Previously on The Agency: Dubya bumped the show with an informative and flag-waving speech regarding anthrax. And, really, did it matter? I mean, did we, any of us, chuck our remote controls at the screen and shriek, "DUBYA! YOU KILLED THE AGENCY! YOU BASTARD!" Seriously, I think our main concern was that they still showed the Friends episode where the group finally finds out just how Ross and Rachel created the peanut currently contained within Rachel's womb. And wasn't that bloody hilarious when Ross and Rachel watched the tape of themselves gettin' it on? I have to say, Friends has been pretty damn funny this season. I'd lost hope there for a bit (primarily due to the increasingly strident and difficult-to-take Monica), but the show has actually elicited quite a few genuine chuckles from me.
Man. Oh, man. You see? DO YOU SEE? I'M TALKING ABOUT FRIENDS. I'm supposed to be recapping an episode of The Agency. I'm sorry. I mean, I'm really sorry. Oh, screw it. You know what? I'm not sorry. I don't care anymore. I DON'T CARE. This episode annoyed me so much that I'd rather discuss the mating techniques of the tsetse fly than talk about this goddamn show. I mean, I like it and all but COME ON.
I tried. I tried to care. Really. I tried so hard in the first two recaps to be all detailed and hyper-aware of dialogue, but now I'm just thinking to myself, "Why? Why bother? The writers aren't being detailed and their sense of dialogue rivals that of Emeril so, you know, WHY THE HELL SHOULD I WASTE MY TIME?"
So that's it. I'm just not gonna anymore. I'm not gonna write down every single conversation and every single plot point. It's not that I'm lazy or unprofessional or bitchy or anything; it's just...DUDES. I couldn't make heads or tails out of this episode. Seriously. I didn't know what in the hell was going on or who in the hell was involved or what in the hell the characters were saying to each other. I DIDN'T KNOW. And, after watching it again, I STILL DON'T. And I don't care. Did I mention that I don't care?
Let's make this short and sweet, people.
Somewhere in Indonesia. Where, you ask? I DON'T CARE. It looks like a bunch of workers or villagers are shuffling along a dirt road as a dusty yellow truck makes its way around and through them. Inside the truck are three business-type guys, one of whom appears to be a virgin of sorts. He sits there looking all twitchy and nervous while two seasoned veterans sit on either side of him, offering handy Indonesian travel tips that involve abstaining from the local peppers and avoiding a particular pimp's whores. Thanks, guys! They sure as hell don't list this shit in the company rule books!
The truck screeches to a halt behind some big bulldozer. There are a bunch of guys running around with red bandannas wrapped around their foreheads, waving sticks. The driver of the truck (whose cornpone accent sounds so much like Foghorn Leghorn that I keep rewinding and pausing the tape, certain that at any moment, the little chicken hawk will come tripping across the screen) says something smart-ass-y out the window about it not being a good time for a cigarette break. The red bandanna guys wisely ignore Foghorn and keep waving their sticks. The Virgin in the Middle wants to know what's going on. Foghorn's partner, Dingo (I have no idea what his name is so I made one up. Don't like it? I don't care), says something about the Red Bandanna Gang being local kayaks that are pissed off at the mining company because they employ a lot of manatees. Yeah, that's what he said. I don't understand it either. And you know what? I'm not going to rewind the tape eight more times to decipher the mumbling moron's dialogue. I need more chocolate milk...