Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
The Disaster Show

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Joe R: C+ | Grade It Now!
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It Was A Bad Show

Downstairs, Simon is high on life and singing a made-up song about how he's going to Hawaii with Claire and is such a "giant-sized stud," until he damn near swallows his tongue when he comes upon Stephanie in his dressing room. "You really stepped in it this time, Sammy," squawks Carla from behind the bar. Indeed, because Stephanie's here to eat shit and say she's sorry -- Simon has never given her any reason to believe the stories about him being a player. As you might expect, Stephanie spiel is a good deal wordier than all that, but that's the gist: she thought better of dumping him, and how about letting her come to Hawaii after all. Now, the moral of the story is this: if Simon truly cared about Claire the way he just convinced her he does, he would turn Stephanie down right now. If Stephanie is the one he truly cares for...then he wouldn't have fed Claire that bull in the first place. So the fact that Simon tells Stephanie that she can absolutely still come to Hawaii teaches us that Simon is indeed a player. Lesson learned.

Upstairs, Jack has more good news for Cal. They know where the bomb threat came from. Drunk-ass Jack tries to make a joke about "the call is coming from inside the building," but I made that joke back in the first paragraph, so too slow, Rudolph! Anyhoo, the bomb threat came from someone who was at the dress rehearsal, and that same someone left their phone behind, and it's not at Lost and Found. Cal surmises that we're not dealing with a "criminal mastermind" here. Which, no kidding, but it's not like they were going to dispatch Sirhan Sirhan to topple Tom Jeter, you know? The lighthearted conclusion to this whole silly side plot is that the doofus who made the call is on his way to pick up the phone right now, since the Feds managed to track down his name, address, and the fact that he lives with his parents. Cal asks how they know all this. "The FBI works on Friday," Jack irritatedly snaps. The kid's name, says Jack, is "Robbie Clark." "Robbie Clark al Hussein?" asks Cal, because he apparently still needs to learn his lesson about how it's not just Muslims who worship Muhammad. Oh wait...

Back from the break, Allison introduces Macy Gray. I love how the only aspect of this bug-fuck, off-the-rails, utterly assed-out live broadcast that isn't problematic is Macy Gray. Allison runs into (A Fifth Of) Jack on her way to a wardrobe change, and she asks whether the propmasters, cue cards, or bomb situations have been taken care of yet. That's an 0-3, says Jack, but he's watched every episode and The West Wing has never been better. Allison tells him they've been off the air for a year. And...really? Even as a joke, we're supposed to buy that Jack Rudolph -- chairman of a major broadcast network -- doesn't know this? I know, I know: it's Meta Reference #4 and it's self-effacing (although, now that I think of it, it's more John Wells-effacing than anything else), but still: we're not complete morons here. Fortunately, the next line's funnier: "Loved you on Chicago Hope," Jack tries. "That was Christine Lahti," says Allison, taking the meta out for a loop-de-loop and a double barrel roll. More importantly, I love the way Allison Janney says "Lahti." Like it's a Hawaiian island. "Not my night," says Jack and slinks off to find more liquor. Allison is beyond grossed out.

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Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip

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