The Prodigals of Penance, the "You got me in stitches" edition

This is Act I, Scene 2  and Scene 3 of The Prodigals of Penance, rewritten for the ages. Scene 1 is here

The lyrics to "Diplomatic Creep" may be sung to the tune of "With Cat Like Tread." Why anyone would want to do that, I would not know.

Setting: The Estate of Artful Shortseller. Art is sponsoring "The World Conference to Solve All Your Problems with One Foul Swipe." Art had his moment center stage. After he departs, others arrive.

Characters:

Sadye "Sad" Poppins (former child activist, now a 18+ one)

Hamlet Omlet: The studier of studies in Shortseller's study. 

EU Leaders (in tuxes and top hats)

BBC Journalists (Pants Suits)

President Cleave

Sec. of State, Tempest Teapot (former Starlet and Yale Drama Major) 

Secretary of the Treasury, and Political Hack, Timothy "Tinny" Tinsmith

Administration Foreign Policy Advisers (Tie-dyed)

U.S. Journalists (They carry pom-poms, and file the same story)

Lawyer/Lobbyists

Scene 2: Europe Gets its Act Together.

As Artful Shortseller and "The Dancing Central Bankers" leave the stage, a sad Poppins enters. 

SAD POPPINS (spoken)

Geez. I wonder. Did Shortseller make his fortune in undergarments?

(Sings and sways) 

My name is Sadye Poppins!

But depressed I am, often.

I'm often depressed

'Cause the world is a mess.

I feel sad, I feel sad,

So-so sad -- often.

So call me sad -- sad, sad. Sad! Poppins.

  (looks)

But Hark, who approaches?

Is he a groper

Or a doper? (looks closer)

Oh, it's Hamlet Om-uh-let.

They say he's quite intellegent.

He has a cute rear...

But his expression is -- severe! (hides)

 

HAMLET OMLET (He calculates as he walks)

In Shortseller's Study,

I write my own study,

That studies...the studies of others. (He ponders)

Whose studies combined,

Bring no peace of mind...

They should be terrific.

Quite scien-tific!

 

But conclusions are often reached,

With a stretch -- sometimes a leap!

Simple arithmetic,

Could cause a science...rift! 

It's very confusing, brother.

My head's a mess, mother.

SAD POPPINS (to the audience)

If he calls me his sister,

His lip will get a blister.

HAMLET OMLET (wanders off)

Shortseller's actions, I fear,

Pour Poison in Science's ear.

Its spirit now haunts me,

Like some mental dis-ease.

The tables been set,

The eggs cracked, and yet,

The Omlets so frantically cooked,

Don't look, or taste, so good.

 

SAD POPPINS (to the audience)

Shortseller has all the bucks.

Hamlet should stay on the bus.

Ride into the dawn,

As Shortseller's fawn.

Then, what the heck,

Just cash the check. 

He's cute,

But a dispute,

Will turn ugly. 

 

HAMLET OMLET

If I fulfill my grant...as they insist...

My granters will be...mighty pissed.

The study performed

Will earn me their scorn. 

I find it very troublesome.

I fear I'm in...trouble...some...

(Hamlet Omlet wanders off) 

SAD POPPINS (spoken)

Gee. He's so depressed, I'm feeling better.

(looks in another direction, sings)

I see a new group approach.
Should I give them a pass...or a reproach?

They seem a well-dressed bunch.
Are they here...to serve us lunch?
Maybe it's food, but Maybe it's theft.
Should I call the guards, or the Chef?

(a line of people approaches from the right)

FIRST IN LINE

I shall eliminate your confusion.

I lead the European Union.

SAD POPPINS

Your union's a sight.

Are you leading a strike?

SECOND IN LINE (shoving the first)

I'm not second on the ladder!

I am also, the leader, who matters.

SAD POPPINS (warming to the cause)

For better pay! (fist shake)

More holidays!

FIRST IN LINE (to the second)

But she can plainly see

That I am in the lead.

I am, the leading -- leader!

THIRD IN LINE

We are all equals here,

Leading from the rear!

Stop the chatter!

There are...No rungs...On! Our ladder.

SECOND IN LINE

No rungs and what is more --

There's no rug upon our floor.

ALL

Or doormats at our door.

Our scoreboards don't keep score,

We live in -- one great crater!

We won't argue -- who's greater.

THIRD IN LINE

It isn't really news,

That we all lead this crew.

SECOND IN LINE

We're ho's without a pimp.

(points)

Except for him!

FOURTH IN LINE

But I'm a leader, too!

FIRST IN LINE (Pointing at four)

He's got me so confused.

Our Union's been abused!

But we can't show him the door...

So just bury him -- in the moor!

FOURTH IN LINE

That would mean war!

We are leaders all,

Unless...

 Our governments should fall.

ALL (To Sad Poppins)

Our ladder has no rungs.

That song's -- been sung.

We're now having a sale,
On everything -- that's stale.

FIRST IN LINE

And leadership is our loss leader!

FOURTH IN LINE (spoken)

We're a fellowship,

That practices follow-ship.

SAD POPPINS (spoken)

So...you're not on strike?

(Sad Poppins is quite confused and leaves while another group enters)

BBC JOURNALISTS (entering)

The Administration is on the March

From Jumbo Jets, they disembark.

It's like they've emptied Noah's ark.

VARIOUS EU LEADERS
Intelligence is what we need.
So we will hide among the trees
...listen from among the leaves.
Ah, BBC!
Watch those poisonous spiders march.
Report their wicked weaves with snark.

The BBC Journalists go to greet the Americans, chanting "Tarantulas! Tarantula, tarantula -- tarantulas!" as they go.

Scene Three: A Simulated Stimulus

As the PRESIDENTIAL ADVISERS enter they whisper amongst themselves:  "Remember, no arrogance! Those lackeys don't like it / Shush, no condescension, that's worse than arrogance! / We need a new song and dance. / Humble--but with newfound pride!"

Trumpets sound and they sing.

WITH DIPLOMATIC CREEP

PRESIDENTIAL ADVISERS

With Diplomatic Creep,

We stride History's Stage.

So shy and meek,

The World Turns, amazed.

Praise we spread in full

Without a boastful word.

We give credit to the Bull,

And the en-tire herd!

EU LEADERS

Like Mister Micawbers 
And in their Wimpy way;
 They'll borrow ten trillion dollars;
And say, "Some Tues-day, we'll re-pay."

BBC JOURNALISTS

Ta-ran-tulas, are spiders too.

And if they bite, then quickly sue.

Trumpets blare. Enter President Cleave, Sec. of State Tempest Teapot, Timothy Tinsmith, U. S. Journalistic Chorus (they double as backup singers), and the lawyer/lobbyist/activist mob.

US JOURNALISTS (pom-poms shaking)

Ra, ra, ra, ra, ra, ra...

 

PRESIDENT CLEAVE

I! Hail! Those who hail me!

Tell European Nations

Of Power abrogation!

EU LEADERS

War non-participation.

Ty-rants claim I’m a tease

As I implore “believe me, please.”

TEMPEST TEAPOT

Friends, speak of piracey,

And Risks to Navigation--

PRESIDENT CLEAVE (injects)

Have you seen my new Playstation?

BOTH (in harmony)

Mar-ry! Free Enterprise
With Socialism in disguise!

(Timothy Tinsmith carries a large bag of goodies, and croons to the lobbyists)

TIMOTHY TINSMITH 

Our national debt is huge,

It's true, 

Because we're indebted to you.
This debt we amass
'cause the past is an ass --

We owe you,
For the wonderful things you do,
And the horrible things, our nation has done.
Admitting -- is not much fun.

EU LEADERS

Much fun!

Confession is good for the soul.

So I'll say it again, quite slow.

It brings me no joy --
There's no need to be coy.
It makes me so sad...
That my nation's be-en-en-en bad.

EU LEADERS

Been so bad!

(Seems to hear an echo)

As the sins trickle down

From father to son

Our grandkids become...

The wet ones.

EU LEADERS

Grandchildren should not escape,

Their great-granddad's mistake.

TIMOTHY TINSMITH

For the mistakes our dads made,
Our grandchildren must pay.

They're in their playpens,
But The National Debt is on them.

EU LEADERS 

At our banquet, we shall toast,

After we've eaten the roast!

Those babies in their strollers,

The toddlers in their walkers...

The kids con-fined in,

Their little play-pens!

Since all our bills are for them.

TIMOTHY TINSMITH (Dances with the lawyers)

Here's your bail-out! And your stimulus money.

Do as you're told — and you’ll get more, Honey!

Your life preserver, please don’t go under.

For if you perish, you'll drown our thunder.

(To all) 

Piracy, should not be on the sea!

EVERYONE

It's an on-shored industry!

 

TIM (Throwing money to the wind; Cossack dancing)

Vary...fiscal...so-briety...

With a little Spending Spree!

EU LEADERS

Spree, Spree, Spree,

Spree, Spree,

Spree, Spree

Spree, Spre-e-e-e!

ALL ADVISERS (Shushing the crowd)

With Tim-o-thy!

We quietly deplore.

Income from Piracy

On Somalia’s shore.

And what about Kim,
Dear Leader’s Rocket Launch?
That’s why we scolded him
And told him “Lose your paunch.”

BBC JOURNALISTS:

Ta-ran-tulas! Are misunderstood.
Ta-ran-tulas! Do the world much good.
So meek-ah-ly, they point the way
That proud bow, is here to stay!

PRESIDENT CLEAVE (bowing)

As! I! approached King Saud.

I lost a contact lens

That's why I got the bends.

I! Told! Old King Saud,

“King, you better watch your step!”

EU LEADERS

Has he told Iran that yet?

PRESIDENTIAL ADVISERS/BBC JOURNALISTS

Our history is / a tarantula’s bite.

We admit that much / just ain't quite right.

We apologize / for trades in Slaves.

And to all those folks / who hide in caves.

We’re sorry for / the Atom bomb.

What Rock and Roll / has done to song.

We! Hail!
Those who hail Us...

EVERYONE

What's caused all the fuss!

 

END OF ACT ONE

US JOURNALISTS
Ra, ra, ra, ra, ra, ra...

Yes, there's more but I'll spare you (for now).

At first, I was concerned that I gave Art's private island a Private International Airport, but then I realized that playing host to so many Global Warming Conferences required one.

Joe Biden's Amjail Railroad

In the days of the United Soviet SOCIALIST Republic, the Bolshevik Socialists used slave labor in the Gulag Archipelago, a system of camps spread throughout the nation. In his book, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn wrote of the slave recruitment process. They'd grab you, put you in solitary confinement in quite uncomfortable conditions,  deprive you of sleep, and interrogate you relentlessly. They'd get you to confess to something you didn't do or say that seemed minor, not worth jail time. It would go on from there, as your interrogator built his case. Soon you would be implicating friends and relatives (who were undergoing similar treatment and involving you in their "confessions"). In this manner, the NKVD met its ambitious targets (Vlad the Invader joined the KGB as a young man -- the NKVD's successor). Soon you, and pretty much everyone you knew, would be on your way to a Slave Labor camp where you would be worked to death. Millions of slaves were "recruited" in this manner.

In his analysis of this system, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn gave the following advice: Never Confess.

I've noticed how much of the "progressive" US media regards George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four as a how-to manual, rather than a cautionary tale.  Similarly, the Department of Justice under the progressives seems to consult the Gulag Archipelago for tips. A few years ago, "the process was the punishment" -- they'd target opposition figures with largely bogus accusations to destroy their reputation and force them to spend their savings and equity in their homes on legal fees. Nowadays, the punishing process is followed by -- punishment.

Consider the case of Chansley Gains, the so-called QAnon Shaman. He was present at the Jan. 6, 2021 riot at the US Capitol. When the "January Sixth Select House Committee" began its hearing I happened to be talking to a progressive friend on the phone and she told me she was watching. I said, "The Democrats have finally met a riot they didn't like."  I was referring to all the riots that occurred the previous summer that the Democrats seemed to be OK with. She was upset by this remark, even though I termed it a riot, not a "mostly peaceful demonstration that destroyed the business district."

Now we find out that Chansley, who spent years in prison, was escorted around the Capitol that day by the Capitol Police (who worked for Nancy Pelosi at the time) and, at one point, even called on the Demonstrators to go home. The Democrat Chairman of the Committee, Representative Bennie Thompson, said he hadn't seen the video. What? The hearing went on forever and he hadn't seen the video? I guess "Plausible Deniability," no matter how implausible, is still Plausible down in D.C.

Joe Biden may ride the Amtrak rails, but a lot of folks are being Amjail railroaded on his watch.

Matt on the Rack

In this Youtube clip, Matt Taibbi informs hostile congressional Democrats of the existence of the first amendment.

 The Democrats Have Lost the Plot

I've read his stuff for years and always thought he leaned left (he published in Rolling Stone, for Chrissake). He was always skeptical of the workings of the Security State while I was a little less so. I thought there was too much power concentrated in Washington DC in general -- that it controls far too much of the economy, which invites corruption -- whereas he seemed more sympathetic to the regulatory state. I think the power concentration has corrupted the Federal Government and the media -- which now largely functions as another government bureaucracy. This is why I would call Matt Taibbi a Reporter, rather than a Journalist: Reporters report, Journalists ists.

He publishes at Racket News on Substack. His article about his appearance before the committee is here.

The Prodigals of Penance: Comic Lite-Opera Reality

 The Prodigals of Penance, loosely based on Gilbert and Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance, takes place during "The Conference to Solve all the World's Problems in One Foul Swipe," which is held on the Private Island of Artful Shortseller, the wealthiest man in the world.

Art is center stage. He performs. The Central Banker Dancing Contortionists accompany him, much to Art's occasional irritation. The tune is modeled on "I Am the Very Model of the Modern Major General."

ART (Starts slow, speeds up)

I am the very model of the Modern Money Manager
I deal with sums, large and small, put into precise integers.
I do well when we race along and when the world is out of gear.
And when you want to leave the market I'm already out of there.

With theorems econometric and a carefully plotted longitude

You'll find I never give a calculated loss much latitude.
A careful study of my ways will show that that's my attitude.
And while I'll never take your money, I could do it for you, too.

Central Bankers (Kick-dancing)

While he'd never take our money he could do it for us, too!
We've learned this from the careful study of his attitude!

When I find bad apples, I don't throw that fruit away!
Why waste those subprime apples if you can make them pay?
You simply take the bad ones and mix them with the good.
In this way, those "bad apples" will sell better than they should!

I move vast sums from sun to sun from nearly half a world away.
I can buy and sell and do a deal at any time during the day.
In matters econometrical, I've created hedge fund spectacles.
Future earnings "theoretical" sound like profits "piratical."

In matters econometrical, he creates hedge fund spectacles.
His profits "theoretical" sound like bounties "piratical."

(Hand-stands lead to Flip-flops)

Before the Banks went in-the-tank, I speculated in the currencies.
I took advantage of Pound flights and Ministerial in-coherencies.
I made a billion, then another, and flew across the sea.
Where I entertained the pleas...of busted brokers on their knees.

I shelter money from tax loads that might seem quite preposterous
You'd think I'd make a payment that is monstrously --

(a bit perplexed)

Monster-us?

(explaining)

But with the politicians that I legally rent

to produce the tax codes that are legally bent --
After "all" that's bought and sold

And every taxing woe:

(With exuberance)

I've piled up wealth untold!

(Pounding Kettledrums that spray green paint)

He shelters money from great -- tax -- loads.

He loans to Politicians that -- he -- knows.
After "all" he's bought and sold,
And even taxes that he's owed:
He's piled up wealth untold.

(As they bang the drums Art calms them. They got green paint in their eyes)

I dabble now in politics as an artist or gourmet,
With the use of sweets; the use of sticks, as a means to prise my way.
I fund foundations -- academic deviations -- a terrific, Scientific, Tidal Wave!
That will sweep away the old "new world" before I'm in the grave.

The voters who agree with me -- are the most perceptive.

Especially those who agree with me -- when I'm at my most deceptive.

And should you disagree with me, others employ invective.

To win arguments with ease, invective is most -- effective.

(As they mop-up the excess green paint)

He dabbles now in politics and funds many foundations.

He does good acts while acting good, to improve his reputation.
He wants a single bundle to contain every nation,
As he promotes a Scientific Tidal Wave -- an academic mutation --
Meant to make the world anew in every permutation.

(explaining to the bankers)

Cryptos sold by kleptos offer money quick,

But Cryptos sold by kleptos carry quite a risk,

When fortunes made of Cryptos

Quickly end up in the crypt.

(spoken)

But trust me, I am a realist, and reality is my game, for...

(does the soft-shoe)

I am the very Model of the Modern Money Manager.
I deal with sums, large and small, placed into distinct integers.

(picking up the pace)

I do well when we race along and when the world is out of gear.
And when you want to leave a market I'm al-ready

Out! Of! Here!

(The Orchestra suddenly goes wild as he dances off-stage with the Central Bankers.)

Scene 2 and 3 can be found here

Lab-Leak Leak Links Lab to Lab-Leak

Peter Zeihan || COVID: What Really Happened in Wuhan?

Peter Zeihan says the US government bureaucracies that stated, with low confidence, that the SARS-COV2 virus leaked from the Wuhan China lab are not known for their medical expertise.

However, the FBI and the Energy Department weren't providing funds to the Wuhan Lab, whereas some of the more prominent government "lab-leak" deniers were funding-involved. In the early 2000's Congress -- playing to the "superstitious rubes" in the hinterland -- banned gain-of-function research in the US. Is it possible that those whose careers were dependent on this work used the Wuhan lab as a way around the ban? Let me suggest, with low confidence, that yeah, they did.

The evidence in support of the "lab-leak theory" has been around since 2020. Citing the evidence back then got you labeled a conspiracy theorist and a likely right-wing racist. Where Big Science and Big Politics meet, one hand washes the other -- or is it a scrub, clear up to the elbow, with careful attention to under the fingernails?

Dangerfield, Will Robinson, Dangerfield!

We don't get no respect. Our politicians tell us they identified lots of fat and colossal waste and would cut spending to trim it. Turns out the fat's on our waist and the spending they're targeting is ours -- on food. The good news: this will leave more room in the family budget for taxes and fees.

We don't get no respect.

Ever heard of The Continental Congress? That's the nation's founders. Now we got the con-man congress -- where the nation flounders. They only act continental when it impresses the league of woman voters. We should have listened closer during the campaign. They were actually saying, "Yes, we con." They're so good at it they could con a surgeon out of his scrubs -- and are, by the thousands. They're giving the entire nation a bath, charging us for the water before fining us for using the wrong soap. They help their lawyer buddies to eat our lunch, give our dinner to the government unions, and feed our breakfast to lobbyists and activists. Then they tell us not to complain 'cause they put it on our kid's tab -- only they're working on the grandkids now.

We don't get no respect. 

Wanna buy some health care deform? If you ask how much, you can't afford it. A decade ago it was all the rage. A House committee wrote a twelve-hundred-page bill to deform health care. The house then improved it by a thousand pages and sent it to the Senate. The Senate tossed all 2,200 pages in the can. They replaced it with 2,400 pages of their very own and sent it to the House. The House was appalled -- which means somebody read it. They came up with a fix. Some say it is one thousand pages of patches, some say two thousand, and some 36,482. Then they figured it out: put it online and you can do it in one really, really, really, really long page. I hear Hammurabi wanted to reform health care but the universe ran out of clay.

We don't get no respect.

You heard of "Hide the Salami," right? The Democrats play "who gets Salamied!" Then they go out on the town to do budget scoring. They want a budget with a big bust while they max out the credit card. They think the national debt means the nation owes them. They say a new program will cost two trillion over ten years but they don't include the cost overruns, so multiply by three. It's budget neutral, they say -- just like Belgium in World War II, it'll get rolled over by tanks four or five times. What about that trillion-dollar deficit? It could be worse and will be. Folks, this is not Smoke N. Mirrors' accounting. I know Smoke N. Mirrors. Smoke N. Mirrors is a friend of the Republicans. This is Smoking Fraud.

We don't get no respect.

Our rulers have low self-esteem. They think any nation that would put them in charge must be populated by stupid idiots and knuckle-dragging neanderthals. They want it to be an intelligent nation, like Denmark (but without the Vikings), one they can be proud of when they go to Bali in January for that global warming conference.

We don't get no respect.

We are blamed for global warming and are told to spend 100 trillion dollars to mitigate it. Politicians, bureaucrats, academics, and various fraudsters act as the mitigators -- meaning they get their mitts on the money.

We don't get no respect.

Our state department does not want to be allied with any nation that would be friends with us. Our Representatives take a tour of Arab Capitals. They expect the Arabs to suggest we bomb Iran. Turns out, they want us to bomb ourselves.

We don't get no respect.

The Chinese blame us for selling them bonds. The Europeans blame us for electing the guy they wanted us to elect. The world that wanted us to disengage from it is now disenchanted with our disengagement. They say we are disengaged when we should be concentrating on our disengagement. And everyone wants us to be poor and miserable while still buying their stuff, all at the same time. Solution: sell us junk.

We don't get no respect. And why should we? We put up with it. Budah-bing.

The Last of Us, Episode Underage Sex

The Last of Us is a zombie apocalypse show without that many zombies. Sure, on occasion the Z's run on screen, commit their slaughters and then run off. They're like the flood tide -- in and out on a regular schedule. It seems the show's creators want a soap opera with zombies, but the Z's don't talk, let alone gossip, hence their absence.

I take it all back. I saw a movie once where a zombie talked, only it was more of an internal monologue. He didn't much like being a zombie -- shuffling around, wondering if his arm would fall off and if his next meal is on the ground around the corner. This walking, talking, and complaining intellectual had real melodramatic potential. I won't say the movie was entertaining, but it made me feel better about my own circumstances. I started watching it because of the attractive girl in the promo (yes, I'm that shallow). However, even the beauty couldn't keep me interested. So: why would I watch a Zombie soap opera with so few zombies and not one stunningly attractive female? I hoped it might be worth a blog post.

The first episode of LOU was pretty good, so I watched the second. After the second, Joel "the morose" and the feisty, uncooperative girl he protects, are on their own. The third diverged into a lesson in morality: that it is possible for two people to work together if they both have facial hair. The fourth is like a road movie that asks the question why would Joel and the kid go to Kansas City? but doesn't answer it. Then the fifth asks: how the hell do they get out of Kansas City after they're dumb enough to go there? Well, it's a struggle, a real f-ing struggle -- worst than St. Louis!

In episode six we flash forward three months, and it's now a road movie without the road. They've been wandering around in the wilderness for weeks and they've passed this one "cabin in the woods" a couple times. Each time the girl insists they stop to ask directions but Joel refuses. He says he knows where they are, they're in North America. But when the cabin has a sign hanging outside that says "Soups On," they stop for some direction -- which the actors badly need. Even though the folks in the cabin have plenty of food, they eat and leave. When Joel is outside he grabs his chest and almost faints. I feared he'd die of heart failure and become just another old, dead white guy.

It's an anxiety attack. Before, when those monsters tried to kill him -- and that's just the regular people -- it didn't cause anxiety. In fact, Joel was so serene he could sleep through an ambush. For him, the root cause of anxiety is fresh air, trees, and a lot of peace and quiet. So: when you live on the knife edge, stay there.

The cabin couple told them to cross the River of Death, which, once Joel catches his breath, they do. Surprise! The far side does not hold the Heart of Darkness, as we're led to expect, but the Soul of Enlightenment! Enlightenment is confined in a stockade built around a picturesque small town whose former inhabitants turned into walking mushrooms. This ideal community runs on the principles of communism. Fortunately, no one has read "The Tragedy of the Commons," which would give away the ending.

I find it's a bad idea to get into political arguments with fictional characters, so I will point the gentle reader to And then there were none by Eric Frank Russell, who provides a fictional libertarian alternative (MYOB).

Joel and the girl stay in a beautiful house where the plush decor is the only sign of the composted previous inhabitants. The Matriarch of the Commie Commune gives the girl a diaphragm for use when she's having sex. Which raises the question: who is she having sex with? She's been on the road with Joel for months. They will leave early the next morning for another arduous journey to meet up with her parents (at least that's the story they gave the matriarch). She's having intercourse, of course -- with Joel. It has to be Joel. Oh, Joel, say it ain't so! Tell us the scriptwriters, who know you better than anyone, got it wrong.

But Joel is in no condition to have sex. If fresh air and trees made him anxious, being around enlightened and helpful people who mean him no harm makes him suicidal. No wonder he wants to run from that communal ideal and the witty girl, who put the "chirp" in chirpy. And sure enough, the girl tries to buck him up.

The gift of the diaphragm says the girl can have sex but she shouldn't have children. You see, Gaia finally got the human population down to a manageable level and the matriarch wants to keep it that way.

In any case, there's a rumor in the common dining area that the girl is a lesbian, so maybe the diaphragm is meant as a barter item for when she's on the road. In their communist system, you don't pay for your food and drink. How do they keep people from consuming too much? They hang fat people. Remember how the pleasantly uber-plump inhabitants of the cabin-in-the-woods spoke of this Shangri-la in the Rockies with a dead-pan dread? That couple wouldn't be hanging around the dining area, they'd be hanging around until they got cut down.

The next morning Joel and the girl are back on the road and Joel is looking for the end of the road. At the end of the episode, he finds it. 

In my review of episode one, I said that once Joel left Boston and its girl bosses he would have "room to grow (or shrink) -- if he can escape the ever-present, domineering forces of the matriarchy." Apparently, he carried the matriarchy around with him like a crushing burden, and rather than shrink he shriveled.