Episode Report Card Demian: C- | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Mata Whori
By Demian | Season 6 | Episode 13 | Aired on 01.24.2004
And there's a hole in those opening credits. A big, gay hole. This should suck. Even more than it already has, of course.
Tonight's opening travelogue is full of lovely time-lapse shots of the city at night as Sarah McLachlan croons "Fallen," and I can't remember the last time I actually enjoyed an opening travelogue. Not only is the song appropriate, but they've also managed to nail the relevant lyrics, unlike a notorious prior travelogue I could mention: "We all begin with good intent when love is raw and young -- we believe that we can change ourselves, the past can be undone. But we carry on our back the burden time always reveals in the lonely light of morning, in the wound that will not heal. It's the bitter taste of losing everything that I held so dear. I've fallen, I have sunk so low. I messed up. Better, I should know, so don't come 'round here." See, idiot sound directors? It's not that difficult to find a tune whose theme matches that of the episode. Get it right the next time. And the time after that as well. What the hell are they paying you for, anyway?
In any event, as the song hits the last lyric quoted, the travelogue cross-fades to a dejected Phoebe standing on the Manor's front porch, watching as Chronic peels off in his sports car down in the street below, presumably never to return. She slowly shuts the door and heads back into the parlor, where the Dolt's applying the tingly touch to his ex-wife's continuity-destroying head wound. The Dolt discreetly exits to check on The Psycho upstairs as Phoebe crawls onto the sofa next to Piper with, "I've never seen him like that. He looked at me like he had no idea who I was." "He doesn't know you," Raige reminds her from her perch on an armchair. "Not the witch you, anyway." "I can't imagine what he's feeling right now," Phoebe glums. Because she's an idiot. Because she's an empath and should therefore know precisely what Chronic is feeling at the moment. Stupid show. Raige bright-sides that at least Chronic now knows about the bitchcraft, so the two won't have any more secrets to hide from each other in the future, like, what part of Chronic storming from the Manor never to return did you not understand, you awful woman? God!
ANY-way, Slampiece Buttfuck ambles in from the hall to announce that he's finished clearing the dishes. Raige offers him a fond smile and thanks him. Buttfuck then turns to Phoebe and, barely able to meet her eyes, admits, "I feel awful. I'm sorry about what happened." "It's not your fault," Phoebe blinks. "Actually," Buttfuck reveals, "it is." "Why?" Piper eyebrows. "Did you shove [Chronic] into the kitchen?" "No," Buttfuck allows, "but my karma did." No, Buttfuck, it didn't, because your personal karma -- which I don't even believe in -- affects you and you alone. Chronic's karma might have shoved him into the kitchen, but whatever. Shut up, Buttfuck. And shut up, Stupid Show That I Hate And Yet Still Must Watch Every Goddamned Week. In any event, this is simply an opening for Slampiece Buttfuck to reveal his Issue Of The Week. Seems he's convinced he's carrying around the "burden" of his family's collective karma. The Montanagues, as you'll recall, engaged in a generations-long feud with the Callapulets. "We did so much bad with magic," Buttfuck tells them, "and now magic's doing bad to me and those I care about." "Now that is completely ridiculous," Raige asserts. No kidding. Since when did Buttfuck give a rat's ass about Chronic and Phoebe's tedious relationship? Of course, she meant the whole assily contrived karma subplot she's about to become ensnared in, but she's right there, too. See above. Buttfuck insists, over the ladies' collective protest, that karma can be inherited much like magic. Piper side-eyes him as if she's just realized her half-sister's been dating a profound retard while Phoebe insists that if anyone's karma's to blame, it's hers. "You live a double life with your boyfriend," she notes, "you end up paying the price." Piper cuts through all this "mea culpa" bullshit -- the "mea culpa" is hers, the "bullshit" is mine -- to remind everyone of the rather pressing "Swarm Demon" issue, and orders Phoebe and Raige to hit the Book of Shadows while she checks on her little dead-eyed sociopath. Phoebe begs off, as she believes it would be better for her to chase after Chronic at this juncture. Piper, who'd risen to join Raige and Buttfuck by the hall, shoots her a look that telegraphs, "I cannot believe what a selfish fucking hag you are. We're about to be overrun with FBOD-hurling WeHo bondage queens, and you want to screw your boss? Why weren't you the one who got whacked at the end of Season Three?" Of course, I could be projecting a bit. Raige quickly defuses the situation by insisting she and Piper can handle the necessary research on their own, and suggests Phoebe take off. Buttfuck lurks in the background, because the director couldn't figure out what to do with Balthazar Getty at the end of this scene.
The Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tit Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, currently occupied by The Doltine Psycho. The Dolt places his infant son in the crib and prepares to cover him with a crimson-toned Amish-style quilt as Piper shrieks her way into the room. "No, no, no!" she shouts. "What? What? What is it?" the whipped Dolt babbles, leaping a few steps back and hoisting his hands in the air as if he's under arrest. Piper indicates the blanket with disgust. "My grandmother's quilt?" the Dolt bleats, and I'll not be bothering to wonder how they got their hands on that. The Dolt died sixty-two years ago and spent the subsequent decades flitting aimlessly from place to place, generally being a nuisance to everyone he met. Well, except for that hateful stint at the Manor during which he was skeevy and gross in addition to being a general nuisance to everyone he met. My point is, there's no way in hell he'd have been able to wander into the Dolt Family Homestead down in San Dimas or Azusa or wherever the fuck he's supposed to come from and abscond with an heirloom. In short: Whatever. I hate this stupid show.