Judge Family tells Darwin the Dick that he's in so much in contempt of court for being so grossly inappropriate that she's going to disbar him. Well, I'm sure that's what she meant when she notes that like his recently and repeatedly objectified colleague, he's got the "same hang-up about the law." "Must've picked it up in law school," Darwin the Dick snarks. Judge Family sniffs and watches more of the video presentation, the next clip showing the wife having to clean up a messy bed left by the weakened bladder of one of the Elderlies. Is that supposed to make me sympathetic to the Wife Client as the camera pans to show her pained and long-suffering face? Because it doesn't. It only makes me more sympathetic to the Elderlies, who not only have to live with the degradation of their bodies and minds betraying them as they continue to live past their expectations, but now they have to live with the idea that their own family is going to court over whether or not they deserve to be cared for and loved. The husband looks back at the Elderlies. Sheesh, they're also there having to watch themselves on screen peeing their beds? Could their dignity be taken away any more?
As Khanita and D the D walk down the hall with the Husband Client, Husband Client accuses Wife Client, "What's wrong with you. That's fine if you hate me, do you hate them too?" Wife Client complains that their life was over when the Elderlies missed the Cocoon train to Mars, and says that all they talked about was the care of the Elderlies and that the Elderlies were always there, always needing something. "Except for the ages, it was no different from having kids," Wife Client adds. "Well, you could've always told yourself that it will get better. When they die," Husband Client shoots back. Ha! Take that, unfeeling bitch!
Federal Courthouse with CGI flags. Hector, Horatio, and their Boring Bionic Baseball clients step through a cubicle of bulletproof glass that has holes punched in it. Some guy scans them with a light-saber. So, this they show us, but they don't explain Horatio's switchblade antics? As they walk in, Hector asks what's going on in there. "A demonstration," League's Attorney says, standing next to some guy with a baseball cap and glove. "Judges hate cheap theatrics," Horatio pisses. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I say 'cheap theatrics'? I meant to say 'a demonstration,'" League's attorney says. Okay, I'm sure there's a "heh" in there, but I'm not exactly sure where or why. "Oh, I LOVE demonstrations!" Judge Baseball Case says inanely. "They make things so much easier to understand." He's a bit out there, isn't he? League's Attorney makes Horatio get in the batter's box -- which is exactly sixty-two feet from the trumped-up pitcher's mound, "the Big League's distance since 2024" -- and he's supposed to say "Swing" or "No swing." The pitcher heaves a ball that registers on the catcher's glove at one hundred six mph. The purpose of the demo is to say that every ball player has fifteen thousandths of a second to make the swing decision. All except for Bionic Boy, because, as his bionic eye is hard-wired to bypass his optic nerve and go straight to his neural cortex, he has twenty thousandths of a second to make his swing decision. Horatio argues that they're talking about the difference of "nothing and slightly more than nothing." That's exactly how I would describe this show. "It's a thirty-three percent difference. That's the difference of taking eight seconds to reach first base and six seconds. The first guy bats .300, the second guy bats .700 and sprints into the Hall of Fame," League's attorney scores. Judge Bionic Baseball Case raises his eyebrows at Hector and Horatio.