EPISODE REVIEW: Generator Rex: “Outpost” (Season 2, Episode 9)

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I dunno, man, I’m just not feeling it. This episode had a couple interesting hooks and one interesting twist, and yet it just does nothing for me. Maybe it’s just that I’m all excited Nick S. wrangled us a really cool interview, maybe it’s just that I’m over-stuffed with Crab Rangoon (“The absolute best animal for Rangooning!”), or maybe it’s just that it’s a poorly plotted, anemic, badly directed episode with the worst fake Hispanic accent ever. You decide.


Rex and Bobo are sent to Brazil to investigate a series of raids by a terrorist group calling itself “The Green Fist,” which, actually, is a pretty cool name for eco-terrorists, if we’re honest. Way better than “Earth First.” Better than Bobo’s sarcastic “Humans for the Ethical Treatment of Evos,” too. (“HeTE”). Said whack jobs have been raiding the local Providence facility, and freeing the Evos.

Rex and Bobo meet the local Providence director, who is possessed of the single worst fake Spanish accent I’ve ever heard. If you took the stereotypical Hindu-Guy-From-India accent, and forced him to speak Swedish translations of Kevin Kostner’s lines from “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves” while suffering from a really bad head cold, he would still sound more Brazilian than the director.

And I’m from Nebraska. How can I know this, and yet whomever directed this mess didn’t? We don’t even have a Taco Bell in my town!

Anyway, the Local Director exposits the basic problem, then introduces a big scary evo - basically a chupacabra - in a cage in their version of the petting zoo. Then they hit a bar for some rice milk. The locals don’t like Providence for disingenuous plot reasons, which results in Rex trying to impress the local barmaid (Who is pretty cute, and pretty blatantly only there to have Rex go goofy in the knees - I mean, her head isn’t in half the shots, but her breasts are in all of ’em), which results in him trying out the big manly local drink, which, it turns out, is the urine of a monkey who drank rice milk. This results in Rex vomiting all over a pretty woman (not the chesty barmaid) which results in a barfight. Yeah, I remember my first Monkey Rice Urine Bender. That was a crazy, crazy weekend. But that was back in the ’80s, and there were just some things you were expected to do when you visit Ann Arbor, Michigan. I totally regret that now, kids, and don’t recommend you try it yourselves.

Anywhoo, that night they spring a clever trap: Bobo poses as a captured evo. When GF comes to free him, he jumps out and arrests them. The leader of GF - no surprise, it’s the chick Rex puked on - frees all the animals with a really-poorly-thought-out “Emergency release everything in the prison” button. The big scary monster - which is basically a chupacabra - slashes Rex and several of the GF goons, then escapes.

So Rex is dying, but somewhat slower than the goons. Holiday can fix him, but she needs some Chupacabra blood to McCoy an unlikely antidote together. Rex, Bobo, and Madame GF head off into the jungle where she discusses her manifesto: It’s as lame as all manifestos. “You shouldn’t imprison Evos, let’s all love everyone, authorities are bad, 55-saves-lives,” whatever.

They find the monster - which is basically a chupacabra - and after many travails, with Rex basically losing control of his nanites, they catch it. He gets the sample, then tries to cure the thing.

Which he can’t do. Because it’s not an Evo. It’s a chupacabra.

Despite the fact that it looks and acts just like a chupacabra, and there’s a scene of goat eating (“Chupacabra’ means “Goat Sucker” in Spanish), this is supposed to be a surprise. A twist. Actually, it is a good twist, but it just doesn’t work, and it’s soooooooooo obvious by the time it’s revealed that, well, I ain’t feelin’ it.
Rex lets the terrorist lady go, she flirts with him. Back in town, the local director basically says he doesn’t care, and the barmaid kisses Rex because Providence bought her a new goat to replace the one the chupacabra ate. Or sucked. Or whatever. A small child never seen before inexplicably hoses down Bobo with rice milk, or possibly monkey rice urine. As our heroes fly away, the point of view closes in on a badly carved aztecky-looking niknak the child holds in its hands for no good reason

The End.


Well, I observe that it sucks for one thing. Is that enough? Can I go home now? [Looks at R1, who shakes head, ‘no’] Fine.


Rex identifies himself as “Mexican” in this episode, yet last week we found out he’s actually Swiss. It’s an odd choice since his brother told him that one of his parents was from Mexico, and the other was from Argentina.

Incidentally, this whole exchange takes place in Spanish. In Brazil. Where they don’t speak Spanish. They speak Portuguese. Which Rex doesn’t speak. Because he’s not from there. (In fact, last week’s episode made it clear that while Rex is fluent in Spanish, English was his first language, and his Spanish is fairly clumsy)

Can I go no? No? Grrr. Can I at least get some Raisin Bread? Does it matter why? Because I like Raisin Bread, that’s why! Look, my fingers hurt, I’ve been on the computer all day….THANK YOU. Thank you, R1. Was that so hard? Could I get a glass of milk, too?

Despite becoming ubiquitously South American in the last 20 years or so, the Chupacabra legend (Such as it is) comes from Puerto Rico, and is hence at least technically as American as I am. Goats turned up, having been sucked, who could have done such a thing? Some kind of Goat Sucker was suspected, the monster evolved to fit the legend. This is all pretty recent, too. The first in a nightmarish wave of goatsuckings took place in 1995. As with all stupid cryptids, the legend is a fairly recent hoax that gets backdated to make it look more plausible to the gullible. For instance, the allegedly ancient “Bigfoot” legend was unheard of before 1948 when a local drunken hillbilly lumberjack invented him to get out of the high-stress drunken hillbilly lumberjack lifestyle. Or possibly just for a laugh. It’s always a party with those guys. A drunken, violent, axe-filled party.

In fact, they weren’t even goats that were sucked, they were sheep. The name “Chupacabra” was coined by Silverio Perez, a Puerto Rican stand up comic, because he thought it sounded funny. And he was right: “Goat Sucker,” “Goat Sucking,” “Goat Sucked,” pretty much any way you conjugate or decline that, no matter what tense, or language you use, it’s just about the most inherently hilarious non-profane thing you can say.

For instance, check this out: [Yelling at R1] “Hey, Goatsucker, I’m going home!”


I don’t think even a goatsucker would like this thing.