The deathwatch into tomorrow from last episode's four-person firing is mostly memorable because of Adam's stunned, extreme glee at having stayed up "until midnight!" Next morning, Kelly Perdew shows up for no reason whatsoever and then the "decimated" Excel gets Randal back, making him PM in a desperate bid for existence. He and his new happy, destined-for-success group (Brian, Marshawn and Rebecca) create a stunningly uninteresting but very informative and well-crafted seminar on "Making Your Mark," and Rebecca and Brian continue to be Kristi-esque about everything, worrying quietly about their chances at success. As the winning team, their reward is to go shopping for Michael Kors clothes, and Rebecca tries on hideous space pants.
Capital Edge, on the other hand, now consists of Alla, Felisha, Clay, Adam, and Markus. Yeah. Adam is PM, and immediately gets stuck between the "Sex Sells" team of Clay, Felisha, and Alla on one hand, and the "I Am Crazy" team of Markus on the other. When he's not blushing and feeling funny about the ways his body is changing as he grows up, he's taking Markus out into the hall for hushed and pointless conferences about how Markus is pointless and cannot speak or do anything useful. "Sex Sells" takes over -- Alla controlling Felisha and Adam masterfully -- and creates a somewhat vague "Sex At Work" seminar which is either about: the trouble sex can create, ways to respond to sex happening near you, or maybe how to do it. Whatever they're talking about, Adam is utterly uncomfortable, and Markus is talking about something, anything, everything else.
The presentations themselves are similarly one-sided: Excel is boring to talk about because Marshawn (the public speaking consultant) speaks publicly quite well, Randal (the most likeable person in the northern hemisphere) is quite likeable, Rebecca is fierce and intense, and Brian is great and tiny. They do a fantastic job, because they are the wheat of Team Excel and Trump has already sent the chaff flying. Capital Edge, on the other hand, isâ¦well, this is where things get both awesome and incredibly horrific.
Clay tells totally professional and wicked appropriate stories to a hundred strangers about co-workers he's wanted to fuck, asses he's admired, and how he likes to be spanked, and then misspeaks to the tune of calling Adam a "tight Jewish boy." The ten minutes of stunned silence that follow provide a unique environment in which to ponder this, the first of several whacked-out, crazy scenes tonight. Adam does not take it well, additionally mishearing it to the tune of being called a "tight-ass Jew." Which is a little different, and explains much of what follows, but in terms of the task was just the off-putting icing on a big old man-kiss of a gay wedding cake. During the presentation, Markus plays with a yo-yo, because he knows naught of either "Sex" or "Work."
After Capital Edge loses by a large margin, Alla pulls the puppet strings on first Clay's perceived anti-Semitism, then his terrifying gay sexuality, where he is a gay and has gay sex with other gay men. Unable to think quickly enough to deal with any of this, Clay is sure he's a goner until the final Boardroom with Adam and Markus, onto whom Carolyn finally is. She points out how he's lazy and does nothing but whine, which provides him the perfect opportunity to say "I told you so" at the end of the task -- not that he really got the chance, because Markus's team hardly ever lost, in spite of him -- and that she basically hates him. Carolyn and George get down on their knees and beg Markus to make sense when he talks (Trump: "You talk in riddles!"), but he cannot, and finally Trump fires him just to shut him the hell up. Which he cannot do, and continues babbling crazily long after the taxi has already disappeared from our view.
You'd think that Markus getting fired would be the best part. It isn't. The best part is in the Boardroom leading up to Markus's firing, where Donald Trump has some kind of neurological event and goes completely apeshit. And I mean to say that you have never seen this kind of behavior in your life. He first abruptly asks Clay if he's gay, acts stunned that Clay is gay, ascertains that Clay is therefore not attracted to women, clarifies that this Venn diagram excludes even women such as Alla, and then explains to us that this is why restaurants have menus: while Trump likes steak, other people like spaghetti.
Later, without even stopping to breathe almost, he: asks Adam straight up if he's a virgin (he is, but won't admit it), counsels him not to be afraid of sex because it is "not a big deal," posits that Adam will ten years from now be more "comfortable with sex," shares that sex has gotten him into "a lot of trouble" and cost him "a lot of money," discusses at length whether Adam is "soft" or "hard," and wraps up by telling Adam that there's "nothing like" sex, and that he should look forward to having it one day, in the creepiest, ickiest, most pervuncular way imaginable. Best episode of any show this side of Trading Spouses ever, hands down. But where I can see them.
An awesome montage of classic timepieces reminds us of the Corporate Weasel Death Watch that's been going on since last week. The three members of Excel who actually did something of value last week -- Marshawn, Rebecca, and Brian -- hang out and discuss how many of their team will be returning. Marshawn sees it, as she sees everything, as an opportunity to fine-tune her strategy. Rebecca and Brian agree on their intuition that at least two people will be returning to the suite, but she shushes him once he starts to speculate on whom he thinks this will be -- the walls have toadlike, virgin, stripper, or gay ears. Oh, man. Excel is the saddest bunch ever. Rebecca keeps giving Brian these very sexy, very hilarious super-spy looks through her bangs as she's shushing, like she's Carmen Sandiego and he's about to blab where the Seavers hid the microfilm.
Time passes. A flower opens into full bloom, thrives with the miracle of photosynthesis, and slowly withers and dies. The whole group of survivors is sitting around the gorgeous kitchen table, wearing their casual Death Watch outfits -- Randal is wearing sleeveless workout gear. Fade to everybody turning as one to stare at the door. Felisha pretends to bite her nails like she's typewritering a giant ear of corn, or chowing down a redwood. She's kind of adorable, you guys. I've been enjoying her little faces all along, but she goes all out with the cartoonery this week. I bet she's a lot more fun when there's no Alpha Blonde. Fade again, this time to Clay tidying up alone. Fade to the door, doing nothing. The sun circles, circles over glaciers moving majestically across the world and icecaps slowly melting into the sea. Last week, imagining this whole scenario playing out was fairly hilarious, but I forgot how boring it would be to actually be there. Which we...are.
Pangaea splits apart and forms continents, which eventually blossom with life. Time passes: In the living room, Alla notifies everyone that at midnight, she's "declaring them done." Adam, looking tired, eats some ice cream, and it's pretty cute because it's way past bedtime plus he gets to eat ice cream. Time passes: Brian is falling asleep sitting up, and the remains of the Bloven are cuddling. Alla finally breaks the silence. "There's no way they'd come back at midnight. Holy shit!" Brian looks lost and really quite attractive staring into space, telling us first that it's been "seven hours" and that Josh and the guys are his "brothers," then again at eight hours that "you might as well give up." Everybody goes to bed. The Grand Canyon happens not all at once, but slowly, over time, as a river wears its way into the world. Even Michael Rapaport stands upright, roaming, developing tools, hunting and gathering, becoming agrarian, inventing sexism, becoming agricultural, inventing the Roomba. Becky Conner goes like this: Lecy Goranson, Lecy Goranson, Sarah Chalke, Lecy Goranson.