Episode Report Card Deborah: C- | 1 USERS: D+ YOU GRADE IT Revenge Is Sour
By Deborah | Season 1 | Episode 17 | Aired on 02.26.2004
There are so many things wrong with that scene I hardly know where to begin, but let's just start flinging them out: 1) Why are they making Joan more and more of a moron? She's sixteen years old, for God's sake. Even if she's never once done laundry, I'd expect more common sense than this. Just watching television, especially detergent commercials, should give most people a passing clue. 2) Luke being such an idiot, especially with something mechanical, is even less credible. 3) There was no water in the machine -- we never heard it being filled, and if it already had water in it, would Joan have put her leg in there? 4) Without water, the bubbles are completely ludicrous. 4a) Even if there were water in there and pounds of detergent, it takes more than ten seconds to generate mounds of fluffy lather. 5) The typical approach your modern washing machine takes is to fill the tub with water, not to start agitating instantly. What on earth would be the point of agitating a dry tub? 6) It's a washing machine, not a Mixmaster, for God's sake. Luke should have just helped her right herself and extract her leg. 7) Many machines won't agitate or spin with the lid up; they'll fill, but not agitate/spin. These machines will also stop if you open the lid during those cycles. Granted, they may not have that sort of machine, but I'm trying to cover the bases here. Anyway. Those are just some of my problems with this scene. I think Michael and Amber did as well as they could with such weak, sitcom-y material, but it certainly wasn't the thing of wonder that was the rail-gun gone awry. The needle on the Credulity Strain-o-Meter is flailing around more than Joan is, people. Not good. Look, I'm willing to buy that God's talking to this girl in numerous human forms. Isn't that enough? Let's not bitch-smack plausibility at every turn.
Joan's at the hospital, looking unhappy. A doctor returns an ice pack to Helen, which must have been for Joan's foot, but which Helen puts to her own head. Luke's there, too. The doctor says it's just a sprain, and tells her to stay on crutches for a couple of days. Joan: "Crutches?" The doctor says, "Unless you prefer hobbling." Helen says they'll take the crutches. He goes off to get them. Joan: "Great. I'm Tiny Tim." Helen starts lecturing them about not touching her washing machine. Joan says she was just trying to help: "It's bad enough to be called a bad artist." Helen: "I'm not a bad artist." Joan: "I'm just saying." Helen: "Okay, Luke, what was your involvement?" Luke: "I hit a button. It was scientifically unsound." I'll say. Joan makes a little "hmph" sound. Helen: "I don't want you people in my laundry room!" Joan points to her foot: "Mom, too little, too late!" Helen: "No, I feel I've been clear on this issue." Joan suggests meeting them in the lobby. They leave. The doctor comes back with the crutches, asking, "You know how to use these?" I guess it's a fair question for someone who'd put her leg in the washing machine. Joan replies, "I know how to make electricity from sugar." And yet, you can't figure out laundry. The doctor replies, as he starts wrapping her foot with a tensor bandage, "No, you don't. You just memorized it for the test." Joan raises her eyebrow: "Why are you punishing me? I haven't even done anything yet!" Doctor God: "'Yet.'" Joan: "Oh, wow. So thoughts really do count." Doctor God: "Thoughts are things, Joan. And I don't punish people. You punish yourselves. You're so good at it I could almost retire." Heh. Joan: "Well...why don't you?" Doctor God says he likes his work: "You know, it might help to think of these things as distractions." Joan: "From what?" Doctor God: "Yourself, ways you've been wronged." Joan sighs, "Well, somebody has to take care of it." Doctor God: "Yes, perhaps someone who knows better than to stand in a washing machine." Joan laughs a fake laugh and says, "You know, the more I get to know you, the less I like you." He comments, "Oh, that is seriously screwed up." He tells her to take ibuprofen 3: "The directions on the bottle are wrong." Uh...and will you be informing us as to the correct directions? Apparently not. He advises her to learn to avoid unnecessary pain. He walks out as Joan sputters uselessly, finally coming up with: "You should really...learn how to...pick on a supreme being your own size."