Too late! Well, sort of. We cut to a street corner on the production's new backlot, and I hate that they no longer do location shooting for this show. The backlot set is too obviously fake, and while Los Angeles was never the perfect substitute for San Francisco, at least most of Los Angeles doesn't look like it's been constructed of hastily-slapped-together plywood-and-stucco flats. Anyway, Lord Hoover jauntily whips around the corner in his bizarre black cloak and knee-high suppressor boots with one of the dumbest lines ever on this show. "So this is 'the land of the free,' eh?" he sneers contemptuously, because, you know, we're all so fucking repressed, but what I want to know is how a demon from the eleventh goddamned century would ever have heard that phrase. Huh? HUH? God, I hate this show. Hoover spots some black-clad biker chick across the street arguing with the tow-truck driver who's currently impounding her Camaro. "Don't hold back," Hoover sneers, reaching in her direction. "Let it out." The cloudy red mojo of repression erupts from the biker chick's face to siphon into Hoover's hand, and she immediately decks the driver right in the teeth. Hoover, meanwhile, chuckles as he absorbs the mojo, and they give poor Maury Sterling another dumb line to deliver: "Such a plethora of repression, it's so hard to choose!" Ow. I feel your pain, Maury. I feel your pain. "Who's next?" Hoover wonders, stalking down the street until he spots a gimp in a cast shaking a newspaper vending box. Hoover sucks Cast Boy's mojo, and Cast Boy immediately starts goes postal on the metal box's ass with his crutch. Heh. Hoover then decides to take his improved Flaming Ball Of Death on a trial run, and so flings one into the front end of the police car that's just come squealing around the corner. The FBOD, by the way, corkscrews through the air, which is a nice touch. The front end of the prowler instantly explodes, sending the hood about twenty feet into the air. Because this show sucks and I hate it, the cop inside quickly emerges from the wreck entirely unscathed. Maury cackles and races off for more sucking of the supernatural kind.
Meanwhile, back with the Dolt's Issues, we head to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge to find the worthless deadbeat in question pacing impatiently as he awaits the arrival of Brian Dennehy's daugher. No, seriously. Brian Dennehy's daughter Elizabeth orbs onto the tower to chat with the Dolt, and I must admit she's working that gold-toned velour better than anybody else has so far on this show. And that's about the only thing of note in this scene. Who the hell decided that the Dolt's crisis of faith would make for compelling television? Because that person needs to be shot in the face. Long story short, Elizabeth Dennehy makes it clear the Elders suspect the Dolt in Stupid Uncle Phil's disappearance, but she also emphasizes that new threat mentioned in last week's episode, and so urges the Dolt to return to the fold. The Dolt gets pissy and such, and brings the interview to a screeching halt by asking if she knows anything about a "repressor demon." She doesn't, of course, and so exits upward after again urging the Dolt to think about what she's said. After she's gone, the Dolt paces a few steps back towards the tower support until the Head reappears behind him to sneer, "You can't trust her. You can't trust any of them anymore." The Head makes to shoot through the Dolt's body but veers off at the last moment to vanish somehow before it cracks its massive cranium on the steel. "Why are you doing this to me?" the Dolt whimpers before stiffening his spine a bit and shouting, "Who are you?" Who cares?