THIS IS A BREAKING NEWS UPDATE. Check back soon for further information. AP’s earlier story is below.

MEXICO CITY (AP) — A Mexican official says the wife of “Survivor” producer Bruce Beresford-Redman is missing in Cancun.

The official says Beresford-Redman told police his wife Monica left the Moon Palace Hotel on Monday and has not returned.

The official at the attorney general’s office in Quintana Roo state, where Cancun is located, spoke Thursday on condition of anonymity because he was not authorized to talk to the media about the case.

Boston Rob is more like Kentucky. Everyone respects him, thanks to his track record and his strong fundamentals (solid shelter-building skills, excellent at puzzles, doesn’t stir up trouble over trivial clashes). He’s hardly even forced to throw his weight around, because people automatically do whatever he tells them to. Just as Kentucky is a shoo-in for the Elite 8 (all they have to do is knock off Cornell, a 12-seed, the basketball equivalent of Coach, a guy who’s passionate, multifaceted, but utterly doomed), Boston Rob will easily make it to the team’s merge. The only chink in his armor is his hatred of Russell. If Russell catches wind of it, he’ll be gunning for Boston Rob and could use the immunity idol to his advantage in any standoff.

No, Amanda can’t win it all. No way. Amanda is like St. Mary’s, a 10-seed, seriously overachieving but never destined to take home the big prize. Why? Because she doesn’t know what to say to the jury. She bats her enormous eyes, tries to sound sweet and harmless, and then they give it to the other guy. It’s happened twice before, and it could happen again. Amanda will make it far, mind you (farther than St. Mary’s will), but she’ll never win.

Rupert is an interesting case. He’s a little bit like Purdue, underrated and scrappy. Like the Boilermakers, Rupert is down-to-earth and well loved by his many rabid fans. He works hard around camp and at challenges, and everyone wants to keep him around for a while. Unfortunately, though, Rupert, a nice but somewhat defensive guy (like Purdue, a solid defensive team that still lacks the talent to win against an offensive powerhouse), falls apart when things get ugly.

Jerri, on the other hand, is like Duke. She’s smart and great at what she does, but everyone hates her guts and wants her to lose. Can Jerri still win it, somehow? Like Duke, it’ll depend largely on her defensive game. Sure, we know Jerri can make friends when she needs to, just as Scheyer and Singler can sink clutch shots. Eventually, though, people are going to want to take Jerri out of the game. She’s not soft and cuddly like Parvati or JT. She doesn’t come across as entirely trustworthy. That’s when Jerri is going to need to employ some savvy defensive maneuvers, aligning with just the right players, distancing herself from the wrong ones, and turning the force of any attack on her against the attacker (taking the charge, if you will). The game of “Survivor,” like the NCAA tournament, depends on defense to a deceptive degree. Just as Duke shut down many a big, flashy shooting team by playing strong D, Jerri has a shot at the million dollars if she can deflect attacks and pair up with someone (like Russell or Tyson) who might want to take a widely loathed player to the final two.

Parvati is like Ohio State, a pretty, flashy offensive team that’s underrated until opponents start to fall, one by one. Just like Ohio State with its strong shooting game, Parvati knows how to butter up her villain tribemates and make them all feel powerful, rallying them into a high scoring game. Then, at the last second, Parvati sneaks in and steals the big prize straight out of someone else’s hands, flashing that enormous smug grin of hers that makes everyone think, Why did we vote for her? Because this has already happened once, it seems unlikely that a jury would give Parvati a second million dollars just for flirting her way to the top again, no matter how undeniably impressive her feminine wiles might be. And like Ohio State, if Parvati gets into foul trouble with the other women (she already called Jerri a “bitter old cougar”), her bench of supporting tribemates just isn’t deep enough to keep her on top.

Tom and Colby are like Kansas. Heroic, sure, but overrated (as Kansas is, year after year) and already out of the running despite being highly favored. Sorry, guys. You’re too full of yourselves and too bent on looking heroic to play a solid strategic game.

Tyson is like Kansas State. Entertaining to watch, seriously skilled, and merciless. Like Kansas State, which needs to control the game tempo if it has any hope of beating Syracuse, if Tyson can control the game from behind the scenes and make other players do his dirty work for him, he could go very far. On the other hand, why is it so easy to imagine Tyson getting blindsided (and No. 2 seed Kansas State losing prematurely)?

James is like athletic, wisely coached West Virginia. James is stronger than anyone else in the game, he’s one of the smartest tribemates in the game, and his comments to the camera are seriously entertaining. Yes, he’ll certainly go far. But will he win? No way in hell. Just as point guard Darryl Bryant’s injury may take WVU out of contention, James’s utter lack of strategic prowess makes him a sure loser at “Survivor.” (I guess when you’re a gigantic, gorgeous man like James, you don’t have to sit around wondering what other people think of you around the clock, so parsing the twisted politics of this game isn’t your strongest suit.) Whether it’s Kentucky (Boston Rob) or Michigan State (Russell) or Syracuse (JT) who takes West Virginia (James) down in the end, West Virginia (and James) is going down. Lots of people have thought that West Virginia and/or James will win it all. Lots of people are dead wrong.

JT is like Syracuse. Everyone loves him, he’s solid in the paint. But does he have a good mind for the game when he’s under pressure? Syracuse, like JT, gets sloppy and screws up when they’re not controlling the tempo of the game. My call? Syracuse: Possible final four but no title. JT: Final 8 but no million dollars.

So who do I think will win the big prize? My money’s on Jerri (Duke), Russell (Michigan State) or Boston Rob (Kentucky) to take it. That said, “Survivor” might be just as unpredictable as the NCAA tournament. Even a series of well-timed, stealthy maneuvers before tribal council and a solid, savvy speech to the jury — like excellent shooting and relentless defense — won’t guarantee a win for the most agile, wise and tenacious players in the game. Crazy-making as it may be, sometimes Lady Luck is the most crucial player of all.

Maybe that’s why we love the insanity of both of these games so much. Let’s hear it for heroes, villains and March Madness in all its forms! 

The next morning, Coach considers his options on a lonely walkabout, begs Boston Rob for a little man love and then, in a breathtaking demonstration of how insecurity is so often transformed, by sheer force of will, into self-aggrandizement, Coach swallows back his newfound vulnerability and takes refuge — where else? — in his old familiar friend, the superiority complex.

See how it works, kids? Now tap that self-doubt and rage and create your very own sense of superiority! Aided only by a copy of Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations and years of alienation and loneliness, you, too, can set yourself above the fray.

When in doubt, remember the narcissist’s mantra: They’re just jealous. 

It’s time for a sure-handed, charismatic commander to lull us into sheeplike complacency once again. Fascism, communism, whatever flavor suits his or her mood is fine with us, as long as we don’t have to make bad decisions all by ourselves anymore. Just make sure the little cameras in our bedrooms broadcast to the Web, so we can watch along with our fearless leaders, thereby helping to snuff out insubordination, laziness and chronic masturbation.

We’ll be just like the Red Guards in China, only less fit and much more perverted.

Two legs bad!

“My parents may love me, but not as much as Chairman Mao.” That’s what those peppy kids used to say in China, back in the heady salad days of the Cultural Revolution.

The plucky castaways of “Survivor: Samoa” (8 p.m. Thursdays on CBS) might consider adopting the same slogan to salute their chosen leader, Russell, the scheming millionaire who announced that he was clearly destined to win the game from his first day on the show. Russell explained his plan very clearly: sow the seeds of discontent among his tribemates, control their tiny little minds, make alliances with almost every one of them, and find as many hidden immunity idols as possible, with or without clues. Russell assured the cameras that he would rise like a phoenix above the mediocre minds in his midst and sally forth to a victory that was all but assured. “I’m not here for the money,” he said. “I’m only here to show people how easy it is to win this game.”

So far, so good, Chairman Russell!

After conjuring destiny, which every good leader knows is the only way to kick off any vigorous reign of terror, Russell skipped quickly to the corruption and chaos phase, emptying his tribemates’ water canteens, stealing tribemate Jaison’s sock and burning it in the fire, and generally inciting confusion and dismay among his people. This part of his plan looked flatly foolhardy at the outset, yet, as his tribemates wept and tore their hair and fell to their knees on Reward Challenge and Immunity Challenge battlefields, Russell was there to calmly guide them through the storm.

Even as we questioned Russell’s approach, he gained power. He managed to vote off every single tribemate who challenged his authority or cast a shadow of doubt on his sincerity. He found three hidden immunity idols in a row, two without reading a single clue about where they were hidden. He successfully booted every enemy among his ranks and then, when the tribes merged, he methodically eliminated the dominating Galu tribe even though his tribe, Foa Foa, didn’t start with the numbers necessary to do so. Sometimes he told everyone who to vote off, other times he had members of his alliance do it for him. He wisely gave Shambo the impression that she was leading the charge, and when he had to shift the plan on her at Tribal Council, he justified it by telling her that the eliminated tribe member was gunning for her.

Yes, Russell’s scorched-earth policy has been effective indeed. But now we arrive at a crucial juncture in the game: There are just six tribe members left, all of whom are finally sensing that Russell could be a real threat to their chance at the million-dollar prize. What are Russell’s true allegiances? They wonder. Even Russell doesn’t seem sure about that one. Who can Russell trust? Russell says that Mick or Jaison might be after him — after all, if he were them, that’s what he would do.

But Mick and Jaison aren’t Russell. More on that in a minute.

First, let me just make it clear, in case it isn’t obvious already, that this has been a great season of “Survivor,” mostly because of Russell’s audacious and largely successful ascendancy. It’s rare that a leader on the show rules first by creating chaos behind the scenes, then by building alliances and making scattered confessions and allegiances, and finally by intimidation. Richard Hatch came the closest to this level of power wielding and fear mongering, and it almost backfired several times. Since then, players have generally banded together to get rid of anyone who seemed to be double-dealing.

So far this season, though, we haven’t seen much evidence of strong bonds forming between other players. Sometimes we’re kept in the dark about these bonds, but this year, somehow it seems likely that they don’t exist. In fact, everyone seems to recognize that Russell is double-dealing, but no one knows quite what to do about it.

Why? Because they’ve all enjoyed the luxury of being led by their noses since they landed on the beaches of Samoa. If someone else is doing most of your thinking and your dirty work for you, and miraculously you remain on the island day after day, why stir the pot? That’s like landing in paradise, then taking God to task for the inadequate flavor profile of the pineapples there.

And let’s remember, these players are weak. They’re hungry. They’re not sleeping well. Is this really the time to take a stand? Once it comes time to fight, will any of us recognize that the hour of destiny is upon us? Most of us, when pressed to face up to a big challenge, tend to order a pizza and cue up “South Park” instead.

And did I happen to mention that Russell is surrounded by a particularly passive group of individuals? Somehow, even as they all acknowledge that Russell is in control, they seem unable to make a move against him. Yes, they’re worried that he’ll play his idol and then come after whoever led the charge (a reasonable fear). But they’re also slightly defeated and unnerved by his strategic and interpersonal power. Jaison has demonstrated an amusing propensity for casting situations in defeatist terms. Mick has shown a real knack for shrugging and gritting his teeth in the face of impending disaster. Even Natalie, who led a successful charge against Eric the bartender (at Russell’s behest?), seems a little uncertain over what to do next — probably because Russell has promised her the No. 2 spot on and off for weeks.

“Who does Russell really plan to take to the final?” they all keep asking Russell and each other, as if their fate already lies in his hands. Somehow it seems clear that Jaison and Mick won’t launch an offensive against Russell until it’s too late. After all, when it comes down to four or three, things can get very, very arbitrary. Someone wins immunity, and Russell uses his charm to win that person over. Goodbye, odd man (or woman) out.

In truth, Russell probably aims to bring Shambo and Natalie. No one likes Shambo, and Natalie probably appears too inconsequential to win the money (although she’s arguably played the game the best of anyone except for Russell). We know Brett has to be eliminated soon, mostly because he’s spoken on camera maybe once since the start of the show. Even when a player seizes power out of nowhere, the show’s editors are careful to introduce that person early in the show so we know him or her once he or she starts to make a grab for power. In fact, we probably should’ve suspected that Foa Foa would be the last tribe standing, since we spent more air time with them from the start than we did with Galu. Then again, Galu seemed to spend most of their time before the merge doing yoga. (See? They were crying out for a strong leader from the start!)

Will Russell prevail? Personally, I’d love to see him emerge victorious. Unfortunately, though, strategic as the first 35 days of “Survivor” are, the last four days always feel about as arbitrary as drawing straws. Sure, the final challenges are usually some combination of obstacle courses, balancing acts, and puzzles. But somehow, the winners are never easy to predict. And then, who do the winners take to the end? For all of his manipulations and tenuous bonds, Russell hasn’t exactly been dominant in the challenges. Making it this far is a real accomplishment. But to win it all after dominating this long? That practically requires divine intervention.

No matter how it turns out, though, I guarantee you that Russell won’t be braying about how easy it is to win this game anymore.

Or if he does, he’ll be lying through his teeth. As we’ve seen, he’s pretty good at that.

Let’s face it: It’s tough to let go of the past completely, or we wouldn’t collect a colorful assortment of Facebook frenemies or Google the ex-girlfriends of long-lost ex-boyfriends to see how their boob jobs have weathered the storm of the childbearing years.

If Michael Jordan, the best basketball player in the history of the game and also one of the hottest men on the planet, can still relive the rage of being left off the Sports Illustrated cover more than two decades ago, how can mere mortals like you and me be expected to forgive and forget?

Revenge may be pathetic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not sweet. And these days, it comes with a big, fat paycheck attached.

The Russell Index
The vengeful avengers of the world found their natural leader last week when “Survivor: Samoa” premiered and one of the players, Russell, announced his intention to make everyone in the game, including his teammates, miserable.

Naturally, longtime fans of “Survivor” (8 p.m. Thursdays on CBS) assumed that Russell was making the usual big claims to utter ruthlessness, just like the countless other players over the years who sounded just like Ming the Merciless until it came time to making kissy-face with some cuddly fellow player. Even Johnny Fairplay, who lied and said his grandmother died to win sympathy from his fellow contestants, wasn’t openly unkind to anyone else in the game. Hell, even card-carrying sociopath Richard Hatch, who lamented repeatedly that he despised his opponents, walked around naked despite groans of protest, and eventually did hard time for tax fraud, never really rocked the “Survivor” boat all that vigorously.

Surely, Russell was just another poser to the sociopathic crown.

Next thing you know, though, Russell is secretly emptying the water out of all his teammates’ canteens while they’re sleeping, even stealing one teammate’s sock and setting it on fire. Then he runs around forming “exclusive” alliances with three women on his team at once. “My strategy is to be able to have a secret alliance with each one of these dumb girls,” he explains. “I got an alliance with the dumb short-haired blonde, the even-dumber long-haired blonde, and the dark-haired girl. I like to call it my Dumbass Girl Alliance.”

Next, Russell tells his teammates that he lived in New Orleans when Katrina hit. “I grabbed my axe, because as a fireman, one thing you learn is, when you go in something, you have to be able to get out.” Then he gets to the sad part: He lost his German shepherd, Rocky, to the flood. His teammates gasp! How terrible.

“I never lived in New Orleans, I’m not a fireman, I’ve never even had a German shepherd,” Russell tells the camera afterward. “I’m really a multimillionaire. I own an oil company in Houston. I’m not here for the money. I’m only here to show people how easy it is to win this game.”

Yes, “Survivor” fans, this is the bona fide vengeful dickhead that we’ve been waiting for all these years. Because we all want to know: Can you be a complete asshole and still win at the game of “Survivor”? Russell seems to think so. “I plan on making it as miserable as possible for everybody. I figure that if I can control how they feel, I can control how they think.”

But the question remains: Who is Russell trying to avenge with these random acts of assholitude? Is he angry at the entire universe? And why is he telling everyone about everything he does?

Although Russell is mean and claims to be rich, it remains to be seen how smart he is. Not surprisingly, within the first few days of the game, he’s already made an enemy in Betsey, a cop who quickly surmises that he isn’t trustworthy. He also raises a lot of hackles by pulling too many different players aside to talk to them in private. In this game, such a notable lack of discretion might end up being a big problem.

On the other hand, in the second week of the game, Russell finds the immunity idol without any clues – he just looks inside a hollow tree near camp. He pretends to cooperate with teammate Ben, whose nasty, blatantly racist remarks about a fellow player make him a natural rival to Russell’s sociopathic crown. But Russell chuckles behind the scenes about how Ben is losing favor with the team.

Russell will probably go reasonably far, but he doesn’t seem likely to bring home the million-dollar prize to add to his huge stack of cash. But in the game of life? Russell is guaranteed to win big, because never before at any time in history has it been more lucrative to be a vengeful.

Wake up, little Suze!
Just look at Suze Orman, who takes revenge on money itself every single Saturday morning on CNBC by making us all her captive slaves, doomed to spend the balance of our days socking money into a retirement account, never, ever spending so much as a few dollars on something frivolous or pointless without quickly calculating the hundreds of retirement dollars we’re losing when we do.

Now personally, I love Suze Orman. I don’t know what money ever did to her to make her so mad, and I don’t even care. Sure, she slept in her car for a while and probably pawned her mother’s one pair of dentures and dolled out sexual favors for spare change. Who didn’t? All I know is that Suze Orman is disgusted with the rampant wasting of money and crappy financial planning that goes on out there, and when you watch her, you’ll be disgusted, too — with yourself!

Mmm, sweet self-loathing, nectar of the gods!

Now, I don’t expect all of you to savor the warm, chewy goodness of self-hatred quite as much as I do. All I know is that, even during these troubled times, in this economy, when we can all become instantly depressed after a simple trip to the grocery store, there’s nothing better at the end of the day than opening up an icy cold Peroni (that’s imported Italian beer I can’t afford), taking a sweet sip, firing up “The Suze Orman Show” on my TiVo and listening to Suze berate ordinary human beings with even less financial sense than you and me. It boggles the mind, but they’re out there, ready to purge us of our guilt over our own crappy decisions and nonexistent eight-month emergency funds.

My recent favorite was the guy who wanted to blow his life savings just to upgrade his fiancée’s engagement ring to a tacky three-carat monster. Suze tells him he’s an idiot, flat-out, all the while calling him “boyfriend.”

But speaking of boyfriend, Suze’s favorite type of caller is Monica, the hapless woman who cosigned her ex-boyfriend’s car loan and now pays $950 a month to finance his BMW, which is now in her possession.

“Nine hundred and fifty dollars a month. What kind of a BMW did he buy, an $80,000 or $90,000 car?!” Suze asks, incredulously. “All right, before I tell you how to solve this or whatever, what were you thinkin’?! You wanted to have a boyfriend and possibly a husband who wanted to drive a fancy shmancy car, and he needed his girlfriend to cosign for him?”

I love it when even Suze’s mind is blown at how one casual, careless decision can lead to total financial ruin. Thanks to the fact that, if the car is repossessed, Monica will end up owing $40k with no car to show for it, Suze advises her to file for bankruptcy.

Suze’s right, money can be a ruthless bastard. But she’s not about to let money off the hook for what it did to her. She’s going to spend every second of her free time grinding money’s face into the rug until it cries “Uncle!” Isn’t it unfair how some people’s secret demons make them rich, instead of just making them fat and twitchy like the rest of us?

“Oh, I get it,” said my 13-year-old stepson during a recent broadcast, when Suze got to the part about not funding your kids’ college funds and not even paying for their guitar lessons unless you’re already maxing out your retirement contributions. “Suze Orman thinks it’s stupid to give your kids money, at all! Don’t teach your kid to play guitar. Save it all for yourself!”

“No, honey, she’s saying that unless you want your decrepit, smelly, incontinent daddy to move into your den and hog your PlayStation for the rest of your life, unless you want to wipe his chin and empty his bedpan every few hours, he’d better get smart and start socking away retirement money immediately.”

Ahh! It feels so good to talk tough about money, even when it makes everyone hate your guts.

Going back to Cali
Speaking of everyone hating your guts, finally we come to David Duchovny’s Hank Moody, the loathsome Lothario at the center of Showtime’s mediocre, unfunny half-hour dramedy “Californication” (premieres 9 p.m. Sunday). Hank Moody isn’t vengeful so much as just horny and pathetic. So why does his patheticness feel like such an act of vengeance on humanity?

Maybe because it’s supposed to be sort of amusing and clever the way Hank wanders around getting drunk, flatly insulting people and sleeping with their girlfriends. But why would he do that if he weren’t seeking revenge? It’s unclear.

And why, if he’s really a writer, does everything out of his mouth sound so unoriginal and clichéd? Why is he so repetitive in his aggressive streaks? Why is he so boring, for a sociopath?

He flicks his cigarette at a bicyclist who’s hogging the road, only to find out he’s the professor father of his daughter’s friend. Get it? He’s a rebel, an outlaw, the kind of devil-may-care stud who hates tree-hugging professorial types!

“Hey ladies, no Mary Jane.” He tells his daughter and her friend in front of the friend’s parents, “I’m like a drug-sniffing dog with a hard-on for justice.” John Phillips aside, what father uses the word “hard-on” when addressing his daughter? Villains can be so entertaining – Al Swearengen of “Deadwood” is the first and best example that springs to mind. But thanks to the tone-deaf writing here, Hank Moody is not only far less interesting than your average drunken, over-the-hill frat boy, but he’s also far more repugnant.

“I just flexed my cock muscle,” Hank tells one lover. “That’s pretty cool, huh?”

Maybe this is Showtime’s way of avenging its loyal audience, the fans who tune in for “Weeds” and “United States of Tara” and “Nurse Jackie” despite the fact that their flaws seem to multiply, week by week, like drug-resistant bacteria.

Or maybe the shallow, wilted, lowest-common-denominator lameness of “Californication” is meant to make those other shows appear witty and clever by comparison (and it most certainly does).

Who can tell? Because revenge, like a fine wine, is complicated. It’s also sweet – even a little too fruity for most palates – with a strong finish of regret and self-loathing. So while the vengeful avengers of the world gain fame and fortune from their vengeance, let us all savor the honor and dignity and extreme poverty that come from keeping our fat mouths shut.