Friday, June 16, 2017

The Auction S4E11

Synopsis: Never ones to shy away from a get rich quick scheme, the girls, needing money to repair the roof, conspire to buy a painting from a disgruntled artist who’s dying.

80s Flashback

Rose: “What are you guys doing up?”

Dorothy: “We’re conducting a séance to contact Liberace.”

Let’s Get Political

Dorothy: “Ma, what are you doing in here?”

Sophia: “The searchlights were out so I tunneled out of my room with a spoon. I couldn't sleep so I'm having some tea. If that's OK with you, Prime Minister Botha?”

That’s What She Said

Rose: “It still doesn’t feel right.”

Shady Pines, Ma

Dorothy: “I had a terrible nightmare.”

Sophia: “Was it the recurring dream where you're a lonely old woman and your family doesn't want you so they put you in a home and never come to see you or take you out on holidays?”

Dorothy:  “That wasn't my dream.”

Sophia: “Oh yeah, right. That was my life.”

Dorothy: “Ma, please, for the hundredth time, Shady Pines was a beautiful retirement village.”

Sophia: “Sure, sure. And Attica's known for its topnotch tennis facilities.”

Lewd Ladies

Rose: “Why are these statues always of naked men?”

Blanche: “Oh, you see, Rose, the Greeks and Romans always sculpted men. They admired the beauty of the male form. Its sinewy, muscled hardness, its rippling loins, its chiseled buttocks. My, it's getting hot in here.”

Picture It

Sophia: “Picture it. Sardinia, 1932.”

Blanche: “I thought these stories of yours always took place in Sicily?”

Sophia: “Can't a person go away for the weekend? Anyway, I'm on a tour of the great caper factories of Sardinia. I was a kooky kid going through my piccata period. A wedge of lemon and a smart answer for everything. Anyway, I was, uh, I was slicing an onion when suddenly this big basil tree—

Dorothy: “Ma, what the hell are you talking about? You're not making any sense!”

Sophia: “I was hoping the late hour would help to mask that. I don't have a story about taking advantage of a dead guy for money. I’ve got a great story about a Moroccan and a monkey, but that really comes under the heading of lust.”

Rose: “I'm really confused.”

Sophia: “Look, life is tough. I'm not happy that a fellow human being is passing away, but it's out of our control. If we don't make a few bucks on this deal, somebody else will.”

Zbornak Zingers

Rose: “I couldn't sleep either, but I think it was something I ate before bed.”

Sophia: “What did you eat?”

Rose: “Nothing out of the ordinary. A handful of Snowcaps, a couple of Devil Dogs, some Oreos. Oh yeah, and a Ho Ho chopped up in a bowl of fruit cocktail with heavy syrup.”

Dorothy: “Couldn't sleep? I'm surprised you didn't try to kill the mayor of San Francisco.”

Insult Watch

Sophia: “It's my day to volunteer at the hospital.”

Rose: “Oh Sophia, you know it's really sweet of you to volunteer.”

Sophia: “I like charity work. Besides, I've got my eye on an eligible doctor for Dorothy. I hope he likes charitable work too.”

Product Placement

Blanche: “This is nonrepresentational art. I work in a museum, so I understand these things. You see now, for instance, this slash of color of red across the bottom, well, that represents the setting sun. And this jagged blue line, now, that signifies the ocean. Then this spot of orange up here in the corner, that stands for the planets and man's eternal struggle against nature and the elements.”

Rose: “No, it doesn't Blanche. That's where I put my Creamsicle down this afternoon when I answered the phone. See? It rubs right off.”

Sassy Sophia

Sophia: “I got up in the middle of the night and there was a puddle in my bed. You  don’t know how relieved I was to find out the roof was leaking.”

Back in St. Olaf

Rose: “Oh, I just love a mime. It's all on account of my Uncle Gustav. He was a coal mimer.”

Blanche: “You mean a coal miner.”

Rose: “No, a coal mimer. You see He had a bad back and he didn't wanna lose his medical benefits, so every morning he'd go down the shaft and pretend to work.”

Best of B.E.D.

Dorothy: “Blanche listen, we  really have to talk about the roof.”

Blanche: “Dorothy, I already called the repairman. Last night the damn ceiling caved in on my bedroom. Knocked the Zorro mask right out of poor Ed Rosen's hand.”

Sweet, Single-Digit-IQ Rose

Blanche: “Oh girls, listen to me, when a famous artist like Jasper DeKimmel dies, the value of his work doubles sometimes, even triples. You know what that means?”

Rose: “Sure. It means if he dies, those crummy pictures of his will be worth a fortune. He'll have more money than he'll know what to do with.”

Dorothy: “You almost got it, Rose.”

The Boob Tube

Blanche: “Oh, Sid! Well, can't you patch it up or something?”

Sid: “Well yeah, I could patch it up, but that won't stop more leaks when it rains again.”

Rose: “What are you trying to say, Sid?”

Side: “You couldn't follow that?”

Dorothy:  “She has trouble following Murder, She Wrote.”

Golden Quotes

Blanche: “You cannot replace this towel, there are too many fond memories attached to this towel.”

Dorothy: “Blanche please. I am in no mood to hear about the parade of endless sexual encounters that you have experienced up and down the Florida coastline, with only this towel between your hot flesh and the cold, wet sand!”

Blanche: “I brought my son Skippy home from the hospital in this towel, Dorothy.”

Dorothy: “You're lying, Blanche.”

Blanche: “Damn, you're good!”


Dorothy: “You are nothing if not consistent, Rose.”

Rose: “Thank you, Dorothy, but hot water and oat bran every morning takes most of the credit.”


Auctioneer: “Next we have ‘Community Property’ by Jasper DeKimmel. A small piece, but one which will be worth many times its current value someday.”

Rose: “Like tomorrow.”

Dorothy:  “Keeping a secret just isn't your strong suit, is it Rose?”


This is another brilliant episode in a somewhat solid if a bit uneven season. The girls love them some money and this episode proves it. This time, they need money for a roof that has caved in all over Blanche’s bedroom. I’d loved to have seen that. Also, is it just me, or is Blanche Devereaux literally the WORST landlord on the planet? What landlord makes her tenants pay for repairs on a house they don’t even own? Though I hear she’s no match for the Big Mean Bug Lady. But I digress. While attending an art show at a museum they come across the nasty artist Jasper DeKimmel, a man who has no business painting pictures of his own genitalia. (“Oh so those aren’t noses.”) And natural once they find out the miserable grump is dying they see a prime opportunity to purchase his art before it jumps up in value after his death. It’s a nasty scheme to go with the nasty artist who inspired it. Yeah it’s a ridiculous plot but it’s simply fascinating to watch these ladies at work. The dialogue here is on point (Dorothy’s line about killing the mayor of San Francisco is one of my all-time favorite Dorothyisms) and the auction scene itself is a brilliant display of great writing and pitch perfect comedic timing. I could really go for a Creamsicle. GRADE: A

No comments:

Post a Comment