Commercials: Good thing Arsenio's cultural viability has totally sustained this fertile new 1-800-COLLECT period of his artistic development.
Michael arrives at The House That Drives, entering to find Tony Clifton watching television. Tony takes his drink away from his lips long enough to inquire, "Where the hell have you been?" He never even leaves the comfort of his Un-EZ Chair (called so because out here, nothing is ever EZ) to face Michael. Michael opens the refrigerator door, remembers that the only options for cuisine on this show are Bangs's cooking and Sex Pies, thinks better of eating, goes in his room, slams the door, and lies down. Hey, careful of the bedhead, Michael, it can really screw up your -- oh, never mind.
Meanwhile, back inside the migraine that is The DeLucawitz Situation, Maria and her mother share tense words over their respective relationships. Maria, remembering that she is in real life older than the character playing her mother, reverses the parenting roles for a moment and tells DeLucawitz that she doesn't want her mother "to rush into anything." Her mother, continuing her series of poorly shrouded sexual allusions, responds, "Anything? Or Jim Valenti?" Again, ew. And by technical definition, if you're really trying to up the repugnancy ante as high as it can go, I believe the correct terminology would actually be allowing Jim Valenti to rush into you. Either way, kill me. Maria tells DeLucawitz that he wants what all men wants, and that "he's a cop and you're a hippie." Yeah, drop that hippie plot line thing. She's playing forty and it's a dead end. I'm just sayin'. For once heeding my always spot-on advice, Maria changes directions and tells her mother that Porno is the kind of tough-guy man who can't open up and won't share his feelings and other male-oriented clichés that are always, always true. On television. One character finally calling another on his or her extremely transparent inner monologue, DeLucawitz assures Maria that "Michael will come around." Maria warns that once men get what they want, they disappear. DeLucawitz hopes Maria's not talking from experience. I wish they weren't talking at all.
Michael, the one character on this show who does not represent the creamy-nougat middle-class in its complex totality, continues to lie in bed. Once again making it amply clear that there is no government surplus of good dialogue for consumption by the penniless, Tony Clifton and Michael engage in the following witty repartee: