But he's more philosophical in this TH: "I'm not insightful enough to be a movie critic," he admits. "Maybe I could be a food critic: "These muffins taste bad." Or an art critic: "That painting is bad." Well, everyone needs to have a dream.
Michael enters the office, to varying expressions of concern. "It's really good to see you," Pam says. "Why are you wearing a turtleneck?" asks Dwight. Oscar is the first to try to apologize for yesterday, but Michael has a few thoughts that he wrote down, starting with Jim: "You're six-eleven, and you weigh ninety pounds. Gumby has a better body than you. Boom, roasted!" He goes on to call Dwight a kiss-ass, Pam an art-school failure, and Meredith someone who "slept with so many guys [she's] starting to look like one." He tells Kevin he couldn't decide between a fat joke and a dumb joke, and thus ends up with neither. He insults Creed's breath, and Angela's size, and then turns to Stanley: "You crush your wife during sex and your heart sucks." Stanley actually has a nice, long chuckle at that, and that's when the funereal mood starts to break. "Oscar, you're gay. Andy, Cornell called -- they think you suck. And you're gayer than Oscar." By now everyone's laughing, and Michael says a standup-style farewell before ducking into his office while everyone claps. All better!
In Michael's TH, he says that since laughter is the best medicine, Stanley can throw away his pills. "Actually...better hold onto the pills just in case."
In the tag, Jack Black runs up to Cloris Leachman's house with a bouquet of flowers and a new quad-cane, but looks in her window and sees her making out with some other young dude. She looks back at him defiantly. Jack Black drops the gifts and stumbles away crying like a toddler. That '80s lite-rock is harsh.
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, follow him on Twitter (mgiant), or just e-mail him at m.giant[at]gmail.com.