Carnivale
The Day Of The Dead

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Sister? But I just kissed her!

My bizarre Carnivàle conspiracy theory, by the way, is that it was really Scudder who wanted Adrienne Barbeau dead. We know they slept together back in the day, and Ben pretty much just admitted that he got his own snake charmed, so Scudder (who is apparently somewhat more powerful than Management) manipulated things so that she would be punished. It's probably totally wrong, but so is everything else in the speculation thread, so I thought I'd just jot it down here for posterity. Don't think I won't be gloating next week if it turns out to be right, though.

California. Father Walton is at the Crowe house, chatting with Iris. And right now I want everyone who emailed me to say that his nickname can't be Father Walton because he's a Methodist and not a Catholic to go back and watch that razorblade communion scene again. And then go outside for a while. It's nice. You'll like it. Or so I've heard. At any rate, Father Walton is busy confiding in Iris about the bloody cross he saw on Justin's forehead last week. Iris obviously insists that all this must be a mistake, and variously offers up tiredness and "the light" as possible explanations for the vision. Father Walton, however, suggests that Justin might have been possessed. He cites a chapter or two from the Bible, and then mentions the possibility of an exorcism. Iris laughs, calling that idea "insane" and "Papist hocus-pocus." Of course, if there was ever a woman who'd be likely to end up sucking cocks in hell, it's Iris. Brother Justin chooses this opportune moment to come home, and Father Walton rapidly tries to make himself scarce. He does stop to whisper to Iris that he'd like to keep their conversation on the down low, but he's so obvious about it that there's no way Justin wouldn't know something was going on. Even if he wasn't a psychotic telepath. Iris says goodbye, and politely shuffles Father Walton out the door while Justin looks on like a proud little brother. Or like a proud father. Or even a proud Father, for that matter. Or maybe it's more like a proud lover. Yeah. Things are definitely wee bit fucked up in this family.

Morning in Carnieland. Over at the cool freaks' table, Lila, Jonesy, Gayko, La Coocharaca, and the rest of the Cooch clan are all sitting around eating breakfast. Well, except for Pa Pimperson, that is, because he's gotten up to fetch himself another cup of coffee. Lila asks him to grab her some sugar while he's up, which seems like a fairly reasonable request, but Pa refuses, presumably because he's grumpy in the mornings, and also because he thinks it would be better if Jonesy did it for him. "I'd be nice to me if I was you," warns Lila. "Yeah, well, he ain't you," mugs Gayko, in his contractually obligated single snarky line of the week. "Although it's hard to tell on days he forgets to shave." Heh. Down at the other end of the table, La Coocharaca asks if "the lady con la barba" is the Queen of the carnival. Libby explains that she only thinks she is, but Lila points out that things have changed now that Samson is sleeping in a truck. Jonesy rouses himself from his pre-coffee stupor long enough to defend Samson, and even Pa Pimp agrees that there's not a chance in hell of Lodz taking over the carnival. "The blind leading the blind," quips Gayko, who's obviously decided to make up for all those episodes he's missed lately. "I don't care where anyone sleeps," adds Ma Cooch. Yeah. We've noticed. "I work for Samson," she finishes. Lila laughs, and haughtily flips open her fan. "The king is dead," she announces. "Long live the king." Okay, I didn't say anything earlier after the "papist" line, but someone on the Carnivàle staff has definitely been reading Quicksilver recently. Or The Da Vinci Code. Or maybe just The Wizard of Id. Samson wanders over at this point, just in time to bust Lila for shit-talking. "Everyone having a nice little chat?" he inquires. "Getting all the gossip straightened out? Let's quit lollygagging around and finish it up. We got work." Hee! "Lollygagging." But what about his catchphrase? Is there no dust to shake? I mean, without any obvious product-placement opportunities on this show, they're definitely going to need all the easy merchandising they can get. Perhaps a Dustbuster marketing tie in? Or maybe they could fill sno-globes with dirt and put a tiny little Nick Stahl action figure in there. What? I'd buy one.

Sofie's trailer. She enters, carrying a giant pillow, and gives her mother a frighteningly creepy Norman Bates stare before sitting down for a nice little chat.

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Carnivale

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