Epilogue: Back down at the blackjack table, the balding man laughingly explains that he and Carmen Sandiego are just friends, and not dating, in order to prove to Maggie and, apparently, Up Chuck, that Carmen Sandiego is not biologically a woman. Which kind of narrows down what did go on there, up in my nightmare, since Up Chuck still seems confused. Now, if it were Rob, maybe he could get through that experience without really twigging to the fact that she was a guy, but Up Chuck probably has diagrams of the female reproductive system tacked to his office wall, or tattooed on his feet, or whatever's gross and sick as possible, so he has no excuse. Which tones down the "mysterious horror" level of the encounter ("What the hell happened in this room? The spirits are restless, very restless.") but ups the, ah, "not-mysterious horror" level of the encounter a bit more. I want to move to the forest and only talk to the animals and never see another person again, because I feel dirty. Lady MacBeth dirty. Christina Aguilera dirrrty. Here's the best part, though: they laugh about it, like the end of a fifties sitcom: Up Chuck, Maggie, Gabriel the balding man, and the Croupier. Ha, ha, ha, they laugh. And then Gabriel, knowingly, says, "What happens in Vegas..." To which Up Chuck responds, like Fred Mertz or the yelling guy on The Honeymooners, "It better!" Ha ha ha, they all laugh. And that's the end. It had a punchline! I guess it wasn't a sign of the Apocalypse after all.
Next week: The debut of Matt "Velvet" Dusk's CD, on the cover of which he's looking kind of Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou, frankly. Some high roller goes nuts and/or wild. And the best (and worst, considering the precedent set this week): "Swingers hunt for new prey…but are the 'stakes' too high for this young couple?" In summary, I think this show is bad for America. Actually, for North America. Actually, I think it sets a bad tone for the whole of the Western world. But I do, do, do love recapping it. See you guys next week.