Episode Report Card
Sobell: C+ | Grade It Now!
Gil and Sara, sitting in a lab

Due to adult content
Viewer discretion is advised.

Hey, don't blame me -- I'm not the one who forgot the comma between the dependent clause and the independent one. It's almost poetry, isn't it? You could go e.e. cummings-style with it:

she said
        (or believed she did)
that …
(does anyone have anyanyanyfreethought now, we all listen to TV)

Or you could just go with a haiku:

You under 18?
Then don't watch, unless your mom
Gives you the okay.

In any event, the warning isn't meant to make you think of poetry. It's supposed to warn you that tonight's episode is all about being able to vote and drink legally, since it has adult content in it. Oh, wait…"adult" is a euphemism for "sexual," isn't it?

Let's get on with it! There aren't nearly enough sex-related murders on this show. The episode starts off with some really atmospheric piano music, if by "atmospheric" you mean "hitting two minor keys at measured intervals to make everything sound creepy," and Gil in a pristine, sleek house. Naturally, he's alone and it's dark. We see his bootie-clad feet carefully shuffle down the hall, and he trains a flashlight on everything as he goes. The victim's house is, of course, spotless. Not that murder victims will be relieved about much, what with meeting a violent, involuntary, and untimely death and all, but maybe knowing that their houses are spotless for the CSIs might be good for some peace of mind in the afterlife. For Type-A murder victims, anyway.

The piano plunks, we see two wine glasses laid out as if the victim was expecting company, and Gil continues on down the hall, carefully noting the footprints in the carpet. He reaches the boudoir, which could double as a rest stop on the annual Danaus plexippus winter migration circuit, notes something red spilled on the carpet, then heads into the bedroom, where there are clothes on the bed and closet opened so we can see that the victim's almost as much of a Container Store fiend as I am. And then we head into a bathroom the size of my guest bedroom, where the victim is doing balasana, a.k.a. child's pose, in the shower. There's a lot of blood on the floor, but we're really supposed to notice the butterfly tattoo on the small of her back, peeking above her thong line. I send up a small prayer that the victim does not behave like notorious butterfly-loving celebs Drew Barrymore or Mariah Carey -- both of whom maybe grasped the whole emerging-from-the-cocoon-of-addiction-into-the-beautiful-wings-of-sobriety metaphor a little too fervently to their pneumatic bosoms --or else we're looking at a plausible justifiable manslaughter here.

Anyway, Gil checks out the thong, the butterfly tattoo, and the woman. She's brunette and youthful. He hunkers down and stares at her for a while until her features begin to look like Sara's. Yeah, that'll help him work on the case.

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