So I found myself with a lot of extra time to read The Bible this week ["Behold, in the day of your fast ye find pleasure, and exact all your labours." -- Isaiah 58:3], which means I'm now just chock full of random, potentially interesting trivia tidbits for you. For example, did you know that the Israelite tribe of Benjamin betrayed their brothers and killed more than a hundred thousand men in a war over a wrongfully dismembered concubine? Or that Aaron had the biggest rod in all of Egypt? Okay, how about this one: The words "carnival," "cooch," "midget," "freak," "tattoo," "management," "migrant," "conjoined," "comatose," "telekinetic," "roustabout," "rube," and "accent grave" appear nowhere in the King James edition. Curiously enough, the words "wolf," "lake," "deep," "space," and "nine" all make multiple appearances. The Lord doth work in highly mysterious ways. It'll also be important later to know that God spent an awful lot of time telling Isaiah to kill people. And then he took a nice schvitz!
Reader Mail Bag
1. The Sopranos premieres March 7th. Now stop asking.
2. Heh. It's even funnier because "hi-dee-ho" makes me think of Ned Flanders.
3. Best spam subject line of the week? "lol…ur penissss R weird."
4. "Quakers"?
Morning in Carnieland. After a wide shot of their tents nestled against the base of a CGI mountain, we cut to a close-up of Ben, trying his best to fix a truck engine. Hmm. Do his powers of healing now extend to the mechanical? Because I'm betting his buddy the cybernetic governor would have found that very useful. Behind him, the twins are doing either tai-chi or a bizarre interpretive dance that involves handsprings, back-bends, and softly stroking each other's neck. It's actually quite impressive, and I can see why these two were so popular with Cirque du Soleil. And also with pedophiles.
In Lodz's trailer, meanwhile, everyone's favorite blind Frenchman is enjoying his morning absinthe. Ahh, nothing like the wake and bake. I remember college. Or, more accurately, I don't remember college. The glass itself is jostled by a minor tremor which sends ripples through the liquid, and Lodz smiles an evil little grin as he reaches out to steady it. Does this mean the T-Rex is coming?
Probably not, as the shot is of Mommatose in her trailer. Did she cause the tremor? Because we've never seen her powers extend that far (assuming you don't count her nocturnal visit to Ben), but no one else in Carnieland seems to have noticed, so I guess it's a possibility. At any rate, she and Sofie are engaged in one of their usual one-sided conversations, and I will now bow to popular demand and reinstate the "convorsations" by transcribing it in full:
Sofie: You got your bath. I washed your clothes and cleaned your bedpan.
Mommatose: Yeah, uh…sorry it was so nasty. But that's what you get for feeding me creamed corn last night. I don't even want to think about the color scheme on that one.
Sofie: Its not ugly. You say that every time.
Mommatose: Well, it's sweet of you to lie to me, but I'm more than a little worried that you're getting so emotionally attached to my excrement. Don't you think that's weird?
Sofie: It's not pathetic. And it's not a lie, either. I'm just having a little fun, that's all. I never let it go too far. It doesn’t hurt anybody, least of all me.
Mommatose: Yeah, well that's just because you don't have to lie here and smell it all day. It like God's been eating burritos in here. What are the customers going to think?
Sofie: I'll be back before we open.
[The trailer door slams shut]
Sofie: Mother, open the door.
Mommatose: Not until you take a big whiff. Oh and also, before you go, what's the name of that one U2 song I really like? It's "Mothers of the Disappeared," right?
Sofie: What are you talking about? It's "A Beautiful Day."
[Sofie exits.]
Our morning trailer whip-around continues, as we now visit Samson, primping and preening in front of a tiny, circular mirror. After straightening his tie and slapping on enough aftershave to drown out even the smelliest of bedpans, he declares himself to be a "handsome devil," and then steps out for the day. Incidentally, you can tell Samson is a really big opera fan because he totally forgets to turn off his record player when he leaves. Or maybe that's just because the director wanted a nice musical cue to hit as we slowly zoom on in the mirror and see Management's curtains rustling in the back of the trailer. Musical cue or not, that was definitely a nicely-timed edit.
Having finished healing the truck (I wonder if that's how the Edsel died out?), Ben now decides to grab some breakfast. He sits down at a table, which prompts the table's only other occupant, Random Roustie #74, to get up and stomp away in a huff. But I thought Ben was their hero for procuring fresh eggs? That doesn't make any sense. And someone should really tell Random Roustie #74 that mutton-chop sideburns are so 1928.
Oh, now I get it. It's freaks vs. rousties week. You can tell because the scene features all of the freaks gathered together at one table, plotzing about the heat and telling "hilarious" show-biz jokes. Lila continues to ease into her role of Official Bearded Shit-Disturber by pointing out that they're currently camped on the road to Babylon. "I heard they strung up three rousties in Babylon," offers Not Meatloaf's Daughter. "Just to watch 'em dangle." Oy. Is Babylon anywhere near Reno? Pa Pimperson insists that Babylon is just a story carnie parents tell their kids to get them to brush their tails before going to bed ["A prophecy of Babylon which Isaiah son of Amoz saw" -- Isaiah 13:1], but Meatloaf's Daughter insists that it was freaks and not rousties, and that there were four and not three. "Three pinheads and an albino named Freddie Neff," confirms Lila. Gordon Gayko shudders when he hears this, and then adds, "Ugh. I hate albinos." Heh. Good one, Liz Scalor. "Maybe Samson can talk some sense into the boss," he continues. "Or maybe Jonesy." "Jonesy?" replies Lila. "Hell, that boy don't squat unless Samson says shit."
"Shit," shouts Shamson, as he leads Jonesy along the midway. Hmm. Is Management Joss Whedon, by any chance? Jonesy has apparently explained that there's some "belly-aching" going on in the roustie ranks, but Samson doesn't care. I guess Jonesy doesn't either, because he seems to have ceded his foreman's job to The Exposition Fairy, who reports that things have been "hinky" since they left the circuit, and now some of the rousties are talking about quitting. He also explains that they're set up in the middle of nowhere, and nobody seems to understand why. "It ain't my call," protests Samson, and Exposition Jones begs him to talk to Management about the situation. When Samson claims that won't help, Jonesy asks if maybe he could be the one to chat up the boss. Don't blink while he says it, though, because there are suddenly like nine hundred rousties gathered around to watch, when three nanoseconds ago there were none. "That's not going to happen," declares Samson, as he climbs into a waiting car. Then he hands over his key ring and orders Jonesy to have everything ready by the time he gets back. So in case you didn't notice, Jonesy never talks to Management, and Samson is in a big hurry. Also, Jonesy never talks to Management, and Samson is in a big hurry.
Back in his trailer, Lodz has now moved on to snorting absinthe straight out of the bottle. I guess that's the Depression-era version of scraping your bong for resin. Okay, not really. What he's actually doing is wrapping up all his glass bottles and storing them in a cabinet. Now, see? That's a very cool and very subtle way of showing (and not telling) that he knows a storm is coming. Which is why you shouldn't ever forget that Jonesy never talks to Management. Ben enters, and reveals that Lodz asked to see him. "I have something to show you," intones Lodz. "And then you'll show me something, right? Quid pro quo, Clarice." Ben looks a bit leery about this proposition, which may or may not have something to do with the fact that Lodz just called him "Clarice." But then Blindy Boy adds that it's something to do with Scudder, and Ben turns back around and starts drooling like an eager little puppy. "It's not in my possession," adds Lodz. "You'll have to drive us there." Ben agrees, but with one caveat: "You best not be pulling some kind of monkeyshine." "I can assure you there will be no shining of monkeys," confirms Lodz. "Although I can't promise that we won't have to polish a panda or two along the way. They're very dirty creatures, you know." They depart the trailer together, and we linger for an extended moment over a shot of Lodz locking his door. Locks are something of a motif in this episode, although it never really seems to go anywhere. I'm also not really sure what happened on this particular day, but for some reason this entire scene looks like it was shot on The Soundstage That Time (And Also The Lighting Crew) Forgot. I wonder if the boys from Oz managed to break every single quality light bulb on the HBO lot before they left.
Out in California, Brother Justin is putting the finishing touches on his new church while the St. Chin's Red Shirt Children's Choir warbles away in the background. For the record, I mean "red shirt" in the Star Trek sense, and not the NCAA sense. So don't get too attached to Little Orphan Yanni and her musical compatriots back there, because they'll be gone as soon as their heart-string-pulling purposes are complete. This charming tableaux is interrupted when Father Walton arrives, and Justin joyfully offers to give him the grand tour. It's worth noting for foreshadowing purposes that Clancy is most interested in showing him the children's dormitories. Remember that when he goes off on his little rant later. Father Walton, however, explains that he's not there on a social visit, and instead produces a letter signed by the board and seventy-two members of Clancy's other church, who want him to give up St. Chin's and go back to his day job. "Either you turn over this chapel to someone else and return to your duties at First Methodist," explains Father Walton, "or you'll be disciplined and reassigned." Given that this guy raised Clancy and Iris, and Clancy is obsessed with saving abused children, I would have to imagine that Father Walton's idea of "discipline" is highly unpleasant indeed. And I'm talking clothespins-on-the-testicles unpleasant here, might I add. "You don't understand," protests Clancy. "God told me to do this. He spoke to me." "As he speaks to all of us," answers Father Walton. Heh. "No," insists Clancy. "As he spoke to Abraham and Isaiah and Moses." At first I was confused as to why Isaiah made that list ahead of such notable divine conversational partners as Noah, Adam, and Jesus, but then I remembered that God spent a lot of time telling Isaiah to kill people ["Their children shall be dashed to pieces before their eyes; their houses shall be spoiled" -- Isaiah 13:16]. Father Walton reacts to the news that his protégé has been chatting up The Heavenly Father with a cocked eyebrow and a thinly-disguised urge to call the local loony bin, and Brother Justin is forced to walk away looking thoroughly chastened.
Hickville, USA. Sofie is in the bathroom of the GSDJ (Gas Station Du Jour), trying on a fancy white dress and jaunty floral hat in front of a mirror that some poor set designer had to spend three hours painstakingly covering with soap just so it could have that one clichéd only-in-the-movies clear spot right in the middle. Yet another aria plays on the soundtrack as she checks her reflection and practices saying the line "Has it been that long?" over and over again. Don't laugh too hard. That's a surprisingly effective pick-up line.
The operatic score continues as we cut to Samson, knocking on the door of a house somewhere on the outskirts of town. A woman answers, and perfectly executes the whole "looking too high to see the midget" double-take we were all expecting from the moment he started knocking. It was still pretty funny, though. When she finally does cast her eyes downward, she recognizes him immediately, and declares his presence to be "a wonderful surprise." He hands her a bouquet of flowers that he picked out of ditch on the side of the road and wrapped in a three-day-old newspaper, and then receives a kiss on the cheek for his troubles. The lady invites him inside, and then looks around real quick to make sure no one is watching as she closes the door behind him.
Back in town, Sofie is chilling in the passenger seat of her car as she watches the townies cruise by on a heavily crowded street. Huh? I thought they were in the "middle of nowhere," according to Jonesy. Meanwhile, this town is ten times the size of Tipton, and that was supposedly the most profitable show they'd ever had. You know what? Just don't ask. Suddenly, Sofie spots a young man who's just a hair too dorky-looking to be actually attractive. She catches his eye, and then the music swells, and they stare longingly at each other across the busy street ["Therefore shall all hands be faint, and every man's heart shall melt." -- Isaiah 13:7]. Dork Boy finally turns away and heads inside a restaurant, where he almost has to duck down a bit to fit his incredibly-coiffed pompadour through the doorway. Hee!
After a quick shot of Ben driving Lodz along a windy mountain road, we return to the restaurant just in time to see Pompadour Paul serving up the lunch special to a couple of patrons at the counter. He stares out the window at Sofie for a moment, and after pausing just long enough to let the still-playing aria reach its final crescendo, he heads outside to knock on her car window. She pretends to be startled, and he reveals that his name is Harlan Staub, and that he owns the aforementioned restaurant. "Pleasure to meet you, Harlan," replies Sofie. "My name is Betty. Betty Jones." Oy. "Betty Jones"? Considering how rich Sofie's fantasy life turns out to be in this episode, I'm kind of surprised she didn't go with something more along the lines of Esmerelda St. John-Smythe. Anyway, Harlan gets all smarmy and hits on her, and Sof…"Betty" pretends that she's waiting for her "brother" Ben, who just ran off to run some errands. When Harlan points out that she's been sitting there for an hour and a half, she tosses out the "Has it been that long?" line with practiced aplomb. Too bad she didn't save that one for later, though, because it would have been the perfect snappy comeback to his crappy lovemaking skills. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.
For now, all you need to know is that Betty has "reluctantly" accepted an invitation to join Harlan in his café. He gives her some free iced tea, and she spins a yarn about being a poor, lonely widow. You know, I've watched this scene three times now, and I still can't tell who comes off sleazier.
And speaking of sleazy, here's Lodz, preaching patience to young Ben and announcing that they've been presented with a "unique opportunity." When he refuses to elaborate any further, however, Ben decides to pull a Sof...er, "Betty," and demand that Lodz get out of the car. "I'm calling you," he yells. "You put up right now or I'm turning back." "I'm afraid it's much too late for that," replies Lodz. He gestures towards the horizon, and Ben fearfully reacts to whatever it is we can't see yet by swearing and rolling up the truck's windows.
Cut to a naked woman lying in bed. Ben is afraid of boobies? Wow. Who knew? Although actually, that's not really much of a surprise. Nor is it really what he was afraid of, because the boobies belong to the woman Samson is visiting, and Samson himself is getting dressed by the bed and whistling a happy tune. "Heigh ho, heigh ho, it's off to the ho I go," he sings, as he lays some money on the table. "I should be paying you," she sighs, in a parody of every conversation every hooker has ever had with a john. "You're probably right," answers Samson (heh), "but I wouldn't have it any other way." This perversely charming tableaux is interrupted by a shout from outside the window, where Samson's driver has just noticed whatever it was that scared Ben. I don't think it's spoiling anything to reveal that the wind has picked up quite a bit at this point, as Samson stands between the billowing curtains and exclaims, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Now, I know I'm Jewish and everything, but given the circumstances, wouldn't "Jesus, Mary Magdalene, and Guido the Killer Pimp!" have been a more appropriate exclamation?
Carnieland. Jonesy and Random Roustie #6.02 x 1023 are actually doing that thing where they both take turns hammering a pole into the ground with sledgehammers. The Minor-Key Piano-Tinkling Of Impending Doom warns Jonesy of impending doom, and he looks up to see the same thing that's freaked everyone else out. "Tell the others to pack it up," he orders, and we finally cut away to see a massive dust storm roaring towards them across the plains. ["Behold, the day of the LORD cometh, cruel both with wrath and fierce anger, to lay the land desolate… For the stars of heaven and the constellations thereof shall not give their light: the sun shall be darkened in his going forth." -- Isaiah 13:9-10] The CGI is actually very impressive, and to my eternal relief, Paul, Stilgar, and Shai-Hulud are nowhere to be seen. Avogadro's Roustie panics and shouts that they need to move to shelter, but Jonesy insists that they'll ride out the storm right where they are.
And speaking of Jonesy, cut to Sof…er, "Betty," who's speaking of Jonesy. "Clayton Jones," she says. "Used to be a star boxman for the Sox. Real fireballer." Happily, Harlan has heard of him, and his "Horse-Hide Houdini" nick-name, so he's all the more impressed that Betty was actually "married" to the guy. They're alone in the diner by this point, by the way, and seated across from one another at the counter. "Betty" goes on to explain that Jonesy got injured, and had to quit playing baseball. Well, that much is true, at least. Assuming the HBO website can be believed. "After that…he changed," she continues. "He got real sad, real quiet." And then one day she came home and discovered that he shot himself in the living room. If by "shot himself in the living room" you actually mean "tried to use a childhood game of catch as an awkward flirtation method," that is. She does a passable job of fake crying, and as the storm slowly darkens the interior of the diner, Harlan reaches out to hold her hand. This charming trollops-and-townies tableaux is interrupted when they both finally look up and notice the hurricane-strength winds that are blowing outside. Sofie shouts, "Mama!" and bolts for the exit, and the best part of that shot is totally the real-live, actual tumbleweed that blows down the street while she's running for the door. Hee! She only makes it about two steps outside, however, before Harlan grabs her and pulls her back out of the billowing dust.
Ben and Lodz, meanwhile, are still trapped in their truck, which is almost totally obscured by the wall of dust. "In my experience," pontificates Blindy Boy, "darkness often yields the brightest light." "That's swell," replies Ben, with just the right sarcastic tone. Heh. Then he goes to sleep. No, really.
A very cool shot shows the storm enveloping the Carnieland tents, and then we see Pa Pimperson and Meatloaf's Daughter dashing through the dust to Mommatose's trailer. They climb inside, hacking and coughing, and Pa takes a moment to close a window which has been open all this time. Seeing as how we've already been shown this week that Mommatose can control these things, I'd definitely have to agree with our forum posters who believe that she left it open on purpose to guilt-trip her daughter. Or maybe she just left it open on purpose so that the director could throw in a truly disgusting shot of Meatloaf's Daughter propping Mommatose up and whacking her on the back as she barfs up some congealed dust. Ew. On the other hand, Mommatose obviously isn't a smoker. I can hork up worse stuff than that when it's not even allergy season. Flick…ahh.
Ben is so happy to be actually sleeping IN a truck as opposed to under one that he snoozes right through the sound od Lodz opening his door and climbing out. Ben does, however, wake up just in time to see the guy disappearing into the haze. After putting a rag over his mouth to block out the dust, Ben exits the truck and tries to follow. The storm makes that exceedingly difficult, but he does eventually manage to stagger past the carcass of a dead lamb ["But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there…" -- Isaiah 13:21] and into a nearby abandoned house, where he finds Lodz already building a fire in the fireplace ["…and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures." -- Isaiah 13:21]. It's worth noting that the house in question totally wasn't there in any of the long shots, which does lend at least some credence to the idea that this entire sequence is nothing but a dream Ben had while sleeping in the truck.
Back in the diner, Sofie has apparently forgotten all about her mother, and is coquettishly asking Harlan if he's married. He says he's not, even though his restaurant just so happens to be named "Sally's Café." He claims that Sally is his mother, and Sofie gives him a "Yeah, right" sort of look that vanishes into blackness when the lights go out.
Cut to The Whore Of The Truck Stop On The Dirt Road To That One Town Near Babylon, lighting a candle in her living room. She then sits down in a chair, and we see that Samson and his driver are also in the room with her, everyone sitting silently and totally feeling the awkwardness. Heh. I hate my boss just as much as the guy, but at least I've never been forced to spend the night with him and his prostitute. What exactly do you say in those situations, anyway? Is there, like, an Emily Post book on that or something? If there is, the driver obviously hasn't read it, because he eventually turns to The Whore Of The Truck Stop On The Dirt Road To That One Town Near Babylon and blurts out, "I've got two bucks." Bwa! The humor is totally in the timing, and in Samson's disgustedly disbelieving cry of "Two bucks?" But it turns out the joke's on him, because The Whore Of The Truck Stop On The Dirt Road To That One Town Near Babylon (which will heretofore be abbreviated as "Delilah") is actually bored enough to accept the offer, and leads Osgood the driver upstairs. Osgood turns back to give his boss a hilarious grin, and Samson just sits there looking sad and angry. Aww. And I really feel for the poor guy. I mean, I can't even tell you how many times this exact same thing has happened to me.
In the conveniently abandoned house that actually is in the middle of nowhere, Lodz is posed in front of the fire like he's about to introduce an episode of Masterpiece Theatre. Heh. Ben, however, is all whiny about being dragged into the wilderness for no good reason. "I almost got dead out there," he complains. Yeah. You should probably just consider the [sic] to be implied on this show. "You were not in any real danger," replies Lodz. "I think we both know that." He then delivers some historically accurate exposition about "black blizzards" being caused by the "topsoil of ten thousand farms" blowing across the Great Plains. He reaches out to grab Ben's shoulder, leans in close, and somehow totally fails to whisper, "I can smell your cunt." Instead, he just taunts Ben about the dust having killed his mother, and Ben having survived it all without a scratch. This gets Ben more and more angry, and then Lodz points out the "ceaseless howling" of the wind ["Howl ye; for the day of the LORD is at hand; it shall come as a destruction from the Almighty." -- Isaiah 13:6], which causes Ben to cover his ears and recoil in pain. Lodz continues riling him up, calling the wind "the sound of [his mother's] death," until Ben finally gets so furious that he yells, "Stop it now!" at the top of lungs. "And let there be light," sayeth The Lord, as the wind suddenly ceases, and bright sunlight shines into the cabin. "Open the door," suggests Lodz, and Ben does exactly that. When he looks outside, the sky is blue (which may very well be the first time we've actually seen that color on this show), and everything is totally peaceful. "You did that," whispers Lodz. "No," answers Ben, and the storm instantly resumes, forcing him to slam the door shut. Okay, that was pretty cool.
"You did that, too," says Lodz, as the dust finally settles. Ben refuses to believe it, as he anvilizes that "only God can make the weather stop." ["In that day shall he swear, saying, I will not be a healer." -- Isaiah 3:7]. "You think you can hide what you are?" asks Lodz. "Even a blind man can see it. Don't be a fool. Let me help you." He then proceeds to "help" Ben by pulling a flaming poker out of the fire and pressing it against his cheek. Ben jumps back, shouting, "You burned me!" but his reaction is curiously muted considering the severity of the injury. "But you're not burned, are you?" inquires Lodz. And in fact, when Ben pulls his hand away, the injury is totally gone. I'm also thinking they blew their CGI wad on making the sky blue, because they passed up a perfect chance to actually show the wound vanishing here. Ben realizes that he really isn't hurt, and silently tries to come to terms with what that means as Lodz goes right on acting smarmy. ["I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible" -- Isaiah 13:11]
California. Apparently, having a time-traveling cyborg as governor is causing some serious ripples in the space-time continuum, because it seems that only a few moments have passed since the last time we were here. Clancy is seated alone in the pews, crying over the letter Father Walton delivered. Iris finds him there, and he hands it over for her to read without saying a word. She's all, "We should trust in Pa Walton," but Clancy isn't having it. He is, however, having a lengthy monologue: "Did you know that there is a boy here whose mother abandoned him in the restroom of a five-and-dime?" he asks. Hey, just be glad it wasn't the restroom at Sears."Or that Polly Ann's father sold her to some men for one dollar?" Heh. And I bet he's pretty pissed off, too, now that he knows the going rate is at least two bucks. "No, of course not," continues Clancy. "Who wants to dwell on things like that? We never consider the little ones. We only put on our clothes. Who can see the children, feeding the endless, ravenous hunger of the textile mill. Mechanical mouths that aren't choosy." Um, I don't know. Maybe Kathie Lee Gifford? "Why think of the boys in the mine…old men by nine, black lung by twelve. Coal is heavy and hard. Hands are soft, and fragile. Crushed. Feet crushed. Skulls crushed." Yeah. We've officially crossed the border into Creepyville, folks. Be sure to declare any fruits or organic produce you may be carrying. The lights around Clancy and Iris begin to dim as he gets worked up into a righteous lather. "Go for a walk, and you see them. Boys and girls selling themselves to men and women. A nickel buys a virgin." Wow. That Polly Ann must have been a real slut to go for a full dollar. "Some are kept in cages. Babies bought by men who raise them as livestock. Animals to abuse, soft flesh to violate, to tear and bite." Damn. Issues much, Brother Justin? Clancy clenches his eyes shut before rising to the big finish: "If anyone causes even one of the little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and be drowned in the depths of the seas. They must open their eyes! They must open their mouths and drown!" Dude, I'm down with the righteous indignation, but drowned by a "large millstone"? What the hell is that?
Carnieland. All the freaks are gathered in one trailer, although I have no idea whose. Jonesy comes in looking for Sofie, but no one has seen her. "When are we going to get to shelter?" asks Gordon. "When Management says so," replies Jonesy. "Just like always." Did you forget? Jonesy never talks to Management.
Samson, however, does. Or at least he does when he's not waiting for his prostitute girlfriend to finish banging the hired help. Delilah and Osgood finally come back downstairs, where Delilah discovers one her prized porcelain statues lying shattered on the floor. Samson sullenly blames it on the wind, but she totally doesn't believe him. Osgood, meanwhile, collapses into an easy chair and looks spent. Hee! Samson eyes him for a moment, and then turns to Delilah and asks how many tricks she turns in an average day. She's a little peeved by this, but when he claims he's just talking "businessman to businesswoman," she admits that it's between three and five. "And how long does it take to do each one?" he wonders. "Assuming it's straight-up fucking." Ooh. Samson said the F-word! Shocking! But not as shocking as the fact that I'm actually shocked by someone saying "fuck" anymore. I guess this makes Samson the anti-Krause. He's also a man after my own heart, because we're all about keeping the average talk time down at the call center where I work, so I totally respect his business acumen in trying to reduce Delilah's average fuck time. He goes on at length, suggesting that she could turn them out in twenty minutes or less, including the pillow talk. "Tell you what," he continues, enjoying the chance to humiliate her, "let's see how fast you can do Osgood here." Delilah is more than a little hurt by the way Samson has turned on her, and she can barely manage to whisper an unconvincing "no" in reply. "Sawbuck says you will," smarms Samson, as he holds up the cash. "I ain't ready," confesses Osgood. Hee, again! Delilah grows a little bit of a backbone and repeats her refusal, but then Samson ups the ante to ten bucks and she caves like a hooker with a heart of cubic zirconia. Osgood continues to protest that he's not up for another round, but Delilah draws him in for a big kiss, and then grabs his ass while she grins at Samson. "Tell you what," she drawls. "Keep your money. I like this boy." And with that, she leads him upstairs again. Ooh! Burn!
"I don't want it," mutters Ben, as he sits against the cabin wall. "You have no choice," answers Lodz. "It's a gift! I gave up my eyes for a fraction of what you possess. You must let me help you. Babylon will be upon us soon." Ben doesn't care about Babylon, but that's certainly not going to stop Lodz. "The very land the town stands on," he explains, "is poison. It swallows man. It will swallow you, too." Damn. That's a lot of foreshadowing for thirty seconds of screen time. How very un-Carnivàle of him. ["And the vision of all is become unto you as the words of a book that is sealed, which men deliver to one that is learned, saying, 'Read this, I pray thee.' And he saith, 'I cannot; for it is sealed.'" -- Isaiah 29:11] Lodz offers once again to teach Ben, and is once again rebuffed.
Not being rebuffed, however, is Harlan the Pompadour Boy. He's got Sofie on the floor of the diner, and he's humping away like a dog that's found its favorite leg. Yeah. It's even less romantic than it sounds. And I was totally going to complain about the fact that Sofie still has her shoes and socks on through all this, but then Harlan rolls off and we get a glimpse of the horrendously awful granny-panties she's wearing. It's also clear that he enjoyed the whole thing a lot more than she did, because he's grunting and praising God, and she's lying there looking ashamed of herself. ["Pangs and sorrows shall take hold of them; they shall be in pain as a woman that travaileth." -- Isaiah 13:8] They both eventually stand up and move to a nearby table, where they notice that things are starting to clear up a bit outside. He lights up a post-coital smoke (flick, ahh…), and now they both look a little guilty. "It's okay," Sofie tells him. "It was the storm." And then she does the walk of shame out of his life forever. As a humorous side note, I'll point out that she left the windows of the car open all night, but the interior has somehow remained magically dust-free.
Oh, and if you thought that "woman who travaileth" quote was a little labored, here's the one I didn't use: "Because the rod of him that smote thee is broken: for out of the serpent's root shall come forth a cockatrice, and his fruit shall be a fiery flying serpent" (Isaiah 14:29).
Delilah's. Samson heads out the door, but he turns back to hand her some cash. "For your statue," he explains, by way of an apology. "You gonna be out this way again?" she asks. "Expect so," he replies. "When you do," she tells him flatly, "don't come back here. Unless you want to bring farm boy again, that is." Samson tips his hat, and then does the walk of shame out of her life forever. Sigh. You know, I think I would have liked Delilah a lot better if she were a space hooker.
Carnieland. Meatloaf's Daughter is tending to Mommatose, as Pa Pimperson and Jonesy talk about how much worse things could have been. "I had no say in it," sighs Jonesy, as he turns away in frustration. "Ain't blaming you," offers Pa Pimperson. "It'd Management's call. Samson's the only one who can talk to him. Hell, everyone knows that." Yeah. BECAUSE YOU TOLD US SIX BILLION TIMES. Mommatose, by the way, has a hilarious expression on her face through the entire scene, but that may just be because they've got her head bent at a really uncomfortable angle. I mean, really. Who thought that would be helpful?
Cut to the car, with Osgood driving Samson back to the carnival. "That girl is a real wingdinger," he says. Samson is predictably pissed, and orders Osgood to shut the hell up for the rest of the trip. Hee! I love Osgood. Not as much as Lodz and Lila, but it's close. Although I do wonder what his love life is like when he's not driving the boss. ["And it shall be as the chased roe, and as a sheep that no man taketh up." -- Isaiah 13:14]
Before Samson can get back home, however, Jonesy decides to pay a little visit to his trailer. He knocks on the door, and asks if everything is okay in there. When Management fails to answer, he takes the keys Samson handed over earlier and lets himself in. Not the extended shot of the lock, by the way. Once inside, he explains that he's just there to check on Management, and make sure he survived the storm. He gets only silence in response, and eventually moves to leave. But then he gathers his courage, and steps back to the curtain. He pulls aside, and reveals…nothing. Just some dust on the floor. Dun dun DUN! He gets all pissed, like Samson's been pulling one over on him, but I have to believe that Jonesy has been with the carnival long enough to think that there might be something a little more supernatural at work here. I mean, he obviously doesn't think it's weird that Sofie talks to her comatose mother, and he must have seen Lodz do…whatever it is Lodz does at least once or twice. So why not have some faith in the little guy?
And it looks like Ben and Lodz will be the first team back from their travels this week. Lodz is still trying to con Ben into learning…whatever it is Lodz has to teach, but Ben just takes off without even saying goodbye. Lila shows up to help Lodz back to his trailer, and asks if he got what he wanted from the kid. "And more," he replies. "I knew he'd be a ripe suck," laughs Lila. She leaves the "I just wish I'd been the one doing the sucking" part unsaid. "There is much work to be done," announces Lodz, and that right there is what finally puts him over his foreshadowing limit for the week. We'll see no more of Blindy Boy until Sunday.
Mommatose's trailer. Sofie sits beside her mother, and has strangely still not bothered to clean the dust off her mouth. It's a little hard to make out, but I believe their conversation went something like this:
Sofie: I'm sorry.
Mommatose: Yeah, well you better be. While you were out trolling for townies, I was stuck here breathing topsoil and listening to the Pimperson Girls singing "Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad" all night. So did you at least get lucky? Was it paradise by the dashboard light?
Sofie: Yes, I did. But we'll talk about it later, okay?
Mommatose: Aw, come on! I want to hear all the juicy details! Was he good? Did he rock your world? Was he better than the boy from that Red Hill mining town? Did he at least remember to take off his wedding ring first?
Sofie: I didn't know he was married.
Mommatose: How could you not know? The café was named after his wife, for God's sake. Not that you probably cared, anyway. Hell, you probably just laid there like a fish thinking about how soon you get back here and empty my bedpan again.
Sofie: That's an ugly lie.
Mommatose: No, actually it really does need to be emptied. Could you get started on that, please? Thanks.
And…scene.
Last to hit the mat this week is Samson, who doesn't make it back to Carnieland until well after dark. He goes to check on Jonesy, but his faux-cheery comments about the weather are met with nothing but stony silence and an aggrieved stare. Jonesy finally deigns to speak to the boss long enough to say that things are "right as rain," and then he hands over the key ring and limps off to go shoot himself in the living room. Or something like that.
California. Iris wanders down the hallway of their house, and walks right into Clancy's room. She pauses in the doorway just long enough for everyone to have a Flowers in the Attic moment, and then she gently shakes her brother awake. "There's been a fire at the ministry," she explains, and then we cut to the two of them arriving at a burnt-out St. Chin's. Despite the fact that he's staring directly at a row of body bags in the middle of the street, Clancy still has to ask what happened to the children. And then, as an ovary of Middle-Eastern descent keens on the soundtrack, he runs over to the bodies and collapses onto his knees. "It's a damn shame," says a nearby fireman. "These kids survived the fire, and the smoke, and the collapsing building, but when they finally made it outside they were immediately crushed by a rain of anvi…er, brimstone. Yeah, crushed by brimstone. That's what I meant." ["And Babylon, the glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the Chaldees' Excellency, shall be as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah." -- Isaiah 13:19]. As Iris moves to comfort her sobbing brother, the camera slowly pulls back to show dozens of townspeople watching this overwrought tableaux, and then we finally fade to black.