some, uh, catalogs?
Catalogs?
Yeah.Just... catalogs. You know.
Sharper Image, Plow & Hearth...
Lascivious Lingerie, or-
Oh! I'm sorry.
Here's your lingerie magazine.
I was just leafing through it.
Okay. Thanks.
Oh, wait a minute.
Uh, you're using that for
onanistic purposes, huh?
What? What kind of purposes?
Autoerotic.
Me? No. Not at all.
Absolutely not! I-
I- I was just gonna order
my mom a robe.
I think you need something
a little more exciting.
Exciting?
Here's a Playboy.
Eli Nute died a month before
his subscription expired.
Oh, no. Really?
"Women of Norway.''
Yeah, well, I mean-
A lot of exceptional writers
contribute to Playboy.
There's Philip Roth, uh-
Norman Mailer, the late Raold Dahl-
An interview with Shintaro Ishihara?
Don't worry, Dr. Fleischman.
It's that time of year.
Everybody's libido has run amok.
They rate the top ten
single malt scotches!
Now, I-
I want to read this.
I think I've got something for you
a little racier, in the back room.
Wh- Ruth-Anne!
It's all right.
Hi. Hi.
Hi!
Mm.
just, uh...
pickin' up my mail.
Yeah, I was just, uh- uh-
Hey, you're returning
some tapes?
Yeah.
Yeah?
A- Anything good?
No.
Well, you know, Bambi,
Death in Venice.
Bambi? You know, I haven't
seen that in years.
I- It really gets to you,
the part where the, um,
the mother dies?
Yeah.
Here you go, Joel.
Short on kindling.
Thanks, Ruth-Anne.
You're welcome.
All righty. Bye.
Bye-bye.
How'd you like
Beefcake Bingo?
Message.
Hey, what is that?
Ice. It's gonna break.
Wow!
What?
Damn shame, Joel.
I lived three months
on the Lower East Side, Maurice.
Avenue B, Alphabet City.
One of the roughest neighborhoods
in New York City.
- Nobody ever stole my radio.
- Clear.
This is rural America.
This is Alaska.
People come here to get away
from crime. There isn't supposed
to be crime up here.
Son, don't get excited.
It happens every year.
- What are you talking about?
- Well, it seems the meltdown
causes some criminal insanity.
But it's only temporary.
Y- You're saying that...
someone got spring fever
so they stole my radio?
Yeah. Last year it was hair dryers.
Maurice. This is not the work of a person
who can't differentiate right from wrong.
This is the work of a common hoodlum.
Now, I want to file a report.
- I want a police investigation.
- You can't file a report.
I have my rights as a citizen,
as a taxpayer.
Joel, you can't file a report
because there's no policeman
to file a report with.
What?
What are you telling me?
There's gotta be police, or a sheriff.
A deputy!
A Mountie!
Something, somewhere?
Joel, aside from this
one annual deviation,
Cicely is crime-free.
A few petty thefts just don't justify
the salary of a full-time police officer.
You tolerate crime
because it's cost-effective?
What about the principle?
What about the rule of law?
It's more a question of balance.
You know, light versus dark?
Good versus evil?
If you bring in cops, I guarantee
you're gonna get robbers.
Hey, don't get Zen on me.
I have been violated.
Look, Joel, if it'll make you feel
any better, I'll loan you a radio.
Maurice, the only thing
that would make me feel better is
a one-way ticket to New York City.
You get ripped off, you hit 911-
sooner or later, the cops show up!
I mean, they may not do anything,
but at least they exist.
Excuse me.
I need a spoon.
Say that again.
Never mind.
Poor Holling. Nobody
wants to take him on this year.
Guess they don't want
to end up like Fritz Hyman.
He ever get that pin
taken out of his jaw?
It's permanent.
Boy. Holling sure is cute
when he's out to kick butt.
I'd like to jump his bones,
but... I've got this thing.
What thing? Oh.
Hi, Ed.
Somebody stole
Dr. Fleischman's radio.
White people.
They get crazy.
One year it's hair dryers.
The next it's radios.
Say, do you think
there's a connection there?
Nah. You can't listen to the radio
while you're drying your