A Slice Of Heaven

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: C+ | Grade It Now!
Lesson Eight: Horatio Alger Is Mother Goose For Weasels

Trump: "Sure, but you fucked up."
Leslie: "But he's awful!"
Trump: "Sure, but you fucked up."
Leslie: "But he's playing you!"
Trump: "Sure, but you fucked up."
Leslie: "But he does this every week!"
Trump: "Sure, but you fucked up."
Leslie: "Well, you're right."

It's a compelling line of reasoning, but it is fucking boring-ass television. Then, Leslie is fired. Happy fucking birthday! That's so sad. Carolyn smiles in a pretty, quite lifelike manner as they leave. I think she likes Leslie a lot. Lee opens the door for her, and in the foyer, they hug, and she wishes him luck. Trump says it's "a little sad" because he likes Leslie, and Carolyn thinks Leslie "will be very successful," and George -- out of nowhere -- thinks she doesn't "have the ability and the drive that's necessary." But she's this athlete, so I really doubt weakness or discipline are her weak links. Trump does the magical good vibes hand wave again. So weird.

I wish that there were like a...snake. Like a pit viper. In the hallway outside the suite. And I wish that Lee, walking back, would startle and enrage it. And that it would leap up from the carpet, and sink its fangs deep into his lovely skin, and I wish that he would fall into a deep, deep sleep for the rest of the season. I never wished for more Jewish holidays before -- I don't know where you'd stick them. But I do wish they would happen on this show a bunch more times, because life without Lee is sparkle-fresh.

Not-So-Crazy Taxi, Class Act Edition: "I did what I thought was right, I stuck to what I believed in, and I brought the person in that I thought was the right person to bring in. I'm also wondering if anybody else has ever gotten fired on their birthday before. I think that you have a better chance honestly of winning the lottery or being struck by lightning than being PM and getting fired all on your birthday...I might go buy a lotto ticket tonight or something." Maybe fly an aluminum kite in a thunderstorm. Dunno.

So much like an hour/week ago, the lesson is clear: don't let the fact that someone is disgusting or annoying or cheesy throw you off the scent of truth. You really won't have any leg to stand on if your basic cover story is, "But the other 99 times he wasn't saying anything!" That's a whole lot like letting somebody else make the call for you, which is weak and stupid -- you're not giving them any lovely gift by ignoring their input. Think of it like this: if I have a loaf of bread and I give you my loaf of bread, then I have no loaf. Loafless and lame and limp. But ideas -- if I tell you my idea, I still have my idea too. Which means it doesn't smell like my house, like, it isn't mine anymore, because now you have it and it's yours, which means you can hate me all you want, but if you ignore the ideas because you hate me, it's you that is the dumb-ass, no matter if the ideas are right or wrong. Kind of the emotional equivalent of "speak my language," really -- don't let the inessentials cloud your ability to judge something on its own merits. Because it hurts just that much more when the dumb-ass is proven right.

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