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Djb: D | Grade It Now!
Children Of The Corny

King Max pulls up in front of the Travolta Center and recites from memory the Lonely Planet entry on lovely downtown Copper Summit: "From this point on, trust only each other. Be aware. Be careful. And don't go anywhere alone." He and Isabel hop out of the car, leaving Liz and Tess in the back. How many times did they switch drivers just so it would be convenient for the ensuing conversation in the scene? Pick a seat and stay with it, people. Were they filming the "Ironic" video on their long lonely tour down I-10? Really. I'm curious. Anyway, Tess kicks things off: "So, you and Kyle." Liz sheepishly responds, then remembers that Buddha Boy has also been, er, "slipping his wisdom" to another one of Roswell's visitors, and apologizes to her for again treading on her turf. But it doesn't matter. Because she's detached, people. "All you did was sleep with him. How was he, anyway?" Liz looks confused -- does Tess mean "made love"? -- before recovering her senses and realizing she has to lie the lie to everyone: "It was great." Tess nods approvingly, secure that she'll, er, "ride that sacred cow" sometime herself -- and smiles, "Noted," like she's been there before and has every intention of going again. Wow. The forums have been right all along. Tess really IS a whore. Go, us.

Max and Isabel approach the Travolta Center as the hallowed anthem of their Planet Arium continues to pulsate. A man filing his nails and waiting for them to knock on the door turns around and throws it open. His glassy eyes and wan smile prove that the fine folks of the Roswell Casting Department have left nothing to chance when putting together their ensemble to represent a cult of crazy people. And as a member of the official MBTV order of the Stonecutters, conveniently located on the basement floor of our corporate offices in Dayton, I find these hackneyed stereotypes to be patently -- well, scrapy is what. Dude, if we want to sleep in coffins and rent Center Stage over and over and over again in our spare time, should we be persecuted for our...oh, I'm sorry. Did I write that out loud. Sars, how fired am I? I'll get my things. Sigh. ["Don't dawdle." -- Sars]

Anyway, this T. Greer tries politeness and then blatant "get offa my porch ya dang varmint kids," and just as he primes to slam the door in their faces, Isabel goes for the last ditch, "What's the Vilandra Project?" T. Greer pauses too suspiciously and pleads ignorance. Max tells Greer the story he should have led off with, informing Twitchy, "We were friends with the Congresswoman, and before we leave town we would like to pay respects to the family." He points the way: "That's be the Crawfords. Two blocks down, turn left, red mailbox." Slam. Finally. The Skulls had better security than this. Koresh had better security than this. The freakin' Gap at my local mall had...okay, I'll stop.

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