The only thing I could think of as the credits rolled on the last episode of "I'm a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here!" were the immortal words of Gerald Ford, uttered shortly after he took the oath of office after the resignation of Richard Nixon: "My fellow Americans, our long national nightmare is over."

Officially, Lou Diamond Phillips was named king of the jungle. But I'm the real winner as I'm free of any obligation to watch the show and report my findings.

It could be a long time before I feel safe watching network television again.

I started watching to keep track of former Illinois first lady and queen of the jungle-wannabe Patti Blagojevich. I never dreamed she would make it to the end, otherwise I might not have promised to keep track of her.

By my count, there were 19 hours of "Celebrity." I confess I spent less time than that watching because I recorded most of them so I could use the power of fast-forward.

Viewers picked the winners. It's worth noting the three finalists - Phillips, former professional wrestler Torrie Wilson and former NBA player John Salley - were the most normal people on the show.

That brings us to Mrs. B who now fancies herself as a "sexy mom" on the Internet. Her final week on the show was anti-climatic. The best stuff to pass on came from her jungle mates.

After 25 days in the jungle, Salley said of Mrs. B: "She doesn't seem like a thief." One of the show's hosts, consoling Mrs. B when the viewers impeached her from the show, said "she won the hearts of America."

When handing out awards, her remaining cast mates gave her the "I am a celebrity now" award - emphasis on "am." She thought she would get the best swimmer award based on her entrance into the jungle when she was swept away by the river current and it looked like she could become the late Mrs. B.

Mrs. B herself was upbeat and philosophical. Her month in the Costa Rican jungle gave her a "hopefulness about the future." Compared to the ordeal, she said, "anything else will seem easy."

Other than eating a tarantula on the first week and occasionally whining, Mrs. B didn't do anything wacky. If you did not know about her involvement in the nefarious dealings of Mr. B and her penchant for dropping f-bombs on FBI wiretaps, you might think of her as just a mom.

Her cast mates knew nothing about the culture her husband fostered where fundraising and governing was essentially the same process. They also wouldn't know about some of the latest revelations about Mr. B.

An Associated Press story this week started like this: "Rod Blagojevich had misplaced a $10,000 campaign contribution. Luckily, his wife found the check at home and told the governor's secretary, who promised to take care of it. Soon the money was deposited safely, just after the donor's daughter began a new job at the state Department of Corrections."

Clearly, if "political conniving" isn't Rod Blagojevich's middle name, it should be.

A good summation of Mrs. B's role came from Kent Redfield, a political scientist at the University of Illinois at Springfield, who told the Illinois Times that her television performance "plays a lot better the farther you get from Illinois."

If Illinoisans had their way, Mrs. B would have been booted early. But she managed to fool her jungle mates in much the same way her husband fooled Illinois voters into electing him governor not once, but twice.

ddawson@herald-review.com|421-7980