1. Shoemaker gets himself a “reverse circumcision.”
After he and his new girlfriend have a little pregnancy scare, Shoemaker decides to do the “responsible thing” and get his ball tubes tied off. It may be a bit of an overreaction considering that Shoemaker is seeing an older woman. Sorry, I mean “elderly” woman.
I guess Shoemaker and his lady just can’t see a way to fit a child into their lifestyle of Neil Diamond cover bands and eating Costco samples for lunch. That’s their choice and you gotta respect it.
But when Shoemaker goes in for his snip-snip, the doctor up-sells him on a “reverse circumcision.” If you’re wondering what that is, let me allow Shoemaker himself to eloquently explain the details of this sophisticated procedure…
In a lot of ways, I can respect Shoemaker’s decision. I mean, it’s not like he had a choice in the matter the first time he lost his hog-hoodie.
But this “French Bris” only ran Shoemaker $75, so it’s really no surprise that his body rejects his new dong collar.
Call me a snot, but if I’m going to get work done on the undercarriage, I’m going to spend more on it than the price of a Call of Duty bundle pack.
Lesson Learned: Have the serenity to accept the things you cannot change, because if you try, it’s probably gonna give you a real nasty infection.
2. A washed-up old place-kicker fleeces Smoot of all of its mid-quality electronics.
It’s been 15 years since Smoot beat their rivals, Catwood High, so Principal Cattie Goodman brings in “Iron Toe” Todd Timmons to lead the team to a “guaranteed” victory. The new football coach is a huge surprise to everyone, including, apparently, Smoot’s current football coach.
Loren and Fairbell lose their shit because Iron Toe is a Bronco legend known for his distinct (and chemically influenced) playing style.
Iron Toe seems like a pretty good guy at first. After all, he does let a sick kid named Brady hold a ball for him so he can knock the living shit out of it in front of everyone. It would have been a nice “Make A Wish” moment, but Brady isn’t dying; he just has Celiac’s disease. Either way, he’ll always remember the day that Iron Toe gave him a concussion. Wait. Maybe he won’t…
But all that glimmers is not gold, my friends. Or all that is iron… doesn’t… have some rust? Whatever. It turns out that Iron Toe is a creep when it comes to the ladies. The worst kind of creep, too. A creep with pick-up lines inspired by a popular chain of themed casual dining restaurants.
Plus, all of the school’s electronics start mysteriously disappearing. And then mysteriously reappearing. In the bed of Iron Toe’s pick up. Mysteriously.
And Iron Toe doesn’t even stick around for the big game. He skips town as soon as he finds out that Fairbell’s idea of a the school’s “motherload” is a stash of coupons for two free toppings and unlimited fountain soda refills at Uncle Jakes.
Lesson Learned: Don’t meet your heroes. They might steal your DVD player, which, honestly, they could have just had if they asked.
3. Loren, Shoemaker, and Fairbell put on a smorgasbord of shitty hip-hop at an underground rap battle.
When Loren checks out the weekly rap battle his cousin Jimmy holds in the basement of Uncle Jake’s Pizza, he gets a little nostalgic for his hip-hop past. Apparently, he used to be a pretty good freestyler back in the day. Either that or he’s boasting about the health of his prostate.
After Loren makes a few - let’s just call them “misguided” - attempts at recruiting new members to his crew…
… he eventually settles on Shoemaker and Fairbell to back him up at the battle.
Fairbell, aka “Mr. Mile High,” kicks things off with his best Pitbull impression. What’s his secret? Get a good suit, drop a fresh beat, and just say things that you like over and over again.
Laugh all you want, but if Pitbull replaced the word “milk” with “Miami, that song would be at the top of the charts faster than you can say “Bud Light Platinum,” baby.
Shoemaker starts going all “8 Mile,” but the rap battle’s dingy subterranean setting seems to trigger a pretty unsettling childhood trauma.
How come they never hold rap battles in parks or brightly lit hotel conference rooms? It just doesn’t seem fair.
Finally, Loren takes the mic and makes the biggest blunder of them all: he tries to connect with today’s urban youth through the musical stylings of Macklemore.
I think Loren’s rhyme is trying convey some kind of powerful social commentary, but the only message I got was that he can’t pull off that fur coat at all.
Lesson Learned: Impersonation is the sincerest form of flattery. And the quickest way to get your ass tossed out of the club.
4. Loren and Rod open up a secret micro-brewery at Smoot and it’s catnip for assholes.
Loren has succumbed to that hoppy siren song that only white guys in their thirties can hear and is brewing his own beer in between classes. But not to worry; if anyone starts to catch on to his extra-keg-ticular activities, he’s got a subtle way of diverting attention away from his yeasty musk…
But there’s no fooling Rod. He agrees to help Loren take his operation to the next level, even though his current passion is the art of distilling Creme de Menthe.
The first order of business is moving the still to school’s utility shed. Rod likes to call it his “Jack Shack,” so I guess we know who is getting the most “utility” out of it.
The beer quickly soaks up the “flavor” of it’s new terroir quicker than a tube sock.
Rod and Loren try to keep their new brewery a secret, but the presence blood orange IPAs in a dilapidated shack is like a bat signal for young “creative professionals.”
Soon the bar is a sea of flannel and beard hair. But when Principal Cattie hears whispers about the brewery, Loren tell Rod to the douse the “Jack Shack” in Creme de Menthe and turn the whole place into a burning puddle of elf jizz.
Lesson Learned: All good things must come to an end. Hopefully in a fire big enough to destroy any physical evidence.
5. Cattie Goodman goes all Kim Jong-un to make Smoot look presentable for the press.
Now that Smoot’s old principal, Geoffrey Quinn, is finally going to trial for accidentally exposing his “No. 2 Pencil” to a bunch of students, a reporter is coming to school to see how much has changed under Cattie Goodman’s leadership. Except for the spray tan stains on all of the door handles, the answer is absolutely nothing. But Cattie knows that she needs to gussy up the steaming pile of shit known as Smoot if she wants to keep her reputation as “The Fixer.”
So Cattie pays the Home Ec teacher three thousand bucks to roll out her “Pyongyang Package” and get the school in shape in time for outside eyes.
Before you know it, the hallways are no longer covered in graffiti declaring which teachers “take it in the A,” but in loving tributes to Principal Cattie.
The school doesn’t teach out of Jim Crow-era textbooks recovered from an library fire, but uses state-of-the-art computers!
And the students are so well behaved! They’d never once think about filling the eye-wash bottle in the chemistry lab with cat piss.
The kids even exercise regularly. And out of choice! Not just because they’re trying to escape the field house before it collapses!
But when the newly-exonerated Geoffrey Quinn returns to Smoot for the first time since his unauthorized anatomy lesson and Rod tries to blow himself back in time in a fireball of Creme de Menthe, Smoot’s thin veneer of an “exceptional education” in a “safely habitable structure” quickly falls away.
Lesson Learned: You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig. And it’s probably going to expose itself to someone. The lipstick is just giving it more confidence.