Episode Report Card Demian: C+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Biting the hand that snatches food from their mouths
By Demian | Season 6 | Episode 21 | Aired on 05.08.2004
And look at that. While I've been thusly sidetracked, they've been busily unleashing a torrent of expository dialogue like the good little guest stars they are. The Upper-Level Type admiringly wonders where Johnny Demonic got the idea for a reality show in which demons hunt down and slaughter witches. Elaine modestly admits, "Well, we can't take all the credit. You'd think demons would have invented reality television, but somehow humans beat us to it." I think someone on the writing staff's still just a little bit miffed her quirky new drama got cancelled and replaced with reruns of The Swan. "Best idea we ever stole," Johnny Demonic adds, "and demons everywhere love to watch." Funny how they stayed away in droves from the only entries the WB managed to present in the genre, isn't it? "So, if you're ready to play," Johnny continues, "just draw your blood and sign on the dotted line." ULT's all, "Uh, blood? You motherfuckers crazy? Why?" And here's the catch: Should ULT -- indeed, any of the demons -- lose, his powers will "revert" to Johnny and Elaine. ULT sneers at their "racket" and makes to leave. Johnny and Elaine trail after him with promises of fame and fortune, but ULT's not having it and squiggles out. Elaine gesticulates wildly in frustration, pissing about how they must entice upper-level demons into the game in order to collect the powers they need. Johnny's all, "Chill. They'll play." Elaine wonders why he's so certain of that. "Because," he explains, "if human beings are foaming at the mouth to humiliate themselves on national television -- and they are -- then demons are an easy mark." Elaine, buying the argument, flirtatiously runs a couple of fingers across Johnny's chest as she coos, "Upper-level humans?" Johnny pulls her into a clinch as he purrs, "Donald Trump has his own show." That's just so wrong in so many ways, and I'm not even talking about The Apprentice itself, much as I hate it. No, I simply cannot decide which is worse: Johnny referring to Donald Trump as an upper-level human, or Johnny deploying The Donald's name during what clearly is meant to be a moment of teasing foreplay. Uck. Johnny counsels patience, as he's certain they'll soon have enough powers to rule the Underworld. He also refers to Elaine as "my love," and I thought demons were incapable of that emotion, but fuck it, because this show sucks, and besides, Snidely's chosen this moment to call out something unbearably smug, so Johnny conjures a Flaming Ball Of Death, and I start screaming, "Kill the pommy bastard! Kill him! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" until I hyperventilate and pass out.
When I come to, Snidely, invisible, is gently but firmly instructing Johnny to "disarm" so that Snidely might reveal himself. Johnny obeys, and Snidely materializes on a nearby armchair, casually slouched with his legs crossed. His pants leg is riding up, and I'm looking at far more pasty Snidely shin than I ever needed to see in my lifetime. Long story short, Snidely's there to broker a deal with Johnny Demonic and Elaine. Unfortunately, we cut over to All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me before we find out what said deal is. Shit. Phoebe crosses the main office to assault with her incessant nattering some never-before-seen and never-to-be-seen-again coworker played by Bodhi Elfman. Bodhi, the newspaper's crime reporter, cuts through her crap with a curt, "Are you flirting with me? 'Cause when a woman who looks like you flirts with me, that generally means she wants something." Bodhi's no fool. Phoebe, unfortunately, is, and concocts a dimwitted lie about devoting a month's worth of her advice columns to "protecting our children." Cram it, you hag. Phoebe, not listening to me, wonders how the police would investigate, say, the sudden disappearance of her dear, dead-eyed, psychotic nephew. "They'd make a flow chart," Bodhi automatically replies, trying to keep working while Phoebe nags away at him, oblivious to his looming deadline. She presses for details. He shoots her a stink-eye. "Should I go back to the flirting?" she wonders. Bodhi sighs and caves, because the script says he must, and indicates his desire for some coffee. Phoebe grins and goofs that she's buying, and turns just in time to spy -- through her office's open blinds -- Raige as she stupidly orbs into the room in plain sight of the other reporters. Fortunately, Contrivance was working overtime on this episode, and Phoebe's the only person who notices the ungodly racket and harsh glare of Raige's orb cloud. Phoebe hastily jiggles into the room, shutting the door and blinds behind her before berating Raige for risking exposure in such an idiotic manner. Raige ignores her slatternly half-sister to relate the sad and sordid tale of the latest dead witch, and urges the powerless Phoebe to return to the Manor where Raige and the others can keep an eye on her. Phoebe blithers something dumb about Raige being her "baby sister, not baby-sitter" and protests that she has far too much work to do. Besides, she can't drag Bodhi back to the Manor with her, and she needs to continue with her research. Raige rolls her eyes, passes the offensive potion vials to the Feebs, and orbs out with a warning to be careful. Phoebe hustles back over to Bodhi's desk to ask, "Where were we?" "You were flirting with me badly," he smirks, "and I was helping you find your bad guy."