Part 4 of Season 3, Episode 8: The Back Story - It's here and it's a Boxing Day miracle.

Brush up on Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3.  And then dive into what is most certainly my last recap of 2025.  And then rejoice in the thought that this cursed year is almost over.  And then remember that, while we still have a loooooooooong way to go, the 2026 midterms are mercifully less than a year away and we're going to fight like nobody's goddamn business to get this country back to some semblance of what it was before and what I know it can be again.  And then cry a lot because you've lost very important people in your life to this revolting cult this year and it makes you sadder than you've maybe ever been.  And then continue to be sad but wipe away the tears, set a goal to get into Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2 shape and prepare to go to the fucking mattresses for democracy.
 

Ominous Pipe Organ moans us over to the McKay McPrison.

Inside some kind of lockup break room, Dylan sits at a table reading when Jack comes bounding in.

They greet each other as all incarcerated millionaire fathers and their brooding estranged sons do: with a heartwarming handshake.  Jack was expecting to see Dylan the following weekend; Dylan wanted to bring Jack some books.  But because Jack is a jailbird, he apparently has a lot of time on his hands and is able to keep a lot of dates in his head, so he knows that this particular weekend is SAT Weekend, so WTF is Dylan doing there?

Dylan sits back down and surf brahs, "I just thought I'd go check out the waves at Avila State Beach instead." How totally tubular.

Jack gives him a look and joins him at the table, saying, "If you wanna learn everything the hard way just like I did, you're entitled.  And you just wanna wait around, hang out, 'til your trust fund matures? Sounds good, huh?"

Dylan confirms, "Doesn't sound bad," and you know what, you guys? It really, really doesn't.

Jack then goes into his version of Little Poor Little Boy Who is Rich, which is basically subtitle: Make a Bunch of Money by, I Don't Know, Ponzi-Scheming People and Then They No Longer Respect You After You Bilked Them Out of Their Life Savings and They Will Now Die Penniless, a/k/a How to Scumbag Your Way Into Millions.

At this, Dylan stands all sassily and seethes, "That's right, I musta forgot who I was talkin' to.  You know everything about tryin' to buy respect, don't you, Dad? I mean, that's the reason for the big endowment to California University, wasn't it?"

Jack stands just as sassily and informs his son, "That's right...and it didn't work.  Because deep inside I knew I was a fraud." This prison must have an excellent therapy program for him to have come to this realization so quickly.  He relents a bit and adds, "Whether you go to college or not is your decision.  But if you bust your butt for four years and you get a degree nobody can take that away from you."

Dylan, visibly annoyed, spits out, "You and Jim Walsh have the same speechwriter." Jack replies, "I don't expect you to do anything just because I tell you to.  But if you really want the respect of the Jim Walshes in this world, you better earn it." Gross! Why would anyone want the respect of this man?:

I'm good, thanks.

Dylan says he'll keep it in mind...

...and then he bounces?  What an extremely brief and not-at-all-touching visit this was.

Part 3 of Season 3, Episode 8: The Back Story - My back? Aching. My story? Mostly boring with a *pinch* of despair.

(First, let's play catch up with Part 1 and Part 2.)

Unsure why this one took me so long.  Other than being mentally and creatively paralyzed because of every single thing happening in this country, I guess.

Back at it.

Inside Blaze Central Command, Brandon and Andrea sit on a table before...

...Mrs. T and her SHOULDER PADS from the set of Big Business, come to caution the Editor-and-Editrix-in-Chief about Back Story darkening the doorway of West Bev: "We had to escort a cameraman off the premises and they have a Winnebago parked on Alcott Drive." Okay, so not on school grounds, but just, like, parked on a patch of grass? Because that's for sure trespassing of some kind, no? To whom does that patch of grass belong? TO WHOMMMMM?

A pre-melting down Brandon nervously asks, "So no one asked for permission?" obviously harkening back to his earlier episode advice to Brenda and the fact that he absolutely knows she absolutely didn't heed it.

And Mrs. T is more than happy to confirm his fears: "No, they did not, probably because they knew we wouldn't give it to them.  So, please, put an announcement in the paper that we don't want any students cooperating with these people." Or...you could maybe...make an announcement over the PA, like, immediately? Have DJ Jazzy Dave do it.  And how often does The Blaze come out - bi-daily? With The Zuck at its helm, I wouldn't be surprised.

After they assure her that they can squeeze the warning into the next issue and Mrs. T takes her leave, Scary Synth begins and Andrea proclaims, "Ohh, I hate tabloid journalists.  They are the sleaziest," undoubtedly thinking back to her gritty, hard-hitting undercover piece about the sordid underbelly of *checks notes* school cafeteria cuisine, which set the high-brow journalistic standards The Blaze prides itself on each and every day.  She turns and notices Brandon's semi-stricken face and asks what's up.  He's all, "I gotta go talk to Brenda," and bounces.