Bro, we got a meta-crossover situation here! Last night, Bones took an extended trip to the Jersey Shore-verse, peopled by tan muscle-bound idiots and the women who fight with/over them. It all started when a beach prospector found a particularly horrible-looking dead body on the beach. (When you retire, don’t you want to be the freaky old man who brings a metal detector to the beach?) The corpse was decomposing faster than usual: “Catastrophic Cellular Mycosis,” said Brennan. And so we learned the first valuable lesson of the night: If you die after you drink lots of Red Bull, the maggots will devour you extremely quickly.
Brennan couldn’t have been more excited to investigate the culture of what she called the Guido Tribe. She’d been learning all about them from a documentary program on the television. Brennan, you see, still adorably believes that “reality” shows are about actual reality, and not the fake reality created by video cameras, alcohol, and Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle. She offered some brilliant insights into Jersey Shore. Like how “the male bonding is near-homoerotic.” Or how, as in most cultures, “The markers that describe a man involve sex and violence.” In the best scene of the episode, she narrated the common Shore-ite’s dance-floor mating ritual. Can Bones just make fun of other TV shows every week?
The dead guy was a fellow named Richie. His corpse was covered in beauty products. As Hodgins put it, “He looked and smelled great when he died.” (Put that on a tombstone.) Richie was called “Richie the V,” possibly because he was a lizard-alien, possibly because he was a steroidal Muppet shaped like the letter V. But he was no juicehead, readers. Not like his buddy, Lil Frankie Costello. (That’s “Lil,” not little. Brennan: “Like Lil Riding Hood, Lil Abner, Lil Jon.” Pause to imagine Brennan spending her Saturday nights reading Lil Abner while listening to Lil Jon. And wearing a red hoodie.)
Frankie was a hilarious Shore personality. When an angry bartender claimed he didn’t know the meaning of the word “Ballistic,” Frankie said, “As in referring to FROM THE BALLS!!!” (We really have to do something about our education system.) Frankie seemed like a good suspect, but he was just a red herring. A big, bloated red herring. Sure, his biceps had biceps. Sure, he could creek like a pro. But he couldn’t possibly kill a man. His poor ballistics would shrink.
Fortunately, Sweets decoded some curious texts sent to the dead man’s phone. (MI2M2H SXY means “Am I too hot to handle, sexy?” UR GNG 2 DI means “You are going to die.” 4Q means “Hooray, Bones kind of got away with saying the F-word!”) Sweets also designed a hilarious jealousy map of all the guys and girls who were creeping on each other. Am I the only one who wanted to take a longer look at that map?
NEXT: Some thoughts on that Beautiful Blonde Plot Contrivance.