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The embodiment of pure, concentrated evil that is Luke Perry uses his prince-of-darkness mind powers on Mitch and gets the head of the Surfin' Yosts of Imperial Beach to agree to let young Shaun compete in that surf competition up in Huntington after all. Because it's what Shaunie wants. Plus -- Luke Perry? Pure evil.
Meanwhile, Butchie and John's Semi-Excellent Adventure continues with a furtive trip down to the pier to buy drugs and a much more successful visit to a local liquor mart to see just how much Chivas Regal one can buy before maxing out John's platinum card. Their joy is short-lived, however, when they meet up with Butchie's drug connection Freddie, who just flew in from Hawaii, and boy are his arms tired. Not too tired to slug Butchie, though, and throw in a right-cross to John's face as well -- the later punch occurs just before a earthquake that hits the entire Imperial Beach area. Coincidence? I think not.
Shaun probably doesn't care if it's a coincidence or not. All he knows is that the earthquake knocks him off his surfboard in the middle of the Huntington competition, causing him to fall and break his neck. He's breathing only through the intervention of machines, and the doctors say he's all but brain dead. All that's left is to figure out how to divvy up his organs, until Bill stops by the hospital with the bird Shaun raised from the dead last week. The bird appears to return the favor this time out, pecking Shaun on the cheek and causing his eyes to open just as we go to the closing credits.
Elsewhere, Barry Cunningham tries to confront his demons in Room 24 of the run-down motel and spends the rest of the episode ranting incoherently. Bill spends the majority of the episode in his own house ranting incoherently. John is as coherent as ever -- which is to say, not very -- as he spends this episode learning the particulars about going No. 2. Truly, it's not TV, it's HBO, though at this rate, I think TV is looking more and more appealing. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Previously on John From Covedale: Evil Dylan McKay wants young Shaun Yost to turn professional. His grandfather, Mitch, is opposed to it; his father, Butchie, is indifferent, as it does not involve heroin. A mysterious figure with magical pockets and capable only of parroting what other people say to him shows up -- that's your title character, ladies and gentlemen. Good luck.
Opening credits: Catch a wave and you're sitting on top of the world…what on account of your sudden, unexplained powers of levitation.
Our episode opens with Mitch Yost surfing in solitude off a nearly abandoned beach near the U.S.-Mexico border and… oh God, it's the exact same beginning as last week. Please don't tell me I recorded a rerun. Nope -- this is episode 2. Turns out this show is just really repetitive. Phew.
And anyhow, there's one key difference from last week -- instead of surfing under the watchful eye of Linc "Please Stop Calling Me Evil Dylan McKay As It Will Begin to Confuse People" Stark, Mitch is instead surfing under the watchful eye of the not-unpleasant-looking woman in her late twenties, early thirties who was text-messaging Linc at the end of last week's episode. So Linc is forward-thinking enough to at least outsource his stalking. Good man.
Ah, but Mitch and the not-unpleasant-woman apparently doing Linc's bidding are not the only people on the beach this morning. Just as Mitch is leaving the water, Kai -- you remember Kai? From the surf shop? -- surfs behind Mitch and bellows, "Hey, old man!" Mitch seems not entirely pleased to see her. Or maybe he just hates being reminded of his own mortality. I know my dad hates it when I begin our phone calls with "What? You're still around?" Anyhow, the not-unpleasant-woman frowns at the sight of Kai and begins busily text messaging again -- perhaps she hates being reminded of people's mortality, too.
No, she's frowning because apparently Kai's presence threatens her potential face time with Mitch -- she's waiting at Mitch's car as Kai and Mitch walk up from the beach. "Is she a fan of yours?" Kai wonders. "All my fans are in retirement homes," Mitch snorts. Or hanging out on Nowhere Man fan sites -- same thing, really. But it turns out the not-unpleasant-looking woman is a fan of Mitch -- she introduces herself as Cass (saving me the trouble of typing out "not-unpleasant-looking woman in her late twenties, early thirties" ever again) and said she saw Mitch at Pipe Master back when she was 15 and had something of a crush on the surfing legend. Mitch doesn't recall her; Kai makes the international hand gesture for "Can you believe this nonsense?" Anyhow, Cass says she's a filmmaker -- that's Kai's cue to exit stage right, rolling her eyes -- and that she'd love, love, love to make a documentary about Mitch. Mitch is more interested in eyeballing her car, a classic convertible. "I like vintage," purrs Cass. "What can I say?" Uh…we still talking about cars here? Cass hands Mitch a card, and asks him to consider her generous offer. About making a movie of him? Well, I'm sure that's part of her generous offer.
Over in the house of birds and dementia, Bill is placing a phone call to his old precinct. Or rather, he's placing a second call. Why, you and the person on the other end of the line ask? "I got tired of being held on hold," Bill says testily. "Good thing I'm not being robbed here." The reason for Bill's call, then, is because he's "looking into a nutjob" -- that'd be John, incidentally -- to find out if he's wanted or missing; Bill even has John's prints handy for when he arrives at the station. So why is he calling ahead, the unheard voice on the other end of the line apparently inquires? "Well, Anderson, that's to avoid standing there like a mope with my hat in my hand some place I worked 16 years while my request is walked through channels," Bill says, the irritation building with each syllable. About this time, you're probably wondering how Bill got John's prints -- Anderson sure is. That'd be from the handle of the police station water fountain that John drank from yesterday -- Bill took the liberty of removing it and taking it home. Hope none of you Imperial Beach peace officers are feeling parched this morning. Anyhow, Anderson is upset about Bill taking the water fountain handle, and Bill is upset about the out-of-date fliers on the station's bulletin board, and soon their conversation ends in a torrent of profanities and the slamming of phones. Shocking language for a Milch-written program I know.
In Room F at the Snug Harbor Motel -- "Come for the surfing; stay for the vermin-ridden accommodations" -- Butchie awakens from his filth-ridden slumber to find a shirtless, grinning John staring at him. Aw, their first sleep-over. "How did you sleep?" Butchie asks. "How did you sleep?" John repeats. Oh God, this again. Seriously, what I wouldn't give for the scene to transpire thusly:
Butchie: You know, John, it's getting a little tedious having you repeat everything I say.
John: It is? Boy, I'm sorry. I thought it made me endearing.
Butchie: At first, it did a little. But now I kind of want to punch you.
John: Well, that tears it then. From now on, I'm only speaking in declarative sentences that will advance the plot.
Butchie: Great! So that means this show will finally get somewhere.
John: Well, not exactly. Milch still has some point about the oneness of the universe that we'll need to beat into the ground first.
Butchie: Oh. Boy, I could really use some heroin.
John: Right there with you, bro.
But the scene doesn't transpire that way, not at all. But before that happens, we learn that Butchie isn't feeling dope-sick right now -- wonder if John's presence has anything to do with that? -- and that he needs to take a horrendous dump. Hey, so does John -- or at least he follows Butchie into the bathroom and repeats Butchie's line about needing to take a horrendous dump. Butchie heads outside to give John some privacy, but not before noting that he has yet to see John heed nature's call at any time during the past 24 hours. Perhaps I'm biased, but I preferred the way my scene unfolded -- a lot less scatology.
At the Yost manse, Shaun is checking out the results of the Huntington surfing competition on a perfectly good MacBook that he's defaced with stickers. Sacrilege! I hear if Steve Jobs and Jonathan Ive find out about stuff like that, they personally drive to your home, confiscate your Mac and leave you with a Dell Inspiron instead. In Shaun's case, however, it just makes Linc skulk around outside the front door. "Shaunie Yost," Linc says with just a touch of false bonhomie. "I got your demo, man. It rocks." Cissy stares at Linc through the screen door like she's wandered in the middle of Death Valley and he's running the area's only lemonade stand. Linc asks for two minutes to explain his awesome representational powers. Cissy opens the door -- literally and figuratively -- to evil and tells him to speed it along -- Mitch will be home soon, and he doesn't like ex- cast members corrupting his grandchildren.
Still waiting for John to finish his business, Butchie exchanges pleasantries to Ramon who's like, "What, are you still here? You know the place got sold to a whack-job who wants to level the joint, right?" Butchie gives him the hang loose sign and heads back inside to inquire if John is "all dumped out." Indeed, he is, and he's not just saying that because it was the last thing repeated to him. Well, he is, actually, but play along. "A-plus on the fume control, pal," observes Butchie before launching into his own morning ablutions. "Radio silence now, John, until further notification," Butchie continues. "This is a dump a grown man can be proud of." You know, say what you will about Butchie -- deadbeat father, horrible addict, damaged person -- but this cat sure is enthusiastic about his bowel movements.
Two minutes must have passed, because Linc has completed his spiel to Shaun and Cissy. And just in time for Mitch to arrive home and wonder what Linc is doing darkening his door. Cissy begs him to let the Prince of All Lies get a word in, and for good reason -- Linc pulled some strings and got Shaun in that competition at Huntington, after all. Mitch does not seem particularly grateful, launching into a tirade about the evils of corporate sponsorship in the surf world; Cissy tells him too cool it. "Just this once, Mitch," she whispers. "Think what Shaunie wants." And me too, Mitch -- think about my insatiable need to churn out surf legends. Well, she doesn't add that part, but I pretty much figured it was the subtext here. Linc decides a more direct appeal to Shaunie is in order: Hey kid, I was once a surfer, too. But I was never good enough to give people a thrill just by watching me -- not like your old man and his old man. And not like you, either. Instead, I figured out I could exploit the hell out of folks like you and make a pretty penny doing it. And sure, I made mistakes, like helping turn your old man into a junkie, but I've learned from those mistakes, and let's let bygones be bygones and what say you just sign here on the dotted line? That's a paraphrase, of course, but the bottom line is that Linc realizes that he no longer needs to sell an image: "The thing itself -- that's the thing." Mitch snorts that's an awful convenient conclusion to come too now that he sleeps on bags of money, surrounded by beautiful women. But his words have apparently convinced Shaun: "I'd like to compete," he says. "I like it." Mitch seems to realize he's licked. "No image," he tells Linc, who agrees that it will be all about the surfing and no Butchie-esque bad-boy marketing techniques. Maybe Mitch should get that in writing.
Butchie and John have left their squalid estate at the Snug Harbor for a road trip to the Imperial Beach pier to…well, Butchie makes noise about copping a fix, but he insists to John that they're not here to score. Also, Butchie remarks -- again -- that he's not feeling the least bit dope-sick but doesn't go on to make any conclusions about whose sudden, unexplained presence might account for this unexpected turn of events. It is at the pier that they run into Vietnam Joe, who is currently helping fish cross the border of the ocean for the freedom of his ice chest -- Butchie expresses pretend shock that this duo of weirdos seems to know each other. Vietnam Joe points out that, for the sake of accuracy, he doesn't actually know John -- he just gave the dude a lift. "I never got high overseas like I needed to get after that ride," Vietnam Joe observes. Yes, fans, that's John From Cincinnati -- where even the characters find one another perplexing and maddening. During this exchange, John has wandered off to the edge of the pier to look through one of those mounted telescope thingies you often find on public piers -- in case you were dying from curiosity, he's staring at what appears to be a naval radio station which the locals refer to as the elephant cage. Fitting that while John is staring at this radio receiving facility, he's apparently able to hear Butchie talking to himself loud and clear: "My old man levitated. I'm not feeling sick. John, what the hell is going on? John, you can be honest with me, man. Tell me what's going on. John, tell me what the fuck is going on." But enough of this mental telepathy -- Butchie finally opens up his mouth to speak and asks John what's he looking at. John displays another annoying trait by answering a question with a question: "What do you want, Butchie?" Butchie tells him that they'll figure it all out, and together they leave this pier of sun and existential wonderings. I think, after that scene, we all need to roll the proverbial fatty of which Vietnam Joe speaks.
Ramon and Dickstein are nervously awaiting the return of Cunningham to the Snug Harbor; you can understand their apprehension given how Day 1 of his ownership turned out -- unwanted reunion with Butchie, allusions to a hazing prank gone awry, a botched suicide attempt, and a surfing teddy bear. On the bright side, Day 2 can only be better by comparison. Dickstein observes that Cunningham seemed in good spirits when he phoned to say he wanted to meet; "Yesterday, too, until he pulled out his Gat," Ramon observes warily. Anyhow, Cunningham's arrived and he's brought breakfast pastries for all -- empanadas and churros, mostly. Remind me to scan my etiquette books later to see if that's an appropriate "Sorry I tried to blow my brains out in front of you yesterday" gesture. But Cunningham brings more than just tasty south-of-the-border treats -- he also tells Ramon and Dickstein that he's had second thoughts about leveling the motel. See, he had this vision -- "That how you got the numbers for the jackpot?" Ramon interrupts. It is, as a matter of fact. "The drawing is on Tuesday," Ramon points out helpfully. No, no -- no lottery numbers in this particular vision, Ramon. Rather, Cunningham's latest vision -- these occur after one of his stress-induced seizures, by the way -- was about how he needs to learn how to surf. Really? That's No. 1 on the to-do list? Because I can suggest a few more pressing areas for self-improvement.
But before we can dwell on those, a sleazy looking figure in a black muscle shirt strides into the motel office. If I didn't know better I'd say it was Charlie Udder ofDeadwoodfame, but that's crazy talk. Charlie was a nice, kind, upstanding soul, and this guy looks like a sinister lizard. He's looking for Butchie -- he spits out the request with particular menace. Ramon suggests leaving a message on the door of Butchie's room. "I'll give it to him when he shows up," our black-clad stranger practically hisses. "Pastry while you wait?" Cunningham asks cheerfully. Apparently, his visions do not extend to Ways of Avoiding Brutal Stompings by Thuggish-Looking Strangers. Ramon and Dickstein eye the Man in Black nervously while Cunningham prattles on about his plan for the motel: Instead of razing it because of traumas past, why not renovate the place? Because it reeks of several month's worth of Yost filth? But no one raises this sensible objection before Cunningham grabs the key for Room 24 -- the site of that bit of past unpleasantness he alluded to last week -- and dashes off to begin the healing. "He looks like that Bowzer from Sha Na Na," Ramon mutters about the Man in Black. Yes -- Evil Bowzer. Not sweet Charlie Udder at all.
So how's that how Confront the Past game plan working out for Cunningham? At this early stage, I'd have to say, "Not well." He only manages to open the door of Room 24 before gasping and softly saying, "No, no, no, no" before running off. But on the other hand -- baby steps. Tomorrow, maybe he gets a foot inside the door before freaking out.
While this is going on, Bill has apparently completed his business on the phone with the police, because he's just staring wordlessly off into space, when Shaun knocks on the door. Bill invites him to witness -- and possibly participate in -- the ever thrilling task of cleaning out bird cages. "Guess what?" Shaun asks. "You found a dinosaur egg?" Bill guesses, without a hint of sarcasm. "I'm back in the contest," Shaun says proudly. Bill seems profoundly pleased with this news, though he also seems to be having a hard time figuring out exactly what the Lil'est Yost is talking about. Remember, Bill? Surfing contest? Yesterday? You were driving Shaun up when circumstances intervened? Anyhow, Grandpa and Grandma Yost are driving him up there today. "We left my dad a message," Shaun says. "Maybe he'll come to." Depends, kid -- what's the heroin concession stand like up in Huntington? Shaun wants to know if Bill cares to come; Bill declines, pointing out that this is a family outing and not really addressing the part about him being a scatter-brained shut-in. Watching from the car, Mitch seems relieved. I'm sure that happens a lot when invitations are extended to Bill. "I got to get after the accumulation," Bill shouts to the Yosts. "They're crap machines. My birds. They're crap machines." That's probably the reason for those reluctantly-offered invitations right there.
Via cell phone, Linc is debriefing Cass about her interaction with Mitch this morning, and not liking what he's hearing vis-à-vis the run in with Kai. "She's like the kid's second mother," scolds Linc, who is distressed that Kai saw Cass hit on Mitch. "You know, Linc," Cass says wearily, "I actually do make films." "That's the trick," Linc says, sinisterly. "That's what you're supposed to make her think you're here for." You know, as far as tricks go, that doesn't seem terribly tricky. OK, so we send this not-unattractive documentary filmmaker to see Mitch Yost… "Okay." And she asks to make a documentary about him… "Uh huh." And then she does! "Love it! Dylan McKay, you magnificently devious bastard!" It's not exactly tricking a widow out of the deed to her land, that's what I'm getting at here. Oh, this cell phone conversation Linc and Cass are having? It's taking place on opposite sides of the street. They are really wasting cell phone minutes.
Inside the surf shop, Kai is placing a furtive call to Butchie, letting him know about Mitch's inexplicable change of heart in matters surf-contest related. And hey, maybe, your son would like it, too, if you were to make the trip to Huntington, assuming you're not to busy copping drugs or showing your rich, weirdo friend around town. Kai hangs up just as Cass enters the surf shop, ostensibly to make nice. If Kai's line of questioning is any indication -- "Did you get Mitch in your Porsche? Show him how the gearbox worked?" -- she's not going to have much luck. "I make movies," Cass protests. Yes, so you keep saying. But what kind of movies? Reputable documentaries I might be able to catch on, say, the Sundance Channel? Or horrific exploitation flicks -- How I Did Linc Stark's Bidding, Vol. 1 and titles to that effect? I'm not judging here. I'm just trying to calibrate my expectations. Anyhow, Kai mentions that Shaun and the rest of the Yosts are headed up to Huntington for the big surf competition. Cass says that she'll probably go, and Kai volunteers she'll go, too, even though her message to Butchie explicitly said she wasn't planning on going. It's so sweet when the help gets all over-protective.
The Yosts drive up to Huntington. Mitch looks resigned. Cissy looks alternately grim and pleased. Shaun smiles contentedly. Mr. Sobell wonders if it's 108 miles between Imperial Beach and Huntington, as Google Maps claims, then how come everyone always takes surface roads on this show and not, say Interstate 5? Riddle me that, John from Cincinnati?
In Bill's house, Bill is not making much progress on cleaning up all the bird crap, but he is soliloquying up a storm. Mostly, he's talking about how he's not a frightened person by nature but how he's suddenly afraid. "I'm feeling a real…" he says, taking the most pregnant of pauses, "a genuine frightened feeling. Something's behind and whatever the hell might be going on, I'm afraid to even turn around and look." The birds don't seem to share his discomfort. "Is that you, Lois?" Who, pray tell, is Lois? Bill's ex-/possibly-late wife? Some neighbor lady? The chick who was supposed to flip the cue card to the more compelling dialogue that actually made a lick of sense? Yeah, yeah -- Bill's touched in the head. We get it, Milch. Maybe try to work another scene in to this speedily-paced narrative.
Like more Cunningham babbling, maybe, because that's what we get . He's back in the office with Ramon and Dickstein, concluding that the motel is haunted. "At least, Room 24 is haunted," he adds. "You mentioned you had an unpleasant experience there," Dickstein begins, uncomfortably. "It was all one in my mind," Cunningham replies, not the least bit helpfully. "Time flies when you're having fun. Mega Millions are not the broom to sweep Room 24 clean. Must I say for me? Isn't 'for me' understood?" Yes, yes -- the fat man dances by the moonlight in Chicago. But only when the peaches are ripe. What in God's name are you saying, SuperFreak? But perhaps Ramon puts it best: "You're getting a little hard to follow," he says wearily. Yes -- something to put on the John From Cincinnati t-shirts, I think. Anyhow, Ramon and Dickstein assure Cunningham that he doesn't have to go into Room 24 anymore; he shows his gratitude by hugging Ramon. ‘I woke up this morning happy," Cunningham says. That makes two of us pal. "I mistook that freedom for power," he continues. Uh huh. "Our visions are powerless against our pasts," he adds. "Happiness is helpless in passing." Say, tell you what -- you just keep rambling there, and I'm going to help myself to one of those empanadas if there still are any. There aren't? Fuck.
You know who's having a better time of things than Ramon, Dickstein, and me? Butchie and John, who have hit the local liquor store to see if the line of credit on John's platinum card is any way close to being exceeded. As Butchie boasts to the put-upon clerk about how their charge is going to go through -- guess it's hard for down-on-their-heels surfer-junkies to maintain a glowing credit rating -- John is making eyes at the cardboard cut-out girls advertising beer, going so far as to ape their smiles. He does vacant happiness surprisingly well. Anyhow, the charge goes through, and Butchie decides to celebrate his newfound financial backing by stocking up on Chivas Regal -- we'll take the whole shelf's worth my good man.
The Yosts are still driving northward, again on surface streets, and still not talking very much. Shaun breaks the silence by asking if he can call his dad again to let him know about the competition. Before Mitch can say yea or nay, Cissy hands Shaun a cell phone. "Then why don't we get out of the car and bang our heads on that lamppost until the light changes?" Mitch asks. Perhaps this is Mitch's wry commentary on the futility of expecting Butchie to come through for his son. Or maybe Mitch actually thinks that's how you get traffic signals to work. Either way, it's an odd thing to say to your grandson when he's just hoping for his dad to show up for once. Shaun just smiles.
In addition to clearing out the local liquor store's supply of Chivas Regal, Butchie and John apparently decided to add cardboard cutouts to their tab, because they're carrying the three beer bunnies under their arms along with the booze, as they march down the streets of Imperial Beach. Butchie instructs John not to give his heart freely to cardboard cutouts. Because it's sick and wrong? "Papercuts on the penis -- very painful," Butchie says. Well…that's…another reason, I suppose. And maybe my transformation into a tongue-clucking grumpus is now complete, but the constant stream of vulgarity is really beginning to weigh on me with this show. I didn't have a problem with it on Deadwood -- it seemed to fit in there. Here? Just feels gratuitous and out-of-place. Maybe it's just me. Now you kids turn down that rock music and get off my damned lawn! Anyhow, when John nearly barrels out into oncoming traffic, Butchie uses one of the cardboard cutouts to stop him. Butchie surmises that John is not terribly familiar with big-city traffic patterns, probably because he doesn't hail from a big, bustling metropolis. "I'm feeling kind of a small town, not a farm town, but a small town," Butchie says. "A small town like, you know, I'm feeling a little Cincinnati." "I am from Cincinnati," John says excitedly. You know what? I don't think he actually is. I think he may just be saying that.
Up at Huntington, the Yosts have found a good vantage point on a nearby pier, while Linc has found himself a wonderful place to get harangued by the father of the kid who's getting booted from the surfing competition to make room for Shaunie. The father is outraged; Linc's sympathy is limited, noting that he and his son are being sent on a trip to Sumatra at Linc's expense as a reward for their selflessness and team spirit. The father remains intransigent, not really wanting to do any favors for any offspring of Butchie Yost. That gives Linc the chance to unleash his inner jerk: "You do not get a vote about Shaun Yost. You get to vote on whether or not you pass on Sumatra." I think I'd agree to a bag of Sumatra coffee, let alone a trip to Sumatra, before I got on Linc's bad side.
Elsewhere at the competition, Shaun is sitting silently with his board in the competitors' tent. Clearly not comfortable with his surroundings, he sits and watches the other surfers go about their business, while the occasional pack of teenage girls looks into the tent to ogle this collection of a pre-man meat. One of the other competitors starts tending to his board with a wax comb, so Shaun follows suit. A pair of doofuses watch the first kid work the wax comb and exchange mocking glances; Shaun abandons this activity nearly immediately. Another competitor starts to stroll out of the tent when he suddenly yelps and falls to the ground; his foot's been cut up. He stares around the tent, accusingly. Oh, the cutthroat world of teen-age surf competitions! It's every bit as fierce the Scripps Howard Spelling Bee, only 100 times worse.
The horn sounds, the junior competitors hit the waves, and the competition is underway. The surfers get 30 minutes and their three highest-scoring waves are what will determine who wins this thing. Got all that? Now, if you're expecting intricate descriptions of every surfer's move, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong recap. Really, I don't have the vocabulary to do the surfing justice -- you should really just go watch the surfing montage for yourself. It's about 29 minutes into the episode; I'll wait here while you soak it in. Done? Okay. Suffice it to say, Shaun does very well for himself -- visibly better than the other competitors out there. Even the irate father from earlier seems impressed. "Your kid sticks one like that, you come back here and piss in my ear," Linc says. And HBO would air that, too -- it'd fit right in as a lead-in for Real Sex. Anyway, from their vantage point, Cissy and Mitch agree that their grandson has got this thing in the bag.
About this time, Butchie and John are just getting back to the motel with their sack of whiskey and their cardboard cut-out dates. It promises to be an unhappy homecoming as the Man in Black is striding toward them with measured ferocity. Butchie spots the guy and instructs John to hang back while he tries to smooth things over -- he fails. The Man in Black knocks Butchie to the ground with a painful looking right cross. This is Freddy -- the man to whom Butchie was placing so many ill-tempered phone calls to last episode in re: the drug buy gone bad. Freddy apparently didn't take Butchie's threats to rat him out to the authorities as constructive criticism about his business practices. (Fans of spooky behavior will note that John began holding his jaw long before Freddy slugged Butchie.) Butchie tries to apologize from his horizontal position, but Freddy isn't having it: "That call was a fucking favor to me. It reminded me of what a fuck-up you turned into instead of who I watched surf Rocky Point." So Butchie's drug dealer is now admonishing him for the choices he's made in life -- I'd say that's just about hitting rock bottom, wouldn't you? At this point, Freddy notices that John is drinking all this in, and he doesn't care for it -- not one bit. "You want some of that?" Freddy shouts. And here is where John's habit of repeating exactly what people say does not serve him terribly well: "I want some," he says. Freddy is nothing if not generous -- he delivers a blow across John's face. "Freddy!" Butchie pleads. "He ain't all there!" "Now, he's there even less," Freddy says. Freddy's quite the wit.
Ah, but this is no time for levity. No sooner has Freddy landed his blow than the ground begins shaking. Butchie tells John not to panic since temblors like this happen all the time. A panicky John would seem to be the least of anyone's worries, since he's just standing there calmly. "What do you want, Butchie Yost?" John asks pointedly. Maybe for the goddamn ground to stop shaking. That's what everyone else seems to want. In the motel office, Ramon and Dickstein are taking refuge under a door frame -- Dickstein thinks this is a fine time to remind Cunningham that he had the lawyer waive physical inspections in order to speed up closing on the property. In Bill's house, the birds are squawking and Bill's getting increasingly more nervous and agitated -- in fairness, this same scene might have been going down, earthquake or no. Bill puts in a call to Anderson at the police station to ask if there was an earthquake; clearly, Anderson's had it up to here with Bill's calls today because his unheard response makes Bill even more agitated. Again, I'm not sure the earthquake is entirely to blame for Bill's suddenly unpredictable behavior.
The earthquake is also felt up in Huntington, where Shaun is still surfing. Correction -- where Shaun was surfing. A wave comes along and knocks him off his board. The Yosts hope that the judges weren't watching this rare slip-up; soon, they hope that their grandson resurfaces, because he hasn't yet. "He never came up," Kai bellows from the beach -- as if to confirm, we cut to a shot of Shaun floating face-down in the water. Mitch sprints down the pier -- pretty quickly for a guy with bone-on-bone action going on in one of his knees. Anyhow, everyone seems very concerned.
Back at Bill's, the swing in the cage of Zippy the Once-Dead Parrot is still swinging back and forth as a result of the earthquake, which Bill takes as confirmation that it was a temblor, after all. As opposed to what? Termites? A heretofore-undiscovered volcano in the greater San Diego area? A mob of angry people who had just sat through Dutch and are clamoring for vengeance? Whatever, Bill's apparently happy that it's a minor temblor because it's proof that he hasn't lost his mind. Oh, I'm sure you can find plenty of proof if you just search hard enough. Bill flips on the TV and sits down in the middle of the floor to bask in the loving reassurance of daytime television. That might be your proof right there.
Back at the Snug Harbor, Ramon is answering a phone call in the office, while Butchie and John hold their respective jaws and receive more life lessons from Freddy the Drug Dealer. "Instead of what you want to see, see what the fuck is in front of you," Freddy says. "That's how you get 17 safe deposits." Really, he should write a self-help book -- The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Drug Dealers. ("Chapter One: See what the fuck is in front of you.") Ramon interrupts Freddy's latest inspirational speech to let Butchie know he has a phone call -- it's Mitch phoning from Huntington and the conversation is not pleasant. "You piece of shit," Mitch begins. "What's with your fucking phone?" Butchie protests that the battery died. "Yeah, what a shock," Mitch sneers. But Mitch didn't call up just to verbally abuse his son -- he also needs to inform him that Shaun broke his neck. So yeah -- really upbeat phone call then. Something for AT&T to use in a revived "Reach out and touch someone" campaign. Shaun is getting airlifted to a local hospital -- at least they won't use surface streets this time. "Of course, if you gave any kind of shit," Mitch practically spits, "I wouldn't have to be telling you all this. Because you would've been here." Butchie protests that nobody told him Shaun was going to be up in Huntington -- "Your battery's dead, Butchie," Mitch says accusingly. "So how come you didn't stop to tell me on the way out of town," Butchie counters. "Because it would have been a waste of gas," Mitch says flatly. Phone call over. That's AT&T -- reach out and touch some deadbeat you hold in utter contempt!
Butchie slams the phone angrily to the ground, smashing it into a million piece. Butchie -- that's motel property. They're just going to have to tack that on to your bill -- which you don't pay anyway. So no harm, no foul, I guess. Anyhow, Butchie grabs John by the hand and tells him they're taking a ride. Freddy asks what's the matter; Butchie shouts out that if Freddy wants to stop him, he'll have to kill him. "My kid got hurt. He broke his neck. I can't handle it straight," Butchie says. "I'm holding," Freddy says, and that gets Butchie's attention right quick. "Get in the car." Butchie proposes that Freddy go get his dope and bring it over; Freddy makes a counter-offer -- "Get in the car, or I'll shoot you, him, and the three guys in the fucking office." Sounds like a fair deal to me. "What do you want, Butchie?" John asks again. Apparently, not to get shot because he gets in the car with Freddy and brings John along for the ride.
Apparently, the rental agency at the airport equipped Freddy with a compact, because his massive frame is hunched over the wheel. "They make these fucking cars for midgets," he complains before wondering if Shaun is the same kid who a less messed-up Butchie used to bring out to watch him surf on Sunset Beach in Hawaii. Butchie confirms that Shaun is his only son. "Some fucked-up shit," Freddy observes sadly. Then he turns his attention to John, who's sitting in the back of the car. "That mope in the back seat keeps changing fucking shapes," Freddy says. Just wait til you try and carry on a conversation with him, my man -- shape-shifting is the least annoying thing he does. I guess I should point out that John is not shifting his shape, which means the Freddy is either seeing things, speaking metaphorically, or as nuts as all the other characters on this show appear to be. That last one is the betting favorite.
They're at the hospital now, and Freddy has one last bit of fatherly drug dealer advice: "I want you to go in there, Butchie, and I want you to act like a fucking man. This business between us, we'll deal with later." Butchie notes that the promised heroin never materialized, though he also allows that Freddy didn't kill him either. Freddy tells Butchie to get out of the car "and take this shape-changing mope with you. I ain't afraid of you, pal," he says to John, who replies -- everyone, together now -- "I ain't afraid of you." "I don't give a fuck what you are," Freddy fires back. "I took more acid than you ate Cheerios for fucking breakfast." Seems like a strange boast, but okay. Anyhow, Butchie takes his leave of Freddy, but not before instructing him to move his seat back so he won't "look like such a fucking monkey." Well, sure, but then we don't have the amusing visual of a hulking man hunched over a compact car steering wheel to take our mind off the kid with the broken neck.
You know, Freddy was the second character this episode to use the word "mope" -- the other was Bill. Also both Freddy and Bill have had their little repetitive exchanges with John ("I ain't afraid of you" vs. "I've got my eye on you.") I mention this partly to show you that it's not all about the failed bon mots and forced jokes but that I'm also paying attention; I also mention it because we're back in Bill's house, where he's passed out on the floor in front of the TV. He awakens to the news report of an injured surfer being airlifted to the hospital. Bill immediately concludes that it's Shaun and starts dialing up the police station on his rotary phone. "Don't yell at me, don't yell at me, don't yell at me," he repeats, waiting for Anderson to pick up. Anderson doesn't yell at him. Or hang up. Bill asks him to help find out what hospital Shaun is at.
He's at the one where Kai is sitting in the waiting room watching Cass offer her assistance for anything the Yosts need to an understanding nurse. While this is going on, Linc walks in; he and Cass look everywhere but at each other. In another part of the hospital, a sad-eyed doctor is delivering some terrible news to Mitch and Cissy: the vertebrae at the base of Shaun's skull was crushed by the fall, and he's paralyzed. He also can't breathe, not without the help of a machine anyhow, and all that time he was without oxygen did a number on his brain. Essentially, he's brain dead. From his couch in Tennessee, former Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist sits up and says, "I dunno -- the kid looks pretty healthy to me." The doctor wants to run some more tests in the morning to confirm Shaun's grim prognosis. Mitch is against it -- why prolong his grandson's suffering if his condition isn't going to improve any? Because there are protocols, the doctor says. And it'd be a really short series if we pull the plug now.
Besides, Cissy appears not ready to let go. "You take Shaunie off that machine, Mitch, you better never get in our bed again," she says. Mitch wonders if she heard the doctor's diagnosis clearly, specifically the parts about "brain" and "dead." "He needs it to breathe, he stays on that machine," Cissy insists. "I will murder you in my sleep…he's breathing, and I can hold him." "Get a dog," Mitch snaps. I anticipate that sentiment not appearing on an upcoming line of Hallmark condolence cards. Cissy reacts about as well as you might expect -- there's a lot of screaming and blue language -- and Mitch strides out of the room, just as Butchie and John get out of the elevator. "Did he die?" Butchie asks without looking up. "Your mother will explain," Mitch says. Just don't tell her to get a pet.
Butchie hands John off to Kai, and goes to be with his mother. "How's it going?" Kai asks John. "Did you dump out this morning?" John asks by way of reply. Kai takes this as a cue that John needs to use the facilities, instead of the seemingly inappropriate distraction from the dramatic developments at hand that it actually is. Because we transition from that discussion of John's bowel movements to Cissy describing to Butchie the accident that has paralyzed his son -- that's kind of a sudden shift in tone, you know? Butchie listens to Cissy's description before asking how Shaun was doing before the accident. "He had it won," Cissy says. Butchie looks like he doesn't know whether to smile or cry at the lost potential of it all. He and Cissy get up to go to Shaun's bedside.
Let's do another emotional 180 from that subtly acted scene to John standing in the men's room, wondering how it is we human do No. 2. No need to wonder for long, a fellow walks into the restroom, gives John the stinkeye and then heads into one of the stalls; John takes his position in the other stall.
Back to the sad stuff: Butchie is now standing at Shaun's bedside stroking his head and telling him about how he wanted to square things one day, "you know, surf some spots with him in Indonesia maybe. I thought we'd have the time." Cissy can't bear to watch this anymore and leaves the room. The attending nurse pipes up: "I surf," she says to Butchie. "You were great." Thank you -- that's a great comfort at this particular moment.
Meanwhile, Bill is trudging up one of the hospital's stairwells with great difficulty. We hear the muffled sound of a bird squawking. I think a recently deceased, now living parrot is being taken on a road trip.
And now back to David Milch Presents: Potty Humor, where John is still sitting in a stall, imitating every sound he hears in the stall to him. Guy the stall over farts? John blows a raspberry. Guy starts pulling toilet paper off the roller? John mimics that sound too. Never thought I'd say this before, but can we get some more scenes with the brain-dead kid cut down long before his time?
Instead, we go back to the hospital waiting area, where Linc and Cass are still trying like mad to avoid direct eye contact, going so far as to stand back to back. "You know, I could introduce you to him, if you want," Kai says brightly. "Or you could just keep pretending you don't know each other!" Ha! Linc chooses a variation of Option No. 2, turning and introducing himself to Cass. "Get with Mitch," he mutters under his breath as he and Cass make a big show of shaking hands. And off his lackey runs, to go seduce the grumpiest man in all of San Diego County.
Bill finally arrives on the floor, taking great pains to disguise the squirming, apparently living thing that's hiding in his coat's breast pocket. "Like my heart's beating in a cartoon," he says awkwardly, before exchanging an oddly familiar glance with the sad-eyed doctor. "Are you here to see Shaun?" the doctor asks. Well, I hope it's for that and not to pretend like he's going to the bathroom, because that part is already filled. Bill goes into see Shaun, where Butchie is still standing. Butchie goes to greet him: "You've been more father to him than I was," Butchie whispers before leaving Bill with Shaun; the surfer-groupie nurse leaves.
More toilet antics with John. Ugh.
And with that stupidity out of the way, Bill can now reveal the worst-kept secret in all the hospital: Yes, that is a parrot in his pocket, and yes, he is glad to see us. Out comes Zippy -- "Now don't hold back on me, pal," Bill says with a wag of his finger.
And we're hanging with John again, who walks outside of the restroom and says to Kai, "I just took a dump a grown man would be proud of." Kai congratulates him. "A-plus for fume control, Butchie?" John asks plaintively. "A-plus, John," Kai says. John notices Linc skulking about the waiting area. "The end is near," he says. Of this stupid restroom sequence? Good.
Zippy the Undead Parrot is bobbing is head, much to Bill's encouragement. Bill extends his hand out to Shaun's face, closes his eyes, and touches his head with his free hand: "And kiss Shaunie, too as long as we're being stupid," he says. Zippy does. Shaun's eyes pop open. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Bill exclaims. Yes, they're all surprised too.
So, some interesting things in that episode, but the show sure took its time getting there. That last sequence -- the harrowing scenes at Shaun's bed-side interspersed with the Jackass-esque sight of John pretend-pooping -- was a study in how to irritate the audience and kill any dramatic tension you've worked hard to build up. I don't mind a show that has its own ideas about pacing, and I certainly don't mind when a show demands that you pay attention to all the little things going on. But if I have to watch something a couple or three times just to make heads or tails of it, I'm pretty sure that's not my failing. Then again, as we've established, I'm a tongue-clucking grump. I think I've already asked you kids to get off my lawn.
week: Mitch still think Shaun is at death's door and that Cissy's in denial. Freddy predicts an unpleasant end for Butchie. Cunningham takes another shot at visiting Room 24. And John makes Kai pass out. Hopefully not from boredom.