Season nine of Canada’s cult-classic “Trailer Park Boys” begins as an infomercial for Sunnyvale Villas Retirement Community with a much-too-sober Jim Lahey declaring the park free from “criminal activities, alcohol and drugs.” Yes, a lot has changed since the end of season eight when the boys last went to jail, but now they’re being released and plan to get back on top.

Ricky, aside from his usual business of “hash for cash,” plans to take care of his pregnant daughter Trinity, work at a flower store and win back the affections of his former-wife Lucy. Julian, from behind prison bars, tells the camera crew his plan to win back the trailer park: reverse psychology – a revelation that will prove important throughout the rest of the season.

But just how much has changed in Sunnyvale? Mr. Lahey and Barb, as new owners of the trailer park, turned it into a retirement home, banned all drugs and hired former S.A.S. Officer Colonel Leslie Dancer to keep it that way. Bubbles is also running a strip mall for the old folks and, to Julian’s horror, his former sports bar, “The Dirty Dancer,” has been turned into a day spa.

Just when it seems like things can’t get any worse, the situation gets even bleaker for the boys when Ricky’s grandson is born in a barn in the middle of a gunfight. Ricky loses his family again at the interest of health and safety, but all is not lost. Julian reveals to Ricky and Bubbles his plan to get the park back. He says the best way to get back their home is to pretend like they don’t care about it – reverse psychology.

Before they can set any of their plans into motion, however, the boys have a daunting task ahead of them: getting Mr. Lahey back on the liquor.

Aside from the main synopsis of season nine, there’s also a ton of B-stories going on that are both hilarious and entertaining. Some notable ones are Ricky’s relationship to his pet goat (nicknamed “Willy Goat”) and Corey and Jacobs’ strained friendship brought on by Jacob’s inability to balance fatherhood and friendship. My personal favorite B-story, however, is J-Roc’s (an aspiring Caucasian hip-hop artist) struggle to gain the respect of his alleged son Mitch (aka MC Flurry).

The main storyline remains relatively the same as previous seasons, but if season eight and nine share one thing in common, it’s definitely production quality. It’s pretty apparent that signing on with Netflix provided the boys with some extra “skrilla” to invest in decent cameras, actors and editors. It’s really great to see the improvements in not only the actors, but also the production quality.

Some critics say they don’t enjoy the more “Americanized” version of the show. By that I assume they mean the overall quality of the show, along with the less subtle humor and more polished style of mockumentary. I, however, enjoy it thoroughly. In the last two seasons I feel like the actors have really come into their characters, and they all make me laugh in their own demented ways.

Overall, I’d say season nine of “Trailer Park Boys” is stupid, offensive, loathsome, demented, twisted and hilarious. I can’t imagine how many brain cells I’ve destroyed watching it, but it was all worth it in the end. I can’t wait to see what the boys will have in store for us in season 10.