale Club, not too far from here,” Jeff mused, dipping his roll, in a minute dish of soy sauce, “You are right: I do look windswept. I have been jumping all over the Near East – Jordan, Lebanon, Turkey, Dubai, the Empty Quarter – what one might call ‘the Bible Lands.’ Old World deserts.”

“Your passport must have a ton of stamps on it,” Alli observed, as she dipped her roll in the smidgeon dash of wasabi, on her plate.

“Yes, I am originally from Bristol,” Jeff explained, “but I’ve bounced around for most of my life: India, Tanzania, you name it.”

“‘Jeff’ isn’t your real name, is it?” Alli commiserated, in a lower voice.

“No,” he confided, picking up a delicate sliver of sashimi, “The moment before a djinn is born, The One whispers his or her true name into one ear.”

“No one else can know that name, except trusted folks, because that name, can be used to bind you, correct?” Alli whispered.

Jeff nodded, eating another roll. He chewed thoughtfully and then continued, “Humans don’t know their true name, which, to me, is rather dangerous. Someone could call you and you would come hither, and you wouldn’t even know that you were being called.”

“It’s quite odd, indeed,” Alli agreed, “Aro says now that I know I am an Atevar, my true name will come back to me.”

“Yes, it will,” Jeff seconded, “and when it does – I can’t be too dramatic on this – guard it with your life.”

“Naming takes on a whole new importance, doesn’t it?” Alli looked up.

“Djinn have half a dozen different names at any given time. For example, ‘Jeff’ is the name only you will call me by, the moniker only you will know me by,” Jeff further explicated, “This is not a slight; it can happen even with long-running relationships. Did Aro tell you the real reason I am moving around so much?”

“No,” Alli shook her head.

“My ‘Reginald’ up and left, late last year. Just left,” Jeff growled, “The engagement didn’t matter or anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Alli murmured, taken aback. She set her chopsticks down.

“Don’t be, don’t be,” Jeff squeezed her shoulder, “‘Reginald,’ huh? Not ‘Reggie,’ just ‘Reginald.’ Very stiff, isn’t it? I should have known from the start.” He smiled, despite himself.

Alli turned around, on her stool, facing him front-on, “I recently broke up with someone too, someone who reminded me of an old flame, who was never coming back. I have grieved and mourned on my own, tried to not let my new girlfriend, Page, see.”

Jeff gave a rueful smirk, “We’re not too different, you and me? Aren’t you glad Aro introduced us?”

They raised their glasses and clinked them. Beyond the crowded restaurant and the storefront glass, taxi cabs whizzed by in the blue evening, throwing up jets of water, torn from puddles, left by the afternoon rain.