The Best Film of 2012...

Django Unchained.

I’ll get to Sir Quentin’s latest masterpiece in a moment, but first I want to run down just how spectacular 2012 was for a film fan. It started off like most years do – a lot of shit was released throughout the early months and we got one of the funniest movies in a long while in March (21 Jump Street). More typical claptrap ensued until Cabin in the Woods in April. It was great, but one funny deconstruction of the horror genre wasn’t enough to push everything up. Then May hit. Holy shit, did May hit. We got The Avengers, which was one of the best popcorn flicks ever made. After that, the hits just kept on comin’. The Dictator. Prometheus. Moonrise Kingdom. Magic Mike (this was a really funny, entertaining character piece that I’m sure most men avoided because they are uncomfortable with their own small penises). The Amazing Spider-Man. The Dark Knight Rises. End of Watch. Argo. Flight. Skyfall. Lincoln. Killing Them Softly. The Hobbit. This is 40.

Really, 2012 was a great year for movies. I’m not talking about the Oscar bullshit that is inevitably going to piss me off (I already have succumbed to the fact that Les Miserables is going to win), but rather the stuff that’s just really, really good for me. I don’t really care about you when it comes to movies. I care about myself, and 2012 was a damn good year for me.

But one movie stood ahead of the rest, and that movie is Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained. As far as sheer cinematic greatness goes, only two other movies can really enter into the conversation for me – Argo and Killing Them Softly. I loved both of those movies, especially Killing Them Softly, a criminally under-seen movie that brilliantly used crime as a symbol for the economic collapse of 2008 thanks to capitalism run amok. It’s my kind of movie. Dickbags on the far right would hate it if they had taken the time to see it and had the brain capacity to understand metaphor, so you just know it’s really great.

In any other year, either Argo or Killing Them Softly would have taken the cake, but they had the misfortune of being released the same year as Django Unchained. Tough shit for them, because Django Unchained is, pun gleefully intended, off the fucking chain.

I love Tarantino. He’s one of my favorite filmmakers, tied with Martin Scorsese. He never makes a bad movie. Even his “bad” movies are better than most everyone else’s good ones. My anticipation for Django was incredibly high, and I figured that the movie would be amazing because it’s Tarantino, but I suspected he was due for a slight stumble after the masterful Inglourious Basterds in 2009. That film, which truly gets better with every view, was an unadulterated love letter to the power of cinema, and he was able to utilize amazing symbolism while giving audiences a cathartic release in watching Nazis get killed. I didn’t think he would be able to sustain that creative output into another masterpiece so quickly, but he did.

Django Unchained uses a similar trick as Basterds – it promises us ultra-violence being handed out liberally to the truly evil at the hands of the oppressed. While Basterds featured American Jewish soldiers scalping and killing Nazis in the waning days of World War II, Django utilizes a slave in the south two years before the Civil War killing the people responsible for one of the biggest travesties ever committed in America. You can offer up all the bullshit in the world to me about how slavery was a product of its time and that it was a business, and people didn’t know any better and all that malarkey, but you’d be talking to a brick wall. There is no, and never was, an excuse for treating people as machinery or property, and the fact that our country allowed it to continue after the rest of the civilized war ended it years earlier still makes me sick. That much of what people believed about black people in the 1800’s persists today makes it even worse.

Tarantino uses a pretty awesome concept – a former slave killing slave owners and racist bigots -  to explore a lot of heady topics, and it works wonderfully. A lot of people accuse Tarantino of playing fast and loose with his dialogue (particularly the N-word here) and his gratuitous depiction of violence, but the power of his mastery of both the verbal and visual is what makes Django so profoundly impacting. The N-word is uttered – by blacks and whites throughout – 109 times in a 165-minute film. That’s something like once every eighty seconds. It’s the most times the word has ever been uttered in one film. That’s intentional, as each time the word is spoken, it cuts like a knife into you. It’s never said as a term of endearment, nor is it even given a reaction by many of the characters in the movie. It’s a word to them, a descriptor, and hearing it spoken so cavalierly so many times hits the audience hard in the face.

There are occasions when the word is used to insult someone. This is where I feel the film becomes incredibly powerful, as the one’s using the word as an insult (as opposed to “just” a word to describe and control a black person) are predominantly black characters. Samuel L. Jackson plays Stephen in the film, the head house slave at Candyland, a deplorable plantation owned by Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio). Stephen thinks himself above every other black character in the film; it’s never shown that he thinks himself equal to whites, but it is at least hinted at. He cannot accept seeing Django riding a horse, or sleeping in a white man’s home. He uses the word to insult Django, and his intent is clear every time he says it; the word is used as a controlling device when Stephen uses it – to remind Django of his place in the social order.

This is, in the film anyway, the primary reason the word is uttered. That word, from its origin until today, has always been used to “remind” people where they belong. It is a nasty word, a disgusting one, arguably the most hateful in the English lexicon, and it is amplified when it is used by a black person. Stephen might be the worst character in the film, since he has no fraternal connection to his race, so when he uses the word, it’s even more hateful. He knows what it’s like to be called that word over and over again, and he utilizes it for the same purpose as white folks, only his intent when using it is more devious because of his experience with the word.

There is a very powerful scene late in the film when the word is “taken back” by Django. It’s almost like Tarantino is illustrating how the word has been altered by black culture and used as a term of endearment (or at least used liberally nowadays, with no ill-will intended by its use when uttered in certain social circumstances). Django snatches the word from the evildoers and those that use the word as an insult, as a way to control black people, and owns it. He doesn’t hide from the word; he embraces it. This is the true victory for Django in the film – he takes away the most powerful tool that the powerful have, and he inverts it to empower himself.

Language has always been Tarantino’s big thing. People love it or hate it. Secondary to that, though, is his depiction of violence. This, again, is a pretty standard love-hate relationship. He doesn’t shy away from arterial spray, or vicious depictions of gratuitous bloodshed. When he made Kill Bill, I was shocked at how bloody it was. When I saw Inglourious Basterds for the first time, I was taken aback. While he was more subtle in his early years as a filmmaker, he’s taken the gloves off in later years and has seemingly embraced a more cartoonish violence. People, when shot, bleed more than they ever should. Blood sprays out in ways that are not possible given what we know of gravity. It’s more than stylized; hell, it’s more that hyper-stylized.

But he does something interesting in Django Unchained. Yes, that trademark hyper-violence is still there, but it is subtly inverted. When white people are killed, the blood flies like there’s no tomorrow. The action set pieces are as over-the-top as we’ve come to expect. It looks beautiful in a disgusting way. But when a slave is whipped? Shot? Torn apart by dogs? Horribly beaten? That chaotic, cartoonish beauty is nowhere to be seen. Tarantino presents the violence against blacks as serious, powerful, scary, hateful, and disturbing. We don’t laugh when this happens; we’re too busy being absolutely disgusted.

This is where I think some of the controversy surrounding the film falls apart under its own weight. This is not a film that stylizes slavery, or shows us the “funny side” of it. No, the depictions of slavery are blatantly disgusting, and nothing is stylized. But when the white people responsible for these actions are killed? Whoa, baby, it’s insane.

Tarantino continues his revenge fantasies in Django by first setting the table for what these people have done, and then offering us – the audience – that same catharsis he gave us as when he allowed Hitler to be machine gunned to death in Basterds. He isn’t comfortable (and he shouldn’t be) with presenting horrific acts against slaves in his trademark way, so he portrays it as it was – as atrocious. Yet when the time for recompense arrives, he gleefully, deviously, gives us what we want – bloody, bloody, bloody retribution. And it looks amazing, to boot.

Django Unchained is a spiritual successor to Tarantino’s earlier Inglourious Basterds. I’ve long maintained that Basterds was an open love-letter to the power of cinema, as cinema allows purveyors like Tarantino to exorcise certain demons of their own without the limitations of reality. In Basterds, Tarantino isn’t beholden to the reality that Hitler took his own life in a bunker in the waning days of the war. Instead, he can do what he wants, and is given the freedom to explore alternative paths that include Hitler being murdered by Jewish-American soldiers while the whole of the Third Reich is burned to death inside of a movie theater (that scene is arguably Tarantino’s most heavy handed use of symbolism to date – it is actually cinema that is killing these people).

The same can be said of Django. Cinema offers Tarantino the chance to play with reality again, only this time the environment is different. Slavery takes center stage, and Tarantino, again, uses the gift of cinematic freedom to punish those he deems worthy of punishment at the hands of the oppressed. It is just as much fun as Inglourious Basterds (there’s a scene in which Django shoots up about a dozen racist white men with Tupac rapping over top of it; suffice to say, it is a pleasing cinematic experience) but it’s also a harder film for most Americans to ratify because it’s not Nazis this time. Nazis present a villain that everyone (even Germans) can genuinely hate and not feel guilty about it, but there’s something different at work in Django Unchained, perhaps because it’s dealing with an American horror, and Americans don’t always do too well with the notion that we have made mistakes and have committed atrocities. Me? I love it. I don't have any issues with bad Americans getting killed on screen.

When Django pulls his gun out and shoots a bunch of white men, it’s great. It really is. But a lot of people will see it and think that it’s somehow wrong, because a white man wrote and directed the film, and he doesn’t have that right as a white man. Beyond that, we’re talking about an issue that is still alarmingly present in 2012 (going on 2013), and that issue is racism. It’s alive and well, and there are feelings at stake here that I cannot portend to grasp fully, although I do recognize they’re there.

It is hard to fathom that a white man like Quentin Tarantino could make a movie like this, but I don’t believe Quentin Tarantino sees himself as a white man. I believe he thinks of himself as a human being, in league with every other human being who has ever lived, and wants to rectify the past the only way he knows how. Maybe he struggles from “white guilt,” but I don’t think he does. I think he is simply one of the few people of the world who is intelligent and crazy enough to attempt to convey a message in which he speaks to his own post-racist ideal. He doesn’t perceive himself as a white man making a film about black slavery; he sees himself as a human being making a film about human slavery, and how language (especially that dreaded N-word) and violence were used to control an entire group of humans.

This is, of course, a very scary and controversial exercise to undertake. The controversy speaks for itself. Spike Lee has vowed to never watch the film, thinking it racist. White people who may or may not be openly prejudiced will never see it. Certain black people will not watch it because they, too, feel it is racist, or that a white man doesn’t have the clout – or the right – to depict something like this. I can’t argue against any of that, because I’m a white man myself, and I cannot and will not attempt to understand what it’s like to grow up as a black person, knowing that my ancestors were treated this harshly, and still living with the effects of such hatred and pain today.

If a black person is to view this film and think it is a racist piece of filth, I cannot argue with him or her, because I cannot put myself in that viewing position. I watch the film as only I can, and the same goes for every other person. It is impossible for me to see it any other way. And the way I see it is that a man (whose race is unimportant) made a film about slavery that is just as much about racism and slavery as it is about business run amok, language and perception, and cathartic retribution. Others will see it as no more than gratuitous violence, and that’s certainly there, but if one is willing to peels back the layers, much more is being said.

I didn’t even touch on the business aspect, but believe me, it’s there. I like to think that true auteurs of cinema (and fiction) tend to have their creative juices exploding when they have a genuine muse, and it seems that Tarantino has a lot to say about this capitalistic business of ours. Sure, it’s changed in the one hundred and fifty years since slavery, but it still boils down to one very sad truth: how much money there is to be made, and how much of your soul you’re willing to sacrifice to make it.

We see slavery today and think it is a truly disgusting enterprise (at least, rational people do), yet at the same time, the majority of folks don’t stop to ponder what is going on in business as we speak. People are routinely “let go” from their positions, which are shipped overseas to another country and those jobs are completed for a fourth of the money. People are refused certain healthcare services because it’s not fiscally responsible to do make sure those people are given what they need. The list goes on, and most people don’t bat an eye. The parallels exist, and what was once said about slavery is now said about healthcare and downsizing and outsourcing: “It’s just business.” It’s easier to view things through that impersonal lens than it is to see what’s really going on: human life is being traded for a buck. It still happens, and while Tarantino is loudly (and quietly) focusing in on those other topics I’ve addressed, he is subtly shining a light on this as well.

And that’s why Django Unchained is the best film of the year. Hell, it might be one of the best movies ever made. It’s certainly one of the best I’ve seen in a while. I didn’t even mention the performances, but they’re all great, none more so than Samuel L. Jackson as Stephen. DiCaprio will most assuredly be nominated for the despicable Calvin Candie, but Jackson is the true star of the film. If I had my druthers, the film would see no less than four acting nominations at the Oscars (Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, DiCaprio, and Jackson all deserve recognition).

The film is a bona fide masterpiece. It might have a few pacing issues, but if that is the trade off for something so incredibly powerful and challenging, then it’s something I’m willing to accept. Tarantino has succeeded in creating a spaghetti western with subversive elements generally reserved for post-modern fiction. He has created something truly special, and it is no surprise that it’s so controversial. Genius usually is.

At the very least, I hope that the controversy leads to conversation, and that conversation leads to exploring more of what Tarantino is doing with this film. He wants us to feel every N-word uttered, to recognize the gross actions that were perpetrated, and to respond to them. He’s using controversy to create conversation, and I hope the ensuing conversation challenges people. Seeing the film once is a disservice. I’ve seen it twice already, and feel that there is a fair amount that I’ve not yet discovered.

It is a powerful, stirring, and most of all, thought-provoking film. Do not hesitate to see it, and do not hesitate to explore it once you’re done. Don’t take it at face value, dig a little bit deeper, and respond to it. You won’t be sorry.

Saved by the Bell Ruined My Life Part VIII

We're hitting the home stretch. I'm running out of time. I'm like Johnny Depp in the movie Nick of Time. My three favorite episodes of the show are "The Wicked Step-Brother" parts one and two and "Jessie's Song." My goal was to get to ten of these entries before I say good-bye for a long while (I might post some other things here and there, but I can't maintain this level of dedication to a 1990's sitcom about high school kids much longer). With that goal clearly in sight, I was just going to get these three episodes done and move on with my life. I think twenty years is long enough to devote to the gang. And once I hit that tenth recap/whatever, I though I'd be able to finally close that chapter of my life. I'll be ready for a new show to take hold. I'm thinking California Dreams or Hang Time (I've always loved Reggie Theus) but I'm not committing myself to anything. There's a chance Brotherly Love might sneak in. I don't know. We'll see.

The problem is, though, that I saw some rather diminishing returns on the eyes on this thing. So this might be the last one I do. It wasn't my intention to end this on a cliffhanger, but thems the breaks, kid. If I knew people enjoyed these, I'd probably feel more guilty about ending it prematurely (just kidding, that's never bothered me before. Just ask my lady friend), but fewer and fewer people have read each subsequent recap that I don't really feel that bad about saying goodbye.

With that in mind, it's best to think of this as the next logical step in our physical relationship with one another.   If the fifth recap was uncomfortable bra-undoing, then this is really close to the big thing. I'm shirtless, and you're staring at my immaculate body. I turn around to turn up the music - I'm thinking early Jodeci is appropriate, no? - and you catch a glimpse of my dragon tattoo. It's fierce, just like my loving. I don't know what you're thinking when you see it, but I can imagine it's a healthy mixture of trepidation and sexual curiosity. Don't worry. Go with it. Who knows what we'll get up to next, love.

So the next episode is "The Wicked Step-Brother Part One." And boy, is it a doozy. I love this episode for so many reasons, and we'll get into that in just a moment. But first, I want everyone reading this to stop and stare at that picture up above. It's the most brilliant promotional shot ever. Look at Screech's face. Imagine what he's thinking. What's he holding? Is it soda? Is it acid? Is it that acne cream that turns your face into a deep marroon? I don't know. But that's what great promos do, they make you wonder just what in the fuck this is all about.

The show opens with Zack trying to come up with an excuse to miss school so he can go to a Dodgers game. The Dodgers play like a hundred games at home every year, and I don't understand why Zack couldn't just get tickets to a weekend or night game, but it's Zack Morris. He doesn't think things through. He thinks of using his dead grandmother as an excuse, but he used that four times last year and Belding might see right through that one. Zack's got his work cut out for him.

"Wanna touch my baseball bat?"

Jessie's mom just married some fellow from New York and I guess that he decides to move out to LA and he brings his son with him. Everyone is super curious about what he's like, and Kelly and Lisa even bake him cookies to make him feel welcome. When Eric gets there, he gives absolutely zero fucks for the cookies. But he's got a pretty nasty case of jungle fever and Lisa Turtle is the muthafuckin' cure, yo. Problem is, he disgusts Lisa to her very core. I doubt this will have any impact on future proceedings.

Eric is a real dick-wagon right from the start. He reveals that he locked all the terminals on the plane out to LA - I don't know how the hell that's even possible - so you know he's into starting trouble. He is the epitome of a New Yorker - he talks a lot and is very mean. And all he really wants is to deflower Lisa on the beach and take Jessie's room as his own. It's like he has some medieval notion of existence - in order to flourish and take control of this new land he's found himself in, he has to bed an exotic local (the black chick) and sacrifice a family member (usurping his sister's power and claiming her room as his own). Eric's a twisted sonamabitch, and I like him.

Eric's first day of school starts off nicely. He pisses everyone off in record time. He somehow procured Jessie's diary and offers to sell the pages to Slater for a cool five bucks per page. Slater really wants to know what Jessie wrote about him after prom (not enough to pay, but enough to be overly curious). This tells me an important fact about prom - Slater and Jessie fucked. Hard. Slater was all, "C'mon, Mama, Albert Clifford's got the cure for what ails ya," and Jessie was all, "Don't stop you chauvinist pig," and then when they were done, they sang more Michael Bolton or something. It's never implicitly stated, but we can read between the lines, can't we? Isn't that the ultimate goal of everyone in high school (except for the weirdos)? To fall in love (or something) and lose your virginity on prom night to your main squeeze? Girls want it to happen because it's symbolic of romance at its core - something that shows the love and dedication you share with your special someone. You dress up and spend hundreds of dollars to look like royalty, and you eat expensive food and then you dance and take a shitload of stupid pictures with your "homies" and then you end the night at someone's parent's house (who are stupid for going out of town the weekend of their son's prom), and your boyfriend takes off your really expensive dress and you make sad, pathetic sex for three minutes. Then it's over and you realize sex isn't romantic or even all that good (and it won't be until your third semester of college and you make a few drunken mistakes before settling down with some guy who's roommate in the dorms eats a lot of pizza and stashes the boxes under his bed, and then break up with him and start dating someone who has his own apartment off campus and he knows what he's doing and you don't have to have awkward sex on a loft, which has to be dangerous, because you constantly run the risk of hitting your head on the ceiling). Dudes want it to happen because it's the final step towards manhood, the culmination of everything from making the dork eat worms on the playground to discovering your dad's porno stash. That's what Sex At Prom is, right? The ideal? At least that's what Hollywood movies have told me for my entire life. Except, of course, Disney's Prom, but that doesn't count. There's no hidden boners or sex messages in that movie at all, so it doesn't even qualify as a Disney movie.

That's a lot of denim. Also, why is everything tucked in?

Meanwhile, back at Bayside.

Zack doesn't get along with Eric, but he decides to be nice because he's Jessie's sister. He informs him that they have class together, and once they're inside, Eric comes awfully close to forcing sex on Lisa. The teacher, Mr. Testaverde, reveals that it's the Jewish new year, and Zack decides to pretend he's a Jew so he can go watch baseball. What an asshole.

Eric has Screech record the baseball game, and they get together to watch it in Jessie/Eric's room. Jessie walks in, fresh out of the shower, and wants to get dressed. Eric says it's okay, they're family. Add incestuous tendencies to Eric's growing list of sexual perversions. Jessie leaves, in a tiss. Eric sees Zack catch a fly ball at the game and keeps the tape to blackmail him later on. He's a sneaky fuck. Eric uses the tape to steal Zack's locker, because I guess locker location is fucking important. I spent, like, three seconds every day at my locker in high school. If someone wanted to blackmail me for my locker, I'd tell him to get fucked, let him take it, and then laugh at the entire situation because it's a fucking locker, and nobody gives a shit about lockers. Of course, there's a tremendous chance that Zack Morris has a special locker because he's Zack Morris, and it's not really a locker at all, it's the teacher's lounge and he sips cognac there in between classes and sexes up high-priced call girls.

Seriously, those jeans.

Jessie has Slater over for the evening to "study." I say "study" because I really mean "sex." I thought you'd want to know that. Eric finally makes Jessie's room his own, adding that to his growing list of real estate acquisitions. Eric accomplishes this by recording the sex sounds of Jessie and Slater. The next day at school, Slater threatens to beat up Eric, so Eric gives him the tape. Slater steps on it immediately, and then he's reminded that tapes can be copied. Oh, shit. Slater will receive the tapes if he lets Eric use his car. Eric, that New York bastard, has got the entire school by the balls. And he's twisting them.

Belding shows up and wants to show Zack and Slater what he bought Mrs. B. for her birthday. The guys don't want to go, but Belding insists. It's not like they have class to attend or anything, right, Mr. Principal? What a turd. The gift is an expensive-looking red convertible. Belding wants Slater to install a compact disc player in the automobile, and he reassures Slater that he'll be out of town all weekend, so Slater will have access to the car throughout with absolutely zero supervision. What fucking principal gives the keys to his brand-new car to a student? How ridiculous is that? Even Zack has to "time out" in order to process the stupidity. Maybe I could understand Belding hiring Slater to install a CD player in a car (Slater is a macho dude, after all, and he looks like the type of guy who knows what he's doing in a car), but why wouldn't he clandestinely call A.C. to his office and keep it hush-hush, at least from Zack? Giving Zack information about your absence and access to your car keys is just asking for trouble, isn't it? It's like telling a mugger that you'll be walking down a dark alley with no exit at three in the morning by yourself and not expecting him to mug you. Screw Richard Belding. He's horrible.

Zack, of course, realizes that with access to Belding's new convertible, he can get up to all sorts of malarkey. So he puts his plan into action - he bribes Lisa with MC Hammer tickets (the second MC Hammer reference in as many episodes for me. Do with that information what you will) to go on a date with Eric. Lisa doesn't readily want to prostitute herself, but after Zack explains that Eric is blackmailing him, she agrees. This doesn't make any sense, because Zack doesn't elaborate on his ruse at all - he doesn't tell her that he plans on getting Eric back somehow. Instead, he just tells her to go out with him because he's blackmailing him. That doesn't make sense. I've got a headache.

Zack, breaking the fourth wall.
Also - those jeans. My god.

So Zack's plan goes into action - he lends Eric the new convertible to take Lisa on a date, and when they show back up at school with the car, Zack plans on taking a picture of Eric behind the wheel, thus having the tools to blackmail the blackmailer. Nothing is ever that simple, though. It turns out Eric is actually a swell guy and Lisa is ready to sex him. He charms her by taking her to Casablanca and chats her up all sweet-like at The Max afterwards. Lisa feels a little bit guilty for taking advantage of Eric now. I guess because he likes classic movies all of his past sins are immediately forgiven. Try that defense out in court, see what happens.

Eric lets Lisa drive the fancy car in the parking lot and when Zack sees the headlights, he yells at Screech to take a picture. Screech obeys like a good puppy, but the flash from the camera - the most blinding, powerful flash in photographic history, mind you - causes Lisa to crash the car. Women. Driving. Am I right? Heh. Then the episode ends, with the precarious "To Be Continued..." flashing across the screen. I wonder if Zack will find a way to get out of this one, you guys.

We all know he'll get out of it, of course. I'd love to find my way to the second part of this, but I don't know if I'll have the time. Fill in the blanks on your own. Watch the episode if you want. Whatever. Listen, I'm pretty much done with this, and I'm not going to lie - I'm basically phoning it in at this point. I usually try to say something witty at the end, but I don't have the energy. I have to be up at, like, six tomorrow morning, and that's scary. So I hope if you've found this entertaining you find a way to entertain yourself for a while. I'll  be back, eventually. And if you're seriously dying to see me end this the right way, then let me know. Remember at part five, when I talked about how I never stick with anything? Jokes on you, fuckers. It's true. I was all invested in this, and now I don't care much about it at all anymore. Life has a way of catching up with you. Maybe a healthy break is all I need to come back energized. I don't know.

Saved by the Bell Ruined My Life Part VII

I decided to change the title picture because I think people maybe see the same picture plastered all over my stupid Facebook all the time and they don't bother to read my words and they just assume that I'm posting the same thing over and over and over and over again because they're assholes and don't read things, they just scroll down their pages and click "like" whenever they see another new e-card that has an old time-y looking picture of a woman with some inane statement accompanying it, or they look to the side of their Facebook page and just randomly click "like" to pictures over there, and the next thing you know, they're fans of pages like "Marijuana" and "Life Makes Me Want to Cry Sometimes" and shit like that, or they don't bother to see what's going on in anyone else's life, they're too busy playing sending me fucking Farmville requests. So that's the reason for the slight change. I'm trying to become an internet sensation here.

When I last left you, Kelly and Zack had just parted ways and Jessie and Slater were singing the shit out of a Michael Bolton song whilst dressed as Romans. It was a hard time for everyone involved, and I hope you all found time to properly work through the break up. I know I did. I cried myself to sleep last night while I listened to "Friends Forever" on repeat. My tears tasted like shame. It's a good thing that wasn't the final episode, because I might have died from heartbreak. So, let's see where the next episode takes us as Kelly and Jeff take their relationship to the next level (over-the-bra-cupping), Zack deals with rejection, Lisa turns sixteen, and Screech hooks up his hot blonde cousin with Mr. Morris.

This chick is going to feel like hell in two years
when Cobain offs himself.

I love the opening to this episode. Zack walks to his locker and everyone looks at him with sympathy. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Some frumpy grunge (by SbtB standards, anyway) chick (sarcastically?) puts a comforting hand on Zack's shoulder, gives him a knowing "Things'll get better, kiddo" look, and shakes her head at him. Then, a black guy does the same. I should be pissed that even Zack's break up means that he gets ridiculous amounts of attention, but I'm not. I'm just thrilled he knows what it's like to feel mortal. Humble pie is a disgusting dish, Zack, but it's good for you. Eat up. Eat it all the fuck up, jerkwad.

Slater asks Zack how he is and Zack does that junior high thing when you pretend like you don't know what anyone's talking about even though you know they're all talking about how you just got dumped. It's just a step above "pretending that you dumped your girlfriend even though she really dumped you and you're trying to convince everyone you actually dumped her in a pathetic attempt to save face" on the Loser's Scale of Pathetic Rejection. I always owned up to being dumped myself, because I figured I might be able to get some sympathy booty from some confused coed. It never worked, but I slept better knowing that I wasn't puffing my chest out in front of everyone and crying like a little baby at night while I held my One and Only's 8X10 clutched tightly to my chest. And I only ever had, like, four girlfriends, and I broke up with one of them by inexplicably cutting off all communication with her (technically, we might still be dating), and purposely sabotaged another relationship by making her dump me so I wouldn't feel bad about dumping the girl who didn't have any friends. Hey, I'm not proud of myself, but at least I'm being honest here. I learned from the best, after all (my big brother and Zack Morris).

Lisa doesn't give a shit about Zack's plight, though, because she's about to turn sixteen and that's all that really matters. Lisa gives Kelly an invitation before class and Kelly says she can't wait for everyone to meet Jeff. Slater and Jessie overhear the conversation and they can't believe Kelly doesn't give any shits for what she did to Zack, and now she wants them to hang out with that "fratboy babe-stealer" (I'm using this in general conversation from now on, FYI). When they talk to her, they pretend like everything is fine because they lack the emotional maturity to tell anyone the truth under any circumstances. The deaf teacher wants Zack and Kelly to recite a love poem because they're Bayside's power couple. I guess she didn't get the memo. Zack survives the ordeal, but just barely. Screech, the poor bastard, has to leave the room because it hurts him so bad to watch it all.

Jeff and the "Penis in the Popcorn" trick that never works.
Bonus points for attempting it in a XXL sweatshirt.

In a moment of real sincerity, Slater and Screech take Zack to the movies to cheer him up. Slater overacts a bit by laughing hysterically at Zack's past pranks on Belding, but I've got to hand it to him - he's a good friend here. The movie theater they are at is the only one in the world that doesn't play twenty minutes of previews before the main feature. I'm jealous. Kelly and Jeff just so happen to show up to the same movie and Screech and Slater try to ensure Zack doesn't see the popcorn, Pepsi, and pregnancy game Jeff's playing with Kelly.

It doesn't matter, though, because once the CAR SCREECH!!!TWO SILENCED GUNSHOTS AND LADY SCREAMS!!!! sequence (we'll hear it at least nine more before the episode is over) happens, Kelly screams and takes refuge in Jeff's oversize UCLA sweatshirt. Zack recognizes Kelly's screams because he used to make her howl (sexually!) and he turns around, sees the couple doing movie theater sexy stuff, and bolts. Slater and Screech are through being good friends for the day and stick around to watch the rest of the movie. What dicks.

The next day at school, Lisa is being a real bitch. She's mad at her dad because he won't get MC Hammer to play at her birthday party. I'm kind of mad at Dr. Turtle myself, because I would kill for MC Hammer to show up at Lisa's party, have him go "STOP! HAMMER TIME!" and then climb on top of Jeff and start mercilessly beating the UCLA-loving shit out of him until Kelly pulls him off and pleads, "Please, Hammer, don't hurt him!" That would make my life. Zack shows up and tells Lisa he can't make it to her party because Kelly and Jeff will be there. Once everyone is informed that Kelly and Jeff were basically sexing during the movie, they turn on Kelly and do everything short of spraypainting a red "S" for Slut on her back. To be fair to Kelly and her forty year-old college boyfriend, they were only cuddling. Standard movie theater etiquette is as follows: "So long as there ain't no liquids left behind, s'okay by us - Management."

Ehrmagerd! Perpcern!

Everyone wants Zack to go out and screw his way through the rest of Bayside. After a moment's hesitation, Zack gets down with the plan and we get a mini montage of Zack going on dates with social rejects. One won't shut the fuck up. One won't stop eating anything that can be placed in or around her gullet. The third - and thankfully, final - date of Zack's is Screech's cousin, Kimberly, is a smokin' hot blonde that actually seems normal. It's a brilliant inversion, because you think that anyone who shares Screech's genetics would be a curly-haired physical disaster, too. But she's not. She's a fox. And based on how she responds to Zack at the movie, she's loose as all hell, too. Good one, Preppy!

After the movie, Zack takes Kimberly to The Max (duh!) for a burger and some pre-sex calories. Before they arrive, though, Kelly refuses to serve the rest of the gang. Jeff wants Kelly to smooth the whole thing over with them, and he seems like a sympathetic character. But you know that he's just thinking to himself, "Christ, I just wanted some high school strange, and now I've been sucked into this weird alternate universe where I have to deal with my peppy brunette girlfriend and her group of friends that includes a muscle-bound Latino, a sass-talkin' black chick, a seven foot-tall environmentalist/feminist, and an inbred geek who wears rainbow suspenders. I should have thought this through."

"Excuse me, Kelly, can't you see I'm in the middle
of pants-moistening?

Zack and Kimberly show up and Zack makes Kelly jealous by showing off his hot blonde date. Kelly, like she has a reason to be jealous, is saddened that Zack has decided to move on and plow a girl with a different hair color and multi-colored dress. Maybe, Kapowski, you should have thought about that before you started to get googly eyes for Jeffy! I can't hold this against Zack; he just had his heart broken and he's moving on. Maybe he's digging it in a little bit and it makes Kelly uncomfortable, but so what? She excused herself from Zack's life when she decided to date the old guy who manages a shitty diner. Kimberly's existence makes sense when Screech reveals she was adopted. Zack and Kimberly order a milk shake (with two straws) and then they dance. But it ain't to no ordinary song, folks. It's to Zack and Kelly's song, mothafuckin' A-12 on the jukebox, son. That's some coldblooded shit right there, Preppy. The gang instantly changes sides and loves Kelly and hates Zack now. How quick the tables turn, Morris.

Apparently, in the Bayside Universe, if you get cheated on by your main squeeze, you can't ever dance to your old song with another woman without losing all your friends. Let me lay this out for you all at home: Zack Morris, the coolest cat on the whole block, was dating Kelly Kapowski, the uber-cute-but-poor head cheerleader. Zack treated her good. Never even hit her or nothin'. Then, one day, Kelly Kapowski cheats on him with her boss (fucking ew, amirite?) and dumps him. She moves on in record time. Then Zack, after being prodded by his best friends to move the heck on, meets a smokin' hot blonde babe and flaunts her in front of his ex. This makes Zack the high school equivalent to Hitler how exactly? I've spent a good six entries ripping Zack Morris to shreds here, but I'm officially changing sides. He was broken by Kelly. If Zack was Batman, then Kelly is like Bane on this one - she broke him, but good. And so he tries to build himself anew, and he loses all his friends because of it? For the record, Kelly fucking CHEATED on Zack behind his back. Zack just danced with another girl in front of her. How is that worse? HOW?!?!

"Take back your jacket, your sweater, your lucky
pom-poms, and your STUPID volleyball!"

Everyone apologizes to Kelly and they're all besties again. The gang gets pissed at Zack for being pissed at Kelly because they're all fucking idiots and can't rationalize anything beyond "Zack did a mean thing more recently than Kelly. We hate Zack now." Lisa snaps her fingers and gets urban for a minute. Then they all tell Zack that he hurt Kelly on purpose by showing up with his date at The Max, and that "really stinks." But they all quickly forget that Kelly purposely hurt Zack, too. And worse. She knew what she was doing when she let Jeff's tongue inside her mouth. She wasn't drugged. She did it all and nobody holds it against her. I'm sick. Slater even jumps on, simply shrugging at Zack, essentially saying, "Tough shit, Preppy." Zack gets pushed into a wall, so he gets defensive (understandably) and says he'll only go to Lisa's party if Kelly The Super Bitch ain't there with her septuagenarian boy toy. The gang walks away and Zack throws a hissyfit directed towards his locker/Kelly shrine.

Screech shows up at Lisa's party and she asks if Zack is coming. Screech says no and Lisa wants to know if he at least sent a present. What a bitch. Lisa Turtle would be a goddess on MTV today, a self-entitled brat who doesn't do anything except demand, demand, demand, and then she gets everything she wants because of course she does. I can't stand her. She's a horrible friend. Screech's present ate Zack's present, and you never get to see what creature Screech got Lisa, but I'm guessing mogwai. That would be the best present ever. So long as you don't feed it after midnight. In any event, Lisa kills the creature because it moves in the box.

Jeff and Kelly show up, and it's a damn good thing, too, because without Jeff, there would be no adult supervision at the party. At least now I can rest comfortably knowing that the kids won't get drunk and drive into a telephone poll, or break an Elvis bust because Jeff is there. Jeff tells Slater he used to wrestle and Slater instantly forgets that Jeff stole his best friend's girlfriend and wants to be buddies with Jeff. That's all it takes to earn Slater's friendship - tell him you're good at something he is also good at. Fuck Slater.

This "chick's" voice is deeper than the ocean, dude.

Zack shows up for the birthday song and apologizes to Kelly for being a jerk, even though he wasn't really being a jerk, he was just being a kid who was digesting his first break up. Zack tells Jeff he better take care of Kelly and Jeff says, "Yeah, sure, I'm just trying to get laid here, dude" or something like that. Zack breaks the fourth wall (I love it when he does that) and says he doesn't know if he'll ever get over his first love. Then a transvestite asks him if he believes in love and first sight and he's ready to bone again. I'm serious, that person is a transvestite. Her voice is so deep, man. It's so deep that Vin Diesel heard her say something and he was like, "Damn, that's a deep voice." So the episode ends with Zack on the cusp of having sex with someone who looks like she could crush Rocky IV-era Dolph Lundren's hand when shaking it. Awesome.

And that brings us to the end of another fine entry into my ongoing hateapalooza. It's been fun so far. I figure I've only got time for about three or four more of these before I start school, so if there's an episode you'e absolutely dying for me to get to, I suggest you speak up now, or forever hold your motherlovin' peace. I'm serious. It's time to put up or shut up. So put up, man! I know there's something you want me to address, and this is literally the best chance you will ever have. I'm moving on soon, and darlin', I ain't takin' you with me. I'm leaving on a jet plane. I'm going to the great wide open. I'm doing something by going somewhere with someone. I'm being intentionally vague for a reason.

And because I didn't have space for this picture elsewhere, I'm just posting it here. Do you want an explanation for why I included it? Look at the picture. It says more than I ever could.

Sex appeal, thy name is Morris.

Saved by the Bell Ruined My Life Part VI

Thanks for coming back. If this is your first time here - welcome, would you like a ginger ale? How about a back rub? Anything to help you feel more comfortable? Are you offended that I'm shirtless? No? Good. Yes, I do shave my chest. It helps with the appearance of more pronounced pectoral muscles. I hope that doesn't make you think I'm a fruit loop.

You all know the deal by now, right? After the triumphant accomplishment of writing five recaps, I've decided it's time to do a two-parter. I'm not doing "Jessie's Evil Step-brother" yet, but it's looming on the horizon. Instead, I want to tackle Zack and Kelly's break up in illustrious fashion. I thought about just doing the second part because I think it's a more profound episode (Zack throws a volleyball against his locker and Lisa turns sixteen), but I realized that if I skipped the episode where Kelly makes out with Jeff, her manager at The Max, then I'd also miss out on recapping the amazing duet that Jessie and Slater belt out at the costume ball. I'm not going to miss that. And instead of doing this all in one long post, I've decided to break it up for you guys, because some of you assholes complain that these are too long to begin with. I'm sorry that you have the attention span of a goldfish, jerkwads. So here's part one of a two parter (even though it's really Part VI; confused yet?). Let's do it.

The episode starts off with Zack being a presumptuous dickhead. He's under the impression that he's going to be the absolute king of the world at the costume ball because he and Kelly are going as Romeo and Juliet, the two most romantic suicidal people in all of fiction. Interestingly enough, Jessie and Slater are going as "history's two greatest lovers," Cleopatra and Mark Antony, which is hysterical because I'm pretty sure Cleopatra had sex with everyone in Egypt. Kelly's anxious about the costume ball because she's poor and doesn't have a job. Lisa tells her they're hiring at The Max, and that's all fine and dandy, but I'm pretty confident that Kelly always worked at The Max. I'm not going to thumb through every fucking episode that preceded this one, but I'm almost one hundred percent positive that she was a waitress there in continuity before this episode was filmed. That's a huge hang-up for me here. They didn't need to give Kelly a reason to work at The Max - she already fucking worked there! It's just lazy and makes no sense, unless of course Kelly is just like Drew Barrymore in Fifty First Dates and she starts her life over from scratch every morning and everyone just pretends like it's normal that she doesn't know she's the hot-but-poor cheerleader/waitress.

Jessie reminds everyone they have band practice after school. They have a band. What can't these people do? Other than attend class and remember what happened a week ago. Kelly fills out an application at The Max and the new manager, Jeff, tells her that the owner wants an experienced server. Isn't the owner Max, the magician? If not, then why the hell is the place named after him? And isn't Max the type of guy who would just give Kelly a job since he's known her forever? Why are you making Kelly jump through hoops, Max? I know they do that at the circus where you probably spend some time doing magic stuff, but this is a restaurant. It's different here. And it's not like anyone goes to The Max for their stellar service. I've never seen anyone in there other than Jeff and Max who has finished puberty. Relax, Max.

Jeff, the man responsible for breaking a generation's heart.

Jeff is a fucking weirdo from the start. He's a transfer student to UCLA and as a big, bad college boy, you'd think he'd be beyond trying to screw his subordinates at a shitty diner. I guess not. He stares at Kelly and he gives her the Brett the Serial Killer eyes a couple times. I've got you figured out, Jeff. Once she gets the job, Kelly turns around and bumps into a waiter. The food on his tray goes everywhere and Jeff giggles a bit to himself while the poor waiter looks like his dog just got hit by a car. Jeff walks away smiling while this poor waiter is stuck explaining to his table that his manager gives absolutely zero fucks about him and is only interested in screwing cheerleaders. I don't know who the waiter is, but I feel bad for him.

Ollie Creekly. His vest makes me
believe in God.

Meanwhile, back at school, the party committee is meeting to discuss the party. In addition to the entire gang minus Kelly, the group is filled out by Ollie, the black nerd with the best voice in history, and some homely fat chick named Margo Mason (don't ask me why I know this. I also know she's Jewish). Ollie is one of my favorite periphery characters in the show. His voice sounds like a robot had sex with a rock. It's really weird. And he has a really bad arch in his back that precludes him from standing up straight. I don't know Ollie's history at all, but it's one I'm curious about. He's an awesome individual and I salute any man who is ballsy enough to make bowties and high-top fades a staple of his fashion.

The school is absolutely broke (I bet they're regretting spraying Evil Oil Baron with oil now, huh?) so they eschew hiring a DJ and the gang's band will play instead. How serendipitous! Even when shit is looking bleak, Zack steps right into a great situation. Now his band gets to play for the entire school, that sonuvabitch. I always wondered how the band came to be. I know Slater can play the drums, and Zack can do everything better than everyone ever, but it seems odd that one day they'd be sitting around somewhere and Screech would say, "Hey, let's start a band," and everyone just picks up instruments and is instantly a fucking prodigy. Do you know how hard it is to play music? It's not easy. It takes time and practice, and I'm jealous that these nimrods can just become an insanely amazing pop band by deciding they want to do it. And how come there aren't any other bands at Bayside? Why is it that the only people who do any goddamn thing at that school is the gang?

This guy HATES mayonnaise, which doesn't make sense.
You'd think this guy would like anything that was white.

Back at The Max, Kelly gives shitty service to neo-Nazis and Jeff tells them to GET LOST! because he's a bad-ass college manager and he ain't afraid of no Hitler Youth, yo. Jeff calls them sleazeballs, too, and that's excellent. Nobody says sleazeball anymore and that's unfortunate. If I didn't think Jeff was scheming to see what color underwear Kelly was wearing, I'd kind of think he was cool. But you just know behind that handsome jawline and nice demeanor, Jeff is sitting in his dorm room at nights carving Kelly's initials into his abdomen while he does chin-ups and listens to The Cure. Zack and Screech show up and Kelly tells them she made five dollars in tips. Holy shit, a lot has changed since 1991. If the clothes and hairstyles didn't instantly date the show, the revelation that five dollars is a great earning for a day of serving snot-nosed neo-Nazis and dweebs certainly would. Five dollars! Holy shit. What did a burger cost back then, twelve cents?

Kelly tells Zack that she can't go to the dance with him because her family is poor and every little bit helps. Zack offers to pay her for the night, which means that he's willing to pay someone to be his date. That's prostitution, Preppy, and that's illegal. The real reason - other than her family being broke - is that Kelly secretly wants to bang Jeff in the cooler at The Max, but she doesn't want to tell anyone that because she's dating Zack Morris, the Coolest Guy Ever. Zack isn't used to rejection, though, so he turns into a whiny bitch and gets all depressed because he doesn't know what it means to not get what he wants. Grow up, Zack. Wait 'till you get to college! Nevermind, Zack did whatever the fuck he wanted to there, too. I give up.

Dream Theater ain't go shit on Zack Attack.

The next day, the gang practices their music and it's so goddamn amazing, you guys, I can't even begin to describe it. Lisa plays bass (she's black. Of course she does), but it looks like she has a nervous tic in her right hand and nothing makes sense. I don't think she even gets close to striking one of the strings. It's so awful and great. The lip-synching is abysmal and I have no doubt in my mind that if Jessie Spano ever sang in real life, it wouldn't sound anything like that. Zack can't focus, though, because he's still pissed about Kelly having a life outside of his gravitational pull, and practice blows chunks because of it. Slater tells Zack to just ask Kelly's boss to let Kelly off for the night of the dance, so Zack does. Jeff allows it, but you just know Jeff is pissed to find out that Zack is dating her. Jeff's face lights up when Zack tells Jeff he's as nice as Kelly says he is. At Kelly's house, Jessie and Lisa tell Kelly she's got the hots for Jeffy, and she claims they're just friends. Yeah, right, Kelly. Friends who do sexy stuff behind Zack's back, am I right? Like smooch and hold hands and stuff.

Holy shit, this sweater.
It has eyes.

Soon after that, Kelly and Jeff close down the restaurant for the evening. I've seen one too many pornographic videos to know where this one's going, you guys. Next stop: Smoochville; population: Jeff and Kelly. Jeff butters Kelly up (not physically though) and the next thing you know, they're playing tonsil hockey (horrible euphemism for making out). Kelly gets scared and bolts. Jeff stares at the ground and he looks like he's up to something mean. Jeff, the college-aged bastard, is driving a wedge between Bayside's very own power couple. You're an asshole, Jeff.

Zack and the gang show up at The Max the next day and Kelly's all uptight about the fact that her boyfriend and sexy college boss she smooched are in the same room. Kelly doesn't let Zack touch her and Zack's pissed because this is like the third time this episode that he's not gotten what he wanted precisely at the moment he wanted it. After Screech refers to Jeff as "that good-looking college guy," Zack realizes something may very well be rotten in Denmark. There's no time for addressing any of this directly, though, because the band's got a gig to play, dude!

Quick cut to the band playing "Make My Day" (I think that's what it's called) and it's even better than the rehearsal. Nobody has a fucking clue what they're doing with their respective instruments, but somehow really amazing music comes out of it. The school loves it. They go apeshit for this stuff. So would I, if I were there. Kelly is distracted because she just wants to be with Jeff and not the handsome, most bestest guitar player ever. This isn't going to end well. Zack and Kelly are selected to be the king and queen of the costume ball, the most arbitrary title ever for people at a school dance. Neither of them can focus on their victory and they go outside to talk. The band has to play another song but Zack's not there. Slater don't give no shits, though, and he decides to duet the shit out of the song with his main squeeze, Jessie. Ollie, that tremendous stud, fills in on the drums. I wanted to know how Ollie knew the song, but he's fucking Ollie. Ollie knows all.

A.C. Slater - the songbird of a generation.

The song they sing is perfect. Slater is a better singer than Zack, and probably more desirable, too. Just look at him. He makes straight guys question themselves. Or maybe it's just me. Everybody needs to watch this. I tried finding it on youtube but I can't. If you have Netflix, I heartily recommend that you fast-forward to 19:30 into the episode and just let the music and visuals take you over completely. If I ever get euthanized, I want this sequence to be played as the death venom flows into my body. Seriously, Slater's facial expressions during this are fucking aces. Tops. Boss. Rad. No adjective used here is hyperbole. My goodness!

Outside, away from the amazing song and performance that defies time and space, Zack and Kelly end their all-too-brief romance. It's surprising that Zack is so understanding and willing to let Kelly walk out of his life and into the arms of the sleazeball Jeff. He handles it like a real adult, someone who recognizes that his relationship with Kelly isn't sustainable because she has feelings for someone else. He even promises to remain friends with her forever, because he's suddenly the most mature guy ever. Even when he's being dumped he finds a way to be smooth. I'd feel bad for Zack if I thought for a moment that he couldn't just walk back into the dance and grab some chick, look into her eyes and say, "The time for talk is over; the time for love is now," and the girl would just undress in front of him and the whole damn school and say, "Attack me, Zack!" and then they would just, you know, do it in front of everyone while A.C. and Jessie soundtrack the entire thing to more Michael Bolton songs.

Regardless, Zack is gutted by this and the episode ends with the precarious "To Be Continued..." The "TBC" thing promises answers in the next episode, and by golly, I aim to get them. I wonder if Zack will continue to be an understanding adult about the break-up or if he'll lose his shit because the only place in the world other than school and his house that he can go to now represents the love-den of Kelly and her asshole college boyfriend. I wonder if the gang will pick sides. But really, why would anybody pick Kelly's side? She cheated on Zack and then didn't even pay attention when his band played music. Based on what I've seen, Zack was probably an asshole boyfriend who minimized everything Kelly did and treated her as little more than a sex object, but does that make it okay to cheat on your high school sweetheart? That's the type of important question that the show raises. It's inspirational and thought-provoking. Just kidding. It's not.

Get ready for Part 2 (I mean Part VII) soon. Sayonara, suckers.

Watching it over and over again doesn't make it hurt less.

Saved by the Bell Ruined My Life Part V

Holy shit, guys. We've hit the Roman Numeral V. That's the fifth deadly sin, wrath, which is interesting, because this whole extended catharsis has basically been me targeting my wrath at this show. V was also a miniseries on NBC in the eighties and a show that ran for two years on ABC. I've never seen either, but in the show on ABC, there was an androgynously attractive woman with a short haircut that caught my eye once or twice.

I digress. You're not here to read about my attraction to short-haired gals. You're here for one of two reasons: you liked the show when you were a kid and you get nostalgic reading about it, or you clicked on the link from one of my social media pages because I harassed you. I'll take either one, really, because eyes are eyes and my mom always told me that any time anyone looks at you or your work, regardless of how they view it, it's a good thing because at least they're paying attention to you. My mom never told me that. That sounds like a total Kardashian thing for someone to say. It sounds like something someone would say after convincing her daughter to release a sex tape and then ride that windfall to ninety separate television shows on E! and have millions of people inexplicably follow the family's hollow, selfish, shallow existence through babies being born, a step-father being Botoxed to shit, a "fat" daughter who marries a good basketball player who becomes a bad basketball player for being married to the "fat" daughter, and a daughter who released a sex tape with Ray J getting married to a crappy basketball player then subsequently divorcing said basketball player thirty-seven hours later only to have said basketball player become good at basketball because of it. I can't believe I live in this world.

I digress. Before I get into this next episode, which is a real whopper (I've just always wanted to say that), I want to take a moment to say that I'm proud of myself for making it five episodes into this thing. That's an accomplishment. I never stick with anything for longer than sixteen minutes. I collected pogs for a minute in 1995. I tried being a yo-yo master for a month in seventh grade. I spent an afternoon once trying to skateboard and quit because it made me feel like an asshole. It's just pretty darn amazing that I've found the fortitude to stick this out, and to find that I continually have something new to say about Zack Morris and his merry band of jack-offs. You should be proud of me, too. I'm like your surrogate son, after all. And if I ever make a penny off of any of my writing, remember that I said this (take a screen-cap if you can because I'll vehemently deny that I know you) because if I find any amount of success in the writing world, I'm starting anew with a new name, new friends, new family history, new everything. It'll be like I had amnesia, but I didn't, I just won't want to give you any of my new things. I've never had hangers-on before, and as much as I think I might enjoy it, I'd probably just get angry and plot my own fake death. So this is your one chance to not only make a personal record of my acknowledging you, but also a chance to endear yourself to me, and if you can endear yourself to me, maybe I'll take you on my whirlwind trip of the cocaine-addled journey of a semi-successful writer. The smart money says that I'll probably force you to fight a spider monkey for my affection, but you never know.

Everyone is very concerned about the duck.
Except Slater. He's checking out Jessie's ass.
And he looks disgusted.

The next episode up is "Pipe Dreams," the episode that everyone fondly remembers because Zack sprays an oil baron with oil. So, let's cut the chit-chat and get right into it, shall we? The gang - minus Zack - is in biology class and they are learning about pond animals. There's no way this will have any impact on the rest of the episode, right? Zack comes in carrying a duck and apologizes for being late. He was playing baseball in gym class and hit a home run over the fence (because he's Zack Fucking Morris, and he only hits home runs) and found the ball next to a duck. He assumes he hit the duck in the head so he brought it to his teacher. Jessie gets indignant about man encroaching on nature. Zack is really concerned about the duck's safety (which is odd, because everyone knows Zack don't give no shits about no animals or nothing other than himself) and he wants to take the duck home for the weekend. The teacher thinks it's a "good idea," which it's not. Zack lacks even the most basic comprehension of responsibility and there's a great chance of him accidentally stepping on the duck's neck and killing it. Whatever. Zack's a duck-lover now.

I'd kill for the chance to have a shared daydream
with Kelly Kapowski and Jessie Spano. Kill for it.

Zack and Screech run into Belding in the hallway and Belding reveals that the duck's name is Becky. Belding grew up on a farm (in Los Angeles?) so he loves ducks. The gang takes Becky to The Max (of course) and Slater shows up in his football gear to inform everyone that, while putting up the new goal post, they struck an oil pipeline. This means that everyone daydreams about being the richest school in the world. According to Zack and the gang, being rich has its advantages, chiefly that you are awarded a shitty British accent and you aren't required to learn anything ever. Being a student at a rich school means that you don't have to learn, the mall comes to you, there's a place for hounds (I don't get this at all), and the women showing clothes off for the rich black girl will fuck you because you say so. I'm not rich, never have been, and probably never will be, but if rich school is anything like this, I'm jealous. I am a proponent of education for everyone, regardless of ethnicity, creed, social status, gender, anything. But if I'm given the option to learn or indulge in some sexual liasons with high-priced call girls instead of geometry, I'm taking the high-priced call girls ten times out of fucking ten. Take that to the bank. Zack's fantasy is to fuck call girls instead of learning, Slater's fantasy is to observe canines and fuck call girls, Lisa's fantasy is to shop, Jessie's fantasy is to physically torture anti-environmentalists, and Kelly's fantasy is to be a waitress. Stupid poor girl can't even fantasize properly! Ha! In this world, Kelly is married to Screech, who has oddly turned into an Arabian. I don't get it.

Dan Grayson, Evil Oil Baron, LLC.
It's hard to hate a guy who wears a bolo.

After the dream is over, Screech shows up to tell everyone that they didn't hit a pipeline; they struck oil! and are now going to be rich as shit. Jessie asks the Oil Baron why they don't pursue alternative fuel sources and the Oil Baron basically makes fun of her and does everything but twirl his evil mustache and dump scalding hot oil on Jessie as he smokes a cigar. He's an asshole and I actually side with Jessie on this, and it's amazing that twenty years ago, this chick was on the cutting edge of seeking alternative fuel sources. Oil isn't evil, I'll give Evil Oil Baron that, but Evil Oil Barons are. This guy doesn't give a shit about the world. He gives a shit about lining his pockets. With money. From extracting oil. And killing helpless creatures. And polluting the Earth. He's not a nice guy.

Meanwhile, back at Zack's place, Jessie shows up and asks Zack to sign a petition to block the Evil Oil Baron from drilling for oil. Zack says no because he's a fucking dickhead and would rather enjoy new computers and "visual aids" (I'm assuming that it is, indeed, aids that use visuals and not people with AIDS who are visible, but I can't be sure). Zack tells Jessie he'll read the petition but he makes no promises in signing it. The next day at school, Jessie tries to defend her stance as an environmentalist and nobody gives a shit. Slater says oil runs cars and heats homes so she can stuff it (slight paraphrasing) while Kelly likes the idea of saving the environment, but her own comfort (a hot tub in every classroom) is more important.

Franklin, you brilliant bastard.

Later on that day, Kelly, Jessie, and some dork named Franklin are tied up in the hallways chanting to stop drilling for oil. It's inspiring. Turns out that Franklin isn't an environmentalist, he's just a pervert who wants to S&M Jessie and Kelly by any means necessary. Zack is upset because Jessie is being rational and not agreeing with him. I don't know why Kelly suddenly is on board with stopping the drilling, but whatever.

Unfortunately, Jessie was right about oil and there's a spill that kills all the wildlife in the pond. The gang had just deposited Becky the duck and several other animals like frogs, turtles, and crabs back to their natural habitat, and then moments later, the oil sprayed everywhere, killing the poor animals. When Zack comes to terms with the fact that his duck done died, he admits that Jessie was right (holy shit, right?) and Screech tells Zack that Becky's where the oil can't hurt her now (unintentionally hilarious). Zack is a mess. More of a mess than when he found out Chief Henry died, even. Now, this tells us something important about Zack - either he's a real animal lover or he hates Native Americans. I don't know. I don't want to speculate, but I'll tell you this: the way Zack Morris handled Becky the Duck's death makes me wonder just what the hell was going on at their little sleepovers.

Zack has a sudden change of heart and tries to convince Belding to stop the oil drilling. Belding is a dickhead, though, and he's not having any of it. The next day, there's a meeting with the Evil Oil Baron and he explains that in order for a new football field, they're going to have to get rid of the pond. Everyone's upset because the pond is a part of the school, although they never mentioned it before this episode, nor do they do so even in passing in subsequent episodes. The pond is important, though. Some nitwit asks how much the school will cost in taxes and the Evil Oil Baron explains that it won't cost anyone anything. Zack is in full-on lawyer mode now and takes over the stage. He lays it down nice and quick for everyone - if they all want a school with an Olympic-sized pool, a brand-spankin' new football field, and air conditioned classrooms, well, there are going to be comically oversized oil rigs all over the place. And in a moment of deft brilliance, Zack pulls out a can of oil and starts squirting it everywhere until Evil Oil Baron says something along the lines, "Hey, now, wait just a minute, there!" and Zack sprays him with oil, giving him a nonsexual money shot all over his rich, Texan chest.

Oil, or alien semen? You decide.

In one of my favorite moments in the entire show's fabled history, Evil Oil Baron disgustedly exclaims, "Ah'm covered in oi-yul!" He behaves as though he's never seen this gross black substance before. I mean, when he sees his bolo has a splash of oil on it, he loses his shit. It's really the small things if life that count, ya know? Kelly wisely reminds him that at least he will be alive when he washes it off, unlike those animals that suffocated from oil. The school board, Mr. Belding, and the greater Los Angeles area all switch their allegiance away from oil and, I guess, to alternative energy sources (although it's never mentioned again). I guess they just like ducks more than they like oil. Hey, a win is a win, right? The episode ends in a cheesy group high-five, and I only say 'cheesy' because I'm jealous and I've always wanted to be part of a group high five like that.

I don't want to make this into a political issue, so I'll avoid it. Let's just say that this is, believe it or not, one of the most sensible episodes in Saved by the Bell history. It's not particularly balanced, but it's at least informative. Kind of. Not really. Whatever. It's fine. It would have been super, though, if all of a sudden Zack and the gang turned into hippies or environmentalists or something and just spent the rest of their time at Bayside protesting shit. Really, for all of Zack's clout, can you imagine if he just put it to good use? The motherfucker could be the emperor of the galaxy within a week. Instead he focuses his vast resources on screwing brunettes and scamming people out of chump change. Zack is a street-smart mother-shut-your-mouth, but he doesn't realize that he could be frying much bigger fish if he put his mind to it (and just went for it; heck, Zack, get down and break a sweat).

Bolos are scientifically proven to increase your odds
of a tri-racial threesome by 237%.

Listen, here's something you probably don't know about me: I fucking love bolo ties. I do. No foolin'. Now, I would never be so brazen as to believe that I could actually pull off wearing a bolo tie, but you should know that I like them. A lot. It's kind of unhealthy. My friend's dad has a bolo with a scorpion trapped in fucking amber for the centerpiece. Do you know what the scientific name of a man who wears a scorpion bolo is? It's This Guy Fucks Anything He Wants. Moving on. Nothing says "Unfuckwithable" like a man wearing a turquoise or metal trinket around his neck with two accompanying strands of leather. I don't know anything of the history of bolos, but there's something interesting about the fact that something like ninety percent (I have no sources to back this claim up) of all bolos in circulation involve turquoise. That's something, isn't it? What does it mean? Do you even care? How can you not? And while we're on the subject of bolos, is it just me, or was there an all-too-quick moment there in the nineties when the bolo eclipsed the monocle as the accessory du jour of all villains? I miss that.

So that's the end of that. I'm sorry. This what a bit of a shitty recap/vivisection/whatever-you-want-to-call-it. It was probably the most personal of them all so far, which means it's probably the least-interesting. If you don't like it, you can tell me that you're not interested in my love for novelty neckties, my past failures in coming up with a suitable hobby, of my attraction to short-haired women (some, not all). I'm having a lot of fun writing this stuff, and it comes quite easy, but I'd appreciate a bit more feedback from my audience. I have a special thing where I can see how many people have viewed my articles, and I've cracked fifty, like, once, and that's cool. But hey, if half of you people commented on various sites that I pimp this stuff out at, who knows what may come of it? Maybe you'll meet your future spouse. Maybe you'll reconnect with a friend who you are still mad at because he/she stole/sexed your ex or something. Maybe you'll befriend a duck and that duck with get gruesomely killed by greedy oil barons and you'll reanalyze your stance on fossil fuels. The point I'm trying to make here is if you comment on this, good things will happen. And at the end of the day, isn't that what it's all about? Or is that the Hokey-Pokey? I don't know. See you next time.

Slater's pants. Jesus.