Lights up on a dingy nightclub. Specifically, lights up on a mouth on a mike, yammering a list obscure facts and statistics, prompted from questions from the audience. Trouble is, no one knows when he's right. "Look it up when you get home!" the speaker says. Mr. Memory has no drummer to go bud-dum-dum-tsh! Some Russians and a silver-haired Clearly Evil American Man are sitting at a table, menacingly. At the bar, they see the dude they're supposed to meet. He's a four-eyed geek who looks pleased with himself. The silver-haired CEAM heads over, and the geek is like, "Want to buy me another Jack and Coke?" Hey! Except for the "Coke" part, that's my drink. Soda is for babies. The geek is like, I know tons of stuff about you, stuff your wife doesn't know, and how does two grand sound? The silver-haired dude looks like he has that on him, and slinks off to the men's room. The Russkies watch, and then the geek follows.
Once in the can, the geek takes a look around -- red, dank walls, wooden stalls, what looks like a traveling-fair poster hanging askew -- and doesn't see the silver-haired blackmail candidate. Instead, Skinner pops out, grabs the geek by the collar, and mutters, "You son of a bitch!" Skinner! What happened to the X-Files? I mean, "your sense of ethics?" Back in the lounge, Mr. Memory continues his act until he is interrupted by two gunshots, blam blam. Murmurs grow; a bartender dashes to the john and dramatically opens the door to reveal the geek lying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Oh, say can you see? The credits.
Oh my god, it's Jimmy, standing in front of a drab background and -- shudder -- speaking to the camera. Wow, I just found something I hate more than voice-over. He's analogizin' in his aw-shucks way, talking about football and helmets and how we all wear a metaphorical helmet (though he doesn't say, and possibly doesn't know the word "metaphorical") in our lives. Even Jimmy wears the invisible helmet, hiding things about himself from us. Dude, you do not. Your face is readable from a hundred paces. Anyway, the helmet thing has something to do with this week's episode, which starts with a screen shot of the next issue of The Lone Gunman -- headline: "Lick it, Stick it and Trip." Nice one. Frohike says that this one will win them the Pulitzer. Yeah, and this recap will win me a Webby. No, really, it's satisfaction enough to do the work. Anyway, Langly asks Jimmy for his "check," and Jimmy makes one out to the printers for $1,381. The price of newsprint has gone up, and Jimmy is feeling the pinch. Oh man, this recession is hitting everyone, even kindly, dim-witted, rich hunks. So, Jimmy goes off to the printers and asks where Byers is, since he usually comes along for the ride. Langly and Frohike didn't hear him come in last night. "What do you think it is, a girl?" Then they both snigger. Um, last I checked, Byers was considered attractive by our board posters, so knock it off, you two. Jimmy ambles off, grinning. Yeah, laugh it up, hunkasaurus.