I think the writers were like, "We need some Tarantino. What are some theories? Can we talk about how those guys on Top Gun were gay?" and somebody was like, "Somebody did that already. But good idea. Everybody meet back here tomorrow with some funny lecture things we can do about Hollywood. Like that Tae-Bo of Steve movie, with like rules and lists and things. People go nuts for that. It's clever and shit," and then they all went to Hooters and got plowed and then the next day nobody had anything so they wrote all this shit in like twenty minutes on index cards, and then the guy who came up with the idea was like, "Let's discuss," and they picked the forty best and dropped these things at random throughout this awful, awful episode which is thirty minutes long and they were like, "How can we make the fact that this happens in every scene a little more organic?" and the guy was like, "Um, you haven't written any scenes yet. Like here with the golfing, the script breakdown just has a blank box with the words 'Giant Heads' written in and you'd said you'd sketch that in later. We're going to have to seamlessly maneuver the conversation to the point where we can introduce the lecture and nobody knows we didn't have anything else to do in this scene, because we already got paid by HBO and I spent it all on a rope swing over my pool." And the other guys were like, We will do it.

So Vince can't read the script. Like literally -- he comes out of the house shrieking for "E" and says he can't read it. Because, he says, he can't tell "if the script sucks," or if it's just "the sound of a jet engine" in his head. Which: both. All the time, at the same time. In my head there's just screaming. I'm starting to hate Adrian Grenier for doing this to himself. The others clearly had no other choice but I hold Adrian and Piven responsible. No, not Piven, because he's making a heroically epic effort to be the only thing that doesn't just eat ass about this whole venture. And pulling it off nicely. So it's just you, Adrian. All alone on my shitlist. So if you are wondering why I haven't mentioned Turtle in this scene? Pretend he's saying half-clever things in between every sentence I write. It all goes back to the Peloponnesian War in 431 B.C.E., which I decided in 1996 C.E. never happened, because I had too much to study and something had to go. So I avoided all classes, tests, quizzes, and questions about the alleged war and its alleged chronicler, Thucydides, and promised all and sundry I'd read the whole damn thing on winter break, and I still haven't, because I like living in a world without the Peloponnesian War. And a world without Turtle.