Everybody's running around getting ready for the next thing even though they don't know what the next thing is going to be. The sunrise or sunset in the opening crane shot is lovely. The visual language of this show is so evocative, because you can't exactly go directly to the jittery Black Hawk Down place, but you can't really do like a romance with it either, so they just mix it up in the coolest way, like the whole sunset speech from Godfather last week: totally inspiring in the eyeballs, fake inspiring in the earholes, and then a kind of dread.
Everybody calls everything a donkey dick like a billion times and Dirty Earl can be heard claiming that he can fix "anything from a screen door to a broken heart." That's poetic. Especially because they don't have screen doors here. They barely have door doors here. Brad's harassing Trombley about his biology, once again: "Trombley, did you eat? You hydrated? Defecated?" Trombley has not yet defecated. As Casey Kasem oilslicks his disgusting slugtrail self toward them, Ray bitches about something breaking. Brad begs Trombley to shit before they get on the road.
"Outstanding job yesterday, gentlemen," smarms Casey Kasem. Brad's like, "Can I help you? To suck my cock?" Casey Kasem gets that look they get when they think they're being lofty and kinglike, aka the worst fucking thing you ever wanted to smash into a billion places, and wheezes, "Sergeant, yesterday we had a trial by fire. I want you to know, Brad, that I'm here for you and your men. Are there any combat stress reactions anyone needs to talk about? Remember, I'm the certified combat stress instructor." Meanwhile, ironically enough, Walt's freaking out over his broken gun, giving Brad the usual entrée to point out to Casey Kasem that he is a rancid blumpkin of a person.
"No, we're good, Gunny. But we would be a lot better if you were getting us the gun lube and batteries we need. That might do it for my combat stress." Just the slightest Iceman tone in there where you couldn't actually accuse him of being an asshole -- after all, it's true, I mean, he's saying the sky's blue, basically -- but this being their eighty-fifth conversation about Casey Kasem's fucking inability to do the one thing he's tasked with, it's kind of implied. Walt's like, "My combat stress too. Ass." Casey Kasem runs off without even saying anything, because what do you say? "Yep, there it is. The eighty-fifth time did the trick. I have finally realized what a skidmark I am. Here are your batteries. And some chocolate." He passes by Whisky Tango Chaffin, and they engage in asshole chat.