Roswell
Panacea

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Death Becomes Them

I must never, ever, ever hear this song again. We're in NYC '97 with Maria, Jack Black, and Dominique in a recording studio that is so much more state-of-the-art than that piddly New Mexico recording studio Lazar just couldn't get over last week, except for the fact that it's the same damn recording studio, people. Dominique notes that the song is "so working," and Billy looks away from the Music Machines all, "I must avert my eyes from the machines that create the drum beat that make the perversion of my friend's pure art." Whatever, people. If it worked for Joe Jackson in "Steppin' Out," it can work for Maria DeLuca. Maria introduces Billy to Dominique (who in crap are all these people?), and she tells him, "Get me a demo. I'd love to hear it." Billy eagerly tells her that if she's really interested, he could play her something right now, and she lets him know in no uncertain terms that "a demo is best" so that he can act all offended and petulant and tell his other homeless guitar-playing friends later, "She wanted a demo. The demo. In this business, it's all about the demo." Which it kind of is, okay? She doesn't know his music. She's never seen this hippie freak before. I know we're supposed to be siding with the disenfranchised artists in this scene, but Dominique has to be a ball-buster cliché because it's so damn difficult to work with the talent. So get her a demo or shut up. Or write better music. Or go away. Oh, how I suffer. Dominique sits down with Maria and tells her, "This song. It's good. It's really good. I'm just not sure it's a home run." She tells her that "the label might want to go with something a little lighter." They want her to sing a song written by someone else. Maria laments, "But I didn't write this." Billy sits in the back like the angel of artistic purity on Maria's shoulder. She regards the lyrics and says, "I don't even think like this." Dominique promises that if Maria doesn't like this song, then they'll go with her song. Oh, my God. I literally have no idea what's going to happen next!

Liz arrives back in her room from -- what, biology practice? -- to find Chrissy sitting on her bed reading. Another mark of a bad, bad girl, people. Late-night erudition. Clearly we're heading down a rocky road here. Chrissy wants to clear up a few things: "Is it Liz? Or is it Beth?" Liz sits down on her bed and decides this whole "Be someone else. Be someone cooler" campaign should be reserved exclusively for someone else cooler, and she comes clean. Her name is Liz. She's from Roswell, New Mexico. She has a boyfriend. Oh, really? Oh, really? OH, REALLY? Chrissy seems satisfied with her psycho pathological liar roommate, thawing the ice with, "See? Just be yourself. We'll get along just fine." And then they throw an animated cartoon ball to each other and turn into one animated cartoon vacuum cleaner and then we're back to Muppet Babies because this, again, has been one to grow on.

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Roswell

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