Life's Too Short

The dream is always the same.

It comes late at night, usually when Im lying in bed trying to remember the name of the supermodel snoring beside me, and my mind turns not, as you would expect, to thoughts of the lovely Lauren Ambrose, but instead to visions of my future in the rough-and-tumble, high-stakes world of television recapping. In the dream, Im always old, and incontinent, and firmly ensconced in my nucleo-electric rocking chair as I prepare to recap HBOs holographic TiVo broadcast of their latest attempt at sharpening the edgy edge of their gilt-edged commitment to making the edgiest one-hour drama ever (thus landing the lucrative Pizza Hut Edge Pizza product placement contract). The show stars Vern Troyer, Katie Holmes, and Sarah Michelle Gellar in an ironically non-ironic parable about a French-Communist midget with herpes whos carrying on an illicit, yet torrid, love affair with an Irish Wolfhound belonging to the two middle-aged-but-still-horny-for-on-camera-tantric-sex lipstick lesbians that live door. What makes it a nightmare is the fact that its still better than anything the seventy-three broadcast networks are managing to churn out. And so as I awoke one night last week, quaking with terror and shivering because Cindy or Tyson or Claudia or whoever had stolen all the covers, I suddenly experienced an epic, epistolary (and, as always, alliterative) epiphany. Now, don't worry. Unlike Dana, I won't be putting us on any kind of a dating plan. In fact, I dont expect to start breeding the first generations of my new race of MBTV Uber-Humans until Phase III of my plan for world domination. So we've got some time. It's just that I've come to realize that even if I live long enough to recap Haley Joel Osment, a CGI Bart Simpson, and the Olsen twins in Grumpy Old Men 69: Brought To You By Fixodent, Viagra, And Depends, I'll never, ever be able to understand the wacky things these recaps of mine motivate you people to e-mail to me. Take this week, for example. In the past seven days, I've gotten like nineteen letters from people claiming to either know or be a red-headed Jew; five million, six-hundred and fifty-three thousand instances of the Sir.Cam virus (people, please: Go here. Now.), and, of course, one deliciously Dork! Tastic! exchange of hate mail with a girl who wishes that I'd stop putting all those "convorsations [sic]" in my recaps, and just tell "every one [sic]" what "happend [sic, and while we're at it, sic semper tyrannis]" on the show.

And so with that in mind, I give you:

Haley Joel Osment: Are you the Blue Fairy?
Alan Ball: Well, I don't know so much about the blue part. To be honest, I prefer earth tones.
Haley Joel Osment: Can you tell me how to become a real boy?
Alan Ball: Oh, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.
Haley Joel Osment: Okay. But just don't forget to let your copyright lawyers know that even though my love is real
Alan Ball: Yeah, yeah. I am not. We. Get. It. Now go eat some spinach.

Anyway, this week opens with a slow pan across a toy-strewn suburban living room. There's someone playing Nintendo, and the camera finally comes to rest on that someone's face. Oh my God! It's Gabe The Foot Guy! I guess we're supposed to think that karmic revenge has made him this week's Dead Guy Du Jour (and also give the writers bonus irony points for having faded up on his feet). And see, that's the thing about these openings. We know that whomever we see is going to be dead within minutes, so there's always that little bit of heightened cognitive tension at watching them go about their normal, soon-to-be-over-with lives. Of course, the problem is that the writers know we know that these people are going to die, so they delight in putting us into situations designed to make us feel uncomfortable. And even though we know they know, and they know that we know that they know that we know, there's still no way to avoid feeling bad for these people. Especially when it turns out that the real Dead Guy Du Jour this week is Gabe's cute-as-a-button little brother Anthony. See, Gabe's buddy comes over with some pot (and is Alan Ball buying this stuff in bulk? Do they sell marijuana at Sam's Club in California? Although I guess he could just be getting it from Robert Iler), and while the boys head to Gabe's room to indulge, Gabe sends his little brother to play in their parents' room. There's some intercutting between the older brother getting wasted and the younger brother looking cute and finding a mysterious, towel-wrapped object under the bed, and then we suddenly hear a (mercifully, off-camera) gunshot. Gabe and the friend rush out, and are struck dumb with shock and fright upon seeing the (still mercifully off-camera) body of the little brother. While the friend packs up and bails out, Gabe can do nothing but stare and swear. As a rule, I don't care much for Eric Balfour (especially not after having been forced to sit through What Women Want this weekend), but he's excellent here in this little moment. Finally, we fade to white, and say our goodbyes to one Anthony Christopher Finelli. So long, kid.

Fade back up on David, preparing a corpse in Ye Olde Body Shoppe. Nate walks in all chipper and cheerful, and is immediately brought crashing back to Earth by David's dour demeanor. "What are you mad at me about now?" he asks, only to be told by David that, with his workload doubled by Federico's absence, "[Nate] can't expect [him] to engage in small talk just to make [him] feel better." With my apparent inability to get these recaps finished until four minutes before the show airs, I may not be able to engage in much small talk this week either. Anyway, David knows that Nate failed the funeral directors test, which is something of a surprise because Nate didn't even know the grades were out. David lays the guilt on pretty thick, and Nate responds that David really seems to enjoy making him feel like a moron. "You like it when I feel bad," he says, "because misery loves company." Is that an aptly worded shout-out to week's return of "director" Kathy Bates? You be the judge. After an awkward silence, and an awkward joke about David's less-than-stellar reconstruction skills, they're interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Both boys head upstairs to answer.

Before they can get to the door, however, they first must pass through one of the Hoedown Ho's square-dancing classes. You know, because there's nothing the elderly enjoy more than getting dressed up in stupid costumes and participating in strenuous physical activity first thing in the morning. David is still in full-on bitchy mode, as he gripes about Mom not being around to answer the door. Nate, however, is still stuck in his patronizing "I'm down with the gays in all their gay gayness" mien, and suggests that David's attitude might benefit from some (presumably public) sex with the Hoedown Ho. Meanwhile, Ruth is upstairs getting dressed when she suddenly spots The Late Nate in the mirror, seated peacefully on the bed behind her. She turns with a gasp, and suddenly The Late Nate has been replaced with a mercifully be-robed Ed Begley Jr. (StR = 698). She chastises him for staring at her, and then there's a long drawn-out scene where he attempts to convince her to go camping with him again. I'd recap it in detail, but since the phrase "naked under the stars" is uttered by none other than the St. Elsewhore himself, I just can't bring myself to do it. Ruth is reluctant at first, but agrees to see if she can get the time off work.

Das Sargzimmer im Fisherhaus. Gabe and his Sad Mom have arrived for their intake meeting. David suggests a viewing, but the mother doesn't want to have to see her son in a box. Upon hearing this, David gives Nate a look as if to say, "Why don't you try?" and Nate takes him up on that, mentioning that a viewing might help Sad Mom "let go." She starts crying even harder, and David quickly backs off, saying that it will be a closed-casket ceremony. Nate's attempt at convincing her actually becomes a mildly important plot point later on in the episode, so you'll need remember that all he did was ask once, and that he did it fairly politely as well. Of course, that doesn't excuse the fact that he's dressed in jeans, a barely-buttoned brown shirt, and Albert Einstein's hairstyle, but that's a different story. Anyway, as the family leaves, David stops to provide some exposition to the HDH, and a distracted and clearly devastated Gabe hands over the death certificate to Nate. Only he calls it a "receipt," which makes me laugh. Claire, however, sees nothing funny at all about having her foot-fetish friend show up at her home. As soon as he's out the door, she starts yelling at Nate, demanding to know what's going on.

Cut outside, as Claire comes running out after Gabe. He doesn't look too happy to see her, but he nonetheless sends Mom to wait in the car while they chat. Claire seems genuinely concerned and heartbroken as she expresses her condolences, and it's the sweet side of the character that only makes me love her more. Gabe thinks she's still mad, and apologizes for coming to Fisher & Sons, claiming that he didn't know where else to go. There's a nice nod to continuity when he mentions that his grandmother's funeral was held there as well, and then he heads off to the car. I'm not sure which impressed me more here: Claire's look of sorrow as he walks away, or the great lengths the director went to in order to frame the shot so as not to show the supposedly burnt-out house across the street. Back inside, Nate is enjoying a healthy breakfast (whereas I'm sitting here pounding coffee and Burger King Cini-Minis) when David strides in forcefully to join him. Nate's all, "I thought we were supposed to encourage people to have a viewing," and then he suggests that maybe David just didn't want to do the work. David, practically bubbling over with righteous indignation, gives a little speech: "When faced with option of not having to restore a six-year-old child's head that's been blown to bits, yeah, I don't want to do that. Do you? It's not our job to force someone to do something they're clearly not ready to do, because we think it's the right thing. Because it will make us feel better." Gee, I wonder if that little sentiment might not just have some major meta-implications for David's plotline this week. Though far be it from me to suggest that the Six Feet Under writers would ever try something so overly clever and cute.

Oh, wait. That is me. In so many ways. And this is a perfect time to answer the other most commonly asked question I get in my hate mail, which is: "Why do you write the recaps if you hate the show so much?" Well, first of all, I'm getting paid. You people all have to watch for free. In fact, you actually have to spend money to watch, whereas I can claim it all as a tax deduction. Secondly, the shocking truth is that I actually don't hate the show. In fact, I quite like it. Sure, things were a little uneven at first, but you need look no further than beginnings of Buffy to realize that shows sometimes need time to find their legs. If I say mean things, it's only because no show is perfect, and the flaws stand out more in contrast to the quality. Or it's because I just think they're funny. Either way, with the writers coming back to start work on season two this week, I've absolutely no doubt whatsoever that Rick Cleveland is already planning to kill two birds with one stone by penning a script wherein a big fat smelly guy named Aaron dies a horrific and humiliating death. I'll be looking for that one spring.

As is his wont, the Ironic Segue Fairy now cuts us straight from high drama to hijinks. Ruth is working at the flower shop, where a greasy-haired young man is wondering if "roses are for when you love somebody." Who asks questions that stupid? I mean, I couldn't tell a maple from a marigold with a gun to my head, but even I know that one. Ruth agrees that roses are the classic choice, especially after she hears that Grease Boy is planning to marry his ostensible Sandra Dee. "What if she turned out to be a cheating coward and ran off with some shithead she met in traffic school?" he asks. "What color would you give a coward?" Instead of her usual grumbling about foul language, Ruth simply suggests yellow. Grease Boy cheerfully orders twelve dozen yellow roses, and hands over the address they're being sent to. "What would you like the card to say?" asks Ruth, and "Fuck you, cunt" is the emphatic reply. Heh. Frances Conroy brings the house down by sliding the blank card across the counter and stammering, "I think it would be more personal if you wrote that."

But wait! There's more! The hijinks continue as Ruth heads out back to ask Nikolai The Flower Guy if she can have the weekend off. She claims she forgot that she had plans with a friend, but Nikolai isn't stupid. "Is it with that man?" he asks. "The one with the funny little car that picks you up?" At this point, I started giggling, but I figured there was no way they were going to go there. But then Ruth replies, "It's an electric car, and it's very good for the environment." Bwah! I take back everything I've ever said about casting Ed Begley Jr. This one scene made it all worthwhile. Of course, after the "big cock" and buttock incident, Gustave may disagree, but that's his problem, not mine. Anyway, Nikolai My New Favorite Guy starts laughing right along with me, which angers Ruth. "Why are you laughing?" she asks. "Because you are not," he replies. Oh, but we are. We totally are. He gives her the days off; then, as she's leaving, he pantomimes holding a tiny steering wheel and honking a tiny, non-nucleo-electric horn. "Beep beep!" Heh. Heh.

Oh, God. Brenda's house. This can't be good. Nate lets himself in, and after registering surprise at not being greeted by any nudity whatsoever, he calls out for Brenda. She yells from the back that she was in the shower, and will be out in a second. Nate starts ranting about his crappy day at work, including an intake meeting that he "totally fucked up." He asked one question, people, and only after David told him to. If that's what he considers a total fuck-up, then he's even harder on himself than I am. As he bemoans his lousy day, a pair of hands reaches into the frame and begins massaging his shoulders. Nate is apparently the only person in the entire universe that didn't know those hands were going to turn out to be Billy's, because he jumps about two feet into the air when he realizes it. Billy reports that Brenda just gave him a shiatsu massage, thus getting a head start on fulfilling our potential incest-tease quota for the week. There's some macho turf-marking dialogue between the two, and then Brenda appears and casually mentions that Billy will be joining them for dinner. Nate's face falls, presumably because there's no more stubble to hold it up.

Later. Brenda and her boys are seated Japanese-style around her six-inch-tall dining room table. I bet that's a Noguchi too. I'm so wrong about that, aren't I? Anyway, Billy heard about the Dead Kid Du Jour on the news, and expresses the opinion that some people just shouldn't be allowed to have kids. Amen, brother. I can think of two people right off the top of my head, and they'll be appearing in the previews for week in just about forty minutes. Nate whines about his lousy day some more, and Brenda holds his hand to comfort him. This doesn't sit well with Billy, who launches into a long dissertation on the bizarre death customs of various tribes and religions around the world. "I thought it would be good to read up on your boyfriend's line of work," he tells them. "What a man does, well, it's who he is." This bothers me for any number of reasons, not least of which is the fact that our pal Creepy Jesus here is apparently having more success at finding work as a professional annoyance than I am. After last week's love letter to America's pastime, Sars may disagree, but that's her problem, not mine. What's that you say, Sars? I'm fired? Okay. Maybe I'll see you later. Anyway, Billy continues to dig at Nate, calling him first an amateur and then a dilettante. Nate responds with a bunch of pseudo-psychobabble that serves only as a set-up for Brenda's line. "If you lose a spouse you're called a widow or a widower," she says. "If you're a child and you lose your parents, then you're an orphan. But, what's the word to describe a parent who loses a child? I guess that's just too fucking awful to even have a name." It's an interesting point, and I see where they were going with it, but coming from Brenda, it just seems like something else I dont really care about. We do a round robin of close-ups on everybody looking sad and thoughtful, and then the scene ends.

Suddenly, we're in Babylon West, with oily, half-naked muscle men gyrating in steel cages. It's Hot! Dancing! Gay! Boy! Tastic! In an effort to provide a fully-informed recap (and also to indulge my laziness by getting someone else to do my work for me), I offered to let Camper recap these scenes for you. After she finished laughing in my face (virtually, that is), she suggested that I try Strega instead, as David Fisher's dancing bears a disturbing resemblance to that of David Boreanaz. Unfortunately, Strega just signed a pay-or-play deal to write and direct Cruel Intentions 3: Brought To You By Clearasil, Viagra, And Pepto-Bismol, so she wasn't available. I'll try to do the best I can. Anyway, David wanders through the club, looking for his Hoedown Ho. HDH finds him, and immediately offers up some Ecstasy to wash away David's bad day. Popping the pill into his own mouth, the Ho plants a kiss on David, who accepts the pill and swallows with much less complaint than I would have expected. "Let's dance!" exclaims HDH, but David hilariously reports that he's not a very good dancer. "You will be," says the Hoedown Ho. Oh, if only there really were a pill you could take for that. I'd have been spared several highly traumatic high school dance experiences if there were. After a Hot! Dancing! Gay! Montage! we see the HDH bringing David a bottle of water. "You've got to keep drinking this," he says. "You've also got to remember I told you that when it becomes a plot point later." More scenes of David and his Ho kissing and convulsing on the dance floor, and then we finally fade to white.

From here on out, David's scenes in the club are intercut with Ruth's in the St. Elsewoods. She wakes up, and takes a giant swig from the canteen while the Begster snores beside her. She grabs a flashlight and heads out for a nice night-time stroll through the forest. Back at the club, David is dancing again. Or at least trying to. I suppose it's possible that he's just having a seizure. HDH pulls out a little brown vial of something and presses it to David's nose. My complete and utter cluelessness about the club scene is causing me to assume that it's cocaine of some sort, but I'm sure I'll be corrected on that any second now. Especially since there's no way that David would ever knowingly do coke. ["And it's probably amyl nitrate, but I don't get out much either, so we'll just wait for your nineteen letters to set us straight." -- Sars] Anyway, Keith sees them, and he's none too pleased. He grabs the New Boy and leads him out of the bar as David and HDH get funky on the dance floor. Pretty soon, they're both shirtless and doing some recycled square-dancing moves (again, a nice nod to continuity -- it's the same move HDH taught him last week). I can't even begin to explain the hilarity of David's facial expressions here, so I'll just throw in another "convorsation," and move on.

Haley Joel Osment: Are you the Blue Fairy?
Keith: Sorry, kid, but I'm the Big Black Sex Fairy. Maybe you should try the men's room.

Ruth is now cavorting through the woods, and the director has chosen to shoot the entire scene using a blue filter over the lens. I'm not sure whether this was motivated by artistic reasons, or if it's just a failed attempt at shooting day for night. Either way, it's very, very blue. Ruth wanders around, picks some berries, and literally hugs a tree. Heh. It's good to know that Ed Begley has a sense of humor about himself. Ruth is smiling and giggling and generally having a great time communing with nature, and then we cut back to David, who is having a lousy time communing with his Ho. HDH is macking with some random dude on a sofa in the back of the bar, and he waves David over to join them. How come my dates never do anything like that? Anyway, David turns to leave, but HDH tracks him down and explains that the guy is just a friend who wants to join them later. David realizes that this relationship just wasn't meant to be, and tries to apologize. "Go. Have fun. I'm just tooI'm sorry that I can'tI'm sorry." He turns and departs, leaving the HDH to think for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and heading back to the dance floor.

Argh! My eyes! You know, the Hot! Dancing! Gay! Boys! didn't bother me a bit, largely because they all had a serious appreciation for the finer points of various depilatories. Nate, on the other hand, is still sporting Brer Rabbit's briar patch around his nipples. He and Brenda are lying in bed, and she seems to be under the impression that he didn't approve of her cancer stunt because he's afraid of her dying. Apparently, she's psychotic and self-centered. It's a wonder she and I aren't married yet. "We all die, Nate," she says, stroking his sideburns. Alan Ball manages to restrain himself from giving her an instant, ironic death from asphyxiating on her boyfriend's facial hair, and while I express my dismay at this oversight, we cut to the scene.

It's Ruth, and she's been joined in the woods by a guy in a giant bear suit. He's wearing a hat and carrying a big clock, and he motions for her to follow. She does, and suddenly comes across a hearse parked in a clearing. She approaches, and discovers The Late Nate working on it. They both look happy to see each other, and The Late Nate teases her that two guys must not be enough for a "slut" like her. It was funnier when he said it. They share a long, giggly conversation, and its easy to see that these two were very much in love at one time. Of course, all the dialogue is fraught with irony and double meanings, and I would have to transcribe the entire scene for you to get it all. The best part, though, is when Ruth tells The Late Nate that he would have liked Hiram, and Nate replies that his money is on the florist. Unfortunately, unless they're planning to recast a post-Summer School Mark Harmon or a pre-Boy Meets World William Daniels as Nikolai The Flower Guy, I don't think that's going to happen. Ruth remembers the time that the hearse stalled on the PCH, and they ended up making love in the back. Like mother, like daughter, I guess. "Nathaniel, what happened to us?" she asks. "We were so in love once." Nate sighs, and they both lament their lost childhood. Then he raises the hood and discovers that the hearse's engine has been grown over with vines. Ruth pulls them out, and finds a double tombstone underneath. His side is already filled in; hers remains blank. "I miss what we had," she says, and he replies, "Then find it again." They kiss one last time, and as the music swells and the blue filter gets even bluer, we fade to white and say goodbye to The Late Nate forever. Proshai, Richard Jenkins. You will be missed.

Haley Joel Osment: Are you the Blue Fairy?
Ruth: Well, I don't know so much about the fairy part, but I'm definitely blue here.
Haley Joel Osment: Can you make me into a real boy?
Ruth: I don't know. The first two I made haven't really turned out all that well.

The morning, Ruth wakes up (naked no less) in her sleeping bag. While Hiram can be heard cooking and singing outside, Ruth is delighted to discover a leaf tangled in her hair. Cut outside, and Ruth emerges fully dressed from the tent, saying that it's a beautiful morning and that Hiram should have woken her sooner. "I thought you could use the sleep after the night we had," he tells her. "You've never been that passionate with me before." Ew. Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, and also, ew. They hug, and laugh, and he compliments her sexual prowess a few more times, and I return from projectile vomiting in the bathroom just in time to see the scene end.

Formaldehyde Fortress. Anthony's funeral is underway, and almost the entire Fisher family is in attendance. Nate joins David at his usual post, and receives congratulations on his snazzy new suit. "I figured you need more than one suit to be a funeral director," he says, and David points out that you also need to pass the test. Then he admits that he also failed the test the first time he took it, but Nate doesn't believe him. "I fuck up a lot more than you might think," David says. "I fuck up a lot." Oh, dont we all. Anyway, Gabe spots Claire and heads over to say hi. They chat, and just when he asks why she's being so nice to him, some random guy comes in and punches him right in the face. The guy turns out to be Anthony's father, and he screams at Gabe for letting the kid shoot himself while he continues to kick and punch him. Despite my visceral glee at seeing my rival for Lauren's affections being pummeled, I can't help feeling sorry for Gabe. Nate arrives and pulls Angry Dad away while Claire shouts at the guy for blaming Gabe when he hasn't even been back to see Anthony for two years.

Nate leads Angry Dad back into the comfort room, where AD asks, "Who was that little bitch out there?" "That was my sister," replies Nate. "That was my girlfriend," replies Aaron. Angry Dad rants about Gabe being a screw-up with no sense of responsibility, and then he sits down and confesses that the gun was his. He bought it for Mom when he had to leave town for a job. "Everybody dies," is Nate's sage advice. "Some of us live to be a hundred, some of us never make it through our first day. It's just a fucking fact of nature, palyou can punch as many people as you want, it's not going to change the fact that boy is dead. And your chance to be in his life is over. Did you use that time well, or did you just piss it away?" Go Nate! Get down with your bad psychobabbling self. Angry Dad slumps down on the sofa, and thinks about his life.

Later, Ruth is in the kitchen, ecstatically (get it?) extolling the virtues of camping to David. "And you're okay?" he asks. "No sickness? No headaches?" Ruth mentions that she did, in fact, have a headache, but she took some aspirin, and it went away. "Yes, well, aspirin is damn good stuff," replies David. Heh. Claire comes in and explains that she's depressed because they buried her friend's brother. Then she confesses that Gabe was the foot guy, which totally shocks David and her mom. After she leaves, Ruth sighs and says, "There's so much you wish you could protect your children from." David seems to share her pain for a moment, and then he kisses her goodnight and heads upstairs. Ruth places the aspirin bottle on the table for a quick close-up, and then we cut to Claire's room, where Gabe is lying in her lap, sobbing and shaking. Fade to white.

Haley Joel Osment: Are you the Blue Fairy?
Claire: Uh, hello? Have you seen the hair? Clearly, I'm the Red Fairy.
Haley Joel Osment: Ahh, the hair. So silky, so smooth, so
Claire: Oh God, not another one. You people are all freaks.
Haley Joel Osment: Marry me, Lauren! Forget about Aaron, my love is real!
Alan Ball: Yes, but I am not Spielberg, which means there's not going to be some fake happy ending tacked onto this crap. So get out. Now.