Sunday, August 3, 2025

Part 3 of Season 3, Episode 6: Castles in the Sand - The satisfaction you'll feel at the end of this one far outweighs the mundanity (sand castle psychosis), the deceit (get all the way bent, Dylan and Kelly), and the stupidity (Steve cosplaying Jim while wearing a clown's wig on the back of his neck) that come with it.

In case you need to catch up on your summer reading: Part 1 is here; Part 2, right here.

Garbage Person Brooke's reign of ethnocentrism comes to a merciful conclusion, meaning our only remaining threat is the napping LaPerm cat that has annexed Steve's head as its bunk.  These perils, they are unceasing.


Oh god.  Poor Henry.  Back at the Beach Club, Steve and the outfit he pilfered from Jim's closet have velcro-ed themselves to Henry's side.  Henry's just trying to prep for the clambake, Steve!...

...by moving this potted plant from here...

...to here, two feet away.  Leave him be! He's probably picking up all of Brandon's slack, while Brandon hangs out with an awful girl with awful hair who undermined Henry's very existence and profession just a few short minutes ago.

He definitely doesn't have time for Steve's nonsense: "Look, SAUNders [and yes, he said it just like that because he can't be bothered to learn the correct pronunciation of this doofus's name], I don't have time for all this Hollywood jabber." Amen, though, as previously discussed, Steve's about twenty-seven degrees separated from even the lowest dregs of Hollywood anything, so no need to be so generous.  Obviously Steve is pestering Henry to have David play the closing? ceremonies? of the Beach Club season? later that night, and promises, "If you let David play...I promise I'll stay out of your face forever." Is this all it takes?!? Sign me up!

Henry reminds him, "I told you, I already hired a band for tonight," but Steve, a piece of shit, demands, "So fire them." The more I think about it, the more I believe Steve and Brooke are each other's true, rancid soulmates.

Henry's an actual decent human being, so he tells Steve that's he's not going to fire the band, "They've got a signed contract," and Steve, someone who's read The Art of the Deal one too many times and thinks it's a piece of non-fiction that was "penned" by someone who isn't a complete bankrupting failure in real estate, casino ownership, the presidency, and life in general, insists, "In this business, contract's are meant to be broken."

Henry is my best friend forever because he slings an arm around Steve's neck - don't get it caught in that thick, dense bramble back there, Hen! - and advises, "I guess that's why I never went into this business, babe."

As Wacky Keyboard Plinks start up, Henry gets the fuck away from Steve post haste, as one does, and I'm sad that this is our last episode with Henry.  I know he's Worthless Nat's Worthless Summer Proxy, but, much like Nat, he often serves as a nice reprieve from all the dramzzzzz.  They should've somehow kept him on the show to expand the Peach Pit with Nat (for some? fucking reason?) or to open up a a new sporting goods store in the area.

Over here, David is repositioning an umbrella and Brenda complains, "But now I'm in deep shade"...

...and then this lurker appears...

...and fiddles with the umbrella...

...then proceeds to feast on Brenda's face...

...as their friends-now-hostages look on.

Speaking of lurkers: Kelly watches all of this go down from the doorway of the Taylor/Silver orgy cabana while enjoying a Bartles & Jaymes Wine Cooler.

Back to...whatever this is.

And then back to Kelly observing and turning up the Sad Sack to eleven, and look: she still sucks, a lot, but watching this at my advanced age, Dylan sucks wayyyyy harder.  His behavior is sociopathic.  Glad that this is what we were spoon-fed as "par for the course relationship behavior" as children and preteens.  Criminy.  Anyway, she looks sad, some more, again, as she numbs the pain with her ice cold malt beverage.

Fuuuuuck.  Here, Brooke carves swastikas shapes into the side of the sand sculpture.

Barf: a spade with a piece of tape reading "TRUCE?" pops up over the top of the opposite side.

Brooke, who should really be getting to her Klan meeting by now, looks up, pouty.

The holder of the spade is, obviously, Brandon, who sits up with tape covering his mouth, something that I could FULLY get behind in most circumstances involving him, but here? He needs to be declaring her wretchedness from the business end of a bullhorn.

But of course, that's not what happens just yet: he apologizes for doing absolutely nothing wrong, and Brooke decides that she won't discuss politics with him anymore (which...yes, politics are inherently involved here, but it also just boils down to being a good person vs. being an evil fucking pig); he takes them "too seriously" - eat shit, Brooke - and then they go back and forth about allowed topics of conversation between them, the last of which, according to her, can be "sex." Saucy.

They kiss, I throw up, and he tells her, "Everyone's entitled to their own opinion." Which, true, but if you're going to be vile and hate-filled and bigoted, you deserve to be called out and also dumped and alone forever.  But again: he's probably just hoping to cop one more feel of a breast or to aggressively entwine his fingers in the back of her formidable ducktail one last time.

Then they talk about never getting Cindy - apparently the liberal "politico" of the Walsh Family unit; like, perhaps we could've seen that side of Cindy as opposed to Cindy the Constant Gardner; Cindy Who Never Stops Mise en Place-ing; and Cindy the Fucking Telephone Aficionado - and Brooke's dad, who sounds like a true MAGA terrorist - "If you disagree with him on any issue whatsoever, you're part of some sort of worldwide international conspiracy" CHRIST ON A CROSS - in the same room.

More kissing.  This is all being played as cutsie and ooooo, opposites attract and I'm headed to submerge myself in the nearest body of water.

Luckily, Andrea saves me from self-drowning as her torso appears in the background and she whines, "Brandon?"

Brandon smiles, says, "Nice timing, Andrea," and stands to see what his number one Swimfan so desperately needs.

Lo! Randy Spelling has returned!

Whatever, Cameron can't be found again (probably because he ran away after experiencing Andrea's bitch-ass attitude toward him in Part 2) and Brandon's going to help her find him and Andrea really gives Brooke a run for her Drama Club President money in this scene with a bunch of face-pulling and "Branduuuuuuuun"s and grabbing his arm and dragging him away.

Shaw Cabana.

Andrea and Brandon begin to break the news of Cameron's disappearance...

...except HEY Cameron's right inside!

Brandon bounces and Andrea asks if she can speak with Cam alone for a minute.

I'm bored, this is boring: she scolds him for running off, he admits that he's mad at her, then tells her he loves her, then Andrea unloads all of her Brandon Baggage at the feet of a 10-year-old by telling him, "You were very brave to tell a girl how you feel about her.  I know boys twice your age who can't do that." Okay, The Zuck.  Time to wrap it up.

Blah blah it's hard to say goodbye, they hug (okay, it was nice; I'm not a total monster, and Gabrielle Carteris' acting here was very touching)...

...and then they're off to SPOLIER ALERT win the amateur portion of the ever-loving, goddamn sandcastle competish.

And here we are.

The camera wends its way through the crowds and castles.

There are legitimate judges with clipboards milling about.  Why not.

Brenda, meanwhile, sprints through the hordes of people.

She catches up to, ugh, this one and asks to talk to her about ~something~.  I take back everything I said about Kelly earlier because this scene makes my stomach turn and she is utterly repugnant.

They begin to walk and Brenda asks, "Did you see [Dylan] much during summer?" Kelly, slightly taken aback, tells all the lies: "I don't know.  He was...he was around." Yeah, around your vagina.

Brenda confesses to her supposed best friend that she has a feeling that Dylan was seeing someone else over the summer, and that she believes this because he's being "too nice" to her now, which...time to gtfo of that kind of relationship, sister.

Kelly, the official WORST, assures her, "Dylan adores you.  It's probably because you were just gone for so long, that's it."

Brenda cops to her jealousy, then asks Kelly to keep it to herself.  We know she's excellent at subterfuge, so Kelly will have no problem keeping such an important secret concealed.

No.  No.  Absolutely not.

Steve bribes this poor, unassuming man, who's part of, or the manager for, the band that's due to play that evening...

...and he does so while showcasing a mullet that has reached new, ringletted heights (lows?) over the course of these summer episodes, my word.  That thing is its own entity.

Back at it.  There's a man at a mic'ed podium announcing the winners of the mother-fucking sand castle competition.  He gives the professional category people their props, and now comes the moment none of us has been waiting for:

Andrea + the Kidz Kamps for Kiddies win! For their sculpture of the Batmobile, which if we're being honest here, is much better than any of the others, specifically, the pathetic heap that is Brenda, Donna, and Dylan's "Paris." Oof.

I know it's hard to believe (no, it's not) but in addition to all of her other repulsive personality traits, Brooke is a sore loser, who, after Brandon jokingly says that they got beaten by "the romper room," throws a dirty look in the direction of literal children and sneers, "The fix was in." Sounds totally sane.

They start to head back in the direction of the Club and Brandon applauds his friend: "You gotta admit, Andrea did work pretty hard with those kids.  They deserve it." Brooke, who ONE HUNDO PERCENT played the role of Rolf Gruber in her high school drama troupe's production of The Sound of Music, decides now is the perfect time to add "anti-Semitism" to her long list of neon red flags that are also currently on fire: "I just don't get why she works here anyway.  It's not like she needs the money.  Come on.  Andrea Zuckerman?"

At least Brandon sees where this is going; he stops her: "Hold it. What're you saying?" Brooke, the most terrible girl in the world (set to the tune of this), declares, "She's a Jewish girl from Beverly Hills!" Brandon's, "WhAt??!?" here after she says it is priceless.

As is his, "I think you should just stop talking now" and walk away combo after she scrambles to explain, "Hold on! Hold on, Brandon! I meant that as a compliment!"

As mentioned in Part 2, racists and bigots hate being called out on their racism and bigotry, so she's refuses to let her sweeping and gross generalization be criticized: "No! I'm not gonna let you tell me I'm wrong about this one, too! Jewish people are great with money! I meant it as a compliment!"

He stops her once again in an attempt to school her on her hideous belief system: "That is not a compliment.  That's a stereotype.  Ya know, not all Black people have rhythm, not all Latin people are hot-tempered, and not all Jewish people are great with money! For God's sakes, Andrea lives in a tiny one-bedroom apartment with her grandmother!"

Brooke, however, is too busy thinking about Jewish space lasers to care: "I really don't care where she lives, Brandon!" And after a big, showy sigh: "This is great.  Great.  We went a whole, what, hour? Before getting into a fight? Must be a world record for us."

Brandon, FINISH HER: "Ya know, Brooke, I don't think it's such a good idea that we see each other anymore."

DEUCES, BROOKE: "What?! We're gonna break up over this?" - as if "this" is something banal like not enjoying the same kinds of outdoor activities or something - "Brandon, come on.  I'm crazy about you" and then DELUSIONALLY: "I can change."

But Brandon stands firm: "Yeah, well, I can't." SEE YOU NEVER, BITCH.  I don't *think* she shows up in Part 4? I don't recall.  But if she does, I hope it's wordlessly atop a Castaway-style raft while being pushed out to sea by The Gang, Henry, and Randy Spelling, with an assist from that bearded and be-hatted sand castle guy.

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