Life on Mars

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Mr. Sobell: B | Grade It Now!
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Don't Go Chasing Butterflies

Annie hates to interrupt this moment, really she does, but there's a lady by the name of Denise Watkins here to see him. Who's she? Apparently, she's what's attached to the breathtakingly long pair of legs waiting in the squad room. And she's apparently here as the legal counsel for the two BLA henchmen that Fletcher apprehended. Theirs is not a friendly meet-cute, what with Denise angrily accusing Fletcher of being a traitor to his race and all. Not that Fletcher takes it personally: he's too busy staring at her gams. The young people still use that word, right? Gams? Well, they should. Anyhow, Sam and Fletcher retreat to a less hostile corner of the office, while Fletcher remarks that the ancient Greeks have a word for a lady such as Denise -- "hubba, hubba." I am fairly certain that is not a Greek word; it is very obviously Pig Latin. Hey, good news, though, Fletch -- Sam says the two of you are going to hook up one day. When Fletch stares at him quizzically, Sam suddenly remembers that not everyone realizes he's hurtled back in time 35 years. "I mean, everybody likes legs," Sam says hastily. "Why wouldn't you like legs? Right?" Smooth recovery -- I'm sure Fletcher didn't notice a thing.

The TV reports that the black residents of New York are responding violently to Keisha's death. Apparently, in 1973, light jogging is considered violent. Carling is rounding up the rest of the troops for the Angel Ramirez manhunt. Their orders: Draw first. "If he's armed and goes for it," Sam attempts to clarify. Yeah, right, Carling replies, though a whole lot angrier and with many more words. "You think the world's gonna mourn one less child killer?" Carling demands. In this week's installment Sam Tyler Lectures the Cops of 1973 on Proper Police Procedure, Sam reminds Carling that it's their job just to arrest people -- guilt or innocence is something for on-the-take lawyers and sinister hanging judges to determine. "You are so naïve, Tyler," Hunt chortles, "it's a miracle you're still alive." Guess we've got our theme for the evening, then. But Hunt is on a roll: "Nobody hurts little girls in my kingdom. And it is my kingdom. Huntlandia. Home of the blueberry crepe. Where little kids are off limits." Well, I'm not sure how I feel about Huntlandia's attitudes toward a police state, but I'd like to hear more about this blueberry crepe before I judge.

The mob of detectives heads off to throw Angel Ramirez a necktie party, leaving Sam and Fletcher to worry about the head-crackings to come. "Your boys are really gonna make a mess of things," Fletcher says in what will doubtlessly prove to be a comical understatement. "Not if we find Angel first," Sam offers. Fletcher thinks that's a very stupid idea, and when he describes it as the two of them standing between Angel Ramirez, the BLA, and a police force out for blood, it's hard to really argue with him. But argue Sam does, and eventually, he manages to wear down Fletcher's resistance. Hey, they're two-thirds of the way to forming a Mod Squad!

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Life on Mars

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