A rural-esque, turbine-looking machine that turns corn into gold or hay into America spins lazily in a Texas cornfield while God is all, "Pardon the expression, but I didn't know I had a country," and then tightens His shiny new Bible Belt all over Andrews, Texas. An enormous sign in the middle of a field reads, "Andrews loves God, country, and supports free enterprise." Translation: "I'll see you in Hell, Commies, war protesters, and Jews." Ah, save your hate mail. I'm sure I'd just print it out and swap it for vodka anyway.
Mandy Jaye stands in the middle of a parking lot wearing the pinkest coat this side of the color wheel, meekly whining into her cell phone, "Hey, um, everybody's been trying to get a hold of you to see if you were gonna be able to come out and meet with us today." It's her father. Here to teach us that Divorce Is Hard. You know who agrees with that? God. And the country. And the free enterprise of shyster attorneys who can cite Bible passages from memory that prove the words "fidelity forever" are, apparently, open to interpretation. "What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder." According to God. Not to grandstand or anything, but...sigh.
Mandy Jaye's father, hated by god, whispers on his phone in a way that requires subtitles, telling her daughter, "Tell Jesse what the circumstances is [sic], I ain't [sic] gonna [sic] be able to come." And yet, oddly, the patron saint of grammar does not smile upon Andrews, Texas. Jesse approaches a blue awning containing the letters "Andrews Country Club," which has to be sarcastically named. Mandy Jaye hangs up with the phone with her father as she explains in a confessional, "When my parents split up, it was definitely a difficult...it was a hard separation. And they don't talk." Don't you mean they can't talk?