ANY-way, where the hell was I? Oh, yeah: Sam clearly thinks Dean has lost what little is left of his scattered mind, but seems reluctant to say so, likely because Dean Is Not Long For This Earth and all that, but Sam? Honey? Yeah, over here. If you let him continue to believe that he's actually talking to your dead worthless bastard of a so-called father, your darling brother is going to be Even Not Longer For This Earth Than He Already Is, you moron. Sam, of course, pays me and my mangled syntax no heed, and Deluded El Deano stompy-clomps out of the room in a huff because Pissypants, there, won't wholeheartedly embrace Dean's close encounter with the afterlife, or whatever. Yawn.

One quick cross-fade representing three hours later, and College Boy's working the Interwebs for clues and coming up empty just as Deluded El Deano returns from his far more productive huff to pull motel-rack pamphlets from his jacket pocket and announce, "Mih-laaahn, Ohio: Birthplace of Thomas Edison." Should I tell him he's pronouncing the town's name incorrectly, or should I leave the poor little stroke victim alone? "Oh, leave him alone, absolutely!" Thanks, Raoul. I shall. Especially because, in order to find out why Dean's so proud of his goddamned self, we must leap ahead to...

...The Thomas A. Edison Birthplace Museum, where Our Intrepid Heroes join a tour led by some perky annoyance who's under the mistaken impression she's Bonnie Hunt in Dave. They're walking, and they're walking, and they're stopping at...Mr. Edison's infamous spirit phone! DUzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! The tour guide spews up some bullshit about Edison's interest in the occult before leading the others into another room of the house. Sam and Dean, of course, linger behind to whip out their trusty EMFs and such, but alas! There are no satisfying VWEEEE-YORP!s to be had. This fact, however, fails to deter Deluded El Deano from his belief that Sucky John's calling him on Jesus's Blackberry, so...

...later that night, while The Ginormotron peacefully slumbers upon one of this week's motel room's beds, Deluded El Deano hovers at the nearby kitchenette's table, holding silent watch over his equally silent cell. Of course, it rings as soon as we've joined him, and yes, the call's coming from SHA 33, so Dean scoops up the phone and tiptoes into the bathroom for a private chat with his supposed sucky dead bastard of a worthless so-called father, who LIES to his supposed long-suffering son that he knows The Way Out Of Dean's Deal. And also? The demon who holds the deed to Dean's soul is in Milan at this very moment! Dean gapes like the mouth-breathing idiot he is at the moment, but we don't have time to deal with that barely believable crap, 'cause we've got to zip over to...