More is revealed about Mrs. Mayfair's ugly past; meanwhile, Lynette tries to find faith, and Gaby decides to stick it out with Carlos
Desperate Housewives, Dana Delany

As it turns out, ABC recruited George Michael for the wrong show. Last night on Desperate Housewives, the women were supposed to learn a lesson about faith. But I’m not entirely positive that they learned anything. They so rarely do. If only they had to suffer through a Mary Alice voiceover…that would teach them.

They learned about faith in God. Faith in the strength of friendship. Faith that even if you’re a middle-aged divorcee, you can still have a romp with your neighbor’s underage cousin. Faith that no one will discover the grave of your ex-husband, even though it’s marked with a damning cross, or a giant X-marks-the-spot-where-I-buried-the-body-of-the-guy-I-killed. Faith that your daughter won’t put the pieces together — literally, I mean pull them from the fireplace and tape them together — and figure out you’re a lyin’, cheatin’ murderer. Faith that you can wear that much red and still look innocent. That’s right, Katherine. I’m on to you. The housewives are no strangers to crime — murder, arson, adultery, breaking and entering, extortion, child abandonment, theft, pregnancy fraud, assault with muffins and jam — but they must have missed the class on the proper disposal of evidence. Katherine, burning notes in the fireplace? Marking your ex-husband’s grave? Always outfitted in devilish red attire? Sleeping with kids in band camp? Even dimwitted Dylan sensed something was up. In the words of Saint Susan, ”Shame on you!” (Oh, can it, Susan.)

Creepy cousin Chris Carmack made his triumphant return to television last night, first to do Susan’s taxes, and then to do her neighbor. At first, Susan was worried that Timmy might be a sexual predator — it was his lovely tale of banging his boss’ daughter that tipped her off. But it was totally legal, because the girl was 18, and, like, he checked with a lawyer before he went for it, so it’s morally sound and completely justified and not at all creepy. Congrats, Timmy. At least some people on Wisteria Lane were covering all their bases. But instead of kicking him out, Susan let Timmy stick around, sleeping a few feet away from her teenage daughter. I mean, those taxes weren’t just gonna do themselves, right? Also making his triumphant return was Mike, who regaled his family with quips about being a drug user: ”This junkie thing’s awesome!” No, Mike, it’s not. When you were in rehab off camera, when your character was almost believable, when Susan only referred to you once or twice an episode just so we didn’t think you were dead, that was awesome. ”You’re making me want to use again, Susan.” The funniest part was that I don’t think he was kidding. But Susan and Julie laughed and laughed. She was really upbeat, considering she’s got a husband in rehab, she’s having a baby over the age of 40, her cousin is probably a sex offender, and she hasn’t finished filing her taxes. Maybe Susan’s on drugs.

Also getting high was Lynette. Not the illegal kind of high, though — uplifted through spiritual faith and divine inspiration. She announced to her family that they were going to church, and the Scavo clan all but boo’ed in her face. ”God will be there next Sunday,” Tom whined from his recliner, beer in hand, watching the game as his children ran amok. Apparently the Scavos worship beer and ball, just not birth control. After twin one (that’s his name, right?) claimed that Jesus was one of the guys who helped Santa tune up his sled and worked in the Lincoln Log section of the North Pole toy factory, or something to that effect, the decision to go to church was made. But which faith to pick at the religious buffet-style brunch? At first they considered Catholicism, but Bree set Lynette straight: ”I go for worship, not a workout.” All the kneeling, standing, sitting…Catholics only wind up with paralyzing guilt and killer thighs. I wonder why the other women go to church. I bet Edie goes to seduce the priests. Or the altar boys. Susan probably goes for the free bread. I bet Katherine goes and lights a candle and whispers, ”I pray that no one finds out about my deepest secret, the mortal sin I committed long, long ago” while Dylan stands beside her, oblivious. We know Gaby only shows up, late, when she wants to get married, once every six months. Mrs. McCluskey goes to pray for the fate of Ida’s long lost cat. And for the souls of the gay neighbors. Anyway.

Lynette tagged along with Bree to her Presbyterian church, where the minister proclaimed that ”God’s love is as sure as the sunlight.” Lynette wasn’t so sure. What about the wars? The ”dumbass killers”? Try seeing the sun through a tornado! Where was God’s love when my husband threw his back out and I had to bust my ass baking pizzas all day? Where was God’s love when I got cancer and those possums were running rampant through my backyard? Huh?! The minister fielded Lynette’s questions, while Bree slouched in embarrassment. Afterward, Bree suggested that Lynette try worshiping at the gospel church instead, the one right near the airport, you know, probably across the street from the seedy clinic where she once sent Susan for prenatal care, around the block from where Mike scored painkillers. I thought Bree was being selfish; she’d probably turn down God’s love if the devil offered her the head position in the ladies auxiliary. But I didn’t like the ”holier than thou” attitude Lynette took with Bree. It was ironic, considering Lynette deemed herself the least holy housewife on the block. She’s a front-runner, but I thought that distinction definitely went to Gaby.

NEXT: Speaking of Gaby…

I went to Catholic school, and while it wasn’t said specifically, I’m 98 percent sure that leading a blind man into walls, chairs, and oven doors will land you in purgatory. If you serve a blind man dirty-dishwater stew, well, it’s like buying an express ticket to the fiery depths of hell. It’s the kind of thing that you can’t sweet-talk your way out of with some blueberry scones. (Though Bree might beg to differ.) Gaby was pulling out all the stops last night — literally, she was pulling out objects for Carlos to trip over. She found out that Carlos was lying about the severity of his condition, thanks to Edie, who would have scratched Carlos’ eyes out for giving her a fake diamond bracelet, had he not already been blind. The doctors said that Carlos’ sight might never return. Yeah, the writers said the same thing a few months ago. And here we are. Hopefully those beige eye bandages won’t make another appearance. It looked like Carlos’ forehead melted over his eye sockets. Poor Carlos; he lied because he feared Gaby would leave him. ”You really think I’m that shallow?” Gaby asked. What you heard next was the sound of 18 million viewers crying in union ”Um, YES?!” Gaby’s probably never heard ”let he who is without sin cast the first stone,” because she proceeded to pelt her handicapped husband with apples and oranges. Somewhere, probably where Gaby is headed when she dies, Victor was laughing at Carlos and muttering, ”Sucker.”

Mary Alice must have thought we were all suckers if she wanted us to actually believe that ”Katherine Mayfair was not the kind of woman who liked to relive the past.” Wrong, Mary Alice. Let’s consider the evidence. Katherine moved back to her old neighborhood, into her old house, near the site where she buried her old husband, and she’s sleeping with her old lovah Timmy. Katherine Mayfair loves living in the past. Visiting it in the woods. Sleeping with it. Rarely does a day go by on Wisteria Lane when the past doesn’t surface. Skeletons take up more closet space than shoes. Bodies are discovered like loose change. The unseemly past isn’t just relived, it’s paraded for all to see. There wasn’t a clear shot of Katherine’s dearly departed husband, but we were given a brief but telling montage of their dysfunctional relationship. He was quite a charmer when he wasn’t smacking her across the face. One of the writers must not be a Dana Delaney fan. She got not one but two shots to the kisser. Timmy McPlotDevice was good for one thing, filling in some Mayfair mystery blanks. It was Katherine! In the study! With the candlestick! Tell ’em what they’ve won, Timmy! ”She took my virginity.” Hmm. Gives a whole new meaning to ”putting the past to bed,” doesn’t it?

The only one who seemed genuinely interested in putting the past behind him was Adam, whose final act as Katherine’s husband was to conceal her lie. Despite all damning evidence to the contrary, Dylan bought it when he told her Katherine was innocent. If only Dylan was a little smarter, or asked the right questions. If only she told someone other than Julie about the note. If only Julie had done more than just stare at Dylan, wondering, ”What does this have to do with me? Why haven’t you said anything about how fabulous my hair looks?”

So, Desperate fans, is it too soon for Mike to be making jokes about drugs, since he’s still in rehab? Will Orson save Benjamin from the cursed Van De Kamp DNA? Will Lynette’s spiritual quest last 40 minutes, or will it continue for the next four Sundays? Who do you think wins the title of holiest housewife?

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