"And no going out on school nights." As though school nights, days, afternoons, evenings have any meaning on this show -- but really because they were raised by wolves -- Serena and Eric wig out. But like: any time could be a school night, how would you even know? Right here at breakfast it could be Sunday afternoon and Tuesday night at a party in another borough. They're setting their children up for failure! Bart shushes them, but listen to the song: "...It is all so calm in this cold night air/ Where the people sing without care/ Though I know not where I step/ I follow you until the death.../ Though I know not where I step/ I follow you..." Serena knows the song's about Lily: "Mom, where is this coming from?" Lily swears they made the decisions together, and are in complete agreement. Serena can't believe that for a second, but says eff it and takes off. Chuck sucks his teeth in that way he has; Lily feels weird; Eric looks down at his plate and wonders where his highlights went. Me too.
Dan's apparently reading the iconic graphics from a pomo flyer or something; I could pause it but I can smell Vanessa all over this scene and thus cannot force myself to care. "Medicine cabinet, bedside table, underwear drawer? It's borderline solicitation, V. And, uh, creepy." Vanessa tells him to read the flyer, and he exposits that her latest effing crusade is to save Dutch Schultz's favorite speakeasy, the Brooklyn Inn. "But what are you protesting? The owner died, didn't he?" Vanessa is like, "My moral superiority doesn't allow me to make those distinctions. I don't 'see' death, I just see people."
(Burroughs made a poem of Dutch's last words, but they already were one, on par with Rimbaud: "Then pull me out. I am half crazy. They won't let me get up. They dyed my shoes. Open those shoes. Give me something. I am so sick. Give me some water, the only thing that I want. Open this up and break it so I can touch you... Kindly take my shoes off. No. There is a handcuff on them. The Baron says these things. I know what I am doing here with my collection of papers... Look out for Jimmy Valentine, for he is an old pal of mine. Come on, come on, Jim... The chimney sweeps. Talk to the sword. Shut up, you got a big mouth! Please help me up, Henry. Max, come over here. French-Canadian bean soup. I want to pay. Let them leave me alone." That's exactly how I want the Captain to go down! French-Canadian bean soup for everyone!)
Vanessa is worried that Brooklyn Inn's owner having, in Dan's insensitive terms, "died," the auction of the property will cause an evil developer to turn it into a Pain Quotidien. Jenny, of course, loves Le Pain Quotidien, because growing up in Rufus's household gives you no context with which to evaluate the skin-peeling creepiness of communal dining. Vanessa puts her filthy bohemian hand on Jenny's mouth, because she is the Queen of Assholes, and explains that she's petitioning for landmark status. (Which, Jenny explains, Dan, Rufus and Alison, and Eleanor Waldorf have already "signed." Jenny has no moral fiber. That would really come in handy now that she's this close to swimming with the bulimic sharks of fashion.) "How about I come to school with you and hand out flyers to the guilty rich?" Desperate, you see, to pretend she has friends -- even Dan-type ones -- and to catch a glimpse of the man-bangs of Nate one more time. Dan points out that there are no guilty rich at Constance/St. Jude's. No matter how hard he tries.