Every week during this opening season of Silicon Valley, A man must have a code will write the ’5 Guys’ power rankings in lieu of writing episode recaps. Hopefully, this, just like the show itself, will continue forever and ever until infinity. Or should I say, until ‘∞’. (That’s right, I too know H.T.M.L.)
Our beloved Gilfoyle just barely misses out this week—these rankings don’t recognize illegal immigrants. Nor Canadians. Nor citizens of the world.
1) Richard (last week: No. 1)
Oof. I’ve never felt so powerless. I don’t have Asperger’s, but I will if you say I do—isn’t that Eminem? I’ll spit, because you spat. That’s how a decent negotiator, one who could one day, perhaps, maybe become Herb Cohen, works. My guys got taken care of. Like Vikings, we get alcohol and ugly clothes. And I take what’s mine, for no more than $1,000.
Gilfoyle, where’s my, uhm, private magazine? It’s my “Me” time. And don’t try opening the door, it’s locked.
But then it all goes bad only a couple of hours later, like if our ship had hit the rocks on this treacherous sea or something. Who am I, Herb Cohen? That fistpump sounded so good an hour ago. That stupid margarita machine. Now I need to look in the eyes this guy with the stupid parking app and crush his dreams, those dreams that I had revived because I overplayed my hand in buying that stupid margarita machine.
And in the end, I still got it done. We can stay Pied Piper and wear our highlighter green t-shirts. All because I put myself out there, and I let it be known that I was willing to stand up and take the beating of my life to keep what I believed in. It turns out that if you let people know who you are, you won’t need your inner Herb Cohen. Only your weird Asian sidekick. Set sail, guys!
2) Peter Gregory (last week: unranked)
So you need to suck on his tits, his very rich tits, but he will not listen to any of it today. He’s not feeling particularly maternal. Not today. Take your $15 million and shove it. Oh but of course, Peter Gregory will not say that out loud. While his body will be blanking and will remain immobile, underneath his legs will be paddling. Like those of a young duck who’s filthy rich and who can swim in his own gold. He might entertain you first with the billions of breading and tell you that sesame seeds only grow in microclimates. Then he might entertain you with more information that you don’t care about regarding trees in Myanmar, and Brazil, and Indonesia. And time will lapse, every single second more painful than the previous because there will be all this food in front of you, in front of him, and neither one of you will be able to have a bite.
It will be painful, but the process is always painful. Somehow at the end, he’ll end up with more than $60 million, 15 of which will go to you. And they say you need to go to college! There, now you’re smiling. Want some BK?
3) Erlich (last week: unranked)
Let me be the guy who says it. We need a name that’s primal, because we’re all just primal beings. We’re made to f*ck, and our name has to be something you scream as you’re about to cum in your lady friend’s eye, okay Richard? It has to be Apple. Google. Aviato. That name we have now, Pied Piper, is an atrocity and it’s like we’re an Irish pornography company. But of course, Irish pornography company or not, I’m still cofounder. Or not, I will not push my luck. Look, all I’m saying is that the names find me. Or in this case, cofind me. I recode your brain by repeating names over and over again, because that’s how we’ll find it. The perfect name. The one we can scream out during intercourse.
Are you ready for this moment, Richard? I’ve incubated you for this long, but the incubator only has but this much power. You have to be such a negotiator that all your friends must feel the need to sue you. The worst thing you can do is nothing. Don’t do nothing, do something. Or have me do something. Be the a-hole who says, “You know, Erlich, step up and so something for the team!” And I will do something. A sh*t ton of something too, just so we don’t end up with the name of smallmulator.
Give me 24 to 72 hours. A cold pitcher of water and orange slices. Even grapefruit, because it’s that critical. Time is a sphere, I’ll borrow from Rust Cohle. I’ve been reincarnated. Mi casa es mi incubatori. Pardon my Spanish.
4) Gavin Belson (last week: unranked)
The cliché is what’s important. Don’t focus on his Vibram-Five-Fingers, but rather on where the toes can lead you. Don’t focus on his spiritual guide, but rather on how to use the anger. Don’t focus on how filthy rich he is, but rather on how he can help you become filthy rich. (Hint: it’s by making him more filthy rich.) Don’t focus on humans, but rather on their greatness that’s measured by size. Focus on the bigger, on the better—which are two different “heads” on the same coin. Never let anything to chance, and focus on small, that third side to the coin. Focus on Nucleus, which promises all that, the coin, the money, the Vibram-Five-Fingers, and even to make cancer, hunger, and aids all smaller while it’s at it. Because.
5) Jared/Donald (last week: No. 3)
My name is Jared, but in fact my name is Donald. It’s just that names stick, that’s why you know me as Jared. I’ll be Jared. Or Donald. Whatever pleases the master is what I shall be known as. Except Hitler—I think that would be suboptimal. Plus, there was already a Hitler of music (i.e. it was Hitler) and I’m not sure you should want to be known as the Hitler of anything.
But so master, while it isn’t lost on this lap dog that you are dealing with important decisions, I must let you know that we need to change our name. Don’t kill the messenger, but how could you ever? I’m always so cool, calm and collected. And have you seen my eyes? Especially when I’m the bearer of bad news. The fact that you are under a great deal of stress isn’t lost on me, but please understand that this is a necessity. We need to change our name and I’m not sure when I should have brought this up, but it’s not the classic fairytale. Pied Piper is about a predatory pederast who murders children in a cave.
For that new name, maybe we should think smaller. Or smller. Smlr even! Even if I’m not with Gavin Belson anymore, his influence remains everywhere. It’s hard for a lap dog to forget his ex-master.