Fish Hits Bottom (Feeder)
Today feels like the day the entire writing staff (and the “festive” producers) have been waiting for. Our intrepid closet case is coming out in a big way, and I’ll be hard pressed to determine whether it’s the writing or the acting that’s of the higher caliber. Let’s just say, It’s all good.
Stream Fish, Pond Fish, Gay Fish, Blonde Fish
Sure enough, Fish wakes up at Rex’s condo, greeted by the grotesque visage of Clammy handing him a bottle of aspirin and a fond desire for him to get the hell out. Stacy is in the distance, looking unperturbed but potentially sperm-laden.
Tea is waking up next to Todd, but he’s not handing her any aspirin. It seems that neither of them had a headache last night. Hubba hubba. His custody thing is overturned, and he now gets to boff Tea off-campus anytime he wants.
Rex Balsom’s Boarding House for Hookers
Dorian is all dolled up, as Starr is quick to notice. For whom has she rolled out her personal red-carpet-and-matching-drapes? Why, it’s Mayor Evil Drug McCheesy!
Viki and Charlie are in bed listening to the taped pontificating of Evil Drug McCheesy, and Viki is beside herself (hi, Niki!) with dislike of that Bad McCheesy. Charlie is being all wise and sardonic as he’s convincing Viki to run for mayor. Viki, if you don’t want to do it, then just turn into Sliki (if you’re a Democrat) or Icki (if you’re a Republican).
What Happens In College, Doesn’t Stay In College
Fish, the Closet Cop is at the intersection of two storylines today: the Hardy Boys Jump Streeters and the Layla-is-the-last-to-know Follies. We also have Slut Sisters today, as Stacy tells Clammy that No Ridee, No Preggy. And we’re also back in Vickers Reality today, with our intrepid production team holed up amid the manure in the stable…and the manure that David is slinging to keep them onboard.
I’m sad that Senator Ted Kennedy has died. He was the last vestige of “Camelot,” a reference that I’m oddly old enough to remember. I was only five when JFK died, and ten when Bobby was murdered as well. There was hope and optiimism built into the Kennedy “brand.” I don’t mean to sound cynical about it, because I’m not. The way we perceive people can be just as impactful as the way they might actually be, and the Kennedys stood for human rights and a deep, ethical concern for each other.
Come for the Kish, Stay for the Breeders
He’s McBaaaaaainiac, McBaaaaainiac, on the Force
And he speaks in code just like that Samuel Morse.
Mumbles McBainiac has called Fishie and Nordic Porn Cop into his office to give them TOP SECRET CLASSIFIED information about the Hardy Boys Task Force. Fish has a concerned look on his face, because he’s too worried about dipping his pen in the wrong inkwell to realize that Mumbles is setting up Nordic Porn Cop. Duh.
The Only Name He Hasn’t Used Is Dash Riprock (Eep Eep)
We pick up from last week with the improbable situation of Marty treating Todd (to psychotherapy, not a ham sandwich). And Tea is still purring with seethingness at Elihunk, because “his client” won’t be getting what he wants (his child? his memory? an order of empanadas?). And Blair is hop-up-and-down excited over getting the scoop on Ross Rayburn and Tea from Rex.
In this week’s Time magazine, Joe Klein has written a very smart article about what’s really going on with all the hysterical screaming about “death panels” and the like. First, Mr. Klein puts the insane fear-mongering about the clause in the healthcare plan about the (optional) discussions available for end-of-life counseling into perspective, by explaining what they actually are, and how they’re actually a very good and welcome thing. I realize the big-mouths who have been calling them “death panels” (and calling Barack Obama “Hitler” — which, as a Jew, I take a big ol’ bushel of offense at) don’t want to hear the real truth about it, but y’know what? Those super-incendiary muckrakers are actually in the minority…and if everybody else decides to come to their senses, then they no longer hold any sway. And what an excellent day that would be.
Speaking of these incendiary big-mouths — and Mr. Klein cites Rush Limbaugh as the ringleader, but I’ll also include anyone else at Fox “News,” including that pasty little Glenn Beck person — (more…)
I’m Not Naming Names, But It Rhymes with “Floss Shmayburn”
We open slow today, with Marty starting back to work and Mumbles bringing her some kind of encouragement by mentioning Pirates of the Caribbean (is that supposed to be encouraging because it’s a Disney film, and Disney pays their salaries?). Speaking of Mayor McCheesy (yeah, they were, for still more inexplicable reasons), he is running for reelection and wants Viki’s endorsement. She basically told him she’d rather endorse a sperm whale.
Shalom, Llanview, Shalom!
“He’s off his meds, Pa. Put him down before he shoots me.” Ah, David Vickers…me love you. Then he turns his attention to the rest of his new extended family. “Aunt Nora…shalom! Aunt Nora is my favorite former relative. She’s also a Reform Jew!” OMG, this is killing me!
The Slut Sisters are onto their latest impregnation scheme, texting both Layla and Cris to get them out of Crayfish Condo so that Stacy can show up and fall on Fish’s shooting tower of babies. That is SO going to happen. Fish is surprised to see Stacy at the door. She says, ‘Hello, handsome.” He looks around to see if there’s a heterosexual behind him. I’m actually not hating the Slut Sister Follies right now.