Episode 33: "Amateur Night"

I can offer no excuses for my delay in episodic posting, Mis Hooz. Certainly nothing like backaches, lack of internet access, broken fingers, genital warts, or having to push a gleet through an inflamed urethra. But after your delightful haiku for last week, I also knew I could offer nothing nearly as entertaining. Best to gird my loins for the latest episode, I figured.

So where should we begin? Here's something that's been gnawing at me for the last few weeks: What the fuck is with George Hearst always sipping (coffee? tea? broth?) from a saucer? Is he evolved from a cat? Early in the episode, while pedaling out orders to kick the shit out of Merrick, we see Hearst pouring from a cup onto a saucer, then going into his usual routine.

Just once, I'd like to see someone ask about that. But no one would have the guts, surely. You know who would? Charley Udder! Maybe Charley and George can have a sit-down in the hotel dining room, and Charley can let forth with one of his wonderful observations.

"Sippin' outta your saucer like a cat, Mr. Hearst? Shall we call you 'Sylvester'? Would you like me to have a Tweety Bird delivered to the camp? How's about you go fuck yourself before giving yourself a tongue bath?"

Now to the Pinkertons. And if I already didn't like them, they sure as hell reserved a seat on my bad side by fucking with my main man, Wu. They got his Charlie Chan suit all muddy, man! Can't an Asian brother walk through the thoroughfare without being pushed in some slop by a cocksucker astride his horse?

Thankfully for Wu's sake, he finally has someone who understands him. Unfortunately, it's Johnny. What's so funny about peace, love, and understandin'?

And I have to comment on Langrishe's "Amateur Night," because I think David Milch and crew blew a tremendous opportunity for cameos and winking references here. Would it not have been belly-laugh hilarious to see a muddied-up Simon Cowell in the crowd, muttering "Awful, simply awful" to himself? No, I suppose not.

Here's the other thought that occurred to me: As unexpectedly wonderful as it was to see Al drunkenly singing to the moose head while everyone else was enjoying the festivities (Would you go see a Broadway musical if Ian McShane was in it, Hooz?), I think it would've been even better if other people in the camp began to sing with him, a la Magnolia.

Picture it: Al goes back to wiping down the bar, while still singing, then cut to Bullock, sitting next to the empty cell. And he joins Al. "♫ ‘Twas all on account of some handsome young woman/ ‘tis the reason why I weep and lament... ♫"

Then cut to Hearst, standing out on his terrace. "♫ I mighta got pills and salts of white mercury/ But now I’m cut down in the height of my prime... ♫"

Over to Richardson, still trying to juggle, while Farnum drags him back to the hotel. "♫ So don’t muffle your drums and play your fifes merrily/ And play a quick march as you carry me along... ♫"

Oh, you know you'd have loved it!

Great line from Langrishe, by the way, to party-pooper E.B.: "Envy is a cardinal sin, Mr. Farnum!" But wasn't it a bit weird to see Richardson out there, after he was consoling poor Aunt Lou in the smokehouse? (Their friendship is so sweet!)

We'll end with the quickies:

▪▪ Favorite line of the week goes to Trixie: "If the currency's counterfeit, my fuckin' Jew boss is the culprit."

▪▪ The runner-up from Jane: "Okay, Giganto! Don't tusk me to death with your tusks!"

▪▪ Speaking of Jane, why was she so afraid of Tolliver? I was shocked by that. Or did she think it might call too much attention to her dalliance with Ms. Stubbs if she came to Joanie's defense? Go ahead and let Mose provide the muscle, lest lips start flappin'.

▪▪ That better not be the last we see of the Earp brothers. They're just going to bail town on Bullock's recommendation? Then what was the point of bringing them onto the show, other than to say, "Hey, Wyatt Earp was once in Deadwood." There's already too many characters and plot threads - as you alluded to in haiku.