And in the Piece Of Footage That Ruined The Moderator's Season, we watch an extended version of the Spazpants Shovefest, only instead of repeating the actual shove (which has already been shown repeatedly), the sequence is cranked up with even more of Jonathan's verbal haranguing, including his screech of, "Why did you pick it up, you idiot?" She cries more. "You should cry," he declares. And I maintain, and will always maintain, that by far the creepiest and worst thing about that sequence was not the belt to her backpack, which I think could have gone by with relatively little discussion in the absence of the far more disturbing stream of verbal abuse heaped upon that woman in that exchange. If that -- any part of that, any shred of that -- was done because it was supposed to be a "character," or it was supposed to get camera time, or it was supposed to make anybody famous? Then, as previously mentioned, the sick-fuck quotient is running at least as high as if it were entirely genuine, so from my point of view? I couldn't care less if it is or isn't being done for attention.
Commercials. Am I really ready for Rob Morrow again? I am not certain. The decline of Northern Exposure into a morass of self-aware quirkiness was so heartbreaking that I just don't know if I can follow him again. (Remember Anthony Edwards as Bubble Guy? I mean, seriously.)
When we return, we finish off the Shovefest incident with Phil's admonition to Jonathan and Jonathan's complete failure to Get It. I find it extra-gratifying to watch Phil's face when Jonathan grabs his hand, and enjoy the way he seriously looks like he's about to throw up. I'll never beat the M. Giant translation: "Oh, that'll have to come off now."
Anyway. ANYWAY. Don and MJ get there last, and are Philiminated. But Don still thinks his wife rocks, which she does. You guys are awesome. Let's go to the movies. I'll pay. Wait, you get the senior discount, right?
The next leg begins. At Olympic Stadium, Kendra and Freddy fight -- again, some more -- about "research" during their down time. "You're acting foolish," he finally tells her, and even though she pretty much is foolish, I must add that he also needs to not talk to her like that. I could also live without the ensuing "Lower your voice and calm down," because it's not third grade, and she's not a child, and if she needs behavior corrections, her boyfriend is not a good person from whom to get them. Having your knuckles slapped with a ruler is sexy only under carefully controlled conditions, and none of them involve do-rags and body odor in the middle of the night.