Dr. Smith looks around, puzzled. Butchie and Kai look around, puzzled. Daphne the mean fiancée looks confused. You'd think they had all just been watching an unconventionally scripted HBO drama. "And you're even uglier than Abraham Lincoln," Freddy shouts at Palaka, who counters that he shares the same birthday as Lincoln -- February 12, 1964. You're off by 155 years there, Palaka, but your point is well taken -- you and Lincoln were both born on February 12 and you're both not very pleasant-looking (at least according to Freddy). Any other similarities? Do you support the Homestead Act as well? Cunningham takes this all in and sighs contentedly: "We should make these cookouts a fixture." Maybe with less yakety-yak the next time.
People start dispersing. "Want to go look for the Space Commander?" Butchie asks Kai, presumably referring to John; she does. Linc hightails it out of there, too, and Dr. Smith rides off on his bike. Cass leaves as well.
And we're back in the van, where Joe and Bill have nodded off. John is wide awake, however. "Hit the floor, troopers," he says, rousing the other two from their slumbers. "Judas Priest," Bill exclaims, "the fucking sun's gone down." "The sun does not go down, Bill," John replies. " Genius on science, too," Bill mutters. Galileo does not appreciate your sarcasm, sir. "My Father is a genius on science," John insists. "The sun does not go down. Judas Priest is a genius on science. Judas Priest is my Father's son, too." Then He must be very proud of their work on You've Got Another Thing Coming. Bill can't shake the feeling that he's been playing his harmonica. "Bill won't note nor long remember playing his fucking harp, Joe," John says cheerfully. Oh, and also, "my Father's birthday is the same as mine." Chew on that one for a while. Joe's about had enough of this assignment. "Well," he says flatly. "This was time well spent." He starts the van, flips on the headlights, and we go to the credits.
Okay, so that speech at the end -- thoughts? Please limit your responses to three hundred words and refrain from using the following words: "messianic," "camera," "weirdo," "Milchian," and any definite articles. You have half-an-hour. Go!
My thoughts...I'm not much for scouring for hidden meanings midway through a show's run. After the first ten episodes, I'll probably be more comfortable going back and reviewing which line was imbued with deep symbolism and which one was a throwaway and evaluating everything on its own merits then. For now, certainly this was better than the last episode, which sounds like more of a left-handed compliment than I intend it to be. At least the show went somewhere this week and tried to say something. What exactly, I'm not sure of at this point -- but I certainly can't complain that it's not leading to something. Whether that something turns out to be a satisfying or cohesive denouement...well, that's the trick, isn't it? I suppose it's only fitting that your enjoyment of a show that deals with issues of faith would come down to how much faith you have in the show's creator to pull all this off. Given that this same week was when HBO executives were suggesting that those Deadwood movies we were promised probably will never materialize and that the Steve Hawk blog I linked to several pages back has David Milch dismissing logical storytelling as the stuff of squares and hacks -- well, my confidence that this is going to end in a fulfilling way is not tremendously high. You might feel differently, and if you do, I'm happy for you. Honestly.