Episode Report Card Mr. Sobell: C+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Mama's Family
By Mr. Sobell | Season 4 | Episode 17 | Aired on 04.17.2009
That Little Havana locale for the other key turns out to be at a fairly downscale church -- The Cornerstone Church, to be exact, whose billboard declares it to be a "ministry of love... all are welcome." T-Bag is not particularly impressed: "This is not the place. I could pick that lock with my stump." Don Self reminds him of the tale of Harry Winston and how he donated the Hope Diamond to the Smithsonian Institute by way of registered mail. "It's the safest way to go," Don Self says. "After all, who would be looking for the Hope Diamond at the post office, right?" Guess that explains why I still get letters addressed to the lady who lives three houses down -- the mail carriers are too busy looking out for the Hope Diamond. It is determined that someone should investigate the innards of the Cornerstone Church further and that the someone in question should not be Don Self: "You walk in there, reeking that cop stink, you won't last a second," T-Bag observes. Don Self agrees -- guess that makes T-Bag it.
T-Bag heads into the church storefront, and I am disappointed to see that it is not filled to the rafters with gamblers and mission dolls singing Frank Loesser-penned songs about the joys of crap-shooting. There is, however, a door toward the back with a formidable lock on it. Unfortunately for T-Bag, there's also a fairly large, generically Latino gentleman inquiring as to just what the heck he's doing there. T-Bag introduces himself as a professor of anthropology from a local university -- yes, that's a much more believable cover than anything Don Self could have come up with -- and he was hoping to do some looking around as part of his studies into various "Caribbean religions." (Like the Church of the Sacred Limbo Stick or Our Lady of the Conch Fritter? C'mon, T-Bag... try harder.) Anyhow, T-Bag figures he could start by poking around where the church conducts its services... maybe by that door with the funky, high-tech lock. "That is our sanctuary," the Cuban Mandy Patinkin tells him. "Only the pure of soul may venture inside." Well, so much for that "all are welcome" jazz on the billboard, eh, Rev. Peligro? Cuban Mandy Patinkin asks to see T-Bag's hands; T-Bag complies by handing over the functional one. "Your soul is black, stained with the blood of the innocent," the reverend says. Well, he's a good judge of character -- you have to give him that. T-Bag feigns offense at these scurrilous accusations; the appearance of a pair of even larger generically Latino gentlemen persuades T-Bag to take his indignation outside.