Roswell
I Married An Alien

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I Wonder Tangentially About Jeannie

Sitcomsville, USA again. Jesse enters the bedroom with two twin beds (another nice touch), puffing madly at a pipe and scream-whispering, "We're in trouble! He wants to stay the night!" Samanthabel promises, "I won't use my powers while he's around. Everything's going to be fine!" A very Brady Bunch-esque scene change riff brings us back to the future and an incredibly odd shot of Jesse taking off his pants and kicking them onto the floor. Ew. He climbs into bed, and Isabel wakes up. Jesse cracks up and tells Isabel that "Eric" (who? Oh, yeah) "went off on this whole story about you being one of the Roswell aliens." Hey, look. Tang. Isn't that what the astronauts brought to the moon? Astronauts to the moon? Ha ha ha ha ha!

Cut to the following morning at The House That Government Subsidy Built (with post-war socialist programs developed shortly before the likes of I Married an Alien took the airwaves by storm). Michael sloths all over the couch watching Bewitched, and Max just lets himself in, thanks, and observes, "Okay, this is officially not funny anymore." As opposed to when Michael Guerin was the undisputed king of comedy. Michael mumbles back a snark, and Max holds up a hand and turns the TV off, counseling Michael, "You have got to get a life." Max turns it off. Michael on. Max off. Michael on. Max off. Michael notes that it's his apartment. And though his Uncle Sam would beg to differ, I think Max should get the hell out and stick to his knitting if he doesn't like what Michael's doing on his own damn turf. Michael holds up a hand to turn the TV back on, and shorts it out with a whole shower of sparks. Mad. "Great, thanks." Endless pause. Max: "Oh yeah, this is my fault." Isn't it?

Okay. We get it. She can magically clean. She's magic in the kitchen. Her frosted lucky charms are even more magically delicious than everybody else's. Do you believe in magic in a young girl's heart. Oooh, have to believe we are magic, nothing can stand in our way. And so on. She cleans up the mess that Jesse and Scoop made last night with her '50s housewifely ways, except then she doesn't really. Back to the future, where Jesse apologizes for the mess they've made of the place, promising he'll clean it up when he gets back. Scoop comes out of the bedroom wearing The Hat and another in the long line of Structure's finest '80s castoffs. He tells Isabel (who, as many of you have noted, he repeatedly refers to as Isa-bel) that he's thought of his story idea: "It's a story about how two people marry in a hurry and have to do all the 'getting to know you' stuff later." Isabel thinks it sounds boring, which is does, but Scoop knows the flava of things and assures her, "My editor loves that kind of crap." Well, Scoop, if you're so in tune with what your editor loves, how come you're on the hook to get fired and how come he's got you paying for your own gas to cover a chicken harvest in the middle of winter in Saint Paul? Aren't people like you supposed to have, like, a desk?

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Roswell

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