A Day In The Death

The following people officially rock: iMissEthan, The Mysterious Hawaiian, Uncle Bob, my dentist, and that little animated TiVo guy who shows up when your system reboots. I just thought you all should know.

We open with more of the Hill's Pod Blues, as Augustus informs us that 2.5 million people die each year in the United States. "This, of course, is using the dictionary definition of dead," he continues, "toe-tagged and body-bagged." Hmm. I don't know about you, but my dictionary doesn't really do a lot of rhyming. It does do a lot of miming, however, which can get a little annoying, because who wants to play charades when all they need is a quick definition? Anyway, this week's gimmick is listing the most common causes of death, and number one on the hit parade is heart disease. Which reminds me to go slather some extra grease on the bacon I'm having for breakfast while I type this. Mmmm, arterial sclerosis. Yummy. We're then joined by the new Narrator Du Jour, Dino Ortolani, who doesn't get much more screen time this week than he did in his first go around on the show. "Not all heart disease will leave you dictionary dead," clichs Dino. "Some will kill you, but still leave you living." Oy.

For the second week in a row, we begin the episode itself in the weight room. Beecher is doing bench presses in a quixotic quest to bulk up those scrawny arms of his, and also probably to prove his manhood after last week's metaphoric ass-fucking. He's quickly joined by Keller, who is rightly fearful that Tobias blames him for his current predicament. What follows is just some standard "honey, I love you, and you've got to believe that I would never intentionally set you up to be arrested on a parole violation" pleading from Keller, a romantic scene that was no doubt repeated in millions of homes across America this past Valentine's Day. And they say love is dead. But not "dictionary dead," apparently. In any case, Toby doesn't believe a word Chris is saying, and after setting the hearts of a vast majority of viewers aflutter by calling Keller a "wounded puppy," he further snarls, "I wish to God I'd left you on death row." This shocking sentiment prompts a nearby biker to stop doing his tricep curls long enough to raise a single scraggly-haired eyebrow in surprise. Hee! Even the tattooed freakazoid denizens of Gen Pop are big B/K shippers. Who knew? And even funnier is the nearly subliminal shot of Glenn Shupe working the heavy bag in the background. Heh. I can totally hear Burgess Meredith going, "Come on! Hit him with a right! And another right! And another right!"

Later on, Keller is moping in his cell when Schillinger stops by for a nice little chat. After reminiscing a bit about their days together in another prison ("You protected me. I sucked your cock," says Keller), Vern makes an offer of renewed friendship. "Now that [Beecher] is done," he says, "I'm saying let's be friends again. No cock-sucking. Just two guys looking out for each other." Aww. Male bonding always leaves me a little teary. Sniff. And while we're on the subject, I've got to say that Schillinger's near-total silence this season is nothing short of criminal. He's easily the best character on the show, and my love for J.K. Simmons is rapidly beginning to approach Season Three Furio levels of girlishness. Of course, this doesn't mean I want to see Vern in a pair of red satin bikini briefs or anything, but it would be nice if he occasionally got a few extra lines every now and then. After a mental blipvert of "Operation Toby" images, Keller finally agrees to bury the hatchet. The look on his face, however, suggests that Vern's back might just be where he decides to do it. Dun dun DUN!

And that's it for the big Beecher/Keller storyline this week, because here comes Dino to tell us that cancer is the second leading cause of death, and also "the scariest word in the English language." Oh, I beg to differ, my crispy-fried young friend. What about "neck-string"? Or "radiological dispersion device"? Or even "HoYay," for that matter?

Unit Zzzzzzzzzz. Rebadoze trundles his book cart and neck-string-mounted flashlight down a cellblock so dark you can't even make out the far wall. Sigh. Now, the last time he did this, we were treated to the unforgettable sight of Robson in hot pants and Dick-Suck Red, but sadly this time it's Pablo who pops out to inquire, "Why you treating [Patti] like a bitch?" Because I can, Pablo. And because this whole ridiculous storyline's paint-by-numbers plotting now dictates that Pablo's own sainted madre be a feisty survivor of the curse of cancer, who "squashed that disease like it was a cockroach," and now affords Pablo the opportunity to impart wisdom to his elders by comparing Rebadoze to his spunky yet childishly innocent eight-year-old sister. Oh, please. And how is this kid not a prag by now? The good news about this scene is that cinematography aficionados can get a kick out of watching the extra playing a guard in the far background repeatedly trying to position himself just perfectly so that a reflected spotlight makes his badge flare in the darkness. The bad news is that Pablo doesn't shank Rebadoze. Oh, well.

Suitably chastened by his encounter with the anvil of Unit Zzzzzzz , Rebadoze heads immediately to the library to make amends. Patti is there restocking the shelves when he arrives, and a quick close-up causes me to once again offer props to the props department, because it's Poet's book she's putting into place. Heh. I'm surprised the suits didn't make her use Hill's. Rebadoze convinces her to sit down for a talk, and an inmate who makes an even creepier Jesus than Creepy Jesus himself tries valiantly to ignore them as they bicker loudly about love and lumpectomies not three feet away from him. Sigh. You know what? I changed my mind. Cancer really is the scariest word in the English language. The good news about this scene is that costuming aficionados can get a kick out of the way Patti's sweater is clearly designed to call attention to her cancerous boobies, whereas Rebadow's neck-string is significantly droopier than normal, so as to better convey extreme contrition. Man, this show is attentive to detail in all the wrong areas, isn't it? Anyway, the bad news is that even though Patti basically tells him to get lost, the scene still ends with Rebadoze leaning in to administer a quick peck on the cheek that looked suspiciously like it might have involved some tongue. Ew. In fact, Creepier Jesus practically crawls under the table to get away when he sees it. Heh. I feel your pain, Creepier Jesus. I feel your pain.

And then he summons Devlin's lackey to his office, because if there's one thing Leo does do well, it's make bad situations worse by blabbing about stuff when he should have kept his mouth shut. "I'm starting to really see the potential of the internet," he says, as he repeatedly stabs at his browser's refresh button in the frenzied but ultimately vain hope that someone will open a thread for him in the "Staff" section of the forums. "That fuckwad McManus gets two, and I don't have bubkes," he mutters under his breath, before going on to reveal that he's discovered an online alumni listing which proves that The Little Lackey and Johnson The Blatantly Guilty CO attended the same prep school way back in the day. Oh, that's certainly ample evidence of a criminal conspiracy, wouldn't you say? I mean, what jury wouldn't convict when presented with that little tidbit? Of course, if Johnson really could afford to attend a ritzy private school like that, then it probably wouldn't be all that surprising for him to be driving a Jaguar, now would it? And how exactly did Leo find that page, anyway? Did he just randomly Google a bunch of words out of Johnson's personnel file? Whatever. Say hello to my old friend Prisoner #03J-2600: Contrivance B. Jones. Convicted February 8, 2003 -- Unlawful Suspension of Disbelief. Sentence: Life. Up for parole in 168 minutes. The Little Lackey rises out of his chair to deny everything, and then carefully wends his way through the gaping plot holes on his way out of the office.

Seeing as how we already know that the storage closets, kitchens, medical wards, laundry machines, mailrooms, and telephone lines in Oz aren't monitored or observed by guards in any way, I guess it shouldn't be much of a surprise that The Little Lackey and Johnson The Blatantly Guilty CO meet up in the guards' lounge to loudly discuss their plans to kill both Billy Clyde Tuggle and Warden Glynn with perfect diction and a complete disregard for the possibility that anyone standing outside the WIDE OPEN DOOR that's RIGHT BEHIND THEM might overhear. That must have been the same prep school George W. Bush attended, because it's graduates aren't exactly covering themselves with glory at the moment. And sure enough, the very shot is of Leo, standing over the blood-soaked body of Billy Clyde and hoping against hope that this will be enough to put him over the top in his quest for the coveted Deadliest Prison Not Located In Guatemala Award being handed out at week's banquet. Go get 'em, Leo. You can do it!

Dino pops in to tell us that the third leading cause of death in America is stroke, or, "as they like to call it these days, a 'brain attack.'" Now, I know we had someone who claims to be associated with the show on our forums this week swearing that Jon Seda isn't reading from cue cards in this scene, but I don't believe a word of it. You can practically see his eyes moving, and his performance is flatter than a pre-Colombian map of the Earth that's just been starched and pressed by the local dry cleaners. Seriously, people. I've seen two-by-fours display more emotion.

But have no fear, because we're finally getting to the good stuff in this week's episode. Robson is out of the hole and into Sister Pete's office, where he admits that even though he's returned to his old ways of "bullying, and waving [his] dick around," he still feels badly about mistreating his wife during her visit. "I always swore I'd never lay a hand on Liesel," he says, before adding that if he had it to do over again, he'd "talk" and "hug her" and "stroke her hair," rather than simply "shoving her hand down [his] pants." Aww. See? Robson just wants to cuddle. He's really nothing but a big ol' man-raping teddy bear when you get right down to it, isn't he? Sister Pete slowly draws him out, and gently maneuvers him toward her ultimate goal, which is to have him vocalize what Cutler did to him so that he can accept it and begin healing. Robson tearfully does just that, and then sobs and hides in the corner as she watches him silently.

Aaron: Liesel?
Tom Fontana: So?
Aaron: LIESEL?
Tom Fontana: What's your point?
Aaron: THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF ASS RAPE!
Tom Fontana: Yeah. That's funny. Would you have preferred "Sherry Bobbins" instead?
Aaron: Well, now that you mention it

From Robson's tears we dissolve to one of the more powerful scenes in recent memory, as Sister Pete's rape counseling group meets for a session in the empty cafeteria. Each of the prisoners gets a chance to tell his own sordid story, and they detail indignities ranging from being purchased for two cartons of Kools to pulling a six-man train on Thanksgiving Day. Robson somehow manages to refrain from regaling them with The Saga of the Spoon, but the scene is no less disturbing for its absence. It's all very well-acted, and very difficult to recap (what with the image of a middle-aged man getting unwillingly rented out for $3.00 a blow-job not really lending itself to whimsical hilarity), and if nothing else, it's led to me resolve once again that I will never, ever, ever go to prison. Hell, I even just deleted all the mp3s off my hard drive.

Back in Em Ciudad, Alvarez finds Guerra packing up the last of Morales's belongings. They both discuss how they've grown tired of all the senseless violence in Oz, but I'm distracted by the fact that Alvarez is supposed to be peeing in this scene, and the Foley guys have apparently forgotten to add in the appropriate sound effects. Which means it ends up looking like he's just sort of standing there playing with himself, although I do concede the fact that many of you might enjoy the prospect of a visual like that. When Guerra suggests that Alvarez take over the leadership of El Norte, Miguel vehemently refuses. Then he zips up and leaves the pod, only to be intercepted by Officer Murphy, who informs him that Cutler's widow has come to the prison for a surprise visit.