For those of you left wondering, that's a bit like what the inside of my brain looks like.
Oh! And another thing I never did in my two hundred-plus recaps? I never, as so many others have, utilized the tactic of constructing a fake dialogue between myself and a member of the show's cast or staff or totally-unrelated world leader in a tangential imaginary humorous exchange. Well, it's still not too late, I say, and I'm going to try it now, okay? Okay. Imaginary Humorous Exchange, take one:
Ben Affleck: Hi. I'm star of stage and screen -- except for stage -- and executive producer of Push, Nevada, Ben Affleck!
Djb: I'm entering into an imaginary humorous exchange with you!
[Stage direction: Ben Affleck and Djb bow elaborately before getting shooed off by the clown with the broom from amateur night at Showtime at the Apollo.]
Oh, look! One down!
The show? What show? Exactly. More forgotten than Sonja Christopher (woo-hoo!), more over than Tasmin Archer (woo-HOO!). Here we go.
We pick up (but not for a full season's commitment, that's for sure) where we left off at the end of last week's episode, with Jim "de Monet, de Monet" Prufrock lying bound behind the back wheels of the Vintagemobile, Pawn standing over him with a gun and a flashlight. She's got room to carry all of that stuff now that she's mercifully gone and dropped the accent, thank God. She shines that light and points that gun and amusingly foretells the show's remaining shelf life: "Last chance." It sure is. "Who are you?" He's "Jim Prufrock, IRS, Carson City." He likes soft music, long walks on the beach, and short-lived everything else. But Pawn's on to him, or so she thinks, surmising, "Nobody ponies up nine hundred grand for a number-two pencil-pusher like you." Syntax Police, arrest that double-crossing secret maybe government agent! Does she mean that he pushes number two pencils, or that he is the second pencil pusher? Does the number one pencil pusher get the spoils of bail and there's none left over? Where are they going with this? And, more importantly, can it be saved by a reference to Frente?
When Jim runs out of deadpan truths and falls silent, Pawn turns off the flashlight and crouches down to his level, the costume department that gave her that awful blue hat with the too-low brim high-fiving this episode's director that they were able to collaborate on an imposing physical persona scary and intimidating enough even to flap the unflappable Jim: that of lesbian umpire. She takes us on a brief tour of the gun she brandishes, a weapon which would leave him "with an exit wound the size of a cantaloupe. And all this before you're even aware of the fact that I've pulled the trigger. So, who are you, Jim Prufrock?" Because the truth on this show is always more tedious than fiction, Jim checks in once more, making sure she really wants him to continue: "You want the truth?" Oh, God. No one's really allowed to say that line ever again in popular culture, are they? I thought it was relegated to the I'm-The-King-Of-The-World Cliché Dialogue Memorial, frozen in amber next to "Royale with cheese" and any reference to looking in a mirror and asking if you're "talking to me." Perhaps this show got so carried away with itself that it hadn't inflicted on us any allusion to "showing us the money" that it got a little sloppy. Anyway. Jim continues on that "until about a week ago, I was a man living a perfectly ordered life." And, flashbacks. Again? Wait, are they kidding me? Isn't this exactly what happened last week in the sequence between Jim and Not His Lawyer? He goes on, "Eggs and bacon for breakfast." Bypass at thirty-four. Then again, I've just consumed for breakfast a chocolate-peanut-butter Power Bar, a water park slide's quantity of coffee, and nearly an entire box of plain Cheerios, fuck-the-milk-I'll-just-stick-with-the-coffee-thanks. It's three, three, three eating disorders in one. "At the office by eight." Even though we learned right from the start in "The Amount" how long 7:32 AM can take when you're the second pencil pusher for the Carson City IRS. He continues that he always had "top marks on [his] performance evaluations," and we're treated to what I think is this week's only shot of CPA Schnook, who must've gotten wind that I was writing the entirety of this recap through the Sabbath and cited religious observance.