Back in his dressing room, Smart Black Comedian is washing his hands...of comedy! When Matt and Simon enter, he's starstruck for a moment (he recognizes Matt's face, of course, because TV writers are the hot new celebrity), before Simon starts seriously busting on him for sucking so much. SBC's all, "I realize, but thanks for the millionaire's perspective." Simon ascertains that SBC's from South Central, and once he's checked that off his list, Simon and Matt essentially tell him that he's coming with them. No need to call your friends or family, kid. We're your family now. This is all their way of saying that they're offering SBC a job. It's a little disconcerting how Simon's kidnapping this guy and telling him to do whatever his white boss tells him to do. If not for this crushing liberal guilt, I could make some hay out of that. "You're in the batter's box now," Simon tells SBC. "Don't even think of letting me down." They don't even know this guy's name yet! That was the creepiest round of speed-dating I've ever seen.

Outside the studio, Tom is walking his parents to their car. Wait, wait...their minivan. Naturally. Mom's still trying to be nice, but Dad ain't talking. Mom also drops the knowledge that Tom sent his brother's unit "the body armor they needed." Oh my God. It's like there was a contest for who could make this storyline even more preposterous. Tom says that his parents should get going: "It's a long drive to Yosemite." He offers them a place to stay for the night, but Dad apparently likes driving six hours in the dead of night, so they pass. Tom rounds to his Dad's side of the van and asks if he's got a turntable at home. "[As a culturally ignorant Midwesterner,] I don't have any use for a CD player," Dad grumps. I'd roll my eyes yet again, but maybe this is where Tom gets his "bah humbug" attitude about the internet from. Tom hands his dad a vinyl recording of "Who's On First" that he was helpfully able to get a hold of during the course of the evening. He promises his dad that if he listens to it, he's going to laugh. He then tearfully thanks his dad for teaching him all he knows, and Nate Corddry gets a little teary, and if this storyline had in any way come close to earning it, it might be a little touching. But it didn't, so it's not. So long, Jeters. May a redwood fall on your cardboard cut-out selves at Yosemite.