At the first meeting of the people behind the new Stuckeyville High TV station, Carol asks whether anyone has any ideas for programming. MegaMark suggests that he and Diane do a morning show, because they have this wonderful love-hate relationship going on with sexual tension you could cut with a knife. I agree. He loves munching on sides of beef, and she hates him. Carol asks Warren what he'd like to see, and Warren goes off on this whole patriotic post-September 11th spiel about returning America to warm and comforting TV shows because it's television's obligation to let America know that everything's going to be okay. Carol sees through Warren's bullshit like it was plexiglas and asks what he really wants to see; he shamefully admits he'd like to do a show with a talking dog. Carol spots Molly standing in the doorway looking all glum and frumpled, so she tells the students to brainstorm while she goes and hangs out with Molly rather than do the job she's paid by state taxpayers to perform. I don't mean to sound bitter, but if I could somehow gain back all of the wasted hours that my teachers would spend gallivanting around the school hallways with their buds to chit-chat or smoke weed or rub genitalia or whatever the hell it was that teachers did when they left me alone to get pummeled on by my fellow classmates, I may have stood the chance to carve out a decent career opportunity for myself rather than having to resort to writing coffee table books for a living. Tell me something, people: who the hell actually reads coffee table books? Wait, don't tell me -- I've got the answer for you already: NOBODY. Coffee table books are for decoration, not for reading. Don't think I don't know this. I'm fully aware of my complete and utter unimportance in this world. It's just that I...oh...oops. Heh heh heh. Sorry for having a public meltdown like that. It's just...well...there's a lot of stress in the hectic world of coffee table book writing right now...that's all.
Carol and Molly go out in the hallway, where Molly gets to bitch about really wanting Carol's TV gig and insinuating that Carol got the keys to the cool job by scarfing down Jackass's beefsteak. Carol tries to defend herself -- quite weakly, I might add. I mean, come on, Carol -- everyone knows you're juggling Jackass's jimmies. Quit trying to hide it. Molly points out that because Carol got the TV station, Molly had to settle for the Recorder Club. Molly acts like the Recorder Club is not a cool club to be part of, which I know is a lie because I was the treasurer of my Recorder Club in high school, and let me tell you what, those cats could par-tayyy! I'll never forget the time we toilet-papered the trees in Mr. Livingston's front yard and he caught us and came out on his front porch, shaking his fist and yelling, "You crazy kids!" in a good-natured tone of voice. Man! We WERE crazy! We were regular looney birds! Go us! Wooohoooo! Par-tayyy!