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My Name is Earl Fodder

My Name Is Earl: Friends with Benefits

See the episode here.

Earl's sleeping in Joy and Darnell's waterbed. Joy and Darnell don't need it because they're still in the Witness Protection Program. Suddenly a tsunami named Randy joins Earl under the comforter. Randy's looking for some comfort because he heard a strange noise outside and he's afraid it might be the Shower Cap Killer. (Any relation to the Mail Box Sniper from a couple episodes ago?) The boys arm themselves and open the door, and O Happy Day! Mr. Turtle is on the stoop. Mr. Turtle had himself quite the little adventure what with the pet-loving nudists, partaking in his first marathon, and making the turtle with two backs with a lovely lady turtle. But he's taken a page from Lassie's playbook, and Mr. Turtle Has Come Home.

Earl and Randy take Mr. Turtle to the Crabshack to celebrate. The Shack has changed a mite in Darnell's absence. Gay Kenny's behind the bar serving up Sex In The City-themed martinis (Kenny: "Earl, I bet you're a Carrie."), and a whole new sweater-tied-around-the-shoulders and sibilant esses crowd has replaced the usual leather jackets and mullets clientele. There's even Wham! on the jukebox. Earl goes to feed Mr. Turtle with the food Darnell left behind and finds a note with Darnell's phone number only to be used should Mr. Turtle return. Which he has. So Earl does.

Darnell's got himself an office job when his afro-phone starts ringing. Darnell gives Earl his new address and asks Earl to please drop Mr. Turtle into the slippery fingers of the USPS. The lovely Catalina reminds Earl that a turtle is not like a vase or a person, and that you can't just mail them. So Earl and Mr. Turtle hit the road.

In Earl's absence, Randy's lonely. And what better tonic for loneliness than alcohol? At the Crabshack, Randy's cuddling an Earl-less flannel shirt and bending Gay Kenny's ear, bemoaning the fact that he can't sleep without his Earlsy Wearlsy. Jim (played by Eric Allan Kramer; The Hughleys, Robin Hood: Men In Tights) overhears Randy's whimpering and offers a sympathetic large and hairy shoulder for Randy to cry into.

Next morning, Earl and Mr. Turtle show up at a swanky house where Earl's multi-tone El Camino is decidedly out of place. He rings the doorbell and Joy, aka Goldie Cristál, answers looking all Oh Snap and Oh No You Ditn't. It doesn't take long before Earl and Joy are commiserating about how they've both been looked down on by the Ritchie Rich's in their lives. Joy wants desperately to fit in (her White Trash-themed cocktail party going over about as well as a White Trash-themed cocktail party can), so she gives Earl the bum's rush out the door. Backing out of the driveway, Earl's trusty El Camino burps a gout of exhaust smoke into the unsuspecting eyes of a little yappy foo-foo purse dog, blinding him.

Back in Pimmit Hills Trailer Park, Randy's new friend has rented a Patrick Swayze video (To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar) that looks like it's got plenty of ass-kickin'. Well, it might have plenty of ass-something, but it sure ain't kickin'. Jim suggests he stay the night. Randy does love a sleepover.

Karma takes a dim view of cruelty to useless creatures, so Earl takes the vile canine to the vet. A miniature pair of Fendi sunglasses later, and thanks to an implanted microchip, Earl now has the smelly little beast's address. He knocks on the door and who should answer but Morgan Fairchild (aka Mrs. Jon Lovitz; Falcon Crest, Fashion House, Friends, Flamingo Road - awful lot of effs there). Earl presents her blinded fleabag ("Do you own a dog named Gooky?" "No, it's Gucci."), and explains his Karma list. Morgan's never heard of such a thing, nor has she ever had a flannel shirt on her property that wasn't attached to a lawn mower, so she invites Earl in to hear more.

Turns out that Morgan and her wealthy friends played by Joan Van Ark (Knot's Landing, Dallas, The Last Dinosaur) and Andrea Parker (The Pretender, Less Than Perfect) are so filled with privilege and ennui that they are constantly searching out the latest new spiritual fad to fill their otherwise drab and dreary trophy wife lives. And if a spiritual fad won't fill the bill, a nice cocktail will have to do. Their lives have gotten so empty and joyless (so to speak) that these ladies can't even get a good night's sleep. Joy tries to curry the ladies favor by telling them that Earl is her long-time spiritual advisor.

Jim and Randy are having a gay old time. Randy invites Jim to spend the night in his bed, but Jim thinks they should take it slow. It takes Randy four minutes to turn off the light. I don't think that's what Jim meant.

Earl's giving the ladies a "Do Good Things And Good Things Happen" PowerPoint presentation (not a lot of Power but a lot of Pointing) on the finer aspects of Karma. He's even anagrammed it:

K - arma
A - wesome
R - eally good
M - ost wonderful
A - merica

The ladies buy into what Earl's selling, and soon they're all trying to make it up to their perennially maltreated maids. The gals even want to get Earl on Oprah. Assuming of course, that he delivers that new pool, new plane, and new set of matching boobs. Earl spends a restless night scheming how to deliver the goods. But it turns out the ladies don't need all the stuff. Well, maybe the matching boobs would still be nice, but it's not a deal-breaker. After accepting Karma, the ladies actually had a pleasant and restful night sleep. One of them might've even had sex with her husband! And they're going to be nicer to Joy, I mean Goldie. As the ladies bask in their new-found It's Nice To Be Nice-ness, Earl catches a stress-free nap.

Looking to get a little something-something going, Jim suggests to Randy that they do more than sleep. Randy tells Jim that he and Earl used to do all kinds of crazy stuff. That's certainly got Jim's attention. But right then, a pair of headlights sweep across the Love Chamber. It's Earl...he's back, Randy exclaims. Jim's heart is crushed once again, and he defenestrates lovelorn and unfulfilled. Dammit Jim, he says to himself, You're not a surgeon, you can't fix broken hearts. Roll credits.


Posted by Randy Welk on February 13, 2009 10:53 AM
Permalink |






That wasn't an anagram, it was an acrostic.

-- Posted by: Robin at February 13, 2009 11:43 AM

Robin - Yer absolutely right. That's what I get for blogging while insufficiently caffeinated.

But hey - do I get half a point for "defenestrates"?

-- Posted by: randy at February 13, 2009 12:37 PM

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