I guess I always knew I'd end up here someday. I mean, it was bound to happen eventually, right? It's my night, it's my network, and God knows I'm guilty of whatever crime they sent me here for. But it's also my first day, and I'm still a little scared. So be gentle, okay?
Um why are you heating that paperclip?
Prisoner number 03A-722: Aaron "The Recapper." Convicted January 5, 2003. Sentence: Eight episodes. Up for parole only if Sars decides to fire me.
We open with the obligatory Augustus Interlude, made no less annoying by the fact that he's now speaking from beyond the grave. In fact, he's actually even more annoying (if such a thing is possible), because the only time I ever really liked the guy was when he was interacting with the other inmates. My sole consolation is the tiny giggle I manage from picturing his omnipresent blue-screen background box being offered as an option on the Fisher family coffin wall. Despite the fact that I'm still less than a single page into the recap, I've decided to take a break and nip out to Blockbuster so I can rent The Edge and watch that scene where he gets eaten by the bear a few times. Now THAT'S entertainment. When I return, Hill is reminding us all once again that Oz is "the name on the street for the Oswald State Correctional Facility, Level Four." He then goes on to set up the new season's main thematic departure, which is that we'll also be hearing narration from various other deceased inmates. This week it's Jefferson Keane, played by Leon, who ranks somewhere between Iman and Ronaldo on my list of least favorite single name celebrities. Oh, well. At least it's not Doug E. Doug.
Once the pretentiousness is out of the way, we fade immediately to the toolishness, as Officer Murphy meanders down the first of many improbably darkened hallways to find McManus painting some sort of giant blue crop circle on the gymnasium floor. One would assume this might soon lead to the arrival of various aliens and over-hyped suspense film directors who would then quickly cart Timbo off to a galaxy far, far away and serve him as an hors d'oeuvre, but alas, 'twas not meant to be. Timmy describes his masterpiece as a "meditative maze," but if you ask me it looks a lot more like a giant bull's-eye, presumably intended to making aiming easier when attempting to defecate into the mouth of an abusive pod-mate. Murphy mocks McManus much more gently than he deserves, and Timmy responds by blaming the whole idea on the grief he's suffered since the death of Augustus Hill. Murphy affords this revelation the derisive snort it warrants, and then proceeds to over-earnestly opine (complete with a zinger from the show's trusty Wa-Wa Pedal Of Irony) that without actual walls in the maze, "these dinks are just gonna step over the line." Oy. Two minutes in and I already miss Edie Falco almost as much as Tony does.