More naked Michael. We're in The House That Government Subsidy Built, Michael entering with a wooden (those sake sets are such a cool, practical gift) box and a pursed-lip look of pursed-lip concentration. The box contains several different orbs of several different shapes and sizes, other assorted alien paraphernalia, and the Zapf Dingbats journal. Michael notes the suddenly significant five triangulated planets on the front cover, notes the flashing lights on his chest, and speaks aloud in an almost Shakespearean-aside kind of way: "I knew it. I'm in charge." Thank you, Iago. And now, a sennet of trumpets, followed by the entrance of a stately king of some kind.

And now, having failed at all else, yelling. Isabel, big bouffant on, walks into the living room to find Jesse coaxing on some clothes over his sweaty wifebeater (it's gay porn, people. I'm recapping gay porn. Why, then, do I find it so unpleasant?). So convinced of her marital bliss is Isabel that she walks in to the room with the wifely, "Jesse, would you like me to make you s--" Soup? Spam? Sigmund Freud papier-maché dolls? Perhaps we shall never know. But Jesse doesn't want to make anything but tracks (cheesy segue alert!), apologizing, "I'm sorry, Isabel. I can't stay here and pretend like everything is normal when it's not." But she's got a retort at the ready, and she's not afraid to use it: "But normal is sneaking out of our house while I'm still sleeping?" It is in his culture. The culture of gay porn. Perhaps she should have reconsidered phrasing it in the form of a question. She begs him to talk to her.