Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
The Friday Night Slaughter

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Joe R: C+ | Grade It Now!
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I Am Battle

2007. Matt's telling Cal how Luke was the guy who wrote the Singing Teacher sketches "until he left." Cal didn't know this, somehow. Having some sort of realization, Matt tells Cal to bump anything he wrote in the first half-hour to make room for Singing Teacher. I'm not sure if this is self-pity run amok or a realization that his writing hasn't been worth shit since Harriet dumped him. He doesn't stick around to elaborate to Cal, either, because he's back on the balcony, staring out at Nelly Fur-not-o. Commercials.

The smooth, angelic, swooping-from-on-high cameras tell us we're in 2007 even more clearly than the absence of a Lauryn Hill song. Danny's doing some more Acting With My Glasses as Jordan approaches with a problem Danny needs to help her with. Seems she's run into some problems with The Reckoning (the former All You Need Is Love -- now apparently a horror movie, given the title). She explains the whole plot about the kid who was shot by the gang member and paralyzed. She mentions how, despite being paralyzed from the waist down, the kid is about to complete his fourth year of medical school. Lady, his brain wasn't paralyzed. Call me when he runs a marathon. Anyway, the kid's grandma feels like he's being exploited. "He is being exploited," says Danny. "I know," says Jordan. "I'm the one exploiting him." That's the spirit! But she says the alternative to the paralyzed-kid story is one about a porn star who was molested by her swimming coach as a child. Man, I hope those people on Top Design realize their interior-decorating exploits are akin to raping a teenage girl and turning her into a porn star. I think they'd be shocked to find that out, don't you? Anyway, Jordan needs Danny's advice as to how she can convince Grandma to lie back and think of England. Danny, in between bouts of feeling pretty damn superior about this awful show, spins some claptrap about how the grandson is an inspirational figure and deserves to be celebrated. Which is awful advice. Jordan needs to do like Oprah does with abducted children and convince them they need to speak out to save other children. You know, really prey on their vulnerabilities. So when Jordan's like, "You think that'll work?," Danny says no, because either the lady wants more money or has already made up her mind. Satisfied, Jordan sighs, and Danny says that he has to get going. Before he does, he takes Jordan's pregnant belly in his hands, and in soft tones, he says, "You hear this voice? This voice is authoritative, confident; this voice is always right." Now, if you're being kind to Danny Tripp, you say, "Oh, he's talking about Jordan. He's telling the fetus-child that his mother's a pretty smart cookie, and he/she/it should listen to her." And if you're not being kind to Danny Tripp, then you say, "Well why did he say 'this' voice and not 'that' voice? Which means he's talking about himself. Which is in keeping with how he's a pompous dick and all." And if you're me and you kind of hate both of them, you find the whole thing vaguely nauseating. Particularly when Jordan squeaks a "Done?" in fucking baby talk and then backs away, giggling like a goddamn girl. Remember when Jordan used to be the president of the network? That was kind of fun.

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Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip

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