Bill, not surprisingly, sells Matt out AGAIN, to start an episode. The fellas have a new million dollar merch idea. An early WWTP brings Mr. T into the fold but not before some good old-fashioned bickering. Matt might be a racist. There’s no number 59 worth discussing. Bill re-innovates “Cats” as effectively as he innovates everything else. We’ve all got a mean streak in us. The fellas love how nonchalantly Ricky speaks about the robbery. Shelly just wants to get thru his war story. Dave doesn’t know which end is up. Matt has to shut-down a future WWTP. Alan Arkin steals the scene with an incredible economy of lines. Pacino, forever slouched, performs some the best hand acting that you’ll ever see. The phrase “None of my business..." absolves Ricky of all blame and it’s beautiful. The fellas get into some candy casting. Bill often winds up in the pedophile zone. Wilfred Brimley gets thrown to the all the grey wolves that occupy the Shelly corral, as the fellas bookend this minute with another WWTP.