'True Blood' really streamlined their multiple plots this week with more efficiency than someone who uses the word "synergy" on a daily basis. The smoke monster arc comes to an end, the mystery of Warlow continues, and the identities of the hill people in the Obama masks are finally revealed. Alcide did some stuff, too, but that doesn't matter right now.

The Good

Steve Newlin provides a quaint bumpkin prayer over the body of a naked man feast for his new vampire friends at Authority HQ. But who's going to have to eat the penis?

Lafayette practices his Tyra Banks "Smize" technique in Sookie's mirror while trying to communicate with Warlow or Woodrow or Waldo or whatever that creeper's name is.

Pam continues to prove she's an invaluable life coach with some solid advice: stay away from politics and humans who eat too much fish. That's pretty damn sensible. Fish breath and politics are not sexy. Pam knows sexy. Check out homegirl's outfit.

Jessica tells Jason she doesn't poop, and his face is like the face of every man I've tried to convince of the same lie.

There is a man in Bon Temps named Cletus Boathouse. We've never met him, but he's already my new favorite character.

Sam gets naked and delivers some roundhouse kicks to dudes in Obama masks -- this is the spirit of the show right here.

Terry finally shot that guy from 'Felicity' and a Middle Eastern ghost woman vomited out a smoke monster, so I guess we can all move on from that now.

Aww, Steve and Russell adopted a baby werewolf. I can't wait until she poops on the carpet for the first time and Steve freaks out over the stains. Also I can't stop talking about poo this week. Sorry, I'm not sorry.

Bill's a double-crossing bad guy, which is way more interesting than being that vampire dude who says "Sookeh" all the time. I look forward to Eric kicking Bill's ass in Vampire Jonestown in the weeks to come.

The Bad

The answers Sookie needs have been in a floral box that probably smells like moth balls and has been under her bed this whole time. You mean to tell me this girl has never looked under her bed? Not even for a missing sock or Bill's dignity? Come on.

Arlene's bedazzled sweater is just one puff paint kitten short of being believable.

That Obama guy Jason and Andy locked up utters the phrase "drownin' in cooch," which reminds me I need to see about drowning myself in a bucket of bleach because gross.

Jason, you cannot be surprised to see your sister in Bud's pig barn. Of course she's there.

That Marilyn Manson fan that kicked Pam's ass is like half the guys I dated in high school. He probably dyes his hair and owns four copies of 'The Crow.' I have a hard time believing a man with hair that deliberately styled can dominate "vampire Barbie" Pam, much less leave the house seriously.

The Worst

What the hell is Alcide listening to? The Wallflowers? Here, let me help you get the cap off that Kahlua bottle, buddy.

Robert Patrick shows up as Alcide's dad and I'm having a hard time believing this guy produced such a beautiful Native American child that grew up to be the Brawny man we know now. P.S. Nice vest, bro. Did it come with the hair gel or did you have to purchase separately?

Let's talk about Bud Dearborn's girlfriend "Sweetie" in that pink dress she was wearing. Girl, that is not your color. You have a winter complexion; stick to dark colors.

Sweetie is a "Dragon" (hill people for "KKK Boss" or "person who probably wears that Obama mask during sex") and also a square dancing champion. But that kimono robe is even worse than the pink dress, and I get the feeling that she doesn't know what "irony" means.

Salome is the worst belly dancer of all time, and I've seen what happens when my mom gets into a box of wine on a Saturday.