Reverend Theodore Newlin, of the church of the Fellowship of the Sun, on Sookie's morning television: "We never should have given them the vote and legitimized their unholy existence." Nan Flanagan, of the American Vampire League, shrugs with her eyes. "The American people need to know these are creatures of Satan! Demons, literally! They have no soul." Sharon, the host, reminds him of the consistently growing support for vampire rights, and he refuses to acknowledge that: "Those polls are fixed. Do you know how much money these monsters have given to politicians of both parties? As well as the corporate media?" It's the things we don't acknowledge that come up behind us, every time. Every thing we can't look at is a vampire; every time we choose blindness it's the dark that chooses us back. Nan calls this concept nonsense, and I'm guessing lies her ass off. "Vampires don't seek to control human policy, it's of very little interest to us." There's a coldness, an intensity and a brittleness behind her eyes, that no coaching, no amount spent on PR, can warm. This man is an insect.
"You can't trace any of it! It's all been laundered..." Newlin's going to die; this is the moment it happens. Nan goes twice as cold as dead: "Are you accusing my organization of criminal activity, sir?" Suddenly he's calling for mommy: "I will not speak to her directly, Sharon." Sharon asks why that is, and the answer is the usual. "My commitment to Christ Jesus, praise His name, compels me not to recognize her kind." The things we don't acknowledge. "Well, that's gonna make it difficult to have a dialogue." He begins to repeat himself, again, from the beginning, and even Sharon has to roll her eyes.
Gran and Sookie agree that Jesus wouldn't mind vampires; wouldn't judge a person based on this particular issue. Sookie asks if the sausage is different today, v-juice coursing through her still: "It tastes so much more complex than it usually does," she says, and Adele frets that it's gone bad. "No, it's delicious. It's like I can close my eyes and I can see the farm the pig lived on, and feel the sun and the rain on my face, and even taste the earth that the herbs grew out of." Gran stares at her, because that was a mouthful. Especially for a werewolfish cliché like this, so hoary and old that you don't need to really explain it. But this is about connecting nature, and violence, and sex: Sookie can't go after the sex part yet, because of her particular qualities and burdens, but she can get there through the food, through the violence and the death inherent in the food; through the pleasure and sustenance and sensuality of food. Tara enters, heading for the coffee, and Adele welcomes her, ordering her to sit and offering to make a new pot.