Jason: If Only We Could Blame All Your Behavior On Brain Damage
Elsewhere on the beach, Nora glamours Jason to find out what he knows about Warlow. This leads to some exposition about how Warlow was Lilith’s progeny, and is mentioned in the vampire bible. Jason, psychosis or no psychosis, is very sick of vampires using him like their own personal Siri and runs off to try and hitch his way back to Bon Temps. Now, most people are reluctant to pick up hitchhikers when they are dressed up like cat burglars and covered in blood, but the people you really gotta look out for are the ones who are like “Sure, get in buddy!” Of course, Jason is a trusting sort of fellow, so when Rutger Hauer (the Big Bad in the original Buffy movie!) gives him a ride, he just goes ahead and blurts out his entire life story with no glamour needed. Obviously, Hauer is Warlow, and actually seems bored/disappointed that Jason is such a desperately easy target. It’s a classic game of cat and blind, stupid, mouse.
Best of luck, Jason!
Alcide: Meet The New Boss, Tastes Just Like The Old Boss
Next, let’s go for a visit with the werewolves, who have always stood in for Poor White Trash, in that they are scruffy, clannish, and unaware that beer comes in any container but a can. Alcide broke his own moral code and drank vampire blood in order to become packmaster, and though his motives were pure, it left his judgment awfully clouded. For example, when the pack pressures him to EAT PART OF THE OLD PACKMASTER, he does it. And like, if you’re gonna do the whole cannibalism thing, at least turn into a wolf first, is all I’m saying. After that, they all go scampering off into the woods where a female member of the pack, who is not Alcide’s girlfriend, comes onto him. When Ricki (his actual girlfriend) catches them, she does some instant sizing up of the situation, and decides to go the three-way route.
Exploitative eye candy? Partly. But this sex is all about power, and the ways it works in a hyper-patriarchal society like the one the werewolves have. I also think that Alcide has always been sort of a boring white knight, so I’m curious to see what all this power does to him.
The Bellefleurs: They Grow Up So Fast
Back in Bon Temps, the Bellefleurs are adorably trying to raise Andy’s passel of fairy offspring. And, you know, struggling with diapers and using “hog tits!” as an expression is pretty much my comfort zone with these people, so I hope they keep it up. Andy is just starting to feel confident raising his infants, when they wake him up in the middle of the night, having all suddenly turned into four year-olds. All the humans scream, but when you live in Bon Temps you need to adjust your freakout meter accordingly, and magically aging fairy children fall under “precious,” not “terrifying.” As long as they have nothing to do with American foreign policy, they are fine by me.
Bilith et al: Why Are The Worst People Always Immortal?
Eric, Sookie, Nora, and Jessica all go to see WTF is going on with Bill, like if he is still even Bill at all. Eric tries to attack him, but Bilith is all supercharged and starts squeezing Eric’s head like a zit. Sookie steps in and stakes Bill through the heart, which, as far as she knows will kill her first love. So chew on that for a bit. It’s all for nothing though, since Bilith is immune to stakes. He just pulls it right out of his chest, to the horror of all. Bilith insists that he means them no harm, and wishes only to be left in peace. This argument is sort of undermined by the fact that he now causes earthquakes when people irritate him, but whatever. The only one buying into his bullshit is Jessica, who should really know better.
The Governator: Death and Taxes
Remember the gun-happy governor? He invites a representative of the Tru Blood corporation to use government facilities to start producing the blood substitute again. His argument is that the state needs revenue from vampire citizens, which is enough to persuade the Tru Blood lady. She, however, is obviously unfamiliar with Louisiana politicians, who are slippery as eels and lowdown as catfish. I’m curious to see who the bigger villain is: him, Warlow, or Bilith. (DON’T TRUST HIM. HIS JACKET IS HORRIBLE AND HE PROBABLY DRIVES A CONVERTIBLE!)
Pamera: This Ain’t A Love Song
When they get back to Fangtasia, Tara is all “now that Eric is out of the picture, you and I can go ahead and pick out a king-size coffin, right?” To which Pam replies, “This isn’t going to be some epic fucking love story. You can’t replace him and you never will.” Before this has time to turn into a Lesbian Feelings Battle for the ages, a SWAT team sent by the governor arrives to repossess Fangtasia. Tara, of course, tries to stand up for Pam, and ends up getting shot in the stomach. And the way Pam screams when that happens certainly says “epic fucking love story” to me. Ladies, if you’re screaming at each other about whether or not you have Feelings, you have Feelings.
Bill and Jessica: If Only We Could Blame ANY of Your Behavior on Brain Damage
After Bill changes into a shirt without a hole in it, he goes upstairs to tuck Jessica in. He confesses, I think sincerely, that he no longer knows what he is, post-resurrection. He says he doesn’t want to turn into a monster, and begs Jessica to help keep him honest. BUT JESSICA, do you not hear him comparing himself to General Sherman?! Which no southerner would ever ever ever ever ever ever do? Guess you’re gonna have to learn the hard way.
After creepily tucking her in, Bilith goes to his library to creepily read Mein Kampf, probably. He is interrupted by visions of Lilith. But wait! None of them are really Lilith, they are just similarly naked and blood-covered and cryptic. And then they all melt into Bilith like they’re having an orgy inside of his soul. This can only go bad places.
Sookie and Eric: We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together*
Eric attempts to prove that he’s nothing like Bill by giving Sookie the deed to her house back. And Sookie responds by kicking him out so that she can go back to having “a normal life.” Oh sweetie. You and Buffy both. (*Yes we are.)
A lot of people describe True Blood as a “guilty pleasure,” like deep-fried food you buy at a state fair, or a song you have to be drunk to play on the jukebox. And it’s true that this show revels in its own trashiness, but my advice is not to be ashamed of it. Tuck a napkin into your shirt, jump on the bar, and go along for the ride. I have a feeling it’s going to be a fun summer.
p.s. Thanks to everyone who live-tweeted. I’ll be doing it again next Sunday with the hashtag #fanggirls.