House
Que Será Será

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Vogler II: Electric Vog-a-loo

Foreman and Cameron report that their theories have born no fruit, so it's back to the drawing board. And George wants to leave. "Places to go, people to eat," House says. I see his fat joke drought didn't last long. Wilson points out that George's stubborn uncooperative streak reminds him of a guy he knows. "Maybe you outta check his leg," he says. House shoots him a withering glare and then laughs fakely. It does give House an idea, though.

House finds George chowing the hell down on his dinner. He makes the obligatory fat joke, which George says is very funny as fat people are the only people it's still politically correct to insult. Not so, House says -- we can also make fun of Christians and black people. Don't forget homosexuals and white people! Anyway, House says George must know what put him in that coma, or else he wouldn't want to leave the hospital without a diagnosis. Either that, or George just doesn't want to live anymore. George says he loves life just fine; he just doesn't want to be in a hospital. House makes a few guesses as to George's condition until George slams his hands down on his dinner tray and tells him to stop. He has no idea what's wrong with him, and if he did he would tell them. He's not stupid and he's not unhappy. "I'm just overweight," he says. Yeah, but he isn't. He's beyond morbidly obese. I believe they call people as big as him "super-obese." No one gets that way just because he likes food. Not this fat. This is a food addiction, and like any other addiction, there's a mental component. It's ridiculous to say otherwise and expect the audience to believe it. Anyway, House gets a phone call and has to leave the room.

House comes home to find his apartment ransacked. Standing in the hallway waiting for him is Detective Shitter, who hands House the search warrant and shows him the six hundred-plus Vicodins he's found in House's place. Dude, what judge gives you a search warrant for a guy you busted for speeding? I mean, what the hell. This is ridiculous. I want to reserve judgment because I think it's going to lead somewhere good, but it's getting difficult. Detective Shitter says the amount of Vicodin could prove an intent to traffic, which, good luck proving that. I have a lot of shoes. It doesn't mean I intend to sell them. If Shitter finds one bottle with the wrong name on it, House will be in big trouble. Until, that is, the search warrant is found to be completely unlawful and Shitter is fired for abusing his power. Shitter says that House is an "unprofessional, unethical, arrogant ass." And Shitter wastes taxpayer's money with trumped-up charges so I guess they're even. You know, if House had done something to Shitter to warrant this reaction, like dismiss his complaint at the Clinic only to find out that Shitter had a real problem with his penis that House overlooked in his arrogance, this wouldn't be so infuriating.

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House

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