To Moscow, and Quickly

Episode Report Card
admin: A+ | 1 USERS: A+
So Many Vibes
and it's the closest thing to home we've ever seen. For a moment it's quiet, in the Awesome Love.

Onstage, too, they're singing about "speakin' my language." Moms dropping left and right, Silas grabs a hose from the Medusa. Doug's making out with a mom or groupie, and the bunny rabbit keeps creeping up on that, but Doug's not that high. The underpenguin, though, it seems he probably would be. I was so into the other thing I didn't even think about the furry aspect to all this, and now having thought of it must quickly shove it back into the hat before it gets loose.

Silas takes the hose out to Shane, and starts talking him up to siphon some gas. The actual reality, the gravity that underlies their lives, is that when you can't find another way or life has knocked you down one too many times today, you should be willing to get on your knees and suck just like everybody else. Silas pushes and pushes and pumps him up and peps him out and finally Shane gags, and whines, and does it. His joy when the gas starts coming out -- "I'm a hero!" -- it makes Silas love him more than anything.

Doug thanks the groupie-mom for the blowjob with a big hug, now wearing the penguin suit himself -- understudy to an understudy -- and Nancy grins and checks Shane's breath for beer. "Nice, somebody had a good time," she grins, and he smiles back at her dopily. "I'll deal with that later..." Shane starts to admit he lost the take, and when Silas produces it Shane realizes just how badly he got had today. Silas isn't worried, because as it turns out it was exactly the right thing. Nobody gets out of this episode the same as when they came into it. Sometimes things get better for a second.

So now what, Silas asks. Another ill-starred concert? Another pretend Western city from a movie? She stares at him, proud because it's closer to what he wants, if also further away, and he gets worried again. She smiles at Andy, and he tells: "Copenhagen." But, Nancy says, sucking on a Diet Coke, they just need to make one more stop.

Jill Price-Grey, now back to Price again I guess, is drunk at 8 AM, making wall after wall of ceramic vaginas -- works in progress, "like me" -- in her little studio. Divorced, kids gone, horny. She's not surprised the FBI is looking for her sister; she's more interested in sleeping with the interviewer. Finally they get her to talk about Michigan, the scene of the first crime. The one that started everything else, when Daredevil Girl got too scared and took to the air for the first time: Strapped on her cape and flew all the way to France, danced across the sky, and by the time she made it back she was an orphan.

"Michigan. Right, right. Michigan's boring... Um, Dad worked for Ford, just like everyone else within a thirty-mile radius of Detroit. Uh... Mom drank. A lot. They're both dead... The house? Was a total shitbox, really. But, um, I don't know. I liked it. Uh, it was cozy..." As in relaxed, sedate, stress-free. "Uh, there was this, um, mermaid mailbox, that my Dad made..." Her smile falls and she laughs back tears, thinking of him. He made things, like Jill. Like Judah. Like Silas.

Mom destroyed things.

A drive from Colorado to Dearborn, and there it is: The mermaid mailbox, sliding past. Nancy looks at it, forever, smiling. The Awesome Love passes it, on the right; she says goodbye to the scene of the crime.

Mermaids. They are a funny thing; like anything with breasts, a lot gets lost in the noise and you have to think harder. She seems harmless enough but she calls you out into the depths, puts her songs in your ears, kisses you goodnight, and you drown. She exists because sailors sometime disappear, and nobody knows why. She's the embodiment of sex, but if you got close enough you'd see she's self-sufficient down there: Nothing to touch, nothing to fuck. She's a mirage, first and foremost; she's all promise and no follow-through. Always fucking, never coming. She puts eggs in your head; she know it's sex will bring you back. All promise, no relief.

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