John From Cincinnati
His Visit: Day Two

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Mr. Sobell: C | Grade It Now!
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Wait, So Now The Parrot's Jesus?

The Yosts are still driving northward, again on surface streets, and still not talking very much. Shaun breaks the silence by asking if he can call his dad again to let him know about the competition. Before Mitch can say yea or nay, Cissy hands Shaun a cell phone. "Then why don't we get out of the car and bang our heads on that lamppost until the light changes?" Mitch asks. Perhaps this is Mitch's wry commentary on the futility of expecting Butchie to come through for his son. Or maybe Mitch actually thinks that's how you get traffic signals to work. Either way, it's an odd thing to say to your grandson when he's just hoping for his dad to show up for once. Shaun just smiles.

In addition to clearing out the local liquor store's supply of Chivas Regal, Butchie and John apparently decided to add cardboard cutouts to their tab, because they're carrying the three beer bunnies under their arms along with the booze, as they march down the streets of Imperial Beach. Butchie instructs John not to give his heart freely to cardboard cutouts. Because it's sick and wrong? "Papercuts on the penis -- very painful," Butchie says. Well…that's…another reason, I suppose. And maybe my transformation into a tongue-clucking grumpus is now complete, but the constant stream of vulgarity is really beginning to weigh on me with this show. I didn't have a problem with it on Deadwood -- it seemed to fit in there. Here? Just feels gratuitous and out-of-place. Maybe it's just me. Now you kids turn down that rock music and get off my damned lawn! Anyhow, when John nearly barrels out into oncoming traffic, Butchie uses one of the cardboard cutouts to stop him. Butchie surmises that John is not terribly familiar with big-city traffic patterns, probably because he doesn't hail from a big, bustling metropolis. "I'm feeling kind of a small town, not a farm town, but a small town," Butchie says. "A small town like, you know, I'm feeling a little Cincinnati." "I am from Cincinnati," John says excitedly. You know what? I don't think he actually is. I think he may just be saying that.

Up at Huntington, the Yosts have found a good vantage point on a nearby pier, while Linc has found himself a wonderful place to get harangued by the father of the kid who's getting booted from the surfing competition to make room for Shaunie. The father is outraged; Linc's sympathy is limited, noting that he and his son are being sent on a trip to Sumatra at Linc's expense as a reward for their selflessness and team spirit. The father remains intransigent, not really wanting to do any favors for any offspring of Butchie Yost. That gives Linc the chance to unleash his inner jerk: "You do not get a vote about Shaun Yost. You get to vote on whether or not you pass on Sumatra." I think I'd agree to a bag of Sumatra coffee, let alone a trip to Sumatra, before I got on Linc's bad side.

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John From Cincinnati

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