PETER BUFFA -- Comments & Curiosities

You are the weakest link. Goodbye!

I know, I know. But we might as well deal with it. When one of these

media firestorms ignites, there is no stopping it. By now, you’ve

certainly heard about the new game show “The Weakest Link.” The show is a

British import and has been described as a cross between “Who Wants to Be

a Millionaire?”and “Survivor.”

Eight contestants answer a rapid-fire series of questions. Correct

answers generate the green stuff, and the green stuff goes into a common

bank. So all the contestants share the winnings at show’s end, right? Not

right.

At the end of each round, the contestants cast secret ballots to see

which of their quiz-mates is going to be tossed, not unlike “Survivor.”

The process of elimination continues until only two contestants remain,

and the winner takes all. Very Darwinian.

Clever concept, but the show’s real appeal is its diminutive yet

intimidating host, Anne Robinson. “Intimidating” is putting it mildly.

Sporting black from head to toe and small wire-rim glasses, Robinson is a

cross between a Cambridge professor and the warden of a prison for the

criminally insane. She seems highly intelligent, but then again, a

British accent makes a prizefighter from Liverpool seem like Carl Sagan

to us. Unfortunately for her contestant-victims, Annie does not suffer

fools well.

“You have accrued a total of $3,800 out of a possible $125,000,”

Robinson told one group. “One could describe that performance as

pathetic, but that would raise you to a higher stature than you deserve.”

“I must say,” she told another group, “the last round was a masterful

display of both memory loss and stupidity.”

Between rounds, contestants quiver as she scans the group and picks

someone out for a dollop of one-on-one abuse. She asked one young woman

why she wanted to be on the show. The woman said she loves trivia and all

her friends say she’s an expert at it.

“Do they really?” Anne said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well

you’ve certainly proved them wrong, haven’t you?”

“What do you for a living?” she asked one man.

“I’m a gynecologist,” he answered.

“Well, then,” she said, “I shall keep my feet firmly on the ground.”

But when the time comes to vote off the next “weakest link,” her

entertaining barbs come fast and thick: “Who is clearly too slow to

stay?” “Who has begun to look dangerously dim?” “Those desperately

clinging on need to be put out of their misery!” And my personal

favorite, “Who now is the runt of the intellectual litter?”

When the votes are cast and the sacrificial lamb is chosen, Robinson

turns, looks them squarely in the eye and announces with not even

slightly veiled disdain, “You are the weakest link. Goodbye.”

To produce the maximum degradation possible, the shunned “link” takes

the “Walk of Shame” off the set and into the night. This is not a quiz

show for the faint of heart.

Interesting to note, Anne Robinson is not at all the dominatrix in

designer black she pretends to be. She is, in fact, a mild-mannered

consumer affairs reporter and columnist, better known for taking spot

removers to task than game show contestants.

The producers chose her as the host of the British original because of

her quick wit and intimidating manner. The show is very defensive about

comparisons to “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” and brags that its

questions are much tougher.

Pish tosh, I say. Like “Millionaire,” it’s basically a trivia quiz

plus some rudimentary science and history and, as always, a large helping

of pop culture. No, I can’t name the Back Street Boys’ first gold record,

thank you so much.

Of course, quiz show questions always seems easy when you’re shouting

answers from the protective cocoon of your recliner. Try getting under

the lights with a few million people watching, and you’ll be lucky if you

remember how many kids you have, let alone the birthplace of Galileo.

It’s Pisa.

It’s even harder when you have Anne, Mistress of the Dark, glaring at

you, itching for the slightest hesitation so she can make some totally

snotty remark about your mental prowess, or the lack thereof.

The other interesting note, according to Robinson, was the difference

in attitude and behavior in the United Kingdom versus these United

States. Apparently, the average British contestant was much more

respectful of Mistress Anne, silently taking her verbal abuse and quietly

accepting their fate. American contestants are much more vocal and

demonstrative, and not at all reluctant to answer her back or make faces

during her comments.

Robinson says she’s had to struggle to maintain her icy demeanor with

those feisty Americans and laugh out loud at their responses, which she

really enjoys. At the end of each show, she turns her back on the

contestants, looks straight into the camera and delivers her trademark

“Goodbye!” with a wink and a smile -- letting us know that Annie-the-Hun

is all an act.

I’m not sure what the popularity of these “survival” shows says about

us. Anne Robinson is fun to watch, but watching people squirm usually

makes me squirm. It’s like watching a comedian lay an egg. I can feel

myself blushing just sitting there watching.

Then again, no one ever tried to get on a game show without knowing

exactly what they were getting into. And I suspect we all have those

moments when it would be very tempting to borrow that line.

Telephone salespeople are one group that immediately comes to mind,

especially during dinner; tree-trimmers at the front door, and, of

course, signature gatherers who jump you outside the supermarket. “Are

you a registered voter?” “Yes I am, and you are the weakest link.

Goodbye.”

Never happen, but it’s fun to daydream. I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Sundays.

He may be reached via e-mail at PtrB4@aol.com.