Good Intentions

Hellfire. Hill. Back from Benchley Memorial and monologuing his little heart out. He's on about that road to hell/good intentions thing, which he terms a "mindfuck." Because attempts at goodness lead to damnation, why try to be good? And if good intentions lead to lots of molten lava, then where do bad ones lead? Why, to Oz, of course.

Pancamo's babbling in bed, delirious from his worsening staph infection. Glenn "Stumpy" Shupe asks Gloria, sporting a base make-up that's at least two shades too dark and makes her face look like pantyhose, to shut him up. Instead, she decides that Shupe can head back to Em City and that Pancamo needs more drugs.

McManus walks in, makes an unwelcome funny about Pancamo, and asks to see Hill, who's in a private room since he's still in bad shape, even though he's finished whatever he was up to last week and has returned to Oz. Hill, who looks about as good as he's supposed to feel, denies that he was trying to kill himself, but McManus takes him through the heroin/catheter sloppiness/renal failure details, in case Hill's fuzzy about exactly what led to the tube in his nose, and asserts that yes indeedy, Hill was at least subconsciously hell-bent on suicide.

Seems the ladies in Hill's life -- or, more specifically, their exit -- led him to the brink. After his mother's death and his wife's desertion, "the walls in Oz got too high, too thick." McManus really couldn't care less, since he's consumed by his own vendetta and was just being polite. He really wants to know who gave Hill the drugs; Hill maintains that the source doesn't matter, since, he says, "What I did I did." But that's not good enough for McManus, who uses DeSanto's perma-trip to convince Hill to snitch. As if Hill doesn't have other, more pressing things to worry about. But, this being the free world's capital of melodrama, Hill musters the appropriate indignation, says that DeSanto was not his dealer, and asks to speak to Redding. McManus refuses, saying, "You got a message for Burr Redding, I'm your AT&T." Oooooooh, nanny nanny. McManus really should give classes in firm, witty rejoinders.

Whoosh! Smart Boy McManus runs straight to Redding to tell him that DeSanto didn't sell Hill the drugs, and reiterates his refusal to let Hill and Redding meet. Shazam! Redding runs down the stairs, past an inquisitive Poet, and demands to see Busmalis. Vroom! Redding drags Busmalis into a pod, slams him against the wall, and asks why he lied. Poet muscles in and encourages Busmalis (with some amusing nods and wide-eyed looks) to admit that he's covering for Guerra, who was, perhaps, the one that sold Hill the drugs. I'm giddy with the rich irony of the prison's leading drug dealer trying to ferret outa drug dealer. Kerplooey! Redding orchestrates a meeting with Morales, who denies that Guerra supplied the offending substance. Redding calls Morales a liar, Morales advises Redding not to screw up the chocolaty goodness of their pact, Redding jumps Morales, McManus, watching from afar, lunges for his trusty phone, and both Redding and Morales end up, naked and jiggly, in the hole. A small thanks to the director for sparing us the trauma of full frontals from either man. The copious man-boobs were plenty.

Hill again, in front of two mannequins seated at a table. John and Jane Doe, we'll call them, since Hill does. They "go on a diet, eat better, get healthy, live longer." Good, yah? No. Bad. The stress John experiences while trying to lower his cholesterol will kill him. And while Jane eats low-fat, she's jacking up her blood sugar, since those pseudo-healthy products are loaded with sugar to mask their foul taste. Oops. See Jane suffer adult-onset diabetes. Bottled water's . Now, asks Hill, "What the fuck could be wrong with that?" One word: plastics. So, reveals Hill -- going all John Edward as he zooms over some celestial backdrop in a crystal ball -- as we seal ourselves in a bubble of health, we're actually killing ourselves and destroying the planet.

But ohmigod, Susie, like, who cares about the planet, because we are, like, so thin.

Ryan, bathed in light, stands at the bars, wondering about the world beyond the walls. The Greek chorus -- a.k.a. Beecher and Busmalis, The Laundry Shrews -- reveals that today's the day that the jury decides Cyril's fate. Father Salty O'Brogue wants to know what's going on; Ryan says the jury may deliberate for a while, wishes he was in solitary with Cyril, and worries that Cyril is scared and confused. "Good," says Salty. Ryan looks both confused and pissed, but then the wise man of The Guy Upstairs, all pale and liquored-looking, explains that the stupider that Cyril appears, the better the chances for overturning a guilty verdict. Now Ryan's just confused. Crusty McPriest explains that he's not going let Cyril fry without a fight. Now Ryan's just pissed, and tells Reverend Piss-and-Vinegar and his God to fuck right off and mind their own business.

"Linebacker" Howell charges up to Ryan, in full cafeteria drag, and tells him that the jury's in. Ryan then charges into the all-purpose neutral-toned meeting room to find Pete, Katherine, and Cyril wearing somber, nervous expressions. When Pete rises and expresses her condolences, I pop the cork on a bottle of bubbly and celebrate Cyril's impending demise. Ryan pulls up a chair and sits down to Cyril, who forces him to kiss Jericho The Stinky Sock Puppet (who's apparently not lived up to his potential to transform Cyril into an idiot savant). Katherine assures Ryan that she'll plead for clemency, but he waggles an "oh no you don't sister" finger. Pete voices confusion, but Ryan says, "No appeals, no clemency," and then tells the ladies to scoot. Cyril wonders if there's a problem, but Ryan assures him it's just the opposite -- "You're getting out of here, kid," says Ryan, as he envelops his brother in a hug. "You're gonna be free." And so will I, in just one week.

Betty Buckley disagrees with Ryan's decision not to appeal. Ryan explains that, until now, their lives have sucked, and a lifetime in Oz sucks even worse, and that an eternity of nothing beats life on this set, with this crappy script, and you playing my mother. You must live all your days with this decision, Luke, says B.Bu, apparently not reading that Ryan's just pretty much said that he should probably commit suicide himself. So it's no surprise when he says that he can deal. Betty thinks otherwise, because she knows him. Ryan flares up and asks, "You think you know me?" But you have no idea. And then he really lets her have it, as she sits all stoic. She calls after him as he scoots his break-dancing ass offstage, wearing a boss purple jersey, but he's madder than hell and not gonna take it anymore.

The Coalition To Do What's Right Without Concern For The Opinions Of The Actual Individuals Involved convenes its first meeting, with Salty declaring that Cyril's case must be won in the food court of public opinion as Pete, Betty Buckley, and The Lone Lawyer listen, rapt. Earnestness. Repellent. Katherine pipes up that the Supreme Court said that killing the retarded is fine, since they're different than we are. Salty climbs higher on his pedestal and enthuses, from behind eyebrow shrubbery, that they must prove that even the most death-mongering Americans want to spare the dim. Uh, yeah, good luck. Betty gets excited about the thought of arousing the media, and then Salty mobilizes Pete with orders to put out a press release about the nuances of Cyril's noggin and Katherine gets all self-righteous about her shoddy work. Betty wonders if they can really do it; Salty says something trite and pat about the Lord and the Law, and Pete falls completely under the spell of Salty's can-do bravado.

After mocking Shupe, Ryan is approached by Guerra, who wants to know why Kenmin still vogues in the corner, since they had a deal. Ryan assures them that his criminal mastermind is clicking away, and that he'll get someone that the COs can't blame to do the job. The COs themselves. Dun dun dun!

Gym. Ryan. Kenmin. Interpretive movement. The Lord Of The Dance torments Ryan with details of his testimony against Cyril. Ryan crouches, waiting for his moment, which arrives when a CO walks into the room. Ryan lunges, feebly, and Kenmin grabs him in a headlock as Salty watches from the basketball court. In a complete departure from the norm, the CO races over to break up the fight, smacking Kenmin in the back. Kenmin turns and goes martial on the CO, kicking the club out of his hands and punching him in the face. He kicks another CO in the chest as Ryan picks up the club and proceeds to beat the shit out of Kenmin. A seamless operation. Like Ryan could have planned exactly how those events would unfold. Lucky for him, Kenmin is stunningly stupid. But Salty knows the truth.

Gloria tends to Ryan and reveals that she has no idea about Kenmin's condition, as the hacks threw him directly into solitary. Ryan thinks that the world would be better if Kenmin went into another coma. Gloria doesn't disagree. While escorting Ryan back to Em City, the guard thanks him for what he did, confirming that Ryan's gotten away with it. He's duped them all! Ryan further stokes the fire by defaming Kenmin to the CO, who confides that Kenmin's got a lesson to learn. The guard heads straight for Kenmin's solitary cell to drop some science, which he and a few pals do via taunts, mace, and a thorough beating.

At bedtime, Salty wonders if Ryan's happy about exacting revenge on Kenmin; Ryan plays the victim, but Salty's seen right through the charade to the heart of the matter. Tubby McSalt, who reminds me unpleasantly of Mickey Rooney (as any reminder of Mickey Rooney is unpleasant), wants to know if the cross Ryan wears means anything, or if it's merely a "bauble." "What happened to you when you were a child?" he asks. "What made you walk away from the church?" Ryan explains that he actually ran, as he went to his pastor to complain about paternal beatings, and the pastor told him he deserved it and that he should head home and Honor Thy Father. Salty's all shocked, although that sounds pretty church-like to me, and tries to explain it away with the "bad priest" argument, failing to get the hint that someone who's been completely fucked over by an organization might be better off without it and getting all emphatic about being there for Ryan. "Too fucking late," says Ryan.

John and Jane Doe, "both looking slim and sexy," says Hill, decide to get married, so John drops bank on a diamond red with the blood of Africans, and then they start spawning, contributing to the world's vermin-like overpopulation. Suddenly, says Hill, "My cell don't seem so cramped."

Julie and Alvarez, together in bed. Alvarez loves Julie in a way he hasn't loved anyone since his kid died. I wrench my mind from the gutter. Penders wonders if Alvarez has ever seen a dogfight, but Alvarez says no. Cockfight yes, dogs no. Penders starts talking about dogs ripping each other apart until Alvarez goes all girly animal-lover and tells him to stop. As they leave the pod for the common area, a CO confronts them about some chocolate pudding on the floor. After maintaining that Guerra is the floor-pooping party, Penders gets huffy when the CO tells him to clean it up. One thing leads to another, and soon the CO's got Penders on the floor, and proceeds to smear Penders's face in the dookie. Which has to be one of the grossest things I've seen lately. Suddenly, Penders yells, "Chester, now," and Chester jumps the CO, which makes the fake blood packs in the CO's collar explode, as everyone in the room, including Penders with his Mr. Hanky kiss, hoots with approval. Penders does not pass Go on his way to solitary.

Miss Dog stands over a blindfolded Alvarez and says that Penders's decision to teach Chester to attack puts "a shadow over the whole program." She and Salty can swap platitudes. Like no one noticed Penders teaching a dog to attack. A dog that's probably been put down by now. Julie leads Alvarez up the stairs to Miss Dog and finishes Man's Best Friend with flying colors. Alvarez wishes he could see the person Julie will belong to. Because this is television, he can. And, because this is television, it's Rivera, who enters, removes his sunglasses so everyone (except him) can see his mangled eyes, and explains that he's taking Julie both for himself and for the wife that he, as a blind man, loves and cherishes. This pleases Alvarez, as he custom-trained Julie for Rivera -- after Miss Dog and McManus look alarmed at the thought that Julie might also know how to attack, everyone shares a laugh when they discover that Alvarez has also trained Julie to obey commands in Spanish. The genuine niceness of this moment is compromised only by McManus's all-too-familiar smug, self-satisfied look.

Leo justifies the look by complimenting McManus on both the music and dog-training programs. Ellie, panties wet, seconds the praise. McManus, of course, makes a speech and thanks the fans. Ellie flirts some more and then jumps up to leave, calling McManus "Timmy"; Leo ribs McManus about a "liaison with the state liaison," and also calls him Timmy. Timmy plays dumb, fails to protest, and leaves the room as well. That scene made my tummy feel funny.

The 51 ball. Dave Brass. Uh-oh -- it's Rebadow. Cursing to McManus and Busmalis about his luck about the lottery money and cursing Dave Brass for killing his grandson, which falls right into line with the overwrought melodrama of this entire tired plotline. With no legal recourse, Rebadow's only hope is finding a suitable bone marrow donor for Little Alex. And that pesky mixed racial heritage makes it so danged hard -- the first in tonight's PSAs advocating racial purity! Rebadow splutters about the problem with finding a donor being that no one's looking, so "I Love A Lost Cause" McManus agrees to scour the Oz files for a potential match.

In the infirmary, Murphy offers to help Father Martinez of Lourdes find a better home than solitary if he'll sell the story of his decision to facial Brass. Murphy thinks he's got a reason, but Martinez won't talk. Murphy reminds Martinez that the cocktail incident hasn't made him any friends among the COs, and wrenches Martinez's head to the side and makes thinly veiled threats to drive home his point. And then he's off to McManus for a status report on Operation Break Martinez. See, Murphy's pretty sure there's a cocktail conspiracy, and he's pretty sure that Morales pulls the strings. McManus, having decided that Dave Brass equals nothing since he scampered off with the money, cares only for Rebadow, so it's with pure joy that he just happens, at this precise moment, to discover a prisoner -- right under their noses the whole time, wouldn't ya know! -- who's the perfect ethnic match for Le Petit Alex.

Some Unit C Rasta with white pappy, half West Indian/half Guatemalan mama. Imagine! McManus explains that Rebadow just has to convince the guy to donate, so Rebadow asks if he can talk to him. Alone. No, dumb-ass, you have to send smoke signals. Rebadow explains the whole fucking situation to the Rasta, who's working his Jamaican 101 accent. When Rebadow asks for the bone marrow donation, Rasta flips, asserting in no uncertain terms (and quite correctly, I think) that McManus the Meddler has no right to share that information, and that all of Unit C thinks him a black man to the core, and that if they find out his pops was a cracker, he's toast. When Rasta gets up to leave, Rebadow protests and reaches for his shoulder, provoking a well-earned punch that sends him pinwheeling into a chair. Maybe they'll have to wire his jaw shut and he won't be able to talk anymore.

No such luck. In his cell that night, Rebadow apologizes to Alex for the tacky photograph of him he's got to the sink, and sits down on his bed, where his suddenly skyward eyes signify another urgent message from heaven. This message, he tells Pete the day, is that faith is the missing element in Alex's healing. He wants a faith healer who can lay some hands on Alex and flush out the leukemia, like it's a particularly difficult hair clog or something. Pete expresses her opinion that faith healers are conniving shysters but that a nice interaction might cure the boy, but Rebadow gives her a sanctimonious speech about faith versus religion and exclusion and belonging and why he's right and she's stupid. "I don't want to belong," says Rebadow, "I just want to believe," and the world groans in pain. Then Rebadow claims that he's "an arrow in God's bow," and leaves Pete looking confused by this overblown twerp who looks like some nice guy by the name of Rebadow that she once knew.

Ben Vereen, a.k.a. The Stock Black Guy Who Speaks Vaguely And Spooks Whitey Before Revealing Deeper Spiritual Wisdom, clues Rebadow into an x-ray-vision-enabled healer named Virginia who helped him deal with a spinal problem and who can do really amazing things with her hands. ["Anyone else think it's a weird coincidence that one of Vereen's most famous roles is Judas Iscariot in Jesus Christ Superstar? Okay, it's just me. Carry on." -- Sars]

While Ben Vereen and Rebadow may be open to faith healing, The White Woman In The Visiting Area seems relatively shuttered to the option. I'm guessing she's Rebadow's daughter; there's no doubting the fact that she's opposed. She doesn't want to give the kid hope, but Rebadow's adamant -- and patronizing. So adamant that he gets up and starts cussing his daughter out and railing against the modern disrespect for faith healers. He actually says, "Bull fucking shit," and then says that he'll find someone else to visit Regina -- oh, I guess that's the faith healer's name, but The White Woman Who's Probably His Daughter says that no one in the family will go for his latest wacky scheme. As she gets up to leave, she says, "You know what I see, I see a man trying to redeem himself in the eyes of his family, making a last-ditch effort after decades of absence. See, sometimes I have x-ray vision too." Damn. She's giving McManus a run for his rejoinder money. Back in his cell, Rebadow excoriates the Lord for being a tease, gets up, places his middle finger over the mouth of Little Alex, and tells his reflection to be healed.