We open in Mike's new office, which is a delightful change of pace if, in fact, such things can be officially declared "delightful." Apparently, he didn't need the "Dr. Handsome" persona after all, because business is picking up for the hunky doctor, and I mean that in the most heterosexual recapping way. Mike's dismissing a patient who is asking Mike if he can do deep knee bends now. Mike tells him to attempt shallow knee bends at first. The guy's belly looks like it's never been near a knee bend. The patient exits the room, leaving Mike alone with his new nurse, Danielle. Mike notices that they saw four patients in forty-five minutes. He says he's glad to be away from Dr. Jerome. Danielle asks how long he worked for Dr. Jerome; Mike tells her it was three years, which is 5,000 in Dr. Jerome years. Mike then shares a riveting story about working there briefly with a big guy named Louis who always smelled like pot roast. He then tells Danielle that she has a bright smile and a comely appearance, unlike Louis. In a joking manner, Mike makes Danielle promise never to switch her perfume to "Eau de Pot Roast." Danielle stiffens up the way most people do when they first get a finger up the ass, and leaves the room. That's the price you pay when you work for Dr. Handsome, dearie: constant remarks about pot roast and perfume. Ed dawdles in, doing a Jerry Lewis impression as he begs, "Help me, Dr. Burton, I'm so itchy." Mike asks what he's doing there, and Ed says he's just checking in on the man with the new practice. He continues, speaking of "nice," what about that new nurse? Mike says Danielle is very nice. Ed starts doing all these juvenile horny moves like every single one of you would expect me to do whenever I saw a pretty woman on the street, and Mike says that it's embarrassing when Ed acts like a real guy. Ed says, "I know." Sadly, I don't think he does.
All of a sudden, I hear the painful screams, coming from my front yard, of a young Korean boy having shards of broken glass jabbed repeatedly into his shins. I run to the front window to see what I can do to help the kid. Oops. My bad. It's just the theme song.
A commercial for The Rookie. I haven't seen The Rookie yet, but I hear it's rated G. And the commercial shows a kid saying, "Oh my God!" taking the Lord's name in vain. So technically, a movie featuring a child breaking one of the ten commandments is now considered G-rated fare. No wonder the Taliban hates us.
In Carol's classroom, Molly's reading a letter from a publisher. That writer dude from a few episodes back that Carol was dying to meet sent one of Carol's stories to the publisher. Basically, it's a rejection notice. Carol calls it the "death of a dream," which is kinda funny, because that's the same thing she said when her brand of birth-control pills was taken off the market. Molly says that if she had used phrases like that, maybe she wouldn't have been rejected. Carol thinks Molly's making light of the situation, and Molly says she's just kicking Carol while she's down. Carol says that it sucks to find out late in life that you're not good at anything except having long-term relationships with losers. Molly asks Carol if she knows how many times Tolstoy was rejected when he tried to sell Anna Karenina. Carol says she doesn't, and Molly says, "Well, he sold it immediately, but that's not the point here." Molly suggests that Carol goes to the local Stuckeyville newspaper, the Stuckeyville Progress, and write stories for them. She'll get experience, and get published; it's a great place to start. Carol says she can't, and asks, "Who am I kidding?" Molly says, "You're right, who are you kidding?" Carol asks if Molly's kicking again, and Molly says "Yup." You know, for a chick who just found out that her first boyfriend in ten years was a married man, Molly's got gumption when it comes to making others feel like complete and utter shit. I like that in a woman.
Mike and Ed are playing basketball in Mike's driveway. Ed's calling Mike "Sleepy Bear," for some reason, and then mentions that Mike's shoelaces are untied. Mike says that he hasn't fallen for that lame trick since they were nine. Ed stops dribbling, sighs and points at Mike's shoe, telling him to tie it before he hurts himself. Mike looks down, sees his shoe untied, and bends down to tie it, leaving Ed wide open to sink another basket with glee. A strange man in a heavy coat walks over to the two men and asks if one of them is Dr. Mike Burton. Mike says he is and the guy hands Mike an envelope, saying, "You've been served." Mike opens the envelope and finds that he's being sued for sexual harassment (gasp!). Mike says it's crazy, while Ed takes a look at the papers. Ed says that the claim is very vague, but that he'll take a long look at it. Mike's kinda shocked that his buddy would actually be representing him. Ed reminds Mike that although the suit will be very uncomfortable, it's also very winnable. Mike says he's never won an uncomfortable suit and says it'd probably be okay as long as he could win a double-breasted one with pinstripes. You kids have no idea how long I've been saving that gag up. Ed excuses himself from their thrilling ball game to go to the office and start working on this, telling Mike that everything will be fine. You know, as "fine" as things can be when the town finds out you're a perverted and predatory employer who goes by the nickname "Dr. Handsome." I knew that would come back to bite him in the ass.
Meanwhile, Mike goes inside, where Nancy's prancing around with the evil baby Sara on her head, showing off her "baby hat" to all her imaginary friends. I've noticed that ever since Nancy became a stay-at-home mom, she's gotten stranger and stranger. Mike doesn't seem to notice Nancy's unusual behavior. Two words for ya, Mikey: Rusty Yates. You'd better start paying attention to the little lady or you'll be fishing evil baby bits out of your bathtub drain and trying to convince Oprah that you never saw "the signs." Mike tells Nancy that he's being sued. Nancy assumes that he's killed someone while scraping for bunions. Mike clarifies his situation: he's being sued for sexual harassment by his nurse. Nancy asks how this could happen, and Mike says he has no idea. She wants to know if he said something to the nurse like, "Nice tits there, sweetie. Mind if I bury a chubby between 'em?" Mike says no. She asks if he's been grabbing the nurse's ass on a repeated basis like he does with Carmella. Mike doesn't recall, but then again, he grabs a lot of ass each day. Mike assures Nancy that this is a serious affair, and that if he loses, he could lose his practice. Which would mean that she'd have to go out and get a job to support the family, which is almost impossible, because who would stay home and entertain her imaginary friends by putting evil babies on her head? Nancy suggests that maybe Mike should get another lawyer instead of Ed, because it could get weird with Ed (and she's become quite the expert on "getting weird" lately). Mike decides that's a good idea, and says he'll start looking for another lawyer immediately. One that will actually CHARGE him to provide legal services. Sheesh, Mikey. You've got a best friend who's a lawyer who probably won't charge you a dime for his services. Earth to Mikey: stick with the bowling-alley guy. Nancy wants to know if the nurse is pretty, and then adds that she's just curious. She doesn't wait for a response, because she can tell by Mike's facial expressions that he's taking this seriously: he doesn't want to go to prison for busting a nurse's hump in order to get her to agree to some hot Dr. Handsome lovin'.
Over at the alley, Phil's stacking boxes full of food on the snack-bar counter, and asks Ed to be a dear and load the boxes into Phil's car. Ed asks what's going on, and Phil says that he's holding a jazz brunch at his room at Motel 6, and that Ed's invited, but that he should keep the invite on the hush-hush because Motel 6 doesn't like him hosting guests in his room. Ed says, "You're living at Motel 6?" Phil sneers, "Temporarily." Ed says that Phil can't take all this food with him to his brunch, because it's not Phil's food. Phil reminds Ed of his policy that employees can eat as much food as they want, and Ed clarifies, "Eat all you want while you WORK." Phil gets mad and says that you can't change the rules while you're in the middle of the game. That's what they did on "Survivors," and President Bush cancelled the show. Ed tells him to put the food away, and starts walking away while correcting Phil that the show he's thinking of is pronounced Survivor. Phil is furious and yells at Ed, "When did you stop being my man and start being THE man?" I crawl to the utility room for some spackle because that Phil...he just cracks my ass up.
Carol walks into the lobby of the Stuckeyville Progress and asks for Mr. Dobbs. Dobbs, the newspaper's editor, hears her and ushers her into his office. The guy is a dead ringer for my old newspaper editor, except he's carrying papers around instead of half-empty bottles of scotch and gin. Carol says she's an English teacher at the high school and wants to write some stories for the newspaper. Hey, Carol, I played a tree in a first-grade production of The Wizard Of Oz. I think it's high time Ron Howard put me in his flick. But life doesn't work that way. Dobbs says that he used to have the creative bug himself at one point. He went so far as to write the story for an entire Captain Marvel comic that got rejected because he used the word "Shazam!" too many times. He asks Carol if she has any samples to show him; she doesn't. So he pulls out a stack of papers and tells her there's a bunch of different human-interest stories in there. If she can piece one together for him -- say, something about the town nympho or something -- then he could give her some freelance work. A side note here: I was a journalist/reporter for a weekly newspaper for the ten years. If Carol Vessey ever walked into our office with no samples and just a heart full of spunk, we'd use her as a human piñata. We didn't take that kind of crap from no high-falutin' English teachers at my newspaper. I mean, I wouldn't walk up to her and ask to teach her class Sex Ed. She needs to stay far away from my newspaper desk. Fer chrissakes, I bite, dammit. I'm like a rabid racoon when people threaten my livelihood.
Back at the alley, Shirley sits down with Kenny, who's wearing glasses thicker than Ron Jeremy's moneymaker. Shirley wants to know...what up with the specs? Kenny mumbles something about running out of contact lens solution, and Shirley says the glasses make Kenny look like Elvis Costello. Kenny actually thanks her, like that's some sort of compliment. Phil walks over and starts spouting off some high and mighty crap about workers of the world uniting and the only thing they have to lose are their chains. He attributes his spiel to "Karl Marxism." Kenny says he means Karl Marx, and Phil says that true greatness goes by many names. Phil has a proposition for the two of them. Shirley's convinced that he's going to try to get them to join Columbia House Record Club again. Phil's sick of Ed. He says that the power of owning the bowling alley has gone to Ed's head, and it's time that the three of them unionize. Kenny likes things the way they are, and Shirley says she feels lucky just to be there. Phil begins making promise after promise, including (but not limited to) three-hour work days, four-day weekends, five months of vacation each year, a ten-second coffee break out of every minute, their own personal omelet chef, and an employee lounge with vibrating chairs. He promises Kenny all the cigars he can smoke and Shirley all the Swedish fish she can catch if they would just join him in a union. Kenny tells him it won't work, and Shirley says she doesn't want to get fired, leaving Phil alone to wallow in his failed scheming. I'm thinking Kenny's gotten burned too many times by Phil's scams, because Kenny used to be his partner in crime at the drop of a hat. (Outragiacs, anyone?)
In Ed's office, Ed is reading Mike the specific charges against him. We've already seen where he told Danielle that she had a bright smile and a comely appearance (definitely not sexual harassment), and where he told her she could never switch her perfume to a scent like pot roast (a joke). But apparently in the past he's told her that a sweater brought out her eyes (a fashion statement...not harassment), that her boyfriend's a lucky man (ummm...okayyy....), and that that Shaft is a bad mutha...(Hush yo' mouth!) Wha'? I'm just talkin' about Shaft. Mike asks Ed what happens . Ed says this isn't the slam dunk that he thought it'd be. Mike's visibly upset, because he didn't have the common sense to keep his relationship on a purely business level, never joking or complimenting or talking about anything but patients' charts and actually trying to hold conversations with this little witch. Gawd. I can't really blame the woman. If I had been lucky enough to be born with a vagina, I'd be suing every guy who looked at me funny, too. That is, if I could ever take my hands out of it long enough to leave the house.
Commercials. Apparently the bald guy on ER is dead because NBC isn't promoting the show anymore. That show's going to sink faster than Leo DiCaprio at the end of Titanic now that Captain Baldy's gone.
In Carol's classroom, Molly's asking the "cub reporter" which story she's decided to write. Carol can't decide if she wants to report on the guy that has every single copy of Field and Stream since 1946 ("too dull"), the guy who got in a fistfight with Michael Dukakis ("too depressing"), the woman who eats nothing but hashbrowns ("too creepy"), the woman who wears only orange clothing ("also too creepy, but getting warmer"), or the man who grew a fifty-pound pumpkin in his back yard. Molly thinks the fifty-pound pumpkin story is the best, because you can never go wrong with abnormally large produce -- besides which, she can only imagine the size of pie a pumpkin like that could make, and how quickly she could scarf it all down. Molly's brought Carol a gift: a press hat. It barely covers that big head of Carol's that she received the day she became prom queen.
Ed and Mike are walking down the street as Ed tells Mike that they need to get him a new suit. Mike says he has a perfectly fine suit. Ed says Mike can't show up in court wearing a blue pinstripe suit with giant lapels because he'll look like a strip-club bouncer or a pimp. Mike says it's a business suit, and Ed says, "Whatever you say, Superfly." Mike asks if Ed's enjoying this. Ed says that if Mike's talking about the case, then, no, Ed's not enjoying that. But if Mike's talking about Ed holding Mike's fate in the palm of his hand...a-a-a-absolutely. Mike calls him a bastard, and Ed says he'll treat Mike to a pocket square.
Phil saunters up to Kenny, who's busy scraping the grill in the snack bar. Phil tells him that if he would just join the union, he wouldn't have to scrape the grill anymore. Well then, Mr. Stubbs, who the hell would scrape the grill? The way it sounds to me, unions create pandemonium. And pandemonium begets revolution. And don't you know, we're talkin' about a revolution, but it sounds like a whisper. Yes, you know this recap has completely wandered aimlessly into the gutter and is lying face-down in a puddle of its own recap vomit when I'm reduced to quoting fifteen-year-old Tracy Chapman lyrics for a cheap chuckle. Phil also says that if Kenny joins the union, when Kenny dies, somebody will write a folk song about him. Phil then strums his guitar and sings a folk song in the style of "Big Bad John." To wit: "He was strong as a moose and twice as tall, his heart was bigger than a bowling ball. He tried to outbowl a steam-powered bowling machine, now he's buried under lane 15. He's Kennyyyy...Kenny Sandusky." Kenny asks Phil to please go away.
Carol shows up to interview the Pumpkin Guy, Mr. Kiffel. They make small talk, and then she asks him why he grew a fifty-pound pumpkin. He says that he doesn't talk about the pumpkin. She wants to know why, and he says that when he grew the pumpkin, he made a decision not to talk about the pumpkin to the press, because then he'll be pegged as the Pumpkin Man for the rest of his life. Just like the way people can't look at Henry Winkler without thinking of him as The Fonz. Or how people read Uncle Bob's recaps and peg him as a perverted loser who churns out the same lame jokes with different setups each week. But Mr. Kiffel says he'll be more than happy to talk about anything except the pumpkin.
The scene cuts to Carol sitting in the Orange Lady's living room, talking to her about her affinity for the color orange. The lady says that orange is the most beautiful color -- that orange is sunshine, it is warmth, and it is life. She started doing this after she went out one time wearing orange and it got great reactions. A light bulb goes off over Carol's head as she asks the Orange Lady to go out for a walk to see people's reactions. The Orange Lady decides that this is a good idea, and says, "Orange you a good reporter?" The Orange Lady gets ready for the walk, draping a green scarf over her shoulders. Carol is taken aback by the scarf and asks why she's wearing a green scarf. The Orange Lady says it's because it's pretty. Carol argues and says, "But you're the Orange Lady!" The Orange Lady says, "Well, yeah...but I'm not totally anal about it." Unlike Carol and her insistence never to get involved in a meaningful relationship.
Mike and Ed are at the deposition for Mike's case. The prosecutor asks Mike whether he denies making any of the comments that have been attributed to his harassing ass. He says no. She asks if he thinks these are appropriate comments in the workplace. He says that they're all okay when taken in the right spirit. She asks if he's ever acted like this with any other nurse or patient, and he says no. The prosecutor asks if he remembers ever sending an email to a patient to Linda Coleman. Boy, does he ever! She was that hot babe that he used to fantasize about taking his...er...yeah, he responded to one of her emails one time. His email to her was, "Dear Linda: As always, I wait for your appointment with bated breath and hope you contract a mild but treatable case of pneumonia so that I can see you that much sooner. Yours, Dr. Handsome." He admits to writing it. Ed's thoroughly disgusted with his buddy, who seems to be one of them there internet preeverts who prey on children and try to do crazy stuff like transport 'em across them state lines or something. Using email to get chicks all hot and bothered...what the hell is wrong with Mike? Hasn't he heard of Instant Messaging?!
Commercials. At the Olive Garden, when you're there, you're family. That guy sitting in the corner by himself, shoveling hot lasagna on his crotch and staring at the brunette waitress with the fake boobs? That's your grandfather. It's time to take him home before the Olive Garden employees call the police.
The deposition is now over, and Ed goes ballistic. "What the hell was that?" he bursts out, slapping Mike around like a drunken sorority girl who has to be in class in five minutes. Mike says it was nothing. He wasn't hiding it; it was just a silly email. Ed asks if there's anyone else he needs to know about, and Mike about screams "I DID CAROL!!" but luckily he doesn't because them's fightin' words, lawsuit or no lawsuit. Mike says that he was just kidding with Linda Coleman; it was a joke email. Ed reminds Mike in the imitable words of Carol Brady that sometimes jokes can go too far and someone can get hurt. And this time, rather than the bust of Mike Brady getting broken by an errant basketball sailing through the Brady living room, it's going to be Mike's medical reputation. They then bitch about not trusting each other. Mike says that he didn't trust Ed to trust Mike, and that he was right: Ed doesn't trust Mike. And without trust, you have nothing. Well, I guess you technically still have a relationship. But it's a trustless relationship. Kind of like a pizza with no pepperoni. You still have a pizza, but just how enjoyable is it going to be when you're finished and you're not all gassy?
Mike goes home, and Nancy wants to know how it went. Mike wants a brownie. Once he gets a brownie, he'll be ready to talk. Mike's really nervous to tell Nancy that he's a scumbag. I can totally relate; I live with that feeling daily. Mike asks Nancy whether she remembers Linda Coleman. They met at a party one time. Nancy barely remembers her. Mike says that they used to flirt a bit. Nancy semi-flips out, saying, "There's TWO of them now??" Mike asks her to let him explain. They would flirt in a jokey kind of way, like Nancy flirts with the mailman when the weather gets warm enough for him to wear shorts and she woofs at him and whistles at his pale mailman legs and cups her boobies and says things like, "Have you got a special package for my aching booty, Mr. Mail Guy?" Nancy smiles and knows where Mike's coming from. Either that, or she's enjoying the mental image of the mailman's legs a bit more than she should be. Mike says his flirting with Linda is silly and meaningless. So she wrote him a jokey passionate email thanking him for his services. And he wrote her back in the same style. It was a joke. Nancy wonders how the lawyers found this out. Mike says that they questioned all of his patients, and that Linda wanted things to go further between them (i.e. hot Dr. Handsome sex). She invited him over for a little house call. When Mike said he didn't make house calls, she pulled a Glenn Close on him, which would explain the boiled rabbit in their kitchen that time after the Christmas party. Mike about starts sobbing, and Nancy tells him it's okay, she believes him. Then again, she believes in Santa Claus and baby hats; the woman's giddier than Ted Kennedy at a Pizza Hut buffet.
Phil's in a booth at the alley eating a sandwich bigger than Arnold Schwarzenegger's ego when Shirley announces that there are two men from the AFL-CIO there to see him. Two shady characters approach the table. Phil has them sit down and offers them a Dagwood. They both decline. Phil says he wants to merge unions with them. They ask him what union he's with and Phil says number . The union guys aren't familiar with it, and ask if he's the president. He says he is, as well as the shop steward at Stuckey Bowl, and wants to go ahead and sign off on their merger because he's gotta get to the airport to fly to Detroit to meet with that guy whose name sounds like Dustin Hoffman. "Hoffa?" one of the union guys says. "That's it!" Phil smiles. "Dustin Hoffa!" They want to know if Phil's jacking them around, and he says that the Pinsetters Union has nothing but the deepest respect for their union. The AFL-CIO guys ask how many members are in the Pinsetters Union, and Phil assures them that the union is starting small and only has one member right now: himself. The union guys get up to leave in disgust and call him a jackass. Phil begs them to not let him rot away in this sweatshop. Something tells me Jimmy Hoffa would give his decomposed left nut to be rotting away in a sweatshop right now.
Over at the Stuckeyville Progress, Mr. Dobbs is bitching that computers suck, and that in the old days, you used to type everything on typewriters, and when you were finished, you'd yank the paper out of the contraption and yell, "Copy!" and someone would snatch it out of your hands and then take it into a broom closet and pass it around a bunch of minimum-wage employees smoking weed who would then giggle and draw unicorns on it and scrawl notes like "I'm a gargantuan ass" before taking it to the press. Carol barely pays any attention to him. She wants to moderate a little bitch session of her own, about the stack of ideas he gave her; she says that they're not stories, and yanks one out as an example. A feature on Stuckeyville's tallest man...he's 6'4", which isn't really a story. She demands to cover an actual event, because real reporters get events. Instead of hurling an electric pencil sharpener at her mouth, the guy assigns her the plum story of the upcoming Stuckeyville bake-off. Kerrrist. My old boss would have drunkenly yanked his belt out of his pants and began whipping everything in sight if you dared to tell him what stories you wanted to cover. I worked at the paper for nine long years before I got to cover a local bake-off. Carol's dad must run the Stuckeyville mafia or something, because it seems everyone she comes in contact with gives her whatever she wants out of complete and utter fear. Either that, or they want a blowjob. I can't really decide which right now.
At the Smiling Goat, Carol's holding court with her tale of how she told that newspaper editor to give her an f'n story or she'd rip his scalp off, and pound his brains into his nasal cavity so that every time he sneezes he'll lose thousands of brain cells. Mike says it'd be cool if Betty Crocker showed up drunk off her ass. Nobody has the heart to tell Mike that Betty Crocker quit drinking years ago after that embarrassing melee with Sara Lee. Just then, Ed shows up. He and Mike exchange ashamed looks as Mike excuses himself to go to the bar like a whipped puppy. Nancy goads Carol and Molly to go accompany him, because she has to talk to Ed. Molly and Carol leave; Ed sits down, and Nancy asks Ed what's going on, because right now, Mike needs Ed. Ed says lawyer-client privileges keep him from telling her what's going on, and she interrupts him to say that Mike told her everything and it's okay. Ed grins and hunkers down to spill the beans about her lecherous hubby. He says the email really screws up the case. Nancy says she has to believe him because he's Mike and she trusts him. Ed asks why Mike didn't say anything to him about it, and Nancy says that he's embarrassed right now and that we all do stupid things that we're not proud of, meaning all the crap that Ed did when he was trying to get into Carol's pants like renting a suit of armor and having a skywriter write a message to her in the sky and making that cheesy video of him singing "You're The Inspiration" to her. It all flies right over Ed's head since apparently he's Mr. Perfect, which is news to the WWF's Curt Hennig (and personal friend of Uncle Bob, but that's another story. Hi Curt!). Nancy asks him to get Mike out of trouble, and Ed assures her that he'll do his best. Which means he'll show up for court and say that Mike only harasses women that he finds attractive so...you know...let him go or something.
Commercials. You know those Palestinians that got killed recently? Apparently, it's because they wouldn't buy those freakin' P'Zones. Tommy Davidson is serious. Buy a P'Zone or you're on the list, Habib.
In the judge's chambers, Ed's arguing that Linda Coleman's email was irrelevant and doesn't apply to this case. The prosecutor says it does, since it shows a pattern of Mike wanting to hump every attractive female with whom he comes into contact. Ed says that Mike was just writing Linda back in the same tone that she wrote him, and that Mike never initiated the conversation. The judge says that Ed's right; the email is irrelevant. The prosecutor cackles fiendishly and says that she'll get Mike, her little pretty. And his little dog Toto, too.
At the bake-off, Carol's walking around trying to find a story, like stories are giggling and hiding behind trees. She walks up to a group of ladies and asks to interview them. She tells them she's searching for "the story behind the story." Has there ever been any stealing of recipes? Sabotaging each other by pouring talcum powder into meringue? Any anthrax "accidentally" slipped into a rum cake? One of them comes up with an amusing anecdote that she can share: one time, she accidently put rancid butter in the apple pie. Carol gets all excited, yanks her pen and pad out and wants to know all about the story. Sadly, that is the story. Carol has a breakdown and says she's dying here. She tells the women about the fifty-pound pumpkin guy and the Orange Lady. One of the women offers her some bundt cake. Carol chows down because she has the metabolism of a tsetse fly.
Back in court, Ed's badgering the nurse. Did Mike ever make physical contact with her? No. Did he threaten to fire her? No. Did he ask her for sex? No. Did he ask her out on a date? No. Did he ever stick his finger in her ass, call her "Nancy," and ask her to cough? No. Did he make her strip down and act out entire episodes of Who's The Boss completely in Chinese? No. Ed asks her to explain what the hell Mike did do to her that warrants having to pay each of these jurors five bucks apiece to be there? The answer is...Mike made her feel uncomfortable. Shit. If that's the case, I can sue the producers of Fear Factor for sexual harassment. Ed asks if Danielle ever told Mike that he made her uncomfortable? Say it with me: no. Why not? Well, there were lots of reasons. She wanted to keep her job because she apparently loves to be "sexually harassed." She couldn't get up the nerve to tell Dr. Handsome to quit talking about her smile. Plus...hey...why should she have to confront him? Why should she be responsible for his behavior? Ummm...Nurse Nincompoop, lemme help you out here. There's such a thing as "polite conversation." It sounds to me like you were the victim of being on the receiving end of some polite conversation. Ed considers showing her examples of polite conversation versus sexual harassment using hand puppets, but wisely moves along.
Back at the bake-off, Carol's swallowing mouthfuls of bundt cake when one of the women mentions that she bakes to cheer herself and her family up. Another one bakes to kill time. Carol sees their baking as a way to fill a void created by suburbia. Yeah, sure. And Pizza Hut P'Zones are the reason there's no peace in the Middle East. Sheesh. Some people make mountains out of molehills, which would have been a better name for this episode than "Trust." Because the sexual harrassment thing...making mountains out of molehills. Phil wanting to start a union because Ed won't let him take food home? Mountain out of a molehill. Carol trying to get the story behind the story at an f'n bake-off? Mountain. Out. Of. A. Molehill.
Now it's Mike's turn to take the stand. The prosecutor asks Mike if he thinks his nurse is attractive. Mike says yes, but that he's happily married. Did he say she was "comely"? Yes, but he was just complimenting her; there was nothing sexual about it. It was just a fucking compliment. Apparently somebody scarred the shit out of her in the past and the dumb bitch can't accept a fucking compliment now and why the fuck should Mike be responsible for her inability to function in social situations? Mike apologizes for his language, which has left everyone slightly slack-jawed, and the interrogation continues. The prosecutor asks what if instead of Mike's continuous focus on Danielle's physical appearance, he could have complimented her on her work instead of her looks. Mike says it's because the girl can't tie her own shoes without an owner's manual; he hired the bitch for her fine ass. It's Ed's turn. Ed asks why in the hell Mike would dare to talk to his nurse at work. Mike said he just created banter with all his employees because he finds it makes for a more comfortable work environment when people actually talk. They work side by side; it's only a matter of time before conversation veers away from blood types and tongue depressors and starts to dwell on people who smell like beef. Mike likes to work in a nice atmosphere and never thought of Danielle as an employee. Ed asks Mike if the nurse had come to him and said she was uncomfortable with the way he complimented her on her smile, would Mike have fired her? Mike says no; he probably would have apologized. Mike says he never realized he was making the fine-assed bitch uncomfortable.
In front of Stuckey Bowl, Phil has organized a picket line of people he found milling about in the parking lot of Home Depot. He's yelling, "What do we want?!" and the people are quietly replying "Justice" as they walk around in a lazy circle. Ed pulls up. Phil disgustedly refers to him as "the boss man" and asks for some boos from the picketers, who toss out a few jaded boos. Ed asks what Phil wants, and Phil says he wants the leftover hot dogs at the end of the night. Ed says that's fine; he can have them. Phil's excited and announces the victory to the picketers. He then tries unsuccessfully to lead them into a chant of "Hoffa! Hoffa!" They come off as slightly more impressed than America is with this season's episodes of Ed.
The prosecutor is giving her closing statement. Basically, Mike's an idiot, his jokes caused trouble, and if this were 1952, it'd be perfectly acceptable for him to compliment a woman's smile, but today that shit ain't tolerated. Ed asks whatever happened to "Innocent Until Proven Guilty," which has always been a phrase I've found overused. Ed thinks that we all need to trust each other and assume the best about each other. This nurse assumed the worst of Mike. She didn't ask him to stop; she sued him. Ed says that we as Americans owe it to each other to start trusting each other more, and that just because a guy grabs your ass, it doesn't necessarily mean he wants to have sex with you. It just means you have a nice ass. Get over it, lady.
The jury comes back with a decision quicker than a car wreck. Naturally, they find Mike innocent in quite possibly the most see-through court case ever on Ed. It would have been a major shocker if Mike were found guilty and lost his business and became a derelict male whore, standing on street corners of downtown Stuckeyville and calling out to lonely businessmen in their Mercedes Benzes, "Who wants a date with Dr. Handsome?!" But of course...that ain't happenin'. Nancy hugs Ed, and Ed grabs her ass in front of Mike and gives him a look that says. "No more of THIS shit, you idiot." Ed asks them if they want to grab some dinner, but Mike says he's worn out from all this, and that he'll just see Ed tomorrow. He thanks Ed, who lets Mike know that he's welcome. Mike and Nancy leave the courtroom arm in arm, as Mike wolf-whistles at every female in the room.
Carol shows up at the newspaper office and marches in to the editor's office like she's banging him, which she probably is since she's the town tramp and all. She asks how he liked her story "Suburban Dreams." He says that it was good, but that he can't use it. She wants to know why, and he says it's because it was seven pages long. If you need a point of reference, I'm on page five of this marathon o' chuckles right now. In Carol's defense, she used a large font. He says that he didn't want the story behind the story, he just wanted the story. It's a well-written piece, but he can't use it. Carol sullenly thanks him for the opportunity to be humiliated several times in a row, and he asks her if she's heard of Byron Smeltz. Carol has to think if she ever had sex with the guy, draws a blank, and says no. Dobbs explains that he hasn't filed a tax return in ten years, and Dobbs wants Carol to talk to him. Carol gets way more excited than she has any right to be and leaves. She turns around and asks to make sure that he wants her to write a story...right? He says yes, and she says she was just checking. This reminds me of the classic joke, "Why did God give blondes one more brain cell than He gave horses? So they wouldn't shit in the street at parades." Woohoo! In case you haven't noticed, I've gotten all wrapped up in the sexually harassing theme this week. I promise I'll cut back week. Unless Dr. Jerome gets sued for feeling up one of the Golden Girls in week's episode. Then it's full steam ahead, babe.
Back in Mike's driveway, Mike's shooting hoops by himself when Ed walks up and asks if he wants to play a quick round of 11 by 1's. Mike's glad that anybody still wants to play with him and says sure. They play for a few seconds before Ed says, "Mike, I'm sorry I didn't trust you." Mike stops and says, "Thanks." Ed zooms to the basket, dunks it, and calls 1-nothing. Mike grins and Ed says that's his version of trash talk as they resume play. Mike starts making fun of Ed's closing statements: "Trust is all we have, if we don't have trust, we don't have anything, we need trust." Ed says that closing argument kept Mike's ass out of the big house, and the episode ends.
I dunno...I liked it. I think a major part of it, as has been pointed out on the boards more eloquently than I could, was Mike and Nancy's scene, where Mike looked utterly humiliated at having to admit that his careless flirting had gotten him into a helluva fix. Yet another tender scene that I'm really beginning to dig on this show. Say what you want about Phil, but I still love that character. Michael Ian Black can play creepy like nobody else except Dennis Hopper or Crispin Glover. Even without Warren, I've gotta give the props to this episode. I think it rocked sufficiently.