Saturday, September 03, 2005

Qui-Gon : Long-Haired Freaky Banthas

All right, about the challenge this week...
Right, well, like, I had to shave a Bantha. I already knew how to do it from my training at the summer camp when I was a Junior Padawan Scout. See, they, like, sent us out to the rural part of Tatooine and taught us all the farming techniques. Shaving Banthas, milking Nerfs, collecting moisture... Though I skipped the classes on tabaccy chewin' and cousin courtin'.
Well, yeah, so I came across this Bantha out here. Nice bloke by the name of Jim. See, Banthas don't like long names. There's Bob, and Jim, and Jay, and Leo, and Alf, and well, there's a herd of Banthas. All with names that are three letters or less.
Right, well, Jim, he, like, was on my wavelength, man. He's, like, all about the pastorial existence. No technology but moreso, no bread, man. Bread is the root of all evil today. Attachment to it kills the soul, and you, like, need that to be eligible for Force Ghost status when you die, man.
So we were talking and we got on the subject of hair. Or fur. Or natty dreds that Bantha's have. See, I have long, beautiful, flowing hippie hair. I don't need hours of grooming with Vidal Dantoon products. I just wash it when I can be, like, bothereed to do so, or after if happens to catch fire for some reason. And, like there you go. Hippie locks.
Right, well, like Jim, he's the same way, man. He's got this long shaggy doo, and it is really far out.
And he said that it is natural to be attached to your hair, as it is attached to you. It blew my mind, man. Jim was, like, deep.
So, we decided that he didn't need to shave off his hair, and stuff. He needs it. It is a part of who he is.
Well, like we didn't shave it, but I did give him a good wash and trim and braided some nice flowers in. It's far out, man. Like eight feet of braids. You could get, like lost in it.
Right, well, I guess I lose, but a bantha's style is his image. And Jim is, like, one hep cat.
Can I keep him, JJ?

Friday, September 02, 2005

Starbucker: Fear the Shear

FLUKE: Gimme them clippers... outta the way... Peck!

Oh, boy -oboy-oboy! It's been some time since I sheared me a Bantha.

*Flashback to an earlier day*


Dodonna stands before a large electronic wall display. Fluke and several other volunteers are to one side of the giant readout. The low-ceilinged room is filled with barbers, cosmotologists, manicurist/pedicurists, and a sprinkling of R2-type robots. Everyone is listening intently to what Dodonna is saying.

DODONNA: The banthas are heavily covered in fur which will require the efforts of all of you - but together you're greater than half the local salon fleet. It's defenses are these two main tusks - designed around a direct large-scale assault. Luckily, a small one-man clipper-cutter should be able to penetrate the outer defense.

Gold Leader, a rough looking man in his early thirties, stands and addresses Dodonna.

GOLD LEADER: Pardon me for asking, sir, but what good are clipper cutters wielded by volunteers going to be against that?
DODONNA: Well, the banthas don't consider a small one-man clipper-cutter to be any threat, or they'd have a tighter defense. An analysis of these plans has demonstrated a weakness in the bantha defenses - without their tusks, they become as docile as clomps of red clay mud that's been setting out drying in the sun for an hour or two - give or take 20 minutes.

Artoo-Detoo stands next to a similar robot, makes beeping sounds, and turns his head from right to left.

DODONNA: The approach will not be easy. You are required to maneuver straight up the bantha's backside and skim the upper surface to this point. The target areas for removing the tusks are only two feet wide. The tusks - while large and strong - have only a series of small two-inch in circumference roots, right around the perimeter of the main shaft. These roots anchor the tusks and lead directly to the beast's central nervous system. A precise snapping of these roots will start a chain reaction - which should cause the tusk to fall freely while striking the beast's nervous system, ultimately rendering the bantha incapacitated, thus allowing each of you to shear at will.

A murmer of disbelief runs through the room.

DODONNA: But only a precise hit will set up a chain reaction. The roots are like thick twigs, so you'll have to use both hands.

Fluke is sitting next to Wedge Antilles, a hotshot pilot about sixteen years old.

WEDGE: That's impossible, even for a professional.
FLUKE: It's not impossible. I used to snap twigs the size of those fat Sharpie markers that your brother is chewing on over there while I was dangling from the wing of my pa's T-sixteen back home. They're a tad bigger bigger than two inches in circumference.
DODONNA: Man your shears! And may the Force be with you!

*Back to the here and now*

Fluke remembers his training and works intently, incapacitating and shearing three bantha's in the hour limit:

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Don't worry, their fur AND their tusks will grow back soon enough!

I just hope three is enough.

Starbucker out

Yoda: Not Again

Like Typho, a slow, weak looking Bantha I went after. One I finally caught. Wait a minute I thought, familiar this one looks.

Just then, Han walked by. "You know, I could really go for a pickle right about now."


Wuaaaaarh! Phlpppt!

After consciousness I regained, up I looked and the bantha I saw. "Bob, you that is?"

Licking me, Bob was. Apparently, attached to me he had become.

"Ew. No! Bad bantha! Bad blind gassy bantha!"

But stop he would not. Getting soaked I was. Grossed out I was. Finally, away from his huge tongue and around to his side, I got.

The "shears" I picked up. A Flowbee they had given me! From all those infomercials I watch, I recognized it. Unfortunately, having trouble figuring it out I was. Of course helping it was not, being swatted repeatedly in the face by Bob's tail.

In disgust, down I threw the Flowbee. A big handful of hair I grabbed with my hands and as hard as I could, I yanked. But out, no hair came. Harder I pulled. Repeatedly I yanked. Much, much yanking I had to do. Finally, into my hand a clump of hair came out. Have to do this will, I thought. To the staging area I headed.

When there I got, to JJ I handed the hair.

"Uh, Yoda, this hair is grey." he said.

"What?!" My own hair I had yanked out! And spare any I can not!

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Typho: Close Shave

Bantha Challenge
Originally uploaded by Captain Typho.
I think I have an honest chance of winning this challenge. Not that I know anything about banthas, but as a kid I did have a dog with a lot of hair that my dad was too cheap to send to the groomers, so I had to take care of it. I learned to use clippers on the dog with varying degrees of success. I used the clippers once on my dad too. He was asleep at the time. To say that he was upset when he woke up is a bit of an understatement.

Anyway, since I'm not getting these banthas ready for the show ring, I should be good to go.

I chose a slow, elderly bantha lagging at the back of the herd. It responded to my offering of food and the shearing began. It got away from me a couple times, but more offerings of food calmed it down and brought it back.

Eventually, the task was done.

When I looked up, some others had finished also. I was so much in the zone, I'm not sure who finished first.

Crossing my fingers...

Jar Jar: Letten der Sucken Commencen!

...or at least, mesa *thought* thassen wassen whatsa wassen supposen to happenen. Yousa seein, mesa saw der advertisment for "Dirt Vader", and issen confusen mesa a little. There wassen happenen to be a Dirt Vader vacuum cleaner lying around nearby, and mesa picken itsa up and...

One hour later, mesa learnen dat tryen to sucken der hair off banthas with a vacuum cleaner issen a pointless exercize. Well, noah *completely* pointless, since der banthas seemen to enjoyen itsa, and mesa getten some berry tasty bugs out of theirsa fur.

So thassen how mesa managen to fail der challenge as completely as issen can be failed.

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Challenge #7: Bantha Shearing

Welcome Survivors. Today’s challenge is brought to you by Dirt Vader.

Dirt Vader: When you need something clean…the dark side sucks!

Okay, as you can see for today’s challenge were out in the dune sea again. That’s because we have spotted a huge herd of Banthas here.

Some of the locals will round up the Banthas and sheer them for their tasty wool. Today’s challenge is for each of you to sneak up close enough to one or more Banthas and use these sheers and cut off as much bantha wool as possible in an hour's time…with out them stepping on you, of course.

Let me remind you that these are wild Banthas; they are not going to be easy to get close to much less allow you to sheer off their fur. The player with the most Bantha wool collected wins immunity.

In addition to immunity, the winner will also have a rare opportunity to name one other person to receive immunity from this week’s vote.

Pretty straight forward? Any questions? Then here are your sheers and get going.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Tribal Council: Week Six

Welcome Survivors.

For the moment we’ll be calling you ‘The Tribe’ until a final name for your tribe can be reached. You all did stunningly well on the Swoop Bike challenge. I say this because there were no major injuries. That’s good. Master Yoda won the challenge so he can not be voted off this time.

Now that everyone has finished voting…I’ll read the votes.

First Vote……………….Dooku








The eighth person voted off Survivor: Tatooine….

Aayla. I’m sorry, but the tribe has spoken.