Alcide's sister Janice is probably as tall as he is, with the looks of an Amazon-slash-mail order bride, but there's something really likeable about her almost immediately. If you were nervous about meeting a biker chick, she'd be the best possible option: Very lovely, hidden under a lot of trashy nonsense that stops mattering after a few minutes in her company. Needless to say, she's very happy with the looks of Sookie Stackhouse, given that Debbie Pelt is a nasty bitch and almost anyone would do: "But you are cute and sweet. You're just what he needs!"
Big old hug for a bewildered Sookie, and then Janice explains that her horoscope just today said that things were looking up for somebody close to her. "Nailed it!" she giggles, and gets out her spackle and whatnot. Sookie tries to tell her that she and Alcide have a strictly business relationship, having to do with a disappeared buddy and a need to get into Lou Pine's (still: ugh) without getting tossed. It's a neat little acting moment, like, you can actually feel Sookie relaxing and trusting Janice as she speaks.
Janice is thrilled to give Sookie a biker bitch makeover, and clearly good at what she does: "How deep do you wanna go?" Not knowing that our friend Sookie, of course, can only do things twice as much as normal people do things. "I wanna look like I could kick some serious ass." Janice grins. "Which I can!" Somehow, Janice doesn't just pet her on her sweet little head that Jesus made, and pulls out some fake tattoos to look into. "No chance of anything more between you and my baby brother?"
A) Have you seen him? And B) We are both insane about our exes, so not this episode at least. Janice is quite the transmitter, though, and within seconds has psychically revealed that Debbie's engagement party is second, if it exists at all, to Debbie's initiation into Operation Werewolf/the FUCrew, and also Debbie is on the V. Because she is nuts, this will only make Sookie want to fight her more. She floats the obviously dumb theory that Alcide should go and talk to Debbie and talk her out of what they're now both pretending is her engagement to Cooter, but Janice's psychic told them that if Alcide stayed with Debbie he would die. He didn't listen, but she dumped him anyway.
"She was his first love, he never met anybody so alive, all that shit. But how many bullets are you gonna take for somebody? How many bad things gotta happen to you -- and the ones you love -- before you realize feeling alive ain't enough? I am just glad he made it out alive."
In Sookie-speak, where we're all just robots performing for her entertainment, then: "First love" equals Bill. "Taking bullets" equals Bill, but there's a hint there -- for us -- about other stuff. And the last couple of sentences are multivalent in a way that encompasses everybody on the show, but especially Bill's breakup speech, by managing to make the same word ("alive") mean almost opposite things at once.
To love is to bury: Barely breathing, or not breathing at all? Is Alcide happier, now that he isn't "alive"? Is Debbie happier now that she's got V making her feel more alive than she's ever felt?
Poor Jason has to watch the first pitcher of beer -- Arlene's moving slow, due to her massive constant drama and the serial killer in her abdomen -- go to the new QB-1, a "cocky little shit" who goes by the name of Kitch Maynard and who, if it weren't flirting with blasphemy to say it, might be hotter than him. Hoyt knows all of his infos because Hoyt knows things like that, and Jason is getting more and more upset, because this is exactly the same go-round we did Season One with Andy -- I remember it well, because I got so much hateful hatemail about it from the oppressed white men who just can never get a fucking break -- where his weird jealousy of Jason was pretty much his only trait for awhile, and was as much a plotpoint as it was an inescapable fact:
The man of an obsolete generation loves in his successor the thing that he hates in his successor, which is a virility that once he thought defined him but has vanished, leaving him with no actual definition, which turns eventually and quickly into a covetousness that often expresses itself in a sort of hateful desire. Before Viagra, this kind of misplaced and projected lack often ended in violence, but now it's just about acting super fucking creepy and angry and not being able to understand, much less voice, why.
As Andy hated Jason right up until the point they settled into their natural father/son roles, so Jason is going to be hating Kitch Maynard until somebody gives him the nod of being a man. Which, for Jason, right now means using his FotS training to be a cop, no matter how little effort he actually puts into it, which lack of effort in turn comes from being that golden boy of their generation's desiring to begin with: He never had to try, because he fit the definition they were giving him, and he never had to step outside of it, which is where trying happens.
And there is a way in which this makes Jason a jackass, but there's also a way in which it is as disenfranchising and minimizing as any woman who's been defined growing up by her body, which is what turned Anna Newlin for example into something way worse than just a jackass, but also somebody I felt for the same way I feel for Jason. Which is to say: You're handed what you're handed. They got beauty, some of us got brains, some of us got nothing, but staying in the place that best defines you, which is to say the house of your best accomplishment, is something that everybody naturally does. Stepping out of that and trying to be better at everything, that takes a strength that we find lacking only in those who don't share our particular faults and lacks, or gifts and accomplishments.
You get to say, that pretty person is very stupid; they get to say, that smart person is very ugly, or fat, or whatever you are. And even if it's not true -- and honestly, if you're a grownup at all you should have crossed the lines at least halfway by now -- you get to think it's true, and in this way you never have to measure your lacks, because they don't matter anyway, because the particular things that were handed to you are much, much better. And underneath the hate is a covetousness that borders on, or parallels, or very often hides, a very deep desire indeed.
So with that little taste of Jason's first experience of obsolescence which just happens to be coinciding with his nineteenth epiphany about being a better man, and his other thing about having killed a man and gotten neither absolution nor accolades about it, Andy tenderly pulls Bud up in front of the lunch crowd, and traces the line back even further, to a generation so afraid of change they'd rather drop out altogether: "Get on up here, Bud. Get up here, young man."
After much talk about Bud as father figure and sheriff -- and confirmation that the Gomer Pyle guy is, in fact, Kevin (from the books, in which he was not Gomer Pyle) -- they give him permission to dance, which is the thing he loves the best. He accepts the dancing boots they got him, to a round of applause, and thanks everybody. He smells the leather, and starts into a speech -- but three generations and half of Merlotte's away, the high school jocks are screaming for Kitch Maynard. Andy, one level down, becomes sheriff, and classily ignores the jocks.
(Have you ever seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre II? That movie is precisely and explicitly about this same lineage, up to and including a sort of horrific part where they try to get WWI wheelchair grandpa to kill/rape this girl, and thus win back his manhood, and end up having to pretty much do it for him, like cutting up your kid's steak while letting him hold the knife and fork limply in his hands. And you find yourself sort of feeling sorry for this old guy because they love him so much and all they want him to do is to murder this girl, and it's so frustrating that he can't do it, like, there are actually tears of disappointment and sadness in thei