Most of the sketches in I Think You Should Leave focus on a single unreasonable person - the little old guy in the focus-testing group who wants a too-small car, Vanessa Bayer with the Sunday brunch bunch, Kate Berlant at the Garfield-house intervention, the hot-dog suit guy at Brooks Brothers, Tim Heidecker at his girlfriend’s game night - slowly drawing everyone around them into a shared sense of hallucination/delusion/despair/cruelty, riff after riff on Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery”: first it isn’t fair, then it isn’t fair, then they’re upon you. What O’Malley knows, and insists upon, is an acknowledgement of sameness. Robinson, huge, besuited, slow-moving, embarrassed, unhelpful, at a remove O’Malley collapsed, demanding, capering, jabbering, gibbering, incoherent, a walking wound. The art of masculine withholding is designed to collapse the collapse is the point. “I thought that you worked for a service or a company that helped out guys that are so horny that their stomachs hurt! ‘Cause that’s what I am!” “I don’t know! Do you have a solution, like some magazines, or a calendar, or something?” He covers his face and lopes back in shame, he tilts his head up like a dog in appeal and shudders forward. He scuttles from tomb to tomb, shoulders hunched up around his ears, swinging his arms like bell-ringers. “Oh, shit! Shit,” O’Malley growls, leaping out of the car and hobbling away. Robinson, suited, power-walks among the tombstones with a shushing finger held over his lips. He goes to a funeral O’Malley pulls up shortly after in the busted truck, unshaven, unwashed, unslept, honking. Robinson, of course, cannot sleep there is no peace for one without the other in the contract of mutually-assured horniness. Something about the way his shirt folds oddly against the crease of the shoulder suggests inflation, padding, artifice. O’Malley’s body is stunning in this sketch he moves like his flannel shirt has been stuffed with straw. “Auuugh,” he screams, mouth huge with teeth, “That’s me !” He points to himself, jabbing a finger into his own chest. He sees the bumper sticker and his mouth drops softly open – he’s struck quiet by it, briefly gentled, awash in hope and recognition. The man stuck in traffic behind him (Conner O’Malley) is driving a huge, busted SUV with rust damage all over the hood his car-body is broken and weather-beaten and bigger than it needs to be. He has, by virtue of the “HONK IF YOU’RE HORNY” bumper sticker on the back of his car he’s nearly forgotten about, signaled something about his kinship with and responsibility towards other men. You can hear the song in context of the episode by heading over here and jumping to the 9:30 mark, or you can just watch below.The “Honk if You’re Horny” segment of I Think You Should Leave is slightly unusual in that Tim Robinson’s character is not the unreasonableness-driving engine that propels the sketch forward. Netflix has shared the lyrics, which you can read here. Turnstile’s song is pretty great! It doesn’t sound much like previous Turnstile songs, but once you know it’s them, you can’t unhear it. It turns out that Tim Robinson and Turnstile have been friends for a few years, and there’s a whole lot of photographic evidence of them hanging out together.
Wiff asks Robinson for help, revealing that he’s just trashed an entire classroom because he’s heard a new song that’s gotten him “all fucked up.” The chorus goes like this: “Everything you know is all just for show/ I don’t wanna go on listening/ Suits and ties, feed me lies/ I don’t wanna go on listening.” Wiff hears that and thinks that rules no longer apply at all. Spoilers ahead for this paragraph only: Tim Robinson and Biff Wiff, the guy who played Detective Crashmore on the show’s last season, play “shirt brothers” who meet each other at a fourth-grade choir recital. The fourth episode of the new I Think You Should Leave Season has a sketch called Children’s Choir, and that sketch has a song called “Listening.” It’s credited to the Everything-You-Knows, but it’s really Turnstile. And if you’re like me, then you heard a very catchy song during one of Robinson’s sketches, and you thought to yourself, “Wait, do I know this song?” It did not even occur to you that what you were hearing was a new Turnstile song, but that’s what was happening. If you’re like me, you laughed extremely hard, possibly waking up other members of your family, while also feeling like you were going insane. If you’re like me, you got slightly high last night and then proceeded to watch the entire third season of Tim Robinson’s bugged-out Netflix sketch-comedy show I Think You Should leave.
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