To: everyone@allofyou.com
cc: youtoo@yeahyou.org
From: aaron@televisionwithoutpity.com
Subject: Your recent e-mail
Dear [Your Name Here],
Thank you for your [informative] [humorous] [spite-filled] email regarding [the identity of the woman in the snake poster] [penile enhancements]. I was delighted to receive your correspondence.
In response to your comments about [the recaps] [my mental health] [my girth], you'll be pleased to know that I'm [hard at work on the one] [calling the cops] [hung like a lobster]. Thanks for asking!
The sheer volume of email I have received on the subject of [the identity of the woman in the snake poster] [penile enhancements] unfortunately prevents me from responding to you individually. However, please accept [my warmest regards] [the attached restraining order] [$49.95 + shipping and handling] in lieu of a personal reply. I look forward to hearing from you again in the future.
Sincerely Yours,
Aaron
P.S.: Eight and three quarters.
Nastassja Kinski. Check. Richard Avedon. Check. This link. Check. And it certainly is refreshing to know that such a large percentage of the TWoP readership consists of horny snake fetishists who reached sexual maturity in the early 1980s. Advertisers just love knowing that sort of thing. And so as of 7:00 PM on Friday, November 7th, I have now received 324 e-mails in response to a throwaway question that I had almost forgotten about asking by the time I turned that last recap in. Three hundred and twenty-four, people. I got seventeen in the first twenty-four hours, eighty-two in the first forty-eight, and they just kept on coming day after day after day. Our official winner in this little contest, by the way, is one Jim M, who posted a mind-bogglingly low StINK (Start to Identifying Nastassja Kinski) of 412, which means his answer hit my inbox less than seven minutes after the recap was posted. Damn! Nice work, Jim. You StINK! And just because I'm a big giant stats nerd, here a few other interesting tidbits about the responses I received: more than 65% came from women, Ms. Kinski is significantly more popular in England than she is in the United States, and the only person in the entire bunch to supply an incorrect answer had a return address at MIT.edu. I've also gotten at least one more response in the time it took me to write this paragraph. NK = 325.
Immediately after the billowing dust of the opening credits reveals that this episode was penned by Daniel Knauf himself, we fade up on the image of a blood-soaked man we've never seen before lighting a cigarette. Wow. Thanks, Dan. Don't mind if I do. Flick…ahh. Smokey McBloodstain's refreshing nicotine interlude is cut short, however, by the appearance of a young nurse dressed in a white nun's habit with a giant red cross emblazoned on the chest. The Photoshop filter motion blur distortion that some bored editor has chosen to apply to this scene has the effect of making that red cross look like…well, a red cross. But a crossier sort of cross than the normal red cross, if you know what I mean, and I doubt that you do. Regardless, that'll be mildly important later. Following the nurse's lead, Dr. McBloodstain ditches his cigarette and enters the swirling confusion of a surgical tent at the M*A*S*H 4-3-7-7. Just so you know, that last joke is a lot funnier if you happen to be a dyslexic Alan Alda fan that spends way too much time playing with calculators. And while Doc McBloodstain's patients are no doubt grateful that he's decided not to keep puffing away while he works, I'm thinking that maybe they should be a little less concerned about the perils of secondhand smoke, and a lot more worried about the fact that Doc isn't wearing gloves and just washed his hands in a bowl filled with other men's blood. Oh, yeah. That's sanitary.
At any rate, we soon pan around the tent to reveal any number of soldiers suffering from some very nasty battlefield wounds. We also see a Russian Orthodox priest scurrying about to administer the last rites (or whatever their Russian Orthodox equivalent might be, because we'll be discussing my lack of Christian sacramental knowledge later in the recap). Finally we end up staring at the face of a badly wounded Russian soldier, whose left eye has been burned and oh-so-symbolically blackened. Get it? It's difficult to determine whether this is in fact Pvt. Funboy, because the blood and burnt skin covers most of his face, and also because the camera swoops back all dramatically so we can see that he's missing his left arm (get it again?) and also both legs. I had intended to use the rest of this paragraph to tell an amusing anecdote about a marginally famous homeless guy in Pittsburgh who hangs out near my office, because the dude is missing his right arm and left leg, and no one who's ever seen him can figure out what kind of accident would cause injuries like that. And then I realize that there really isn't anything amusing about that story, and decided not to bother.
So Ben of course wakes up from the dream we all knew this would be, but when he pulls back his blanket to get up, he's shocked to discover that his own arm and legs are missing. Yeah, yeah. Been there, recapped that. But then we get a new shot, and it's a beautifully composed image of Brother Justin, kneeling peacefully in front of an ominous desert sunrise. Ooooh, pretty. And spooky, too.
Ben "wakes up" yet again, and this time Lodz is crouched in exactly the same position as Brother Justin, blocking out the rising sun. That will be the first of many such connections between those two this week. Lodz rather nicely invites Ben to breakfast, but Ben tends to be a little grumpy before he's had his morning mochaccino, and so he flatly refuses the invite. Then again, when isn't Ben grumpy? Lodz's diurnal rhythms must be finally kicking into gear as well, because he cranks up the smarm exponentially as he warns Ben that the dreams are only going to get worse. Ben: "I'm not talking to you. So nanny-nanny boo-boo, I can't hear you!" "You will," answers Lodz. "Soon."
Lodz strikes out across the midway, and the camera pans around to find Samson, who has been watching this little exchange with no small degree of curiosity. And then the camera pans around even further, and we see Pa Pimp reclined in the passenger seat of his car, getting drunk at 6:00 in the morning and singing along to Ella Fitzgerald's "Paper Moon." Why is that song following me, I wonder? Ma Cooch comes out and busts him there, although she's actually surprisingly nice about it. In fact, she even climbs into the car with him and suggests that they drive off for a little picnic. "Already got ya some dessert packed up here under this kimono," she purrs, as she pulls his hand under there to check out the…er, tuna noodle casserole she's been carrying. Pa, however, isn't exactly "rising" to the occasion. Maybe that's why they call him "Stumpy." Speaking of which, I'd like to thank the two saucy flatmates from England who emailed this week with an offer to have my babies, and tell them that I plan on checking out Orbitz as soon as I finish the recap. Pa flees from the car without saying another word, and Ma is left there alone with her tears and an unused wicker basket.
And then for some reason we cut to an extended shot of Random Roustie #00's butt, as he carries a barrel away from the camera. Then it turns into a shot of Sofie's "breasts" as she passes 00, and carries a pair of baseball gloves over to where Jonesy is working on a car. And I'm not kidding, either. Go back and check your tapes. That was a very bizarre framing choice. Sofie admonishes Jonesy to "think fast," and then drops one of the gloves on the ground beside him. Tim DeKay is actually under the car working on the transmission, by the way. And seeing as how he's never been one to let his castmates' erogenous zones upstage his own, he makes sure to jiggle a bit as he rolls out from underneath.
Fortunately for these two, there just so happens to be a perfectly flat, wide-open meadow nearby, where they can play catch in peace before a photographically interesting background. You know, as opposed to the usual dust storms, killer coal mines, towns filled with Opie-looking rapists, horny zombies, and dead cooch dancers hanging from trees that the carnies usually like to surround themselves with. Sofie throws like a girl, by the way. It's so bad, in fact, that Jonesy tries to psych her up by relating an old trick from "back when [he] used to hurl." Which is probably an unfortunate choice of terminology, given that I just referenced the reason we all saw him hurl three weeks ago. At any rate, his suggestion is that she picture the face of someone she really hates in the catcher's mitt. "Let's see, who could that be," he asks, bringing the mitt up to stare into it. "Oh, yeah. Hi Momma." Heh. Sofie giggles a bit, and Jonesy further observes that "for a body that don't talk, she sure do got a lot to say." You have no idea, Jonesy. But at least he didn't call her a rutabaga. Sofie sadly confesses that Mommatose doesn't like any of her friends, which prompts Jonesy to look worried and ask if there are any exceptions to that rule. "Well there is you, of course," replies Sofie. "She's got a mind you walk on water." Oh, I think we all know that "walking" isn't really what Jonesy like to do with water. Jiggle, jiggle. Sofie does add that Mommatose ain't too fond of Libby, and Jonesy does a horrible job of concealing the fact that he agrees with that notion wholeheartedly. He stumbles through a ridiculous attempt to cover this obvious flirtation faux pas, but it's no use. Sofie stomps off in a huff, and poor Jonesy is left to pick up her glove and stare at her rapidly receding backside. In fact, he's so mad at himself here that he actually forgets to spit.
Down in Carnieland, Samson is giving Ben his plot…er, "mission" for the week. He sends him out on a quest to find "Scorpion Boy," who at this point we can only assume is really the much-anticipated "Lobster Boy." Said Scorpion Boy can be found in a town called Gunderson, which is about thirty miles away. Ben thinks this all sounds a little sketchy, but then Samson reminds him that everything about the carnie business is sketchy, and it's not like Ben can disagree with that particular statement. You know, because he probably doesn't even know what "sketchy" means. Samson continues delivering instructions, including a bit about how Ben should check Scorpion Boy's "paws" to make sure he's not a fake, and also about how he should offer the guy four bucks a week, but go up to six if he has too. Aww. Sars made me the exact same offer when I started here. And like an idiot, I took the four bucks. Oh, well. Samson further assures the boy that everything will be as easy as "ice cream and cake," which is exactly what I said when I agreed to recap CSI last week, and it turned out to be an episode about deviant sexual behavior and a guy who got killed for trading in expired ice cream, and it kinda sucked and wasn't worth the four dollars and now I'm tired and grumpy and don't want to recap anymore this week and Ben obviously feels the same way I do, because he asks Samson if it's so easy why doesn't he just do it himself? Samson's reply to all that, however, is definitely a keeper: "If I head out, everyone will know. We got a lot of carnies defectorating lately." Hee hee! "Defectorating." That's totally funny enough for me to forgive the giant load of exposition that comes out of his mouth . "Competition catches word of this," he explains, referencing this mysterious "competition" that we've never really heard of before, "thing you know that Scorpion Boy will be mangy with freak-finders from every show in the five counties." Except I thought this carnival traveled all over, right? I mean, we've seen them in at least two states already, so what five counties is he talking about? Samson also gives Ben an envelope filled with fifteen dollars for incidentals, and responds to Ben's "why me?" whining by telling him that it's just his "turn in the barrel." Would that be 00's barrel? And is taking a turn in the barrel anything like standing tall before the wagon? Because I certainly wouldn't mind seeing Ben take a turn there, let me tell you. Six, please!
California. We're staring at the exterior of a nice, rather serene-looking medical facility, taking in all the lovely Spanish architecture and the wide expanses of verdant green fields. And the also sound of someone screaming in agony. Said screamer turns out to be Brother Justin, who is being subjected to any number of particularly nasty psychiatric treatments. Incidentally, is anyone else reading Quicksilver right now? Because I'm starting to wonder how anyone managed to survive the seventeenth century. Not that things were any better in the twentieth, it seems. First Justin is strapped into a bathtub filled with ice, and then he's tied down to a gurney, intubated with a yellow rubber tube, and injected with a syringe filled with God knows what. The director gets just a wee bit too Clockwork Orange for his own good here, but then Clancy has a convulsion, and we cut to a much cooler shot of his lifeless form being dragged along a nicely atmospheric hallway. All of this occurs to the beat of a jaunty little tune by Kurt Weill, by the way. I think it's kind of sad that I'm just getting that joke from Velvet Goldmine right now, although we'll be discussing my lack of contemporary music knowledge later in the recap as well.
The same song continues into the scene, where Lodz finally ends it by shutting off the record player in his trailer. So, to recap: Lodz and Justin are linked. Also, Jonesy never talks to Management. But more on Him (or Her, or It, or whatever) later. Lila is sprawled out on the bed behind Lodz, wearing nothing but a brightly-colored silk robe, and enjoying a nice post-coital hit off her hookah. Flick…ahh. "Was Daddy nice to Lila?" asks Lodz. Oy. Ew. Oy! Ewwww! Talk about hurling. I normally despise this phrase, but Dan Knauf owes me a new keyboard. Lila assures him that he was, and Lodz joins her on the bed, resting his head in her lap. She asks if things are going according to plan, and further observes that Ben is looking "rough around the edges." Lodz blames this on insomnia for some reason, rather than the more obvious explanation, which is that Ben hasn't showered ever, as far as we can tell. He then reaches back to stroke Lila's beard, and in a rare concession to the oft-ignored fact that the guy is supposed to be blind, Lila actually has to reach out and guide his hand to it. So let me get this straight: Lodz can mix drinks, light fires, navigate strange woodlands without any assistance, and unerringly locate Ben anywhere in the world at any time, but he can't find Lila's face when it's two feet from his own? Although I do concede that the ability to locate Ben may have more to do with that whole never-showering thing than anything else. Lodz asks his hirsute honey to keep an eye on Ben, and Lila languidly agrees before taking another drag off the hookah and power-hitting it into her blind boy-toy's mouth. They kiss, and then in a time-honored H B O tradition, he goes down on her. Oy. I like these two, but I still didn't need to see that. The payoff, so to speak, comes (again, so to speak) when the sound of Lila's moaning carries outside the trailer, and Random Roustie #69 is forced to pack up his wheelbarrow and scurry away in disgust. Hee!
Cut to Ben, driving down a dirt road. He comes to a fork, which is marked by a sign listing about ten different destinations. None of them is Gunderson, but one of them is "Feebigger," which I'm betting is there because someone knew this episode would be airing right about the time HBO would be deciding on a second season pick-up. Ben thinks for a minute (you can tell because of the pained expression on his face), and then chooses the right fork in the road. Which actually is the right fork, even though we don't know that yet. It's also definitely not the road the less traveled, because five seconds later Ben comes across a guy standing off to the side of the road to a fancy convertible. It's obvious that the guy has stopped to take a leak, which reminds me of the time my friends and I were driving along a deserted road at night and came along an almost identical scene. Except we thought the guy was having car trouble, so we shined a really bright flashlight on him and offered to help before we realized what he was doing. Yeah. Mute embarrassment all around, I can assure you. Ben asks for directions to Gunderson, and this guy at least has the common courtesy to shake off and zip up before turning around. When he does, however, he instantly takes note of the Carnivàle logo on the side of Ben's truck, and proceeds to give him a set of really long and complicated directions that basically just boil down to "take the other fork." The gentleman in question, by the way, is played by one "John Doe," whom I'm told was quite a big shot in the punk music scene way back in the day. Unfortunately, I grew up right in the middle of the punk era, but in a house where no one was permitted to listen to any music recorded after the nineteenth century. I think the first time I ever heard any of that "rock-and-roll" the kids were always talking about was when my friend's mom started driving eighth grade car pool. And that was Billy Joel. So you'll have to forgive me for not recognizing Mr. Doe.
Carnieland. Sofie walks back to her trailer, and then thinks better of it and heads over to the cooch tent. Inside, Libby is practicing a new routine that uses a song which sounds as though it was scientifically designed to be impossible to dance to. The big sign that says the performance will be stopped if anyone touches the girls is prominently displayed in front of the stage, banging along on its steel-drum irony anvils in time with the music. "That song is god-awful," opines Sofie, and while I can't say that I disagree, I do want you all to remember that sentiment when she picks out a song of her own later on. Things are awkward and silent between the girls for a long moment, but I'm at least able to amuse myself by checking out Carla Gallo in her halter top and hot pants. Mmm. Hot pants. Libby finally asks Sofie if she's mad about The Great Thelma Todd California Expedition of 1934 sputtering to a halt, and Sofie sort of admits that she is. Libby then calls herself a "big, fat chicken," causing Sofie to try to pinch an inch to prove that she's not. LesYay? You be the judge. The cameraman performs some bizarre acrobatic contortions and uses a laser to reshape the camera's lens on the fly so that he can keep the irony boar…I mean, "the sign" visible in the foreground while all that pesky acting and blocking is going on behind it. And then he fails, and we finally cut to a close-up. Libby apologizes again for the failing to get Sofie out of Carnieland, and Sofie reluctantly sighs that it just "wasn't in the cards." Well, maybe you should have told her that last week, then, don't you think? Sofie further suggests a change of music, saying that what the girls really need is "some Patsy." Hmm. Is "Patsy" code for hot lesbian sex now? Because that wouldn't really surprise me.
In another tent, Pa Pimp and Jonesy are getting very drunk and futzing around with some sort of giant Lazy Susan device. Jonesy, as usual, is bemoaning the sad state of his love life. "The words come out of my mouth," he explains, "and by the time they hit her eardrums it's like a whole different sound. Also, wocka-wocka bling blah blee defectorating." Here's Pa Pimp's wisdom on the subject of women: "Talking to a woman is like listening to the radio." Sing it, my brother! "That's right," agrees Jonesy. "And it's dialed permanently to a program called 'Jonesy Is A Bonehead.'" Heh. I know a lot of Limpies that would love to tune that one in. Needing a segue to move the scene along, Jonesy somehow manages to cut one of his fingers, so he grabs the bottle away from Pa Pimp and splashes some alcohol onto the cut. While all this is going on, Pa is struck by a flash of inspiration. "You need to get your candle waxed," he tells Jonesy, using what I'm assuming is a quaint euphemism for sex and not a reference to the abnormally dim lighting in this scene. Pa then goes on to say that Jonesy has the worst case of blue balls he's ever seen, which isn't all that surprising considering that we all already know how much Jonesy loves to show off his balls. Pa also relates the tale of one "Ernie Bengstrom," who suffered a testicular "blow-out" when he went two years without sex following a divorce. "His left nut popped just like a damn cherry bomb," adds Pa. Yeah. Ouch. Thanks for that, Mr. Pimperson. Jonesy laughs off the story by saying that it's bull, but also silently resolves to give himself a thorough scrotal self-examination at the earliest opportunity. Although I'm not sure why he's worried, because if it really has been that long since he's had sex, I'm betting he's also been performing a thorough scrotal self-examination just about every single night when he's alone in his trailer.
Things take a dramatic turn towards the direction of "Ewwww!" when Pa offers up what he considers to be the perfect solution to Jonesy's problem: Ma Cooch. An understandably freaked-out Jonesy refuses to even consider the idea, but Pa insists that Ma is a pro, and further asserts that Jonesy would actually be doing him a favor. "She's a high-stepper, that Rita Sue," claims Pa. "She's wearing me out. She needs a LOT of loving." Jonesy's heart isn't exactly bleeding for the guy, but Pa isn't finished. "I ain't kidding around," he shouts. "I'm chapped halfway up to my belly button! I need a relief pitcher here." Ahh. So maybe that's why they call him Stumpy. Pa pretty much orders Jonesy to fuck his wife, and seems mortally offended when Jonesy continues to refuse. He tells Jonesy to come by after the show that night, and that it'll be totally fine whether he shows up or not. He makes it quite clear, however, that it actually won't be fine at all if Jonesy doesn't show. How come stuff like this never happens to me?
Back in the cooch tent, Sofie & Libby are happily dancing on the stage while "Patsy" yodels in the background. This is supposed to be a better song? Yeah. I don't think so. Ma Cooch enters the tent, but stops short in the doorway and smiles as she watches her daughter. Lila comes up behind her and observes that with a couple of matching outfits, Sofie and Libby could put on quite a show. Yeah, but it wouldn't be anywhere near as good without Meatloaf's Daughter and her mismatched titties. Some things just can't be replaced. Lila also asks if Ma knows where Ben is, and Ma provides our bearded buddy with all the necessary exposition about Ben's quest.
Noah's Arkham Asylum. A well-dressed, bespectacled doctor follows an orderly as he carries a chair into a nearby cell. Once there, we see that the cell is occupied by Brother Justin, who is curled up in a corner wearing a straitjacket. The doctor takes a moment to sit down and arrange his pen and notepad, and I know most of you were thinking about the nasty pen scene from the season premiere of 24, but I personally spent this time thinking about the (implied only) nasty pen scene from Terminator II. Does that mean I'm dating myself? The doctor (whom we'll call Dr. Smarmy McInkstain for easy reference) asks Justin for his name, and decides to call him "John Doe" when no name is forthcoming. Get it? He then recaps that Justin attempted suicide by jumping off the "John F. Chellis" bridge, but Clancy replies to this allegation with a simple "No." Dr. McInkstain tries to clarify whether Justin means no, he didn't jump or no, he doesn't remember, and Justin grows remarkably more lucid by the second and answers by saying, "I remember perfectly. I've always been what I am." "What is that?" asks the doc. "The left hand of God," replies Justin. Now it's not exactly a secret in these recaps that I'm Jewish, and while I do occasionally like to quote the New Testament to make a comedically ironic point about the action on screen, the sad truth of the matter is that everything I know about Christian mythology and iconography comes from Monty Python and Indiana Jones movies. I do have Paradise Lost on my Books I Plan To Read Before I Die list, but it's currently languishing in twenty-seventh place, just ahead of War and Peace and just behind that new Six Feet Under coffee-table book. So I have no idea what "left hand of God" means, and unless the Knights of Templar are planning on asking me to bring back a shrubbery, I'm gonna be a little bit lost on that one as well. So please forgive me in advance if I say anything blasphemous enough to piss off the Jesus freaks in the audience. They're probably the only ones worse than the Nastassja Kinski fans.
So yeah, where were we? Justin is telling Dr. McInkstain that he's no longer God's servant, and in fact never was. "I am his will made flesh," he adds. Doc wonders if this means he's Jesus, but Clancy says no. Satan? Also no. "You've misspelled 'excitation,'" offers Brother Justin, apropos of nothing. The doc is nonplussed, but nevertheless game enough to continue, so he sits there peacefully and listens to Justin rant some more about the whole left hand thing. Justin also says that he broke a man's neck, and that he admitted it earlier in the session. Dr. McInkstain, much like the rest of the viewing audience, remembers nothing of the sort, but when he goes back to check his notes, he does find a reference to said neck-breaking. Ooh. Psychic writing. Now that's a cool superpower. Any chance I could get Brother Justin to handle these recaps for a while? The doctor is visibly confused, so perhaps Justin's voice-over will help clarify things: "I willed it, and it was so." Justin is ostensibly talking about the broken neck, however, and Dr. McInkstain suggests that he try to repeat the feat right there. "Perhaps I already have," replies Justin, with a faint smile. Heh. A flurry of note-taking reveals the good doctor's diagnosis, which is that Justin suffers from "psychosis with paranoid content." The doctor also explains that the treatments Justin endured were not intended to be punitive, and that the pain is "an unavoidable side effect." Justin totally agrees that pain is, in fact, an unavoidable side effect, and then the good doctor drops his clipboard and looks like an ass trying to pick it back up. God, I miss Melfi. Justin asks for a paper and pen to do some writing, but then happily agrees that it won't be necessary when McInkstain turns him down. The doctor finally leaves the room at this point, and after passing a nurse whose resemblance to Sister Iris is too close to be coincidental, he decides to check his notes, and realizes that he really did misspell "excitation." If you think that's cool, you should see what Sars can do. I actually get a little electric shock every time I spell something wrong, and she's three hundred miles away. ["No, thank you, Radio Shack." -- Sars]
Back to Ben, who has been following the Pissing Man's advice and taken the other fork. He eventually comes to a tiny little gas station, where a family of migrants is camped out around a truck with a busted tire. They'll be important later. The gas station attendant turns out to be an albino, for no other reason than the fact that albinos are freaky-looking and this show clearly loves its freaks. Just as long as it doesn't looove its freaks, if you know what I mean. Ben asks the albino if there are any Scorpion Boys around, but Whitey hasn't heard of any. He does, however, allow that they've got themselves a "Lobster Gal," who can be found by going back to the fork and choosing the road that Ben picked the first time around. So, wait…Lobster Boy is actually Lobster Girl? Damn. I think I'm in love.
Carnieland. After several shots of random rousties rousting, we cut inside to the cooch tent, where Ma is praising Sofie's dancing abilities. Libby almost immediately ascertains where this is going, and is therefore rather petulant when Ma dismisses her to go fetch another "knee-high." Except I totally thought that Ma was referring to a stocking, until I finally realized that Libby and Sofie were splitting a soda, and that's probably the kind of Nehi she was talking about. I mention that little tidbit only because I'm stupid, and not because it has any bearing on the scene. Once Ma has Sofie alone, she moves to stand right beside her, and softly thanks her for making Libby smile while they were dancing together earlier. "It's a long time since I seen my baby smiling and having all that fun up on stage," she says. "I was afraid Babylon took that away from her." Then she struggles to make a believable "hey, I just had an idea" face, and says, "Hey, I just had an idea." She suggests that Sofie start working the "bally," which, for those of you not conversant in the carnie argot, is the little stage outside the tent where Pa Pimp hooks the audience. Sofie isn't sure that's a good idea, but Ma reminds her that she wouldn't have to strip, but just stand there "looking coy" and getting the rubes all "percolated." Mmm, percolated. It's definitely coffee time. Oh, and flick…ahh. Sofie says no once again, claiming that she's already got a job, and that Mommatose would "blow a gasket" if she ever found out. Ma Cooch replies that Grandma Cooch hated the idea of stripping as well, which is precisely why Ma got into the business in the first place. Libby finally comes back at this point, and goes into full-fledged Meadow Mode as she glares at her mother. Sofie leaves, and Libby wastes no time yelling at Ma for putting "the hustle" on her friend. "She's not some dumb Nelly you can just grind into the show," snarls Libby. "She's got class." Oh, please. Why don't you watch her change a few bedpans and then bang another pompadour boy and see if you still feel that way, Libby, my dear. Ma insists that she was just trying to make her daughter happy, and she's almost sincere enough to make me believe her. Almost.
Elsewhere, Lodz is bickering with Samson. The subject is obviously Ben, and Lodz desperately wants to know why Samson chose to send the boy out on a lobster hunt. Samson, however, is too busy putting chalk marks on some of the more obvious…er, marks attending the carnival that day to care, and actually seems to be taking no small measure of delight in watching Lodz squirm. The upshot of the whole thing is that Samson won't say why he sent Ben on a mission, and Lodz won't say why he thinks Ben is so important. In other words, it's the definitive Carnivàle experience: midgets, pretentiousness, no exposition, and one really good laugh.
We're then given a nice quick interlude where Justin sits alone in a big giant room, and then the camera pans back around, and about two dozen loonies are standing there in front of him like a congregation of the damned. Much to my everlasting dismay, they totally don't break out into a rousing rendition of "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands." Because that would have rocked. Also, I'm pretty sure one of them was Bronson Pinchot. It's not like the guy has anything else to do these days.
And then it's back to Ben once again, as he finally manages to locate the Lobster residence. It's basically a ramshackle tin hut that wouldn't look out of place in some of your nicer West Virginia neighborhoods, and Ben marches right up to the front door and knocks a few times. You know, because deformed freaks who live alone in the middle of nowhere are generally known to just love having unexpected company. A guy who I'm pretty sure played the kindly but befuddled father on some sitcom sometime answers the door, and invites Ben inside as soon as he learns that he learns that the boy is from "the freak show." The inside of the shack is just as nice as the outside, which is to say not nice at all, and Ben threads his way through the tattered furniture and waves of stink to find Lobster Girl sitting at the kitchen table, signing a contract with a pen she's got gripped in one of her claws. As much as it pains me to admit this, Lobster Girl turned out to be something of an anticlimax. I've been waiting for this moment all season, but much like The Matrix, it seems that all the good bits were in the trailer. The claws were cool, but Lobster Gal herself is kinda dirty and sullen, which just reminds me of the last few dates I've been on. Oh, well. The big news here is that John Doe, a.k.a. The Pissing Man, has beaten Ben to the punch, and already signed LG to appear in his own carnival.
Carnieland. Sofie is filing her mother's nails.
Sofie: Mother, we don't have to talk about this.
Mommatose: Oh, I think we do. That Ruthie has been in here three times already trying to change my bedpan when you're not around.
Sofie: I told her no.
Mommatose: Well, I guess she didn't listen. And I can't believe you're so calm about her horning in on your territory like this! You love changing my bedpan!
Sofie: Why are you nagging me about something I haven't even done?
Mommatose: Yeah, and speaking of which…
Sofie: You know what? Maybe I would. At least Libby's mother treats her daughter with a little respect.
Mommatose: What the hell does Ma Cooch have to do with anything? I'm talking about Ruthie. Hell, she actually brought that sissy boy Gabriel of hers in here to lift me out of bed last time.
Sofie: You're one to talk, mother. At least "she" knows who "her" father is.
Mommatose: Yeah, and I warned you about Scudder, didn't I?
That "father" crack actually earns Sofie a telepathic slap across the face, which was very, very cool. She responds by socking Mommatose with an actual physical slap, and then stomps out of the trailer just like she always does.
In the Cooch tent, meanwhile, Pa Pimp is trying to convince his wife to sex up his best pal Jonesy. "I don't roll with trade," insists Ma, who takes great pride in her hooking. "That's the way it is. No tricks for carnie folk." Pa continues pleading, however, and Ma finally asks if this was his idea, or Jonesy's. Of course, Pa lies and says it was all Jones, but Ma sees right through this like it's one of her sheer lace nighties. "Why would you want to do something like this to us?" she asks, but Pa just keeps insisting it's nothing more than another harmless trick. "Fine," snaps Ma. "Line him up." Pa gives every indication of being the new poster boy for "be careful what you wish for," but it's way too late to go back now. It's also worth noting, by the way, that Ma spent most of this scene applying moisturizer. Which makes sense, I guess, because she is pretty much the only clean one in the entire bunch. And…scene. Except not, because just before we cut away, Sofie pokes her head into the tent to say hi. Dun dun DUH!
California. Some guy in the dayroom at the insane asylum is just chanting "Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!" over and over and over again. He does it through pretty much the entire scene, which lasts for a good three or four minutes. It's incredibly annoying, but the payoff is cool, and it did provide me with a convenient homepage teaser, so I guess I shouldn't complain. Besides, much like with subbing for CSI, if mindless repetition is good enough for Keckler, it's good enough for me. We pan around the room a bit, watching various crazy people doing crazy things (like mopping the floor, repeatedly chanting "Hey!", and generally looking ridiculous in their short, flappy white gowns), and then Justin himself strolls past, looking significantly more calm and composed than anyone else there. He stakes out a spot by the windows, which affords him both a clear view of the Iris look-alike nurse, and also the opportunity to hear the radio, which is currently playing a song. That doesn't last long, however, as the nurse soon changes the station, and the dulcet tones of Tommy Dolan fill the airwaves. Justin doesn't even bat an eyelash as Tommy starts relating his sad story yet again, but he does whisper "be still" under his breath, which finally shuts up the "Hey!" guy. Thank god. Tommy is clearly a man who doesn't believe in punctuation, because his entire broadcast in this scene is basically one never-ending sentence, which prevents me from quoting anything more than his final words, which are, "Where are you, Brother Justin?" Well, at the moment he's artfully silhouetted in front of the asylum windows, if you must know. And how come Justin is the only loony who gets pants?
West Virginia. The Pissing Man has Lobster Girl all loaded into his fancy convertible, and she's chowing down on a candy bar while he warns her to watch the upholstery. Heh. Ben, meanwhile, is busy trying to fix the overheated radiator on his truck. Mr. Piss wanders over to try and patch things up, which he does by asserting that "freak-finders" have to stick together, and then offering Ben a candy bar of his own. Oh, I think we all know that it'll take a bit more than a tiny hunk of chocolate to de-grump the grumpiest grump who ever grumped. Hell, he could offer Ben an ice-cream sundae with whipped cream, chocolate sauce, naked women, and hundred-dollar bills on top, and the boy still wouldn't crack a smile. Mr. Piss introduces himself as "Phineas Boffo," which isn't much of an improvement over "Mr. Piss," and further adds that he and Samson go way back. He holds out his hand, and Ben reluctantly reaches out to shake it. The instant they make contact, however, Ben immediately gets a vision of medieval knights with swords, dismembered heads, and red crosses on their armor. The crossier kind of cross, by the way. And you can see my earlier bit on the Knights Who Say Ni for an explanation of why I'm not delving into the symbolism here. When Ben finally manages to yank his hand away, he opens it to reveal the "In Hoc Signo Vinces" ring we all saw in his dreams in Episode One. Phineas demands that Ben return the jewelry, saying that it's from "his lodge," but Ben just floors the gas and leaves Mr. Piss to piss into the wind. Something tells me Ben and Angel would really get along.
Carnieland. Libby is brushing Sofie's hair in preparation for the cooch show, and she's obviously not happy about this new turn of events. Sofie, however, is focused on more practical concerns, like whether she's allowed to wear underwear. "As long as you ain't flashing straps," confirms Libby, as she runs the brush through Sofie's hair like she's trying to scrub grease off a pot that's been sitting in the sink for three weeks. Which I've never, ever done, by the way. Sofie is quick to pick up on the subtextual anger here, and asks her friend why she's so upset. Libby gets straight to the point, complaining that she never expected Sofie to fall for Ma's line of bullshit. Sofie is therefore forced to defend Ma Cooch, and eventually (and rather quietly) confesses that Ma saw the two of them dancing, and just wants her daughter to be happy. That's a rather optimistic view of the situation to say the least, but even I have to admit that Ma's reasons are probably at least 50 percent altruistic and maternal. The other half, however, just wants to see Sofie naked, but after The Great Granny Panty Incident of Episode Four, I'm not really sure I can share that sentiment. Libby's assessment of her mother's motives remains significantly more negative than Sofie's, but even after Sofie offers to quit the show, Libby still gets up and goes back to the brushing. Because nothing says LesYay like stroking the hair. And this week's director clearly agrees with me, because he lingers on that final shot for about three million hours.
Ben has returned to Whitey's gas station to put more water in his radiator, and this time he takes a few extra moments to check out the family with the busted tire. The dad is still hard at work trying to fix the thing, which seems odd, because we're about to find out that they've been there for days. What the hell could he be trying that he wouldn't have tried ten times already by now? No, really. I'm asking. The only thing I know about changing tires is AAA's phone number. Whitey asks Ben if he managed to find Lobster Gal, and then scores double bonus humorous irony points by stammering, "She's a real freak, that one." Heh. Busted Tire Dad wanders over at this point, and tries to sell Ben a homemade chair in exchange for enough money to buy a new tire. Ben isn't interested, and besides, Whitey comes flying out of the station to scream at BT Dad for bugging his customers. He also hits him a few times, which gets Ben all riled up. He demands that Whitey fix the tire, and even coughs up a total of seven dollars out of the money Samson gave him to make sure it gets done. Busted Tire Dad is ecstatic, and offers to give Ben the chair immediately, but Ben just climbs right back into the truck and drives off without accepting any rewards. Aww. See? He's really sweet and caring on the inside. Way, way, way on the inside, underneath about six hundred pounds of dirt and three and a half pounds of cold, black heart tissue. BT Dad watches Ben drive away, and presumably takes note of the Carnivàle logo on the truck as he does. Why is that important? Well, it's because Busted Tire Dad heads over to a bulletin board on the gas station wall, where he locates a poster indicating that Ben is a chain-gang escapee wanted for murder. Dun dun DUH! The reward on Ben is $300, by the way, in case you were thinking of turning him in yourself. Hmm. Maybe I'll pitch Sars on recapping America's Most Wanted. The reward money could totally supplement the extra four bucks a week. The real question here, of course, is whether Ben's good deed will go unpunished. I sincerely doubt it, but you'll have to tune in week to find out. Or maybe the week after that. This is Carnivàle, after all.
Carnieland at night. Ben drives back into the lot, and the camera pulls back to reveal that Lila is there watching. She immediately runs off to inform Lodz, and from there we cut over to the cooch tent, where Pa is barking, and Libby and Sofie are up on stage. Libby is wearing a fancier version of her usual toga, and Sofie is all decked out like a Japanese geisha, complete with a paper fan and white face paint. Pa Pimp uses this Asian influence to full effect, inviting the crowd of horny onlookers to speculate about whether those stories about Oriental women are true. "Is the basket swinging straight up and down, or sideways?" he wonders. That's rude, and more than a little racist, but the mental image it conjures up has had me giggling for at least five minutes. Sofie actually seems to be enjoying herself up there, but then she spots Jonesy watching from across the midway, and starts getting nervous. Libby advises her to just ignore him, and Sofie decides to get a little saucy and flash some naked shoulder. You know what? I take back what I said about not wanting to see her naked. Clea can work it when she wants to. Some guy down in the front row starts running his hand up Sofie's leg, and this naturally brings Jonesy racing to her defense. He immediately runs up and tackles the guy, and then proceeds to beat the ever-loving crap out of him until Samson and a crowd of rousties rush over to pull him away. Samson starts out being furious at Jonesy, but softens pretty fast when he spies Sofie up on stage. His raised eyebrows when he spots her definitely make for the funniest facial expression of the night. Jonesy limps away looking ashamed, and Samson offers free tickets to everyone in the vicinity to help restore order. Pa Pimp, however, is finished. He stomps offstage and straight over to Ma Cooch, asking when she's going to learn that it's time to get out of the cooch business. But not the pimping business, apparently, as we'll be seeing in just a few short minutes.
Fade to later, with Sofie washing off her make-up inside the tent. She's a bit shaken, and Ma comes in to check up on her, which regular viewers no doubt realize is more than Ma ever did for Dora Mae. Libby also comes in to see her friend, but Ma kicks her out immediately, and sits down beside Sofie. And then she fires her, but in a really nice way. Sofie is surprisingly pissed off by this, and blames the whole thing on Jonesy for acting like a fool. "Don't you dare!" yells Ma. "Don't you dare badmouth that man. You're goddamned lucky to have a man feel that strong about you." The soaring violins of Life's Important Lessons keen on the soundtrack as Sofie accepts this bit of wisdom, and then she leaves the tent without another word.
Boy, Ben always manages to miss the good stuff, doesn't he? While all this was going on, he was apparently searching for Samson all over Carnieland, because he's just now finding him to report back with the bad news. "I told you I ain't never done this before," he says, as he flings the now half-empty envelope of money back onto the table. "So if you want to chew me out, go right ahead." He also explains that "some weasel" gave him bad directions, and then stole Lobster Girl right out from under him. "Some weasel, huh?" asks Samson. "Sounds like the kid's got your number, Phin." And just like that, Phineas Boffo steps out of the mist, demanding that Ben return his ring. Ben pulls it out of his pocket, but before he can hand it over, Samson grabs it out of his hand. This allows the boss to note the "In Hoc Signo Vinces" crest (which will be important later), and also to describe the thing as a "Cracker Jack panty-whistle." Heh. time someone shows me their new engagement ring, I'm totally going to compliment them on their taste in panty-whistles. Phineas gets all pissy (get it?), and claims that the ring is ten-carat gold and cost a whopping nineteen dollars. Then he tries to act all tough, and claims he would have beaten Ben to a pulp if it weren't for his abiding carnie-code respect for Samson. Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Phineas. We've seen you pissing, so I can't really respect your pretension of manliness. And then he finally leaves, which gives Samson the chance to count the money remaining in the envelope. Ever the mathematical wizard, he quickly deduces that Ben is seven dollars short. "I'll make it good," snarls Ben, who's even grumpier than normal at this point. "Yeah, you will," replies Samson. Why do people keep saying that to Ben?
And now for the moment all you Limpies have been waiting for. Jonesy paces back and forth outside Ma Cooch's tent, taking a couple of extra-large swigs from a bottle to help restore his confidence. He's just about to bail on the whole idea when Ma appears in the doorway, looking almost as nervous as he is, but inviting him inside nonetheless. Once there, she finds a convenient chair and adopts the famed Mrs. Robinson leg crook as she strips off her stockings. "Do you want me to seduce you?" she asks. Okay, not really. Instead she just observes that it's been a rough night, and keeps right on removing her undergarments. Jonesy, who has seated himself on the bed, tries to change his mind and leave, but by this point Ma has situated herself between his legs and is busily working to remove his knee brace. Ever the smooth talker, Jonesy announces that even though he thinks Ma is pretty and he likes her just fine, he's still never paid for sex before. Damn. No wonder this guy never gets laid. He manages one more feeble "don't" as Ma tries to unbuckle his pants, but apparently no only means no on this show when there are gas station attendants or horny zombie miners involved. She slowly pulls down his pants, but this isn't Oz, so we don't get a dick shot. We do, however, get a scar shot, as Ma takes in his horribly mangled knee for the very first time. Jonesy looks embarrassed, and flinches a bit as she reaches out to trace one of the scars. Then she leans in and starts licking the knee, which makes Jonesy start to cry. Oddly enough, I had the exact same response. Plushies and knee jobs, all in one week? Man, I've just got all the luck, don't I? Maybe Pamie will let me take Tarzan for a while. I hear that guy likes to keep his clothes on. Ma slowly kisses her way up to his face, and Jonesy finally gets into the spirit of things. And so they mack, carnie-style.
All the Tim DeKay fans have tuned out at this point, but we've got one last scene to go. Samson walks back to his trailer, where he's surprised to hear Lodz's voice coming from inside. He presses his ear to the door just long enough to hear that Lodz is talking about Ben, but just as Blindy Boy mentions Scudder, the door swings open, and Samson is busted. Of course he is. We certainly wouldn't want to learn anything about Scudder. Samson is utterly flabbergasted to see that Lodz has been chatting with Management, and then Management Himself (Herself, Itself, et cetera…) growls, "Samson, leave us." The voice is supplied by Linda Hunt, by the way, who played the Shadout Mapes in Dune, and therefore once and for all seals my eternal fate as The Official Recapper of Aberrant Sexuality And Religious Freaks In The Desert. It's all one big circle of God and furry knee-licking down here. Mom would be so proud. Samson reluctantly complies with this order, and goes to stand and wait outside his trailer. As he does, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small medal with the same "In Hoc Signo Vinces" logo on the front. On the back? The letters "H.S." Looks like we've learned something about good ol' Hack after all. Fade to black.