Stabbing futilely at suspense, the last episode was wasted prolonging the question of whether Dan Miller, a nineteen-year-old Cleveland resident, would make the O-Town cut. The official MTV site for O-Town proclaims, "Dan is in the band! Dan is in the band! Now that it's out in the open..." which is a pathetic fallacy because anyone who cared already knew it was Miller Time. Evidently, even Bunim-Murray agrees that nothing happened last time on Making the Band -- the producers nix any "previously" clips and treat us to a montage of our forthcoming shared hell. Cruel proof that a half-hour show is pointless; if I summarize it here, it makes the recap a suicidal effort. Nice try, B/M, but no dice.
The credits now have shots of Dan cuddling with girlfriend Cindy. Unfortunately, he's also shown breakdancing in full view of the North American public, so Cindy might not be his girlfriend much longer.
In the rehearsal studio, Trevor sits down at a drum set and gingerly picks up sticks. He taps away. Dan, standing alone in front of the room's mirror, engages in a strange, jerky twirling dance. He's the Sugar Plum Fairy after she noshed on six glue sticks and huffed hairspray. "Dan is very refreshing to this group," Jacob says in voice-over. "He's someone who works very hard and wants to get better at everything." As if to illustrate the point, we see Mini-Lou calming Dan down as he sits on the "Baby, I Would" stool and desperately tries to get better at holding a microphone stand. When he thinks no one's looking, Dan gnaws on the metal stand and tries to sharpen an incisor. "He doesn't have an ego like Erik, which is something I despise," Jacob brats. He's tired of Erik complaining about illness but not doing anything to cure it. Erik coughs loudly all over the place, never lifting a hand to cover his mouth because he'd rather get germs on his bandmates than his hand. Mini-Lou asks why he's getting worse, not better. "It's been a rough morning," Erik says. "And I haven't taken any medicine, either." Mini-Lou snaps, "That helps." Erik is such an asshole. He's bound to infect the band, and he doesn't care. Maybe he's waiting for that lucrative Benadryl endorsement deal to come through, because you know, his body's a temple, and nothing goes in unless he's been paid insane dollars to ingest it.
Dan revs the Man Van. Jacob and Ashley must be the world's worst drivers, because they're the only two that never drive this thing. I guess it goes back to the old adage, "Wanton hands don't steer a Man Van." Trevor is pointing out that he wants to hang out with the entire band that night, doing something other than singing. Erik asks Jacob whether he wants to go out and paint the town lame. Jacob refuses. "I gotta finish writing these songs," Jacob explains. "I'm getting sick and I don't like clubs." Trevor replies, "It's not a club, it's a bar. There's a difference." Erik offers that it's just a casual affair, where they would simply sit and talk and rediscover the joys of not being at Trans Con. Jacob would rather rediscover the joys of being The Leader. "There is no leader," he tells us as O-Town returns to the O-Zone. "There's just a lot of individuals that make up an idea, then split apart and achieve it different ways." Erik and Trevor leave the O-Zone lair and hop back into the Man Van. Jacob stands by the fireplace, sullenly staring after them. There's a Latin phrase etched into the fireplace -- "FORSAN ET [Jacob's hair] OLIM." Without the missing word, it means little - the closest I can guess is, "Tenors touch the man who signed them." Oh, Lou, you mischievous scamp. Erik revs the engine and leaves.