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Daniel: B+ | Grade It Now!
Am I Hot or Nazi?
I am aware that it's resolutely unfair to judge a show based solely on the last thirty seconds and a preview for the next week's episode that I see every week as I record the show that comes directly after it, but I'm going to do it anyway: week in, week out, Bones looks absolutely awful. Anyone want to make a case in its defense? Every week with this shit! Emily Deschanel and David Boreanaz seem like perfectly lovely (not to mention inhumanly good-looking) people, but it's really starting to get to me. I will say this, though: I find it inexplicably amusing -- nay, almost endearing -- when a show is named simply after the main character, particularly if it's a nickname or not an obvious name. Your House, your Bones. I think from now on I'm just going to refer to Olivia as "Fringe."

The good folks at Cake Palace (with the slogan "Let them eat cake") unload a three-tiered wedding cake in the driveway of a nice home in Brookline, Mass. And then we get some cheesy home video footage of wedding preparations, the guests arriving, etc. And I don't mean "cheesy" in the way that all weddings are a little cheesy. This was more like cheesy if you were watching Beverly Hills 90210, like not even the remake or the reboot or whatever stupid term is being used. A woman walks in, escorting an elderly Nana, telling her: "Nana, take it easy! There's no hurry!" and Nana proudly says, in accented English, "You take it easy! This my regular speed!" and the first woman looks into the camera with a condescending, "Oh, Nana, you'll bury us all" smile on her face. And then the groom's mother is busting in on the bride, with the videographer in tow, so David can see her in the dress before the wedding but without the bad luck, and isn't the point of the superstition supposed to be that the first time the groom sees her in the wedding dress is supposed to be as she's coming down the aisle? Like is Mom going to take the footage back to her son to make sure everything checks out? "Yeah, she looks good. Guess it's on!"

Anyway, the bride thanks her future mother-in-law "for everything," and the mother-in-law says she's so thrilled that Shelley is joining the family and "David is lucky to have you" and then they hug and Mrs. Staller gets all weepy and wants the videographer to stop shooting, and maybe while he's taking a break from documenting everything he can take something to steady his spastic hands so the camera isn't shaking so badly.

So then there's some ShakiCam action of the groom having trouble breathing while one of the groomsmen grabs a bottle of whiskey and gets ready to pour -- to calm him down.

Guests pick up yarmulkes as they enter the ceremony. Nana sits, scanning the room, when she spots -- hey, is that Kenneth from 30 Rock? No, it's just some blond guy with a flat haircut. He's wearing no-fuss wire-rim glasses, so why we're going to spend a whole show figuring this out when he's clearly styled in Hollywood shorthand for "Nazi" is beyond me. Nana asks Lynn (the woman who walked her in earlier) who that is, pointing at him. Nana! Monkeys point! Lynn doesn't know and just figures he's from Shelley's side.

Meanwhile, the "get David drunk" plan doesn't seem to be curing his freakout. He's actively hyperventilating now, so the groomsmen grab his inhaler, and I'd like to ask why, if this guy has an inhaler, that wasn't tried BEFORE the glass of whisky, and I'd also like to point out to one of the other groomsmen that since your asthmatic friend is having trouble breathing, the absolute LEAST you could do is put out your cigarette. The groom stumbles off into a side room while a groomsman throws the camera a double-thumbs-up, like this isn't a LIVE FEED or anything, you don't need to convince anyone watching that everything's OK.

Out in the actual wedding area, another groomsman comes out to announce to everyone that David is "definitely going to run" and they're going to get going here shortly. Meanwhile, Nana is still looking at the blond guy and she starts saying, "It can't be. It can't be true." She stands up, pointing at the guy: "It's him!" she says, but she's only able to say it a couple of times before she turns ashen and starts to collapse, choking. People rush to help her, but suddenly other people have their own problems: People are falling down all over the place. "What's going on!" yells Mrs. Staller, who's unaffected (except for the trauma of watching everyone dropping dead around her, I suppose).

A Det. Burt Manning greets Fringe as she gets out of her car at the Brookline house. He tells them the ME's inside, but they've been put in a "holding pattern" because Fringe asked them not to touch anything. "It's pretty bad," he says, and tells her the current victim count is fourteen ... so far.

Just then, lurching around the corner in fits and starts, is the Bishop shaggin' wagon, being piloted by Walter in the manner of someone with one foot on the gas and one on the brake. Are we supposed to believe Peter was OK with driving all the way from Boston like this? When they're supposed to be getting to a crime scene? As Walter gently bumps the station wagon into the recycling bin and garbage bags that are an awfully nice touch of landscaping at this nice house on the day of a wedding, Walter reminisces about his own wedding to Peter's mother. "I won't deny I was never happier," he says, adding that he kept his tuxedo in the hopes that one day he would have a son who would wear it. Peter wryly notes that styles change, and is informed that "purple never goes out of style." Whoop! Walter's still crazy. Better get back to St. Claire's! Walter tells Peter that his wedding day may come sooner than you think. "Do you think she'll call me 'Dad'?" he asks, but Peter has no idea who Walter's talking about. "Agent Fringe," says Walter. Peter just laughs and guesses the answer would be no. "Don't look at me like that. She's just what you need. Someone who can see right through you," says Walter, and that's when they're greeted by Fringe and Det. Manning, and Walter's all, "You look lovely, Agent Fringe," and makes Peter say so too, and then Walter goes off with Manning while Fringe looks at Walter's lovely parking job. "Lose a bet?" she asks Peter. "It was either that or flying lessons," says Peter, and they head inside.

Walter and Peter examine the bodies, with Walter noting the swelling of the vitreous humour (that's eye jelly, gross) and petchial hemorrhaging, and Peter noting the blue skin. It's definitely asphyxiation, they conclude. However: the airways are clear, and there's no fluid in the lungs. Fringe notes that all the victims she's identified so far are on the groom's side, and suggests they all came in contact with something before the wedding -- anaphylactic shock. "Maybe they're all having an allergic reaction to something they ate or drank," suggests Peter, and Walter grudgingly admits that's a logical idea, if they were all exposed at the same time, and he's probably just pissed that he hasn't come up with a theory yet that involves psychic bonding or parallel universes yet or something. Fringe spots a row of numbers on Nana's arm. "She was a holocaust survivor," she says. Walter comes over to examine the body and laments how she survived the Holocaust only to finish up like this, which is true, although there was sixty-five years in the interim which she probably cherished every day, Walter. Fringe asks Walter if this could be a deliberate attack, and he doesn't know. He just knows that "fourteen people suffocated in a room full of air."

Peter and Fringe check out the study the groomsmen were getting ready in, looking for something they all ate or drank. Peter naturally spots the whisky bottle right off, while Fringe notes, "It's hard to believe that a few hours ago this was actually a happy place."

They hear a noise from the nearby room, and quietly approach the door. At first they don't see anything, and then the groom, gasping for air, stumbles into view, and he collapses on the floor while Fringe

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