In observance of Rosh Hashanah, there will be no quizzes this week. We begin back with Stacy and Brent in the BR last week, Bill shrieking at Stacy about how ultimately the truth is unknowable, even though the whole thing was recorded on cameras, from various angles, for all time. Between that little vacation to Douchery last week, and the pointlessness of him in this week's episode, I think it's safe to say that Jacob is now over Bill entirely. I was never really under him, because he's boring and jumpy, but I didn't care enough about his two-dimensional ass to really worry about the toolishness until now. Bill has taught me to care.
Up in the suite, Andrea is explaining the Brent Conundrum, which is that everyone is so scared of his toxic touch that he will never be responsible enough for anything to get cobra'd -- that basically, they'll have to collectively throw themselves on the grenade and nominate him as PM, in order to get him fired. Which is a problem, because first of all, that's a dumb thing to do, right, but also: wrong, because not even that would work. The only thing that is going to get Brent out of there is a capricious "I hate you too much to ever hire you" firing by Trump, which is in fact how it's going to go down because that's how it's got to go down. Andrea has not completed this thought, but she's telling Roxanne, Allie, and Sean her thoughts, and it's hilarious because they're all goggling at each other like they're telling scary campfire stories, but really they're just talking about Brent, who is a Canadian insurance lawyer, in a penthouse suite, in New York City, with all the lights turned on. And yet he is still scarier than anything they've ever encountered. Allie shivers and intones a premonition that it is Brent who will return to the suite. Andrea interviews awesomely: "Brent is not manageable, he's not even employable! I don't know how he makes his living!" She says that if he comes back, she wants to go home. I don't think she means that. I also don't think she realizes how lame that is.
Downstairs, Bill watches creepily and delightedly as Stacy gets fired, because he hates her and wishes her ill. Brent returns to the suite wishing everybody a happy Rosh Hashanah in a booming voice. It's disgusting, because Brent has been thinking about his entrance all the way up the elevator, which jackass option he should pick, what stupid cliché he could yell as he walked in, what flavor of trying-too-hard and sucking-too-much would really serve the evening best, and this...this is what he picked. "Happy Rosh Hashanah!" Not to be outmatched in the Douchebag Olympics (just like the Special ones, only nobody wins), Andrea grunts "No" and runs off to cry like a little baby. I'm sorry, I love Andrea, but that is some twee as fuck right there. He makes me cry, and for the same reasons, but I don't do it on camera, and could you also lighten up? It's just fashion, you know? This is not your life. Roxanne follows her, and Andrea sobs through the door, "Please just go away for five minutes right now." Outside, everybody wigs and screams silently, and Allie almost starts crying too. It's amazing what Brent can do to a room full of people with only seconds to play with. Dan sets a couch on fire and Tarek's crouched on the kitchen counter, eating flesh off a rotisserie chicken and snapping his teeth if you get too close, and Lee climbs around on a chandelier like a monkey and Tammy and Leslie start making out and eating grubs from each other's hair. Brent sits in the middle of the mayhem with that sickening self-satisfied oblivious smirk. It's like he enjoys being hated. That's so sick. Andrea continues to tell Roxanne to fuck off, while the pandemonium continues taking place all around Brent.