Tonight was Heaven. Just absolute, unbridled, unqualified Heaven. Mostly. Evelyn is holding out on the new website design in a bid to get more cash, people at the equator are lighter, and Sam’s Club has Mexican Coke. Dead people are going to start banging, Evelyn wants Adobe Inc. to control the English language, and private citizens are shilling for sports franchises without compensation. Michael suggests making clocks out of dead mice, Evelyn fears being fired by Michael, and Oliver Stone is a lying jism satchel.