The Wife:

This weekend, I was able to watch the original Joss Whedon pilot for Dollhouse (included on the DVD that comes out Tuesday, July 27), as well as the futuristic mind-fuck that is the unaired “Epitaph One.” And even though I have some slight misgivings about certain things in Whedon’s original pilot, I ultimately believe that it would have set the show up for a better, more consistent run, leading ultimately to “Epitaph One,” which is one of the most interesting episodes of science-fiction television I’ve seen in some time. Let’s look at these things one at a time:

“Unaired Pilot”

The only thing I didn’t like about this pilot is that it reveals that Sierra and Victor are dolls right away. Therefore, if this had been the pilot, the Victor reveal that happens a few episodes later wouldn’t have been shocking. Nor would have Echo witnessed Sierra’s making and called into question her own making. However, for all that was sacrificed, the episode managed to explain a lot about the business strategy of the Dollhouse in a very believable, naturalistic way. In fact, the opening scene here is of Miss DeWitt explaining the process to a skeptical client. Likewise, there’s a scene where Topher explains to Boyd, not quite as new to the operation as he appears in the reshoot we all saw, how his tech works and why he’s so concerned over the dolls flocking together. Sometimes, these parts felt a little too “telly,” but in the end, I really didn’t mind them. A pilot should establish your universe, and Whedon’s original pilot does that a lot better than the one Fox made him rewrite.

And if there’s any positive spin I can put on not having the Victor/Sierra introductions appear a few episodes in, it’s that Echo’s problems don’t surface right away and it establishes the possibility that her “evolution” might also be happening to other dolls. There’s also a better character introduction to Whiskey, although it still doesn’t affect the game-changing 11th hour reveal that she’s a doll. It simply hints about the Alpha problem earlier and actually answered my question about how many people in the Dollhouse’s employ were aware that Whiskey was a doll. It’s clear from a scene she shares with Topher (about how pro bono engagements with purely altruistic purposes are good for the dolls’ health) that he, as well as others, are aware of what she once was. They simply do not address it.

I do like that this version of the pilot established a prior connection between Echo and Ashley Johnson’s character who, in the finale, has Caroline’s personality uploaded into her. It would have been great for Fox to have allowed that to stay so that the season finale would have included a great big payoff for those who had been watching since day one (“Honey, I am you,” Echo growls at alcoholic Ashley Johnson, in a delightful bit of foreshadowing before launching into a screed about how she once was addicted to booze and men. Echo is a better Cleaner than Benjamin Bratt is, and I appreciate that altruistic engagements can still involve kicking out barstools from under people.) And it would completely explain why that particular mall employee is the one that Echo and Alpha as Mickey-and-Mallory kidnapped, as she would have looked familiar, thus triggering Echo’s memory issues.

There’s also not a hint of Mellie/November to be found, which is great, because Miracle Laurie was always the worst part of this show.

But the most important and necessary part of Whedon’s pilot is the way in which it establishes Echo’s relationship to Paul Ballard. See, she was originally sent to kill him, in the guise of a woman looking for her lost sister (“Caroline”), and, once she got close enough to him to seduce him, she’d off him and rid the Dollhouse of the Paul Ballard problem forever. But Echo fails to kill him, and though she is called off her mission before she can snuff his life out in his hospital bed, this gives Paul Ballard a good reason to be obsessed with this woman who looks like Caroline and why it’s vitally important for him to find the Dollhouse.

Whedon’s original pilot only makes me wonder how much more solid the whole series could have been had Fox not asked him to make the series conform to some sort of case-of-the-week format. This episode definitely felt more like a Whedon episode, from ass-kicking ladies to corporations with less-than-forthright intentions to excellent character building and witty zingers. (More Topher = more goodness.) All I can say is that I’d have loved to see the show jump off from this point, rather than where it actually started. I can only imagine how much better it would have been.

The house that Echo built.

The house that Echo built.

“Epitaph One”

If you regularly read my Dollhouse posts during the season, you would know that one of my chief complaints during the course of season one was that the show always skirted issues of consciousness and embodiment, both physical and digital, as well as other cyberpunk-esque conceits. Here, Whedon treated us to a future, only 10 years down the line, in which the technology employed at the Dollhouse and other similar houses has gotten out-of-hand and basically caused the apocalypse. Not only has most of the world as we know it been destroyed by weapons technology from China (obviously, this is prior to the Sino-American alliance of Firefly), but there’s also an all-out war between natural humans and those with imprints, specifically those who have been imprinted so often that they no longer have a memory, roaming the land, it seems, like vacant zombies, capable of basic human function but incapable of emotion or real thought. The “actuals” have taken to tattooing themselves with birthmarks of their own names so that they never forget who they are – something which, for the sake of my continued work on tattoos and body marking, I hope is further explored as Dollhouse progresses.

In this episode, a group of actuals are heading underground to find a place called “Safe Haven,” and find themselves inside ruins of the Dollhouse. They’re mission is to protect a little girl, who turns out to not be quite what they thought she was, and by encountering Whiskey and experimenting with Topher’s chair on a captive “blank slate,” they learn about what happened to the Dollhouse that made things get so bad. Among these incidents: Victor and Sierra also underwent the multiple consciousness uploading processes that Echo went through, allowing them to be many people simultaneously; the Dollhouse acts as an underground safe haven, with Miss DeWitt heading up vigils for people’s memories, as forgetting seems to be a plague affecting the world; Topher, unable to cope with the fact that his technology, a technology he revolutionized so that uploads would happen in minutes, rather than hours, has wrought such horrors upon the world, is reduced to a blubbering mess, sleeping in the pods the dolls used to occupy and desperately trying to find the right math to fix things. There are many other things we learn here, but no image was more powerful for me than the image of Topher, scratching symbols into the walls of his pod with chalk, rocking back and forth in Miss DeWitt’s arms and crying, a mere shell of the brilliant, confident man he once was.

I think “Epitaph One” gives us an excellent look at where this series could go, getting darker and darker as it progresses. I’m not sure I’d like to see Dollhouse play out for 10 years (nor should it, as it would be hard to maintain being your best as a doll once aging takes its toll), but I’d love to see Dollhouse function on a five-year plan, exactly the length of each doll’s contract, building a momentum toward this destructive and horrible future, preferably with some episodes like “Epitaph One” thrown in. Lost revolutionized and reinvigorated its narrative by tossing in some flash-forward storytelling, and I think that Dollhouse would do well to include a few glimpses into the future, as well. I like every idea presented in “Epitaph One,” and I liked its execution. I’d like to see more like this, and it gives me great hope for the potential of this series.

The Husband:

If IMDb is to be trusted (which is should be about 80% of the time), the show is intended to run, as mapped out, for five years. This is a good, comfortable number, as that is the longest amount of time any Whedon show has lasted on one network. So it’s optimistic while still being realistic. And if you’re like my wife and you pay attention to the show (which I clearly did not do nearly as well), then you’re already ahead of this information and now I look like a fool. But hey, at least I’m confirming your estimates.

As far as “Epitaph One” goes, I hope more people don’t complain about its spoilerishness, because I don’t really look at it this way. For one, I don’t think anybody behind the show has said whether or not this episode should be considered canon. Then again, I didn’t listen to Whedon’s commentary on the disc, so I can’t be certain. Maybe Whedon mentioned something at Comic-Con this past weekend that could illuminate this discussion. But I do know that he mentioned (at least allegedly, as I read this on a blog review of “Epitaph One”) that even if it is canonical, we have to realize that the memories we see throughout the episode can’t be entirely trusted, as memories are, by nature, not always the truth.

But I often subscribe to the Sophocles version of storytelling mentioned in what I refer to as Ebert’s Theory of Sophocles vs. Shakespeare as found in his review for Road to Perdition, which raises the question of whether or not a reader/viewer wants their story’s conclusion fated/preordained/foreshadowed. Oftentimes, by knowing the direct ending of a story, it does not spoil what comes before but makes the events even more suspenseful, exciting and even heartbreaking. In Sophocles’ Oedipus Cycle, we know how it’s going to turn out, but we don’t know why, and it makes the story that much better. It’s obvious from Death of a Salesman what is going to happen at the end, so it’s the journey that is the important element of that play. And, to go way-mainstream as an example, knowing that a major character was going to die in the Ministry of Magic battle climax in Harry Potter & the Order of the Phoenix (thanks to a shrewd marketing move by J.K. Rowling), that climax was that much more dangerous and readable, as almost all of the major participants within the fight came close to death at one point or another. (Ebert oddly misses the concept that, in most of Shakespeare’s tragedies, we are told almost immediately who is going to die, or at least that there will be a mega-bloodbath, but whatever.) And for Dollhouse, I don’t mind the “spoilers” at all. It’s the journey that matters. It’s Sophocles.

Lost is Sophocles. You heard it here first.

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The Wife:

We missed out on SLOTAT while we were finding our dream home with a murder basement up in Seattle, and it appears we made the correct decision to not immediately watch the post “having sex will kill your dad in an airplane crash” episode until we had another one to pair it with. “What’s Done Is Done” had three basic plot lines:

1. Grace is mewed up to her heavens (Shakespeare!) and is, like, really fucking angry at everyone because she’s transferring her own self-hate onto others. This show is deep.

2. Every character in the SLOTAT universe has a discussion about whether or not they will/can/should attend Dr. Bowman’s funeral. Like I said, deep.

3. Amy is a tired new mom, coping with changes in her life, which she uses as an excuse to be a total fucking bitch to everyone else.

This is another way of saying that nothing actually happened that moved the story forward. Sometimes SLOTAT gets into these writing ruts where different sets of characters will have the same conversation numerous times, such as the discussion of funeral attendance. Adrian tries to convince Grace that she’s not responsible for her dad’s death (which she fails at doing, even though I think she said Grace’s name about 23 times during this scene, which is how she demonstrated how serious and caring she was being) and asks her to attend her father’s funeral, George helps ex-wife Mrs. Bowman execute Dr. Bowman’s funeral plan, Amy realizes she’s the only one not going to the funeral and acts like a total fucking bitch about it, Madison and Lauren appear for all of two minutes to participate in a totally pointless and frustratingly circular conversation about going to the funeral versus babysitting John versus doing Amy’s job for her so she can go to the funeral, Ben and Ricky fight over which one of them has to cover at the butcher shop so the other can go to the funeral . . . bah! This just kept happening and happening and happening and I don’t understand why! Did we run out of actual plotlines and character development? Is this all we’re left with? Redundant discussions about funeral attendance and debates over the correct terminology for the monstrous catered trays of cheeses and meats available at fine retailers such as Costco and Sam’s Club? I do not care if it’s a cheese tray or a party platter! I just want you to tell me a fucking story!

It takes a lot of makeup to make Megan Park look this un-pretty. (And even then, shes still really cute.)

It takes a lot of makeup to make Megan Park look this un-pretty. (And even then, she's still really cute.)

The following episode, which ended with Dr. Bowman’s delightfully quirky golf course funeral (because doctors LOVE GOLF!!!!) and a Kathy Kinney-led chorus singing “When the Saints Go Marching In” while actually riding on golf carts, was basically just a continuation of Grace’s continued struggle with her intense guilt (and some transference of that guilt onto Adrian, who clearly made sex look so tantalizing that she’s actually the one responsible for Dr. Bowman’s plane crash . . . yes . . . that’s it) and yet more whining and bitching from Amy about how she really wants to go to the funeral and is mad she can’t go because she has to work. Boo! Responsibility and childcare are hard! So hard, in fact, that Amy, very darkly, delivered my favorite line ever uttered on SLOTAT:

“I don’t have time to dream.”

Did she trade identities with Ashley? Christ. That’s almost as heavy as my favorite from Grace in “What’s Done Is Done”:

“He had a horrible death because I had incredible sex.”

SLOTAT suddenly became very, very dark.

“Par for the Course,” which is a golf pun in case you were wondering, concerned whether or not Grace would show her face at her father’s funeral. Some confusing arguments were made, the most perplexing of which came from Jack’s dad, who claimed that while he doesn’t necessarily frown upon premarital sex, he believes sex should occur only within the confines of marriage for the protection of the female partner, so they’re not violated or devalued. That makes no sense to me for two reasons: 1.) There are many places in the world where religious law requires women to be virgins when they are married, which sometimes lead to men marrying very young girls to ensure their virginity. 2.) There are also many marriages in which the female partners are sexually abused by the husbands such an argument claims will protect them. I also raise an eyebrow at that kind of rhetoric that continually frames women as things to be protected.

Taking a minute away from being a douchebag to comfort Kathleen.

Taking a minute away from being a douchebag to comfort Kathleen.

As Ann finds herself in the position Amy was in at the start of the show (although actually pregnant Molly Ringwald is obviously way too pregnant to match her character’s level of pregnant and the production folks at SLOTAT are not nearly as good at masking her as other shows might be), she and George discuss the terms for finalizing their divorce, and she and David maybe, possibly proceed towards marriage, providing George goes through with that whole divorce thing. George actually had a couple of soft moments in this pair of episodes, comforting his ex-wife as she mourned the loss of her husband and telling Ann that, when they divorced, he wouldn’t try to take her house from her as, after 14 years of marriage and two children, “I figured I owed you the house.” That sentiment was probably the nicest thing I’ve ever heard come out of George’s mouth, but even that didn’t last long as about 30 seconds later the two were bickering again.

Almost as much as superbitchmom Amy, who really, really, really does not want to have sex with Ben anytime in the near future, even though he kind of really wants to now. The writers achieved some semblance of character development with this plot, as Ben’s father goes to work with him so Ricky and Kathy Kinney can attend the funeral. Ben perceives this as yet another person who doesn’t think he can do anything (coming on the heels of Amy’s complete belligerence toward his desire to babysit and subsequent perceived failure when he leaves the baby with his father and soon-to-be-stepmom Betty the Escort for five whole minutes), and tells his father as much, storming out of the butcher shop in a fit of anger, echoing the fight Grace and her father had only episodes before. Luckily for Ben, Betty the Escort picked him up and drove him to the funeral, along the way dishing out some unsolicited advice about how he shouldn’t be upset with his father because if he loses his family, he’ll probably end up becoming a male prostitute somewhere along the line. I don’t really know what happened in that scene, but, at the very least, I learned some more about Betty, so that’s a plus.

I truly believe these two episodes would have been stronger as one entity, although on the other hand, I appreciate the realism of drawing out the aftermath of Dr. Bowman’s death a little longer. SLOTAT just doesn’t have the actual dramatic content to bridge that gap anymore. What’s up with this season and why don’t I care?

Quotes that amused me:

  • “We’re not married. I don’t have to tell you what my plans are.” – Ricky, with a sneer.
  • “Does this look like a baby store? Are we selling babies here?” – Kathy Kinney, to which Ben correctly retorts that they do sell veal.
  • “Don’t glamorize teen pregnancy, okay?” – Mama Ringwald, in the show’s most self-aware moment.
  • “Don’t try distracting me with a whole bunch of questions no one can answer!” – Bitchface Amy, about a bunch of questions that someone actually could answer. I mean, it’s not like Ben asked her about the meaning of life; he just wanted to know if her mom was going to marry her boyfriend!
  • “Even if you killed him, he’s with Jesus now. Mom isn’t.” – Tom, softening the blow a little bit. I think.
  • “Obviously you’re okay with you son having sex because you’re still alive!” – Grace, to Jack’s dad.

The Husband:

While the quote “I don’t have time to dream” is definitely the darkest line the show has ever possessed – it’s something I should say to homeless people begging for money in order to creep them out – the funniest line in SLOTAT’s history was the aforementioned (and re-mentioned here) piece of genius, due to its mixture of sheer inanity and illogical rage:


“Don’t try distracting me with a whole bunch of questions no one can answer!”


And while I agree that this two-episode intense focus on the drama surrounding Grace’s father’s death (didn’t this motherfucker die hard enough on Smallville several seasons back?) went on far too long, I’ve been greatly enjoying something my wife passed over – Adrian’s extremely frank sex talks with her father, which walk the line between earth-shatteringly inappropriate and kind of sweet in a Kevin Smith sort of way.

And I hate to be this guy, but the developmentally delayed actor who plays Tom, Luke Zimmerman, usually portrays a very sweet guy who just has trouble getting words out but is really struggling with some of the more serious dialogue thrown his way, and I try my hardest to stifle a giggle whenever he tries to scream at Grace. I like the kid, but Chris Burke he is not. (Shit, did you know that Corky from Life Goes On is 42 now?)

The Wife:

You know what I love? Metatheatre. You know what else I love? This episode of How I Met Your Mother.

After the break, this was a great episode to come back on, and I love especially that it plays with the idea of the actor and, particularly, the actors on HIMYM. The premise is this: the gang starts to notice some unusual behavior on Barney’s part. He’s calling someone and telling him he loves them, disappearing from the bar and ignoring scads of floozies. When he leaves suddenly, they hop in a cab and follow him out of the city. After he steps inside a nice suburban home, they follow him in demanding to know who this secret girlfriend of his is. He introduces the gang to his mother, impressing Lily with the revelation that he is, at heart, a mama’s boy . . . until a blonde woman walks into the room whom Barney introduces as his wife, followed by an obnoxious kid introduced as his son, Tyler.

Worst family portrait ever.

Worst family portrait ever.

Everyone, including the viewing audience, is shocked to hear about Barney’s secret life, until his mom leaves the room and Barney reveals that Tyler and his wife, Betty, are both actors, hired to appease his mother’s fondest wish for him. When she was ill, she hoped that Barney would get married before she died, so Barney hired Margaret, a Broadway actress just this shy of a Tony, to play his fiancée, Betty. But Margaret has a tendency to go off book and added a surprise pregnancy to the mix when Barney’s mom expressed a desire to live to see grandchildren. And then she got better and Barney had to begin casting child actors to play the part of Tyler in his fantasy life.


Mom at audition: You said if I slept with you my son would get the part.
Barney: Well, apparently, I’m a better actor than your kid.


Ted recognizes Betty from a Brecht play he saw some years ago, admitting himself as Brechtophile, and the two of them develop a rapport over Brechtian theatre and a passion for acting. Ted tells Betty that he always wanted to act, even staging plays for the children in his family to perform at holidays that he artfully overdirected. Betty gives him a few tips on acting. Meanwhile, Marshall and Lily, after having sex in Barney’s childhood racecar bed, try to convince Barney to tell his mother the truth, debating amongst themselves when the truth should be told and when it should be held back to spare someone’s feelings. They agree that the truth should be told always, so Lily admits that she hates Marshall’s mother, which Marshall finds completely shocking because, well, he was the runt of the family and that woman still loved him. (“I’m only 6’4″!”)

Barney wishes he could tell his mom everything, especially because he totally hates the kid he cast as Tyler, ragging on the boy’s lack of professionalism, inability to stay in character and constant desire to develop a catchphrase (“Tyler no likey!”). He complains that child stars were just so much better in the 80s, an awesome wink at Neil Patrick Harris’ star-making turn as Doogie Howser, M.D. that merited every bit of canned laughter they tacked on to it. If I heard that line in a stage play delivered by a former child star like Harris, the laughter would be louder than the track provided. And that was a loud track – an intentional move, I believe, to further point out the artifice of theatre, television and filmmaking that highlights the metatext about acting in this episode. Even having everyone converge on the three-room set of Mrs. Stinson’s house made this episode seem like a sitcom from another era, or even a stage play by someone like Neil Simon. Every part of this episode is about artifice and theatricality, and I’m glad that the creators, writers and Pamela Fryman took that conceit full-tilt. Brecht would totally approve.

Robin feels bad for Tyler, learning how much he hates playing Barney’s son and she and the boy strike up a sort of kinship for being put-upon by their employers. Robin knows she’s a good journalist, but she’s stuck doing some shitty morning show gig, just because it was available at the time. Likewise, that’s how Tyler got this job. They know they’re better than that, but Robin assures the boy that the best thing he can do to get through it is just to be as awesome as possible at a terrible job. This eventually leads to an awkward moment where Tyler misreads her motherly adoration for the boy as romantic intentions and tries to kiss her, apologizing, “Sorry! I thought I was picking up on something there!”

Barney goes so far as to script some banter for the dinner scene with his mom, filled with things she’d want to hear, like stories from Betty about Barney almost forgetting their anniversary but actually surprising her with a romantic candlelit dinner and a half-remembered nightmare from Tyler about how he doesn’t want to lose his mommy and daddy – a line that Barney had to deliver because Tyler forgot and ad-libbed something about dinosaur bones coming alive, a thought which terrifies Marshall. Barney, by the way, based his “in a relationship character” on Ted. During Barney’s recitation of Tyler’s nightmare, Betty and Ted slip out to the kitchen, where they’re caught making out by the whole group as they head in to the sundae bar Loretta prepared for them. Caught in the moment, Ted decides to resort to some of Betty’s acting tips, improvising a story about Barney stealing Betty (who is blind, in Ted’s estimation) from him when they met on a train to Algiers. Tyler, finally getting something right, runs out of the room crying about how he doesn’t want his mommy and daddy to get divorced.

Realizing that he has to do some serious rewrites on his false life, Barney takes his mom aside and tells her that Tyler is dying and Betty plans to commit suicide the moment her son dies, but then he recants and admits that the family he’s been parading in front of her for years are only hired actors. Rather than being angry or confused, Loretta is relived to hear this because she fucking loathes Betty and Tyler (especially his stupid catch phrase). She doesn’t even like the people Barney hired to play his friends!

Barney comes clean and tells his mom that his life is so completely the opposite of the life he’s been pretending to have to make her happy. He tells her that she wouldn’t even want to know some of the terrible things he’s done, and she counters with:

“Barney, when you were three, I left you to go on the road with Grand Funk Railroad where I was passed around like a bong.”


Like she told Lily and Marshall, Loretta is basically a big, fat whore. Like mother, like son.

Seeing Barney make up with his mother, Lily decides to try to make up with Marshall’s mom, but the cutaway reveals that the person she’s calling is actually Betty, who, with Ted, is telling her what to say to make it sound like she’s trying to make amends and appease Marshall. (Yet another similarity between my husband and I and Marshall and Lily: my husband’s mother is also named Judy. But unlike Lily’s feelings for Marshall’s mom, I totally love my mother-in-law, even when she kicks my ass at Scrabble.)

In addition to the vast metatheatre of this episode, I like that it highlights just how much acting we do everyday, especially through Lily’s feeble attempt to make amends with someone she hates by pretending to call her at the episode’s end. We all put on a good face for our parents that, except in certain cases, is probably far from who we are to our friends, or our coworkers or our teachers. We often pretend to enjoy people or things more than we actually do because to do otherwise interrupts social protocol. As the Bard said,


“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,”


We lie a lot to save face, we put on a face to meet the faces that we meet and we present different facets of ourselves at different times – all of it acting. In that light, Ted’s admission that he has always wanted to be an actor is funny not only because we know Josh Radnor is an actor, but also because everyone already is an actor, even if it isn’t their trade.

I’m a theatre geek, interested in metatextuality and performance studies (among my many other assorted academic interests) and, yes, I used to tread the boards a little bit. I fucking loved this episode. It’s brilliant. And when I say that, I’m not acting.

The Husband:

I’m not entirely sure where to come down on this episode. Yes, the metatextuality was great, but how about the actual plot itself? It really breaks down into two separate things:

1.) If everything at the house, all the fake plots and lines, etc., were meant to be a direct parody of 1980s-1990s TGIF family sitcoms (Step By Step especially), then the episode was brilliant. The design of the house particularly lends credibility to this theory.

2.) If it didn’t have those types of shows in mind, aside from the Doogie Howser reference, then it was more weird than anything else.

I hope it’s more of the latter, but it was done with such a light touch that I couldn’t really put my finger on it. It’s tough enough getting a Barney-centric episode – those, such as “The Yips” or “Single Stamina” (yes, both the Wayne Brady episodes), tend to take away much of his comedic power, because he’s best when in the background simply mocking everybody else – so adding all the bizarre theatre jokes (the writers once again show off by dropping so much Brecht knowledge) and perhaps mocking an entire subgenre of television comedy might have been too tall of an order to make all the pieces work. That may explain why I was underwhelmed by the tiny Lily-Marshall story, even though it gave me the biggest laugh of the episode when Marshall screamed “I hate you” at Lily.

They can’t all be 100%, and HIMYM definitely has the best comedic good-versus-bad ratio on television (second place after the uproarious but somewhat cold 30 Rock, of course), so I shouldn’t really complain. Hell, it’s still better than most of the stuff out there, and I’d be impressed as all hell if this were on any lesser show.

NPH gives Frances Conroy a happy ending. Wait! No! I didnt mean it like that!

NPH gives Frances Conroy a happy ending. Wait! No! I didn't mean it like that!

Whatever. Basically, as a major fan of Six Feet Under, I love seeing Frances Conroy in anything, be it getting a massage-gasm on Desperate Housewives, being a mysterious gypsy trainer person in the otherwise risible Catwoman, or here played a former skankatron. It makes me not even care that we’ve already heard the voice of Barney’s mother on more than one occasion, and that voice was provided by Megan Mullally.

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