Bigfoot? Real. The lizard people? Oh yessssss. And that’s not all. The moon landing was faked. The earth is flat. Ancient Aliens is an actual documentary series. In fact, every conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of is absolutely, positively 100% true. And it’s Reagan’s job to make sure the Illuminati stays in charge and the rest of us stay clueless.
Well, it’s not entirely her job. The whole of Cognito, Inc., is dedicated to such things. They’ve got their hands full, of course. It’s not easy to keep the reality of a hollow earth from those (ahem) digging for the truth. But hey, it’s a living, right?
You could say this line of work runs in the family. Reagan’s pops, Randy Ridley, founded Cognito, Inc. with a wiley back-slapper named J.R. Scheimpough. Alas, Randy was ousted after an unfortunate mental breakdown (which Randy believes was a conspiratorial excuse in itself to get rid of him), leaving a spot at the corporate table for his brilliant and committed (in a good way) daughter.
Unfortunately, Reagan isn’t exactly a people person. In fact, she makes The X-Files’ Cigarette-Smoking Man look like a My Little Pony character. That’s not a negative when you’re dealing with, say, mole men or sentient fungi. But most of her employees are actual people. So J.R. pairs her with kind-if-clueless frat bro Brett Hand who, every time he brings in bagels, is feted as if he’d saved the free world. (If, that is, freedom wasn’t an illusion created by a shadowy cartel of mysterious overlords.)
Reagan has made peace with that little reality. Now, she and Brett manage their extraordinarily diverse staff: Dr. Andre, the drug-loving biochemist; Gigi Thompson, the the selfie-loving head of subliminal messages; Gelnn Dolphman, the fish-loving human-dolphin hybrid; and Myc, a sentient mushroom who doesn’t love much of anything, as far as I know.
Oh, and Reagan also spends time with the robotic presidential doppelganger she invented who, despite his penchant for nuclear holocaust, sometimes has some nice advice to share.
Inside Job, an adult animated cartoon on Netflix, can be clever. It can be funny. But far more reliably, it will be profane.
F- and s-words come at a far quicker clip than the show’s UFO sightings. Dialogue can be quite sexually suggestive, visuals can get cartoonishly bloody, and Inside Job can have more tongue-in-cheek spiritual references than you might expect, too. (We learn in the first episode that the Dow Jones is controlled by a diabolical cult’s blood sacrifices, for instance.) And, thanks in large part to the Ecstasy-loving Dr. Andre, drugs are as common as Illuminate clues at Denver International Airport.
The show sports so many problems—often problems that appear simultaneously—that I, your friendly neighborhood Christian television reviewer, had to pause repeatedly to catch up in my notes.
Thus, for a show bound up in so many contemporary so-called mysteries, there’s little mystery about my conclusions. This is a show I’d avoid like the bowels of Area 51.
But then, that’s just what a lizard person would say, isn’t it?
Reagan wants J.R. to put her officially in charge of Cognito, Inc. But J.R., suspicious of her people skills, tells her to “co-lead” with Brett Hand, whom J.R. hired because of his firm handshake. Reagan’s furious, so she means to show her real value to the company through her greatest invention yet: A robotic version of the President of the United States.
Robo-Prez gets his first real assignment during a boring gathering of world leaders. “How are the wife and kids?” the robot asks a sultan. “They were a very generous gift,” the sultan says. “Thank you, Mr. President.” We also hear some references to sexual acts and states of arousal. Brett’s various social media accounts feature a huge number of pictures of him shirtless; both female and male employees ogle them. A sentient mushroom flirts a bit with Reagan. A naked wrinkled embryo floats in the company water cooler. (We see a naked man—privates covered—very briefly during an elevator ride, too.)
We see members of a cult chant and sacrifice a goat (to maintain their control of the Dow Jones index). Ben Franklin becomes a demon in the opening credits. Someone is sliced in half by an energy beam. A robot is zapped in two as well. Someone is apparently brutalized behind a sign after going a little bit crazy. J.R. laughs amenably with someone on the phone. “You are so funny that I could just assassinate you,” he says. “No, really. I could do it.” The world is nearly destroyed via nuclear weaponry. Someone’s face gets bloodied from head butts.
We hear plenty of drug references, and most of Reagan’s staff gets high during an operation. We hear about a substance that “gave Ronald Reagan Alzheimer’s.” There’s a reference to quaffing a rum and Coke, and Reagan’s team goes out for margaritas. We hear several references to Ambien, and Reagan demands that her father stop drinking vodka before breakfast.
We hear nine f-words and 14 s-words, as well as “a–,” “b—ch,” “d—n” and “h—.” God’s name is misused around 20 times, three of which involve the word “d—n.” Jesus’ name is abused four times.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
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Netflix takes a classic sitcom, Good Times, and turns it into a vulgar, violent, sexually-charged TV-MA show.
