It's just another day at the office for Justin. By office I mean, of course, the ex-alcoholic who is now employed at his brother-in-law's bar seemingly with the blessing of his whole family. Whatever! If they don't care, I won't either. Justin is hard at work in the supply closet when some girl in a short skirt and a dreadful Southern accent (seriously, she makes Kyra Sedgwick sound like an Alabama native) turns off the lights and turns up the heat. Justin mumbles something about his birthday, but we can't quite make it out because it is hard to enunciate when someone else's tongue is in your mouth. Obviously Scotty walks in two seconds later. Don't worry Justin already got to second! Scotty barfs on the floor, orders a dishwasher to clean it up and then backs out of the supply closet slowly. Once outside the closet, he remembers that he's the boss, this is vile, and man juice on the spice rack is DEFINITELY a health code violation. He barks at Justin to get back to work already. Justin kisses the girl a few more times and runs out of the closet.
Nora barrels into the kitchen at the radio station in full rant about ignorant Neanderthals, but a disembodied voice coming from behind a newspaper points out it is actually pronounced "neander-TALL", which is not at all annoying. Except, of course, that it completely is. Nora just takes it though because the snooty erudite voice is from her dreamy bohunk radio professional Carl. Swoon! He correctly guesses that Nora met the resident right wing radio jock and is displeased with his attitude. Nora listened to his show last night and it was filled with LIES, LIES, and dirty rotten LIES about all the liberal hot button issues like global warming and immigration and whether you can recycle no.2 plastics. Nora confronted him in the hallway this morning to collegially set him straight and for some reason he reacted hostilely. Nora is shocked by his behavior and refusal to see the correct way of thinking, as only someone so solipsistic about their own beliefs can be. Then the right-winger called her show Call Madame Mao, which is really... not funny at all. Nora took offense, not at the terrible humor, but at the implication that she is the mouthpiece of a communist state that won't even let its dissidents receive the Nobel Peace Prize. Nora, if you don't want people to think you are a communist, don't wear red. Duh.
Carl invites Nora to sit down and take a deep breath. He has some therapizing to do. He explains that the aggravating right-winger's biggest advertisers are a home security system and a male potency pill. Clearly this means he has no penis, a small car, not nearly enough Four Loko, his mother didn't love him and Jenny Schulz wouldn't go to the junior high prom with him. As a trained psychotherapist, Carl knows that means that he and his entire audience all suffer from paranoid personality disorders with deep Freudian issues. Nora smiles. Then Carl presents her with a bill for services rendered. Then he invites her to his house for a Leonard Bernstein television show because that is how the aging liberal set roll: PBS and a bottle of California zinfandel in a reusable NPR tote bag. Nora is in, obvs. Unfortunately Carl invited her at 9:45 p.m. for a 10 p.m. show, which doesn't give a lot of time for getting saucy on the couch before the show starts up.