Last night’s episode of Kokomo and Kaiser Wilhelm Take Newt Gingrich began with Kris playing around with little Baby Mason. “Vroom vroom, you’re an airplane!” he said. At some point, Kris stopped playing with Baby Mason and started playing with Kim. (It’s an understandable mistake: To Kris Humphries, anyone under five feet tall pretty much looks the same.) He trapped Kim inside of a tiny cardboard house. He said, “Grr, I’m a tornado!” and was pushing the house back and forth. He laughed and laughed and laughed, and the whole time his lovely munchkin wife was screaming. By way of apology, he picked her up and put her into a crib and said, “Good night, my little baby.”
That horrifying sequence set the tone for the episode, which was mostly focused on babies. (And also Maid/Manservant Threesome Porno, but let’s get to that later.) See, Kim ran out of birth control pills, and then walked downstairs and announced, “I just finished my birth control pack, and I think it’s a sign that I shouldn’t take it anymore.” Kourtney asked her sister if she was really ready to be a mother. For Kourtney, being “ready” means that you can pretend to be a frog. “Ribbit ribbit,” yelled Kourtney, “Ribbit ribbit!”
While she was doing a frog impression, Kourtney was wearing bright pink pajamas. I’m going to start keeping a tally of how many different sets of insanely colored pajamas Kourtney wears. I don’t think she ever wears the same set twice. I like to imagine that, whenever she’s done with one set of pajamas, she just takes it off and throws it out the window. I bet that there is just a whole pile of used pajamas lying all around the Gansevoort Park Hotel. Ribbit ribbit!
Seriously though, I have never seen people who get more dressed up to just lounge around the house. Example: Later that same day — although I’m never very clear on how much time has passed on this show — Scott was wearing a blue velvet jacket, Kourtney was wearing a bright orange pantsuit, and Kourtney said, “Look what I found on Scott’s computer! It’s porno!” Yep, it turns out that Scott is really, really into threesomes — which makes sense, if you believe the popular theory that Scott is the bastard child of a ritualistic blood orgy between James Spader, Satan, and a minotaur.
Scott tried to play it cool. He said, “That’s a very in-demand porn site.” Don’t you love the idea that there are in-demand, extremely exclusive porn sites? Can’t you just picture a couple of Wall Street CEOs smoking cigars in a shadowy clubhouse in the Hamptons, telling each other about their erotic subscriptions? “By gad, Godfrey, you mean to tell me you’ve secured a membership for ProletariatHarlot69.com?” “Oh lord, Winchell, you simply must join. ProletariatHarlot69.com is this year’s WifeOnMistressXXX.com.”
Kim decided that it was time to tell Frankenstein that she was thinking about having a baby. She took him up to the rooftop of the Gansevoort. Frankenstein said, “Isn’t it weird to think that, if I wanted to, I could throw you over the edge?” He seemed to be seriously considering it. But then Kim told him she wanted a baby, and after zero consideration, Frankenstein said, “All right, let’s do it!”
Scott took Kourtney out to Dos Caminos. Now, Dos Caminos is a very nice restaurant, and it has three dollar-signs on Yelp, so it’s not cheap. I have never eaten there. But I have dreamed of eating there. In my dreams, I’m sitting at a table with lovely and fashionable people — like, let’s say Uma Thurman and Malcolm Gladwell and Audrey Hepburn and Michael Bloomberg. We’re talking about the affairs of the day, and making elaborate wordplay jokes, and Audrey keeps rubbing guacamole on Malcolm’s forehead, and for some reason my teeth keep falling out. It’s lovely. By comparison, here is the conversation that Scott and Kourtney had in the middle of this nice restaurant:
Scott: “I feel like you’re a little annoyed about the porn thing. You can’t blame me. Ever since we had that kid, there hasn’t been nearly enough time for a bang session.”
Kourtney: “[Sigh]. [Moan]. [Mournful sigh]. [Bemused giggle.] Ribbit ribbit.”
Scott: “Whatever, you’re totally a lesbian. Think of all the chicks you made out with! Lesbo porn, sex sex, bang bang.”
Viewers, I’ve been to cheap sidewalk taquerias and Polish-Chinese fusion takeout joints and Kentucky Fried Chickens where the patrons engaged in a higher class of conversation. At moments like this, I find myself getting oddly frustrated with the Kardashians and their horrible brood. It’s not that I want to live their incredible life. It’s that they get to live an incredible life, and they live it horribly.