“ The ludicrous slow-motion shot of Grasshley running through a frat house bedroom to rescue his precious marijuana plants is pretty much the quintessential definition of 'public access production values.' Heh. Even the costumes are fucked up. One of the cops has a hat that's bigger than his entire head. ”
It's melting! It's melting!
Yeah. Sorry. I really didn't want to make that joke while doing Oz this season, but if you live on the East Coast (and your car has rear-wheel drive like mine), then you know exactly what I'm talking about. God bless salt and all its many splendiferous uses. Mmm, salt.
We open with the expected Augustus Interlude, which means that, as usual, the Hill is alive with the sound of sucking. Our Theme Of The Week? Junk. Yeah. I'll say. Augustus does a pretty poor riff on George Carlin's famous "A Place For My Stuff" bit, and then before I can even get settled in my comfy new Aeron chair, Poet starts smacking me in the face with a product placement. Ow. "Yo, Hill's book, man," he tells Reggie as they lounge about in their pod. "He writes good [sic]. Make [sic] me a little jealous." Reggie -- like everyone else on the planet -- is clearly no fan of Patti, because he couldn't care less about Hill's book or any other. He just wants his pudding pops. Sadly, the boys have no money, because "the bookbinding business went bust," and the Italians have been blocking their drug sales. Poet chooses to respond to this turn of events by impersonating Bill Clinton, which leaves him vulnerable to so many perverse and disgusting cigar and semen stain jokes that I actually just got brainlocked trying to choose one.
And speaking of "brainlock," here comes another Crap-Ass Crime Flashback. It's finally time for the long-awaited Ashley Hamilton to make an appearance, and he does so by chowing down on a brownie while simultaneously smoking two sensimilla sticks. The cops soon arrive, and the ludicrous slow-motion shot of Grasshley running through a frat house bedroom to rescue his precious marijuana plants is pretty much the quintessential definition of "public access production values." Heh. Even the costumes are fucked up. One of the cops has a hat that's bigger than his entire head. Grasshley tries to swallow the evidence (because nothing says "innocent bystander" like having a serrated marijuana leaf stuck in your teeth), but it's to no avail. Prisoner number 03B-563: Stanley Bukowski. Convicted January 16th, 2003 of Possession and Distribution of Illegal Substances. Sentence: Fifteen years. Up for parole in ten. Oh, and "Bukowski"? Whatever. At least it's better than "Ferlinghetti."
When we see Grasshley, he's hanging around the phones in Em City, displaying his Don Johnson-wannabe stubble, a massive hoop earring, and a truly mind-bending mohawk/mullet that's been dyed red and greased to high heaven. You know the new guy must be low on the totem pole, because he doesn't get to use his own private phone like Keller does. You also know that he's low on the intelligence scale, because he strikes up a conversation with Poet and Reggie about starting a drug-smuggling business while the Italians are standing not three feet away. Oh, yeah. This guy is gonna last. Using the same powerful molecular chemistry skills that have allowed his hair to defy both gravity and also the entire known spectrum of visible light waves, Grasshley has developed a method of cooking pot brownies that seals in all the home-cooked flavor while also preventing any pesky odors from alerting the drug-sniffing dogs. "They're double-fudge, too," he adds. "With extra icing for effect." Wow. How does Martha Stewart not know about this? Grasshley and Poet seal their new distribution deal with a very loud and very public high-five, while in the background Chuck Zito tries furiously to draw his facial features into a steroid-enhanced rictus that roughly approximates "suspicion."
Junkyard Dawgs
Yay, Schillinger! God, I can't believe I just typed that. This show has clearly warped my already highly fragile sense of morality. Go Aryans! He's delivering the mail, and after Grasshley picks up his freshly-arrived box of brownies, we're treated to a special effect that -- like everything else on this show -- is basically just a distaff hillbilly cousin of something that Six Feet Under or The Sopranos has already done better. In this case, it's the Bong-Cam, which on Oz consists of an underpaid grip shaking the camera while an underpowered TRS-80 adds in a post-production blurring effect. Also, are we really supposed to believe that in a mailroom where not even a third-rate spank rag like Swank can go unmolested, no one would have nibbled on even a single brownie? And if they had tried them, and they experienced the same "kick-ass body buzz" that Grasshley is now enjoying, are we really supposed to believe that they wouldn't have just eaten the entire box themselves? Or at the very least used the icing as a lubricant for their gang rape? I mean, come on. Let's try to be at least a little realistic here, okay, Tom?
Cut to the kitchen, where Grasshley emphatically demonstrates the powerful negative impact THC can have on your intellect by selling brownies to the other inmates while Pancamo stands mere inches away, using his handy George Foreman grill to drain the excess Bovine Growth Hormone out of the Tuesday meatloaf.
Back in Em City, everyone is crowded around the TV, watching Sallycize. Here's some sample dialogue: "Get your balls out and make sure they're firm and round, because we're going gonna bounce them high! Yeah! Hard! Pump it stiff and hard!" Oy. Since when does the Spice Channel have a workout show? Meanwhile, Pancamo and Urbano are up in their pod, discussing the need to kill Grasshley before he starts infringing on their business. At the same time, Poet, Reggie, and the unnecessarily-difficult-to-spell Keneniah are in their own pod, trying to determine the brownies' secret ingredient. After rejecting butter, brown sugar, and bongwater as likely possibilities, they decide that the only solution will be to get the recipe straight from the man himself.
Junkyard Dawgs
“ In other words, it's the dumbest plan ever. Man, where's Murdock and Hannibal when you really need them? Oh, that's right. They're dead. ”
Which may be hard to do, because here come the Italians, who have cornered Grasshley alone in the kitchen. I guess you can forget what I said about him being the low man on the totem pole, because even though he doesn't get to use his own personal pay phone, he does apparently have the right to visit the kitchen any time he wants, with absolutely no supervision of any kind. I guess some judge must have recently ruled that all prisoners have a constitutional right to get the munchies or something. Whatever. At least his last words are kind of funny: "Oh. I feel like Custer." Heh. Pancamo drags him into a back room, and while an ostensibly Italian Will Ferrell look-alike holds him in place, they rapidly proceed to burn his face off with the violent out-gassing from a steam pipe. You know, because all kitchens have pipes with levers that release white-hot gas on command. Why wouldn't they? Anyway, farewell, Stanley Bukowski. Like the song says, I was going to care about your death, but then I got high.
The day, Poet and crew wander through Em City, lamenting the late but unloved former Mr. Shannen Doherty. They're especially distraught because the recipe he gave them just before his untimely death has turned out to be worthless, which means they're right back to square one when it comes to earning money. Never one to let a little thing like a complete and utter lack of intelligence, common sense, or proper capitalization skillz get him down, muMs decides to embark on a new moneymaking scheme, this time utilizing Redding. They immediately head off to find him in the shower room, and start things off by begging to return to their old telemarketing jobs. Well, that doesn't sound like a very good plan. Why not just try selling magazines and candy bars pod-to-pod or something? The Cos -- perhaps fondly remembering his former life with Theo, Sondra, and Rudy before the crack came and addled his brain -- quickly announces that he'll take them back. But not before he makes them get down on their knees and beg a little. Reggie and Keneniah don't look real happy about all this, but that's probably just because they're too stupid to realize what would have happened if it were Keller instead of Crackhead Cosby making them kneel like that.
After an all-too-brief shot of Business Barbie looking fetching with her hair up in a bun, we see Poet explaining his grand scheme to Reggie. Basically, they're just going to steal credit card numbers from every customer who places an order. Except they're calling with a political survey, which means they're not actually taking orders. And the whole reason Poet quit the last time around was that the lady wouldn't give up her credit card. In other words, it's the dumbest plan ever. Man, where's Murdock and Hannibal when you really need them? Oh, that's right. They're dead. ["Murdock's DEAD?" -- Sars]
Augustus Interlude. Apparently, there's just as much junk underwater as there is on land. This particular monologue is so dumb that using the pun "water you talking about?" (a perennial favorite of my father's, by the way) would actually have improved it.
Ahh, Rebadoze. At least HE gets his own phone. Or at least free use of the one in the library. I wonder what Leo is going to say when he gets a $600 phone bill from 1-900-GRANNY-69. Timbo wanders through the library, claiming to be looking for Patti, but really just serving as a foil for Rebadow to provide the necessary exposition about today being the day of her lumpectomy. From there it's a quick jaunt over to Unit Zzzzzzz, where Pablo pumps Rebadoze for information about their mutual girlfriend. They're interrupted by a passing behemoth, who loudly taunts Pablo for being a "bookworm fag." See? This is what I mean about not believing that Pablo wouldn't be a prag by now. Because he's young and stupid instead of old and boring, Pablo responds by pulling out a shank and shoving it right into the back of the guy's neck. I'm surprised he didn't need a stepladder to reach that high. The guards descend on him in an instant, and we're "treated" to a "nice" little shot of Pablo's "ass" as he's thrown into the hole. I've got two words for you: Cottage and cheese. Although at least now we know why he's not a prag. You try and tattoo a swastika onto that ass and you're gonna have stretch marks all over it in less than an hour. Enjoy your bread and water, Pablo. You'll thank them when it's swimsuit season.
Back in the library, Rebadoze waits tensely by the phone. Oh, Christ. They've even got copies of Hill's book all laid out on the desk, perfectly placed to give you a subliminal urge to head straight to Barnes & Noble the instant the show is over. A guard comes by and demands that Rebadow return to his cell for count, and even threatens him with "the hole" if he refuses. I'm not sure which is worse, the thought of seeing Rebadoze's cottage-cheese ass, or the thought of what he and Pablo might discuss down there while they're both naked and thinking of Patti. Ew.
After lights out, Rebadoze and Busmalis are chatting in the Grumpy Old Pod. It's all very grumpy and old, but spirits are lifted when McManus taps on the window and delivers a jaunty thumbs-up. Sigh. I guess Patti is still alive, after all. Man, where's Gene Siskel and his downward-pointing thumb when you really need him? Oh, that's right. He's dead.
“ Sigh. You know what? If Timmy is on the screen, just assume I'm shouting the exact same thing. Over and over and over again. ”
More Sallycize. Or, as Urbano puts it, "It's time to exercise the old fantasy muscle." Ew. Again. This whole scene is pretty much just an excuse for the boys to taunt Busmalis about his impending wedding, especially because the last time around, Norma left him at the altar to get pregnant by another man. It's all very cute and well-intentioned, but the whole thing goes off the rails when Busmalis gets up and announces, "Well, to all you lonely and horny naysayers with no one but Rosie Palm and her five sisters to love you, I say this: 'Right here, baby.'" This last is accompanied by the truly unholy sight of Busmalis grabbing his crotch, jumping up and down, and shouting, "Right in my big blue balls!" Wow. Justwow. After much careful deliberation, I've decided to rank that at number four on my all-time list of The Most Horrifying Things I've Ever Had To Recap, just behind The Spoon, Janice and Joey, and naked Stilgar. At least Reggie manages to get off a good line. "The brat was conceived on what should have been your honeymoon," he says. "That's even freakier than cloning." Hee!
The wedding. I would recap this scene with the care and attention to detail it deserves, but Busmalis is wearing a gold polka-dot bow tie with a green V-neck sweater and a red, white, and black checked blazer, so I'm not even sure I can look directly at the screen without suffering an epileptic seizure. Norma is obviously late -- because otherwise we wouldn't have any phony dramatic tension about whether or not he'll get stood up again -- but she does arrive eventually, and Mukada pronounces them boring and big-breasted. Er, I mean, "man and wife."
Hill. There's junk in outer space, too. Now if only we could find a way to send him up there to clean it. In space, no one can hear you suck.
The Most Annoying Pod In The Whole Wide World. Idzik hovers over Omar's bed just before the morning count, begging to know if he's devised a plan to kill him yet. Oh, yeah. That's a good idea. Let OMAR make the plan. Omar claims that he's been unable to think with Idzik bothering him all the time, although that still doesn't explain why he wasn't capable of rational thought for the other thirty some-odd years of his life. And just to provide further proof of how stupid he is, Omar turns to McManus for advice. Oh, yeah. That's a good idea. Let TIMMY solve your problems. "Of all the ridiculous things you've said and done," says Timbo, "and there have been plenty, this is the most ridiculous." Sigh. You know what? If Timmy is on the screen, just assume I'm shouting the exact same thing. Over and over and over again.
“ Chris plants himself in Beecher's lap and rubs both shanks across his face a few times, looking for all the world like a very recent graduate of The Jame Gumb School For Advanced Public Creepiness. ”
When we come back, Keller has Beecher handcuffed to a chair with a strip of duct tape across his mouth. Well, at least Toby will be safe from an anthrax attack. Chris plants himself in Beecher's lap and rubs both shanks across his face a few times, looking for all the world like a very recent graduate of The Jame Gumb School For Advanced Public Creepiness. "It puts the lotion in the basket," he says, while pretending not to know which shank is fake and which is real. Oh, no, he doesn't. He does, however, stab Tobias in the stomach with fake shank, just to get his attention. Keller goes on to reveal that Vern wants Beecher dead, and that he's been pretending to be Schillinger's "butt buddy" so that he'll know about the plans in advance. Meloni spends most of the scene dancing around Beecher's bound form, trying to look all scary and tough, and I've gotta be honest: I just don't get why people are so in love with this guy. Ryan, I get. The Big Black Sex Cop, I totally get. Meloni? Not so much. It always seems like he's sort of phoning it in. Plus he's got a pretty nasty beer gut. I guess you had to see the whole series to truly appreciate these two. Anyway, Keller pretends to stab Toby again, and then announces that if he really wanted Toby dead, he could have killed him by now. His point made, Chris uncuffs him and adds, "Instead, all I really want is for you to love me again." Then he plants a big wet kiss on Toby, who doesn't really seem to be resisting all that much. Their lip-lock is interrupted by Betty, who as a paid employee of Oz is contractually required to arrive just seconds too late to prevent anything bad from happening.
Later that day, Keller and Schillinger meet up on the steps near Unit B. Chris gleefully reports that Beecher no longer has any idea who's betraying whom, and that soon enough, they'll "give him something to really cry about." Then he plants a yet another big wet kiss on Schillinger, who looks hilariously disgusted as he keeps his eyes open the entire time. Hee! I can't believe he just tongue-kissed Vern in public! That's awesome. On the other hand, it looks like Busmalis's crotch grab may just have been demoted to number five. J.K. Simmons earns the biggest laugh of the night with a perfect "What the hell was that? And did I like it or not?" shrug as Keller walks away.
Hill. Jesus Christ, shut up already!
McManus stands in a hallway somewhere, waiting to meet with that guy from the parole board whom Alvarez punched in the face. For those who like to keep track of these things, Timbo is wearing a blue v-neck sweater, marking what is roughly the eight trillionth time one of those has appeared this season. Does the wardrobe department shop at Sam's Club or something? Because I don't care about this plotline even one little bit, I'll just report that the guy says he'll think about meeting with Alvarez, and that Timmy heads straight to Miguel's pod to deliver the news. Alvarez, who's wearing a blue v-neck of his own, takes it about as well as you might expect, and then returns to staring blankly at a crinkled snapshot of The Widow Cutler.