Blunt Talk

Previously on Blunt Talk.

- Tonight, on Blunt Talk... - Everybody! Everybody!

This is a takeover, but stay calm.

The major described a good orgasm

like a red comet followed by a black abyss.

You were the nicest guy I've met in a long time.

Good night, everyone.

Is Teddy showing signs of dementia?

I really like spending time with you.

You know, socially or not.

You want to, you know, like last time?

- Rosalie, this is Rosalie. - What?

Are you dating Moby-Dick?

It's just Moby, no Dick.

- And, yes, I am. - When did this happen?

Walter, we're divorced. It's none of your business.

I wish I had your breasts. Rrr.

Celia, Shelly.

It's only 9:30 in the morning.

Not so tight, Harry.

It's a necktie, not a noose.

- My brain needs oxygen. - It does, Major?

- Don't provoke me, Harry. - Yes, Major.

I made the changes to the Dalai Lama paternity story, Walter.

Thank you, Martin. What have you done to your hair?

Oh, my girlfriend likes a center part.

She's in charge of my look now.

Here are the talking points on the bombing.

- Thank you, Shelly. - You smell good, Walter.

I like when you don't wear deodorant.

- I am wearing deodorant. - And I applied it.

Jim, Celia, stop that.

There's a lot of strep throat about.

Uh, you're right, Walter. I don't know what we were thinking.

I'm so sorry, Walter.

I wish Jim would let you see other people.

All I want is one night a week.

- I'd go down on you for hours. - Shelly!

There's my number one team. I love you, I love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

And I especially love you.

- Mmm! - Oh!

Bob, please.

Rosalie, Bob just struck me on the ass again.

Will you have a word with him about it?

- He says it's for good luck. - Ha!

We're on in 10, Walter.

- Have a great show. - Thank you. Ahem.

Mwah. Oh, shit.

Five, four, three,

two, one.

Shit.

Good evening. Welcome to Blunt Talk.

I am Walter Blunt right here, right now.

Walter Blunt?

What you doing on the bus, man? You got canceled?

No, sir.

Just trying to be a responsible citizen.

Our world is in peril.

Right. All right, okay.

All done.

I been thinking about the nature of time, sir.

- Again, Harry? - Yes, sir.

Our experience of time is like the knitting of a hat.

Each pass of the needle is a day in one's life

and the finished hat is an obituary.

A summing up, an accounting.

- An epigraph and an epitaph. - It can't be.

- Cornelia! - Major?

It's Cornelia.

Cornelia!

Stop the bus. Stop the bus!

I'm fucking Walter Blunt!

Whoa.

Major!

Oh, my knitting!

Oh!

Major, what's going on?

I saw Cornelia, Harry.

I'm sure of it. Here in LA.

- What? - And now I've lost her.

Again.

Cornelia.

I'm sorry, sir.

"Then each soul shall be paid what it has earned."

The end.

Well, that finishes the Koran, Major.

Very good, Harry.

Thank you.

The Koran, the Bible,

the Torah.

My education is nearly complete.

Oh, what about Confucius?

He's next on the syllabus, sir.

And each soul shall be paid

what it has earned.

Your medicine, Major.

Oh, no, thank you, Harry.

It doesn't feel right to drink so soon

after finishing the Koran.

Oh, yes, I...

I see your point, sir.

I keep thinking about Cornelia.

Could it have been her or am I insane?

You're not insane, sir.

But perhaps when it comes to Cornelia,

there is still a touch of lunacy inside you.

So I think it was an illusion.

You're probably right.

I'm forever looking out of the corner of my eye in crowds.

"Is that her? Is that her?"

I will never love like that again.

Oh, fuck it, Harry. Give me my medicine.

Right away, sir.

Is it my destiny to die alone, Harry?

Not as long as I'm around, Major.

Excuse me, Walter,

but, Harry, can you come to bed?

I'm lonesome, I'm blue, I'm horny.

Right away, darling.

Good night, Major.

The doctor said I had six polyps.

They look like little punching bags. He showed me a picture.

Punching bags? Not balloons?

No, punching bags. It's a hereditary thing.

You have got to get Jim to go have a colonoscopy.

It's gonna be a problem because he has always been very fearful

of anything coming near his rectum.

Well, a lot of people feel that way.

I could never take his temperature when he was a boy.

I would slather up the thermometer with Vaseline.

Oh, he would fight me.

Anyway, this is very important.

50,000 Americans die of colon cancer every year.

- That many? - Yes.

I don't have the numbers on rectal cancer.

Celia, are you there?

One second, Mrs. Stone. That's Jim calling now.

Um, yes, Jim?

Just wanted to say

happy three-month anniversary, Mommy.

Happy anniversary, sweetheart.

But I've told you not to call me Mommy at work.

- What does he call you? - Why?

Spanish men have been saying "mami" for years.

Anyway, no one can hear me. We're on our private line.

Um, yes,

but I'm FaceTiming with your real mommy

and she's got six little polyps,

so it's very important that you get checked.

Six lollipops?

Are you saying lollipops?

God, these cans are terrible.

No, not... not lollipops.

Polyps.

Whatever you're saying, it doesn't sound good.

But that's not the point.

Tell my mom to stop FaceTiming you.

Well, you tell her.

Jim, is that a can?

How'd you sleep, Major?

Not well.

Cornelia.

Yes, sir.

And I had a sinister dream about Orson Welles.

My subconscious, I'm afraid, is polluted by anxiety.

I'm sorry to hear that, sir.

Me, too.

But I love Orson Welles.

I was in "Touched By Evil."

- You mean "Touch of Evil." - "Touched By."

It's an erotic reimagining of the film.

Ronnie directed.

Naturally.

Anyway, Orson glowered at me

as if I was a criminal,

but I haven't done anything wrong lately, have I?

The only thing I can think of, sir,

is that you've yet to respond to Vivian

and Moby's wedding invitation.

It was sent over a month ago.

I guess I'm putting it off in the hope it's not true.

What do they mean by "come as yourself"?

I mean, how is that a guideline for how to dress?

It is open to interpretation, sir.

Moby.

Well, maybe he'll make her happy.

I wonder if he's an adequate lover.

It's not something I've considered, sir.

His buttocks seem meager.

It's not a matter of buttocks, Harry, as you should know.

Holy fucking shit!

Duncan Adler, an eco-anarchist

who hijacked the Blunt Talk news show

three months ago, has been apprehended.

Adler has been hiding out in the Hasidic community

of the Melrose District. And here he is now.

Mr. Adler, what do you have to say for yourself?

- I did it for the planet. - Are you even Jewish?

- I'll let you know - Good Lord. Enough of this.