Episode Report CardDjb: F | Grade It Now!
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Well, when in Roam. Over at District Attorney Roam's house, Papa Roam takes Adam's easy-to-hear cue line of "..." and finishes it off, "...he's at Goldman's." I think Mama Roam might be in the house somewhere also, but they keep that house so dark I haven't seen a thing since we first showed up there last week. He must not have gotten around to screwing in the light bulb that has provided the pointed punch line for so many of that set's snappy pearls of dialogue. Anyway, Roam is in such a tizzy about his son's absence he can think of only one thing to do: he's calling the police. Dude. Chill the hell out. Brush your hair. Have a cup of coif-ee. I thought big bouffants were supposed to make people want to live in retro-era Athens and dance all nights to the B-52s. I guess I was wrong. Continually ill-developed tough-but-fair Mama Roam continues to play the sharply defined character of Her Husband's Opinion But On Opposite Day, demanding with an equal but opposite reaction, "You cannot order them to knock down the Goldmans' front door." Papa argues, "We have to do something." Why? "It's 4 in the morning." Well then, milk a cow or make the donuts or something, because there really is a limited amount of socially acceptable activities for the 4 AM hour, seeing that there is no news yet because everybody is home in their comfy, comfy beds. ["There's a 4 in the morning now?" -- Wing Chun] AU-house, as found as Element #79 on The Periodic Chart Of Rich People. A telephone rings in a dark bedroom moments later because this show has as nuanced an understanding of time elapse as an experimental digital-video Mike Figgis movie. Jew-liet climbs across the vast expanse of the seemingly unscalable Hot Latin Lover Mountain Range (because it was there, is why) of Adam's pecs, grabbing the phone at the same time Larry "AU, Give Me Back My" Goldman picks up the phone on his side table. "It's Tom Roam," the previously-un-first-named Roam tells him. "It's your daaaaaaaaad," Jew-liet whispers from the foothills of Big Rock Hottie Mountain. Adam leaps out of bed because it logically advances the plot on the planet where his father can see him over the phone, and we cut back into Goldman's bedroom, where he reacts with disgust. We're with you, sister. Meanwhile, back at the International House Of Utilities Not Included, Roam never got the memo that pre-dawn is more of a business casual, as he sits ramrod straight in his button-down shirt and explains, "I'm not quite sure how to put this, but my son hasn't come home tonight. Is he, by any chance, with your daughter?" Goldman takes a swipe, asking Roam how he plans to get reelected if he can't control his own kids and ignoring, as I wish we all could, a presidential administration that answers those questions on Page Six practically every day. While her husband basks in the intense wattage of his own self-righteousness, Mama Roam stands in dark shadows, thinking that there must be someone inside the municipal building she and her husband work in who could figure out a way to get their lights turned back on. They could always mortgage some of their other property in a bartering deal for Electric Company, but that would fairly well give their opponents free rein to develop everything between jail and Free Parking. Goldman hangs up on Roam, and the short man exclaims, "Son of a bitch," before standing up all in a huff and telling his wife he's going to Goldman's house. She offers to come with, but he tells her to hang back in case Adam calls. He's out the door while she's helpless and left behind, hoping that her husband can at least avoid landing on Park Place on her way over and putting even more money into the pockets of the rich and powerful he seems to hate so much.