Sadly, tonight’s regularly scheduled episode, Legend of Crater Mountain ^[1], does not appear to be online.  I assume that is due to a copyright claim that — hey, Truman Bradley brought a hot young chick to the lab!

He describes her as “a specimen of the genus Homo Sapiens.”  For some unknown reason, Truman decides to go through her purse, finding an eyebrow pencil, lipstick, perfume, and “mad money.”  And when I say for some unknown reason, I mean it — I can see no way in which this exercise relates to the story.

He does compare her to a doll he has placed in a bell jar. ^[3]  He says the girl is fine on earth where the pressure inside and outside her body is equal.  He switches on a pump that sucks the air out of the jar and the doll demonstrates that her body would inflate like a balloon if subjected to low external pressure or 20 years aging.

All this is to point out that earth is the only place in the solar system that life as we know it can exist.  Bob and Laurie Grace Bob and Grace Laurie are researching whether life could exist elsewhere.  Cheers to SFT for progressively casting both Bob and Grace as scientists.  Jeers for still having her at home in an apron and pearls making dinner for Bob after his long day at the lab.  However, Cheers to that apron and pearls combo which look quite nice on her.  But a vacuum cleaner would really have made the ensemble pop.

Because of their lack of money, Grace is arranging their dinner settings — seriously — on an ironing board covered by a tablecloth.  Bob’s associate Charlie drops by.  He has determined that some equipment is missing from the lab and wonders if Bob maybe knows anything about it.  Under this brutal interrogation, Bob folds like an ironing board dining room table.  He takes Charlie into the spare bedroom; at least I hope Bob and Grace aren’t sleeping in there.

The room is full of equipment.  Bob shows Charlie a bell jar where he has used the equipment to simulate the atmosphere on Venus.  Grace tells him the goal is to see if intelligent life could exist on Venus.  Charlie isn’t impressed.  The Dean insists that the equipment be must returned immediately, but if Bob wants to takes over an administration building or egg a professor instead, the Dean is cool with that.

Later, while Bob is tutoring a cute student named Elaine for some extra cash, Grace begins dismantling the lab.  She calls Bob in when she sees a light in the bell jar.  He spends all night taking pictures.  When he awakens in the bright sunshiny lab, he sees the light is now gone.  He then notices it floating in the room.  He closes the shades so the light can’t escape, and also so maybe he can get a nooner from Grace.  He is able to nudge the light back into the bell jar.  Because it moved independently, changed the environment in the jar, fed on some lichens, and hates Donald Trump they determine it is alive.

That morning, Grace goes off to teach a class, and Bob tutors Elaine at home.  Bob gets a call from Professor Adams asking him to come in.  He leaves Elaine there to study.  She says, “At least it is easier to study here than the sorority house.”  What with all the topless pillow-fights, I imagine.  As Bob leaves, he tells her not to go into the other room.  Of course, she is on her feet before the scent of his Pomade has left the room.

The ball of light is out of the jar again.  It shines on her face (I finally understand that particle and a wave thing) and nearly blinds her.  It then makes for the shadeless window in the living room and escapes.  She does not wake up until Bob and Grace return to find her on the floor.

Professor Adams is with them.  He still refuses to believe Bob’s crackpot story about not banging Elaine, and about the light.  Then, suddenly, two lights appear.  They alight on Bob, then go back to the jar.  Adams throw a blanket over the jar and turns the pump to maximum suckage.  The jar implodes, killing the lights.  Good job, Adams — you ruined 2 years of research, turned first contact into a double murder, and probably ensured that earth will be invaded by an army of green, bare-breasted, 7-foot Venusian women.  No, seriously — good job!

Other Stuff:

• [1] Like Talking Heads, SFT stylistically dropped “The.”  If only The The had taken that approach we could have avoided them entirely.^[2]
• [2] I retract that snarky comment.  After finally giving them a listen after mocking their name for decades, I really like them.
• [3] Sadly, unable to work in a Sylvia Plath reference.