“ Jay tells Mike that Marisa is gorgeous, but that she's not Mike's type. I'm guessing that's because she's neither a man in drag nor a blackout drinker. ”
Later that night, Mike makes the groundbreaking discovery (in front of a very bored-looking Lars and Jay) that (a) his father wants him to fail, (b) he's turning into his father, and (c) he's always sought his father's approval. Ooh! Time to write a letter to Alan Ball. Maybe he'll write a screenplay about your life. But seriously, Mike, you are your father. You are OCD white male trash with no manners, self-awareness, or communication skills. What's this "becoming" shit? Hey, maybe now's a good time to play "Father Figure" by George Michael or "Cat's in the Cradle" by Harry Chapin.
A stray dog roams the streets of London, picking through garbage cans. A reference to Jacinda's dog Legend? A sexual conquest of Mike's? A viewer like me trying to find something exciting to write about? Who knows? Some girl who is not Jay's girlfriend is on the phone with Jay. Jay explains in an interview that the girl is Marisa, and that she went to writing camp with him. Apparently, her mother is giving her the money to go to London. Jay is ecstatic. Okay, sorry; I know that there are places called writing camps -- I even see ads for them in the back of The New York Times Magazine to the ads for fat camps -- but all I can think about at the mention of "writing camp" is a bunch of homesick kids strapped to their laptops with lanyards sitting around some campfire while some mean fat counselor singles out one of the more delicate kids and shames him in front of his entire cabin for ending a sentence with a preposition. Jay tells us that Marisa was his first love, but that she didn't feel the same way he did. Well, not until camera crews started following him around London, anyway. In the living room, Mike and Jay play pool. Jay tells Mike that Marisa is gorgeous, but that she's not Mike's type. I'm guessing that's because she's neither a man in drag nor a blackout drinker. Mike bites anyway and asks Jay what he means. Jay replies that she's a "poet." Yeah, that whole "literacy" thing is always a turnoff for Mike.
But then Marisa's plane lands and it becomes clear why Mike wouldn't like Marisa: Marisa is African-American. Not that anyone notices or anything. Marisa's also got huge knockers. She displays them to perfection the moment she steps off the plane. You know how the visiting girlfriends in these reality shows always look a little uncomfortable at first because they're not as used to the cameras as the regular cast members are? This is not an issue with Marisa; she is perfectly happy to work it for Bunim-Murray. Frankly, I think Marisa looks like one of those truly charismatic lesbians who went to my college and always had to transfer to Sarah Lawrence by their junior year because they'd already slept with and dumped all the available women on campus. Jay and Marisa ride the Underground from Heathrow into London and play footsie on the train. In a voice-over, Jay explains that he loved Marisa the moment he read her first play, even before he met her, and "then she turned out to be this gorgeous girl." Just wait until you get an AOL account, Jay. There are so many surprises in store for you, laddie boy!
Mike finds some ad in a magazine somewhere for a used race car or something. The editors don't explain what, exactly. This means that Mike is going to race. Maybe. He takes a train out to go meet "Dave and Cher," who run a BMW repair shop out of their home and also run the Ajec 3000 racing Pro-Sport team out of said shop. Whatever that means. It's so nice to hear that Mike has hooked up with some Pro-Sport people. Those Anti-Sport people can be such a drain on your self-esteem if you race cars for a living. But seriously, these are excellent race cars, and Mike is psyched to drive one, citing the "bubble cockpit and wing in the back." Whatever. Cher -- who turns out to be your basic English housewife with big hair and not a Bob Mackie-wearing, Academy-Award-Winning actress with a penchant for plastic surgery and younger unemployed boyfriends -- asks him how he's funding his racing. Mike tells her he's financing it himself "out of pocket." In an interview, Mike picks his nose and talks about how great it would be to have a sponsor by the time his father shows up.
B-roll of London at night. Several shots of Big Ben, and a shot of Planet Hollywood. Apparently, Planet Hollywood has been chosen as the setting for the auspicious occasion of Mike's father's reunion with Mike. I guess if there's anyplace in London that's going to make an American feel right at home, it's Planet Hollywood. And that's because they serve real American food at Planet Hollywood, like Chicken Parmesan with plenty of garlic powder sprinkled on top, served with a wedge of bread with grill cross-hatching on it. Furthermore, you get to eat this cuisine in a souvenir-filled room where, years before, Bruce Willis -- when he was still married to Demi Moore (when she still had a career) -- once performed songs from his 1987 CD, The Return of Bruno. Although, strangely, once Bruce collected his investor dividend check after his appearance at the opening party, he never returned to this establishment to enjoy a meal. Mike stands in the foyer nervously waiting for the Johnson family; lo and behold, they show up. Mike's dad is accompanied by a new woman, who is identified by that white squiggly writing as Mike's "stepmom." I can't tell whether Cathy, Mike's big-haired stepmom, is too young to be married to Mike's dad, or too old to be sporting Candace Cameron's steroidal hairdo from Full House. I will say that she looks pretty good for a woman who's just had reconstructive facial surgery after Mike's father bashed her face in for suggesting that he stop the car and ask someone for directions to the new location of Chili's on their way there for a Sunday family dinner. Mike and his father give each other a manly hug; in an interview, Mike says how exciting it was to see his folks. "It was like coming home from college," he says.
Mike shows his family around London, making a point of showing them the booth where they can get half-price tickets to plays "like Cats and stuff." Nice, Mike! God forbid you should know of another stage production currently running in the West End besides Catsand reveal some latent homosexual tendencies or something. Then he teaches his parents the meaning of the word "bollocks." Which he defines as "I don't care." Hey, neither do I! Duke Jr., Mike's brother -- the one of whom his father wasn't too ashamed to name after himself -- is all excited about learning "an English word."
The day, Mike shows his parents the house, including the "loo" (their second English word, I guess), and introduces them to Lars. When Lars appears, the Johnson family starts cracking up. Seriously. It's not even an editing thing: the camera follows the Johnsons through the house, Lars pops out of the doorway, and, without a cut, the entire family spontaneously bursts out laughing. I guess I understand. Lars must look weird to them since he's not wearing a baseball cap or a sweatshirt featuring the name of an American state university. But they're laughing so hard, you'd think the black dude they were lynching in their backyard took a crap in his pants or something.
Jay, in an interview, describes Mike's father as "one of those guys who's well-off and makes a lot of jokes and everything, you know." Oh, one of those guys. What an eye for character you have, Jay. Are you a playwright or something? Neil enters in an orange jumpsuit, the kind of thing Claude Montana would have designed for Nick Rhodes of Duran Duran back in 1986. Again, the Johnsons bust out laughing for no discernible reason. I guess the sight of Neil in orange is almost as funny to them as the time the illegal Mexican who mows the Johnsons' lawn for nine cents an hour slipped on an algae-covered rock while trying to cross the Rio Grande on his way to work and cracked his head open.
Okay, I take it all back. Apparently Mike has every excuse to be the loser he is. I apologize for every foul thing I've said about his hair or his lack of social skills. Clearly, he is doing very well considering who raised him. "Mike makes a lot more sense in the context of Duke, Dukie, Duke Jr. and Cathy," says Neil in an interview. "They're kind of like the Bundys but with more money." Okay, by the Bundys, Neil, are you referring to the family on Married with Children or are you referring to Ted's parents? 'Cause I could go either way, here.