Brian's at Lindsay and Melanie's. Lindsay and Melanie want him to sign a million-dollar life insurance policy, with Gus as the beneficiary. The idea gives Brian the creeps. Melanie tries to start a fight with him, since he promised he'd help support the baby. "It's just in case something happens to you." Brian: "I can just imagine the grisly deaths you've conjured up for me." Melanie: "Well, what if you get sick, and can't work?" Ding, ding, ding! Ohhh, Brian realizes that she's talking about his getting AIDS. Well, he tested negative six months ago, and he's very careful. Melanie: "Yeah, and you've only had, what? A hundred and eighty-two one-night stands since then." This is degenerating fast. St. Lindsay breaks it up by reminding Brian that this is for their son, to take care of him. Brian: "And all I have to do is die."
Shoeless Joe's. They're all talking about football. The Steelers' chances for a title, specifically. One of the guys -- who may or may not be Harv, but really, who cares? -- doesn't think it can happen. SOL: "Don't say that! You've got to believe! Right, Michael?" Michael: "Yeah, like Cher!" Ooops! The table goes quiet. The other guy asks Michael if he even watches football. Michael tells him he watches it constantly. There's that stink-eye again. The guy asks him what he thinks. Michael pauses, and then rattles off a bunch of generic stuff about defensive lines that could apply to any team in the league who's having a bad season. The table relaxes. Who are these people? Mike looks relieved, proving just how stupid you can be in one day.
Saved by the Cell. It's Brian. Once again, he needs Mike, and he expects him to heel. Mike says that they're nice people, and he's having a good time. Brian: "Do you think they'd be really nice if they knew about this little charade you're playing? They'd probably tie you to a fence and bash your head in. There are only two kinds of straight people in this world -- the ones that hate you to your face, and the ones that hate you behind your back."
Time for what I like to call "Camper's PSAs." It is possible to live your life, be yourself, not have to answer to anyone, and yet avoid resorting to reverse discrimination. Hating someone because there's a historical probability that they might hate you first, doesn't do anyone any good. Never has, never will. Love, Camper, your friendly neighborhood minority recapper.
Brian and Michael walk into some dive, where Emmett is singing "Think" by Aretha Franklin. He sounds horrible, but looks great. Brian and Michael go stand over next to Ted at the bar. Brian looks like he's finally about to relax. You know, for someone who has sex as much as he does, he's really tense. And then he sees Justin. Whose name he can't remember. Again. Still. Michael:" If I can remember his name, and I didn't even fuck him, why can't you?" Brian: "Because I did." Justin looks so hopeful, the Gay Man/Straight Girl World Coalition has to turn away. If we had a gun, we'd shoot him and put him out of his misery. But as you can probably guess, we don't.