|Season One, Episode Eleven|
"Public Relations" was written by Courtney Lilly.
Narrator: Michael Bluth was taking his son to an interview at the prestigious Milford School, an institution once famous for its credo that children should be neither seen nor heard.
Child at Milford School: Woman.
Michael: (Whispers.) They’re not getting in.
George Michael: But, Dad, you know, I might not get in, either, and that wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Michael: We’re not even going down that road, okay. The next four years are all about your future, and that’s the most important thing to me, okay?
Charles Milford: Things have changed around here. We have talking sessions throughout the day. We even have a talking room where students are encouraged to go in and talk to their heart’s content.
George Michael: Sounds like fun.
Michael: First thing he’s said all day.
Charles Milford: The point is, I am not my father, but I do think it’s best for the Milford School to... distance itself from the Bluth name. It’s... it’s nothing personal.
Michael: Are you talking about the fact that my father is in jail? Because I don’t like to be compared to my father, either.
George Michael: I don’t mind being compared to my father.
Michael: Save it for the talk room, son.
George Michael: Sorry.
Michael: I can assure you that my family is back on track and no longer in any trouble.
Charles Milford: Not according to today’s paper.
Michael: Oh, God, what have we done this time?
Lucille: Don’t ever mention Klimpy’s to me again.
Michael: What did you do?
Lucille: If I still had money, I’d buy a Klimpy’s just to burn it to the ground.
Michael: I know, Mom. You hate Klimpy’s. Tell me what happened.
Lucille: Well, your sister and I tried to get into that new restaurant, Rud, and they wouldn’t let us in.
Hostess: Mrs. Bluth, there’s absolutely no room.
Lindsay: Come on. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.
Lucille: Oh, who’s going to believe that?
Narrator: With her blood sugar at a perilous low, Lucille made Lindsay pull into the nearest restaurant.
Loretta: Welcome to Klimpy’s. Anywhere you like.
Lucille: This does not bode well.
Lucille: I’ll have the Ike and Tina tuna.
Loretta: Plate or platter?
Lucille: I don’t understand the question, and I won’t respond to it.
Loretta: And what would you like?
Lindsay: I’d like my old life back.
- End flashback
Michael: So there really was no fight.
Lucille: Well, one tiny thing at the end.
Lindsay: (Sobbing.) How can you treat me this way?!
Lucille: Oh, please! Everything I’ve said about you can be covered with makeup and a lie about a thyroid problem. Good grief almighty! You think I’m enjoying my slide into poverty?
Lucille: Sorry, Lindsay. There goes your dessert.
Lindsay: Why don’t you eat it, Mother! Why don’t you just take this cake and shove it... Hey, who called the cops?
- End flashback
Lucille: It was all just a big misunderstanding.
Lindsay: Totally blown out of proportion.
Michael: Well, listen, just so you know, I think it cost George Michael a chance to go to the Milford School.
Lucille: Oh, big deal. Buster’s the only one who ever liked it.
Narrator: Buster so excelled at being neither seen nor heard that he remained at the school, undetected, for a full two semesters after he was supposed to graduate.
Michael: Nonetheless, Mother, I think this bad press is starting to taint my son’s future, and we’ve got to put an end to it.
Lindsay: Michael, if this is a lecture on how we’re all supposed to whatever, and blah, blah, blah, well, you can save it, ’cause we all know it by heart.
Lupe: Good-bye, missus.
Michael: Well, then, Lindsay, you’ll be happy to know that I have a new idea.
Michael: I met a publicist today. I’m going to hire her. We need somebody to make us look good.
Lucille: And I say it’s a waste of money. We’re-we’re plenty sympathetic as we are. Is this your onion?
Lucille: What’s in the foil?
Lupe: Nothing. It’s a ball of foil for my son.
Lucille: Have a great day, sweetie.
Michael: I don’t know how she can’t.
Lindsay: So, this publicist, Michael, is she cute?
Michael: I never really noticed.
Narrator: In fact, Michael had noticed her at the gym, but only recently gotten up the nerve to talk to her, giving him a chance to work on his flirting skills...
Jessie: Race you to the top of the hill.
Narrator: ...which had gotten rusty over the years.
Michael: I’ll race you to the top of the hill.
Jessie: I brought a picnic lunch.
Michael: Hey. That hill was...
Jessie: Jessie Bowers — if you ever have any public relations needs.
Michael: My relations are already a little too public — I’m Michael Bluth.
Jessie: From the Bluth Company?
Michael: That’s right.
Jessie: (Laughs.) Oh, I’m giving you my direct line.
- End flashbacks
Michael: Okay, sure, she’s, uh, she’s cute. I suppose. I mean, now that you’re making me think about it. Uh, she’s cute. She’s a cutie. She’s a little cutie pie. But I never really noticed.
Lindsay: Why don’t you just ask her out?
Michael: That’s not an option.
Lindsay: Because you’re scared?
Michael: No, because of George Michael. He still hasn’t gotten over losing his mother. I just want to get him through high school, and then we’ll deal with me, okay?
Lindsay: So you didn’t get any while you were in high school, and now you’re not gonna get any while George Michael’s in high school.
Narrator: And so the family gathered at the model home, eager to hear their new publicist’s plan.
G.O.B.: Get jobs and behave?
Lindsay: Instead of us getting jobs, why don’t you do your job and tell everyone we’ve got jobs?
George Michael: You know, I have a job.
Tobias: (Fake cough.) Kiss-ass. Well, we were all thinking it.
Buster: Uh, I’m unclear about what it is exactly you do.
Jessie: Excellent question. What a publicist does...
Buster: No, no, I was talking to George Michael. When did you get a job?
George Michael: At the banana stand.
Buster: (Laughs.) Oh, duh. I thought you meant, like, a plumber or something, and I was, like, when did that happen?
Michael: Jessie, why don’t you just go ahead and jump in here. It’s a tough group to keep focused.
Jessie: Well, I’m going to go on the offensive. I want to get an article in the paper to show that this is a functional family and this is a relatable family.
George, Sr.: Are we on? Hello. Hello from prison. Thanks to Jessie for setting up this tele-link. I started a, uh, Torah study group. Very excited about it. It looks like, I don’t know, it looks like some, uh... I have some possible converts.
Jessie: Your father’s religious now? We’ll play that up. It’s very sympathetic.
Lucille: Yeah. Who doesn’t love the Jews?
Jessie: And it allows me to put Michael front and center. He needs to be the new face of this family. He is the only likable one in the bunch. No offense.
Michael: None taken.
G.O.B.: (Laughs.) I’m sorry, isn’t Michael the least likable one in the family?
Jessie: No. There are very few intelligent, attractive and straight men in this town.
Tobias: Well, that certainly leaves me out. (Chuckles.) She... she said single. You did say single, correct? I...
George, Sr.: I didn’t quite hear that. The reception’s bad, but as the Talmud tells us... (static) ...to the jackal as to an oxen. (Chuckling.) Did we get a laugh?
G.O.B.: I’m sorry. I’m just still on the whole Michael-being-likable thing. You know that he’s only had sex with, like, four women, right?
Jessie: Let’s focus on your likability. You’re going to start doing some charity work with your magic.
Lindsay: Actually, I’m kind of the charitable one of the family.
Jessie: I think it’s best if you got a job.
Lindsay: Oh, come on! I’m a parent—I care about my daughter every bit as much as Michael cares about his son.
Maeby: What grade am I in?
Lindsay: What kind of job?
Jessie: Something where you’ll be seen. I represent Cloud Mir vodka, and they want someone to promote it by ordering it at a hot bar—a place like... Rud.
Lindsay: Okay, I’ll do it.
Jessie: And, Tobias, you’re a medical doctor and you’re living an absurd fantasy as an actor. It’s time to get real.
Tobias: Wow. That’s tough talk... but I like it. You’re saying, land a major film.
Jessie: I’m saying, get your medical license back. I’ve set up a hearing for tomorrow in Boston. Michael has generously donated $1,100 for your trip.
Tobias: (Laughs.) I’m sorry. I truly believe that the universe wants me to be an actor and not a doctor. I’m just waiting for a sign.
Michael: Here’s your cash. Universal Shuttle picks you up at 8:00.
Tobias: Any sign... really.
George, Sr.: Enough of that. I’m sorry. Some of my students, they’re arguing the significance of the shank bone on the seder plate. (static) But that... do not wag our genitals at one another to make a point.
Jessie: And, Lucille, people think you’re cold.
George, Sr.: Okay, there’s no need for violence! Hanukkah can be spelled so many ways. Oh, God!
Buster: Right here, ready to go, at your service, get me out there.
Jessie: I want you to stay in. People find you odd and alienating. You make them uneasy. Stay out of the spotlight.
Buster: I shall be neither seen nor heard. Watch me.
Lucille: You can always tell a Milford man.
Narrator: Each with their new charge, the Bluths set about redefining their image. Tobias was off to Los Angeles International Airport determined to return to his family with a career.
Tobias: This is great. Why would anybody take a limo? What is this, like $12? Why would anybody pay more than $12 to go to the airport? Next stop: LAX. Oh, come on. We’re stopping again? How many more stops are we going to make? Honestly, I haven’t even seen this part of Los Angeles. Is that snow? Really now. This is ridiculous. I paid 12 American dollars.
Tobias: Oh, my God. You are Carl Weathers, the actor. I went to San Francisco to attend your stage-fighting workshop, but you never showed up.
Carl Weathers: I got bumped from that flight. Apparently, they give you $300 if you get bumped. It’s this crazy loophole in the system that the wrong guy discovered. Guess where I won’t be going?
Tobias: Yeah. So... I am an actor too.
Carl Weathers: Oh, good.
Tobias: Well, I want to be. I mean, without the proper training, I’m afraid I’m doomed to be a doctor.
Carl Weathers: Well, hell, I could train you.
Tobias: Oh, I’m afraid all I have is $1,100 and that’s for this plane ticket.
Carl Weathers: Check this out. $1,100 is exactly what I charge for acting classes.
Tobias: No, it isn’t.
Carl Weathers: Yeah.
Tobias: Well, what are the chances...? Universe, you’ve done it again.
Narrator: Meanwhile, G.O.B. was beginning his charity work at a local nursing home.
G.O.B.: I’m going to need a volunteer for my next illusion—The Aztec Tomb.
Woman: A tomb?
G.O.B.: Or box. Box is... fine. Oh, yes, well, excellent. Let’s get you in the box. (Quietly.) There’s a panel. Just flip it around. Curl up behind it. Don’t make any noise, all right? (To audience.) Ancient lore has it the Aztec gods put a curse on any man who....
G.O.B.: He’s gone.
Narrator: Buster was also doing his share for the family.
Narrator: And Michael, at Jessie’s insistence, was out on the town.
Michael: I haven’t been out to dinner in so long, I feel a little guilty.
Jessie: Oh, you’ve nothing to be guilty about. You’re the only one in your family who’s ever been responsible.
Michael: Well, certainly the only one that’s ever held a real job.
Lindsay: Oh, really, Michael, watch this. Wow, this Cloud Mir’s making me think fuzzy. I’ve almost no judgment at all.
Man at Bar: Two more Cloud Mirs, please.
Lindsay: Only one with a real job.
Michael: Jessie, you’ve really been doing a great job with my family.
Jessie: (To photographer.) Oh, good, get one of Michael and me on a date. Thank you.
Michael: A date? This is a date now? I thought this was just business.
Jessie: Can’t it be a little bit of both?
Michael: How will I know which part of it is business?
Michael: Uh-oh. Can’t wait to see which part of it is a date.
Michael: Show me business again.
Maeby: Hey, whatcha doing?
George Michael: Just trying to get the TV working.
Maeby: Oh, yeah. I tried that earlier. I think it’s still hooked up to the prison.
George Michael: So when those guys kept saying “Hey, you, boy,” that was me? I was the boy?
Maeby: Sounds like it. So, have you told your dad you don’t want to go to that school?
George Michael: No, I’m thinking of just going. I mean the graduates go on to do great things.
Maeby: I suppose, but that means we won’t be going to the same high school.
George Michael: Damn, it just keeps getting worse. He’s my dad. I don’t want to disappoint him.
Maeby: You and I are so different. It’s like we’re not even related.
George Michael: That would be amazing.
George Michael: Oh, my God.
Michael: Hey, buddy.
George Michael: Hey, Dad.
Michael: I’m sorry that I’m so late, but I was with Jessie. This girl’s making some serious progress on getting you into that school. She just booked G.O.B. a gig at Earl Milford’s nursing home. You’re going to be a shoo-in.
George Michael: Oh.
Michael: She’s kind of something, isn’t she?
George Michael: Yeah, I guess.
Michael: I mean, you know, hey, she is no replacement for your mom.
George Michael: Oh, no. No way. No.
Michael: No, no. Yeah.
George Michael: She’s just working for us. You’re not dating her.
Michael: That’s right. No, I am not dating her. Absolutely not dating her. Just you and me. Bluth boys.
George Michael: Bluth boys.
Michael: Good night, buddy.
George Michael: Good night.
Jessie: Is he in bed?
Michael: He’s on his way. Hey, listen, listen. This might be a little bit too fast for him. I mean, for, for us. Me. For me. Maybe we should take a step back and just keep this relationship professional.
Jessie: Oh, I think that would take all the fun out of it.
Michael: No, no, no, seriously. You’re amazing, but I just think we should slow down.
Jessie: Uh-huh. So the two months on the bike—that was what, for my health?
Michael: We had great conversations. Seriously. This is hard for me.
Jessie: This is hard for me, too. I’ve got a life to get on track, and I don’t like wasting time, so let’s do this. Let’s take two steps back and why don’t you find yourself a new publicist?
Michael: Jessie... No, I was just saying your name as you walked away. I didn’t... I have no follow-up.
Michael: (Softly.) Jessie.
Narrator: Michael felt bad, but he felt even worse when he got a call from his brother.
G.O.B.: It’s G.O.B. I’m looking for Jessie.
Michael: She just left, G.O.B. What’s wrong?
G.O.B.: I need her to spin something for me.
Michael: Well, that’s too bad, because I think she quit. What do you need her to spin?
Narrator: Michael was summoned to help his brother.
Michael: Murder, huh? Who died?
G.O.B.: My career.
Michael: I’m going to go home now.
G.O.B.: I lost a guy. I put him in the Aztec Tomb and he disappeared.
Michael: Isn’t that the point?
G.O.B.: This will ruin me.
Michael: He’s probably fine.
G.O.B.: No, I need Jessie.
Michael: Well, she quit when I told her that I couldn’t go out with her. You know, I have to do the right thing for my son.
G.O.B.: Then you better get her back because the guy I lost was Earl Milford.
G.O.B.: I didn’t know it was him. But he was spectacularly quiet in there. You can always tell a Milford man.
Michael: G.O.B., have you destroyed my chance of getting my son in that school?
G.O.B.: Not with the right spin. Jessie—get her back.
Narrator: Charged with the task of renewing his medical license, Tobias was enjoying his first acting class with Carl Weathers.
Tobias: “I don’t know what your police captain told you about me, but I’m a different breed of cop. I’m from the streets and I’m the last cop you’re ever going to want to mess with in a darkened alley. A dark alley. And I...”
Tobias: Mr. Weathers, I don’t know. Perhaps my wife is right. I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a De Niro or a Regis or a Pinkett-Smith, or a what-have-you.
Carl Weathers: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Tobias, dreams are worth fighting for. Now, are you going to be a fighter or are you going to be a doctor?
Tobias: You’re right, Carl Weathers. I should just march into that restaurant where my wife works and tell her...
Carl Weathers: Your wife works in a restaurant? Do they get a shift meal, or do they just pay half price on select menu items?
Tobias: I don’t know.
Carl Weathers: Well, let’s find out, man.
Narrator: And the press got hold of G.O.B.’s story.
Reporter: Where’s Earl Milford?
G.O.B.: I-I don’t know. I put him in a box. I didn’t kill him, all right? And don’t edit this for your broadcast so it looks like I’m screaming, “I killed Earl Milford!”
John Beard: Startling confession tonight at 11:00.
Narrator: Minutes later, G.O.B. unloaded his equipment and made a surprising discovery.
Earl Milford: Don’t send me back. They abuse us. It’s not pleasant.
G.O.B.: Earl, I have to take you back. It’s the only way to clear my name.
Earl Milford: You’ll have a new name — Hero.
G.O.B.: Hero. That could work for me.
Narrator: Meanwhile, Jessie decided to pay George Michael a visit.
Jessie: Hi, George Michael. Proud of yourself?
George Michael: Yeah, actually. I got a bum away from the stand without hurting his feelings. That was pretty sweet.
Jessie: No, I mean about your father. About denying him his chance to be happy?
Maeby: You’re into that, too? I’m rubbing off on you, huh?
George Michael: No, I want my dad to be happy.
Jessie: Oh, it’s too late now. I’ve seen to that. Daddy lost his shot at happy, and it’s all your fault, Opie.
Narrator: Jessie had gone too far and she had best watch her mouth.
Jessie: Michael’s about to become the most unlikable man in town. (Breezily.) Check the papers.
Maeby: She kind of reminds me of my mother.
Narrator: And later that night, Lindsay was working at Rud.
Lindsay: You seem like a man of taste and class.
Man at Bar: I’ll give you $2,000 to touch me.
Lindsay: (Chuckles.) Oh, my God, my husband.
Man at Bar: You’re married to Carl Weathers? (bleep)
Lindsay: What’s going on? Why are you here? Why aren’t you in Boston? Who’s he?
Tobias: His name is Carl Weathers, and he’s my new acting teacher. And, Lindsay, he’s teaching me all these valuable life lessons.
Carl Weathers: I buy all my cars at police auction.
Tobias: He’s full of stuff like that. And, Lindsay, he’s teaching me to follow my dreams.
Lindsay: Give me a bourbon.
Carl Weathers: Any room on that tab for me to jump on?
Narrator: And Michael caught up with Jessie.
Michael: Thanks for coming. I was just doing some thinking, and I pulled away, and that was wrong. I really want to make this work.
Lucille: Get away from my son.
Michael: Hey, Mom. Kind of on a date here.
Lucille: You’ll change your mind after this.
Narrator: And Michael saw the story that Jessie had planted.
Lucille: Let me tell you something, sweetie. We may pick on each other, get into little scrapes, call each other names and occasionally steal from each other, but that’s because we are family. You have no right. You don’t get to do that.
Lindsay: “Lindsay’s a combative, entitled princess”? I should hire somebody to kick your ass for that.
Lucille: Save your money.
Lindsay: You’re right. I’ll do it myself.
Michael: Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa! We are not settling things like that anymore, all right? I don’t need my son reading any more articles about us in the paper.
Jessie: Oh, you and your son. Stop using him as an excuse for everything you do. I saw him today. He’s fine with us.
Michael: What? You saw him today?
Jessie: Yeah. I told him he was getting in the way of your happiness.
Michael: You did? You said that to my son?
Michael: You’re on your own. Ladies.
Woman in Restaurant: Hey, look out.
Man in Restaurant: Bluth fight!
Trisha Thoon: The press is having a love affair with hating the Bluth family. And they were the center of another brawl this evening.
Carl Weathers: I’m looking at $50,000 worth of medical bills here.
Michael: Well, it looks like you won’t be getting into this school. You disappointed?
George Michael: Are you disappointed?
Michael: Look, George Michael, I want you to tell me how you feel, okay? I don’t want you to worry so much about hurting my feelings.
George Michael: I didn’t want to go to that school and Jessie’s a psycho.
Michael: It could’ve saved us a little bit of time.
George Michael: But, Dad, you know, if you ever want to date anyone else, that’s fine with me.
Michael: Yeah? Thanks, buddy.
George Michael: ’Cause, you know, I mean, four women, that is kind of sad.
Michael: All right, thank you.
George Michael: I mean, I know you got married in college, but that was your sophomore year. You had your whole freshman year.
Michael: That’s enough honesty for now. Thank you. Good night.
George Michael: There must’ve been girls at parties?
Narrator: On the next Arrested Development, G.O.B. holds a press conference of his own...
G.O.B.: And now prepare to call me hero. He’s resting. Pick a card. Oh, boy.
Narrator: ... and Buster moves to the kitchen.