So, yeah. It seems I owe the lovely Lauren Ambrose something of an apology. Now, to be fair, she actually also owes me one as well (two, in fact), but we'll get to that later in the recap. My point here is that I myself have been the subject of several (sadly non-silken) stalkings these past few days, and I'm beginning to see what life is like on the other end of the looking glass. Forgive me, Lauren. See, I always thought people knew this whole thing was just a big joke, but judging from the email I get, there's a significant number of you out there who really think I spend my free time lurking in the bushes outside her house or something. Which is stupid, and not just because the cheapness and easily availability of that X-10 spy camera makes actual physical lurking totally passé. Anyway, this whole experience has taught me two very valuable lessons: 1) No one deserves to live in fear, and 2) Mike Binder is STILL the most obnoxious, offensive, unfunny "comedian" in all of recorded history.
Mike Binder: Hey! I've got feelings too, you know.
Alan Ball: I don't think he cares.
Aaron: He's right. I don't care.
Mike Binder: Fine, but can you at least give me a clue as to what it was I said that pissed you off so much?
Aaron: Yeah. It's EVERYTHING you said.
Alan Ball: Ew. I'd forgotten about that Three Stooges thing.
As I type these very words, the University of Pittsburgh basketball team is demolishing Central Connecticut State in the NCAA tournament. So how does Master of Temporal Continuity Alan Ball elect to open his show? At a college football practice. I guess this is what we should expect from a show that gave us Christmas in August last year, Christmas in March this year, and a three-year-old with an E-Z Bake oven. Oh, well. At least HBO gets credit for running a timely Mathew St. Patrick interview this week. Anyway, the coach makes all the players do some big running drill, and we all know what happened to Korey Stringer, right? As the boys run back and forth, Alan Ball sneaks in some quick commentary about homophobia in organized sports by having The Potentially Dead White Guy call The Potentially Dead Black Guy a "faggot." There's some more quasi-competitive banter, but as soon as the drill is complete, Potentially Dead White Guy suddenly keels over and draws the attention of the medical staff and all his teammates. Of course, since no Six Feet Under show opener can be without a clever gimmick, this week's writer Laurence Andries now offers up his own commentary about racism in organized sports as Potentially Dead Black Guy stumbles into the foreground and dies absolutely unnoticed amongst the furor over the Fighting Whitey behind him. Farewell, Joshua Peter Langmead. The Bruins could have used you.
Fade up at Brenda's Brotherfucking Boudoir, where a shirtless and hirsute Peter Krause has joined Brenda in the kitchen. While he pulls on a t-shirt so that I'm no longer forced to avert my eyes, she flips through a magazine and freaks out about trying to decide what to serve at a dinner party celebrating the return of her mythic ex-boyfriend Trevor. When Nate points out that serving caviar in addition to foie gras and smoked salmon might make it look like she's trying too hard to impress, Brenda fills us in on the backstory so we know why she cares. Trevor was "a big part of [her] life once," his wife has since "won a fucking National Book Award," and it was Trevor's "masterly touch that ushered [Brenda] into womanhood." She also claims to no longer be depressed, and points out gleefully that she takes Nate completely for granted. And really, don't we all? Anyway, Nate doesn't seem too concerned, although he does threaten to go "all alpha-dog" and "kick [Trevor's] ass. Fucking Trevor. Fucking Trevor." Due to limitations in recap sound technology, you'll just have to imagine Nate employing his world-renowned HAL 9000 voice on that last "Fucking Trevor" part.
Kut to Kroehner, where the Original Fighting Whitey (Matt Gilardi) is arriving for work. Last season's abrasiveGrace Under FireGirl pulls up in her sweet silver Mercedes convertible, and we're quickly reminded that she's both his boss and a bitch. She's still pissed that he hasn't snapped up Fisher & Sons, and after entreating him to "play like [he's] got a big dick," she informs him that his end-of-the-year deadline to buy out our boys has been moved up, because "Christmas came early." And then she fires his sorry albino ass. You know, I did a lot of bitching last year about how pointless the whole Gilardi storyline really was, but it's now sorta sad to see him go so suddenly. "Mitzi, please!" he begs. "I can do this." "You know, just because I fucked you, that doesn't put us on a first-name basis," she replies. Boy, I know what that's like. Sars still makes me call her "Sars," for God's sake.
At the Formaldehyde Fortress, the brothers are also starting their day. David informs Nate about the DGDJ, but then heads off for a sales meeting in Torrance, leaving the newly-licensed Nate to handle the intake. "Do me a favor," says David. "Don't even mention the word 'cremation.'" ["That's my boy." -- Lazarus] "Okay," replies Nate. "Can I mention the word 'condescending'?" Heh. Later on, at the intake, the parents of The Now Actually Dead Black Guy are reminiscing about their lost son. "He even had NFL sheets," sobs the mother, as they go on and on about how all their son ever wanted was to play pro football. Oh, for God's sake, people. I had NFL sheets when I was a kid, and the closest I ever got to playing pro ball were the term papers I used to write for Donovan McNabb when I was at Syracuse. I'm just saying. Nate looks exceedingly uncomfortable through all this, which leads me to wonder if the AVM is somehow affecting his vaunted "gift" for handling these sorts of situations. He does, however, manage to sell them a $9,200 Titan IV casket, so at least he's still a better salesman than Rico.
And speaking of Rico, he and the wife have apparently decided to go house hunting. They should really consult Uncle Bob about that. I hear he's the expert. Rico's cousin has come along with them, ostensibly to help check the place out, but it's really just so he can ride Rico for being pussy-whipped. "I'm just breaking it down for you like the guys are telling me," he says. "You been acting like a candy-ass bitch ever since you got married." Gee, I wonder if that will be a relevant plot point later in the show? Vanessa, by the way, loves the house, because it's got a yard for the boys and is closer to Rico's job. And judging from their jubilant hug, I'd say they'll be making an offer on the place any day now.
Down in the Body Shop, Nate is wheeling in Actually Dead Black Guy's body on a stretcher. Instead of putting some clothes on him so that I can switch to the "Number 22," nickname, however, he wheels Actually Dead Black Guy straight into the freezer. Or at least he tries to, before being interrupted by the sounds of sobbing. No, it's not me crying for the loss of Nate's stubble, but rather Actually Dead Black Guy, bemoaning the metaphysical unfairness of his own death. Nate looks majorly freaked out as he unzips the body bag to investigate, and I have to wonder how anyone on this show could still be surprised by the sound of a talking dead person at this point. It's not like it happens every week or something. Oh, wait. Never mind. Anyway, Nate's cell phone rings, and a nice lady from Applebee Caskets informs Nate that the Titan IV he just sold is no longer in production. "Oh son of a mother-fuck!" complains Nate, upon learning that the new version sells for two thousand dollars more than what he quoted to the clients. He promises to get back to her, and hangs up in disgust.
School. DangerSlut is complaining about life, like she always does, and also talking about some girl whose brother she slept with, also like she always does. Claire, meanwhile, just wonders where Gabe is. So, of course, we cut to Gabe, who's outside the school somewhere with one of his buddies. They're both worried that the cops have a copy of the convenience store security camera video in every school in L.A., and that arrests may be imminent. After we see some screaming and macho pushing and shoving, Claire calls on the cell to rudely remind Gabe of his more pressing social obligations. Back inside, however, it's now time for the show's second, more salient shout-out to my semi-stalkerific recap stylings. "You've got to act like you don't care," says DangerSlut. "[Lauren] hates it when you're all over [her]." Claire then compounds this message (and also racks up those owed apologizes) by mistakenly calling her friend "WonderSlut" instead of DangerSlut. And as if that wasn't enough, she further demonstrates her disdain for me by calling the suddenly-appearing Peanut Testicle "Squirrel Nut." Peanut, meanwhile, is somewhat sweaty and seriously dazed and disoriented, as he tells the girls that their "souls are on fire" and repeatedly tries to fondle the lovely Lauren's breasts. Is that really what she thinks I'm like? God, I hope not.
Finally hammering home this little scene's ultimate point, Lauren exclaims, "You are not on the list of people who get to touch my tits." And don't I know it. Heh. Although, to be perfectly honest, it's really not about her tits. My love for Lauren knows no physical boundaries. I would, however, like to thank Laurence Andries for once again rubbing in the lack of Lauren in my life. You're killing me here, Larry. And to think I actually liked Prey. Anyway, Peanut Testicle suddenly goes nuts, experiencing a serious case of the DTs. He starts screaming and tearing at his clothes before finally collapsing onto the hallway floor. While everyone but Claire just stands around and watches, Gabe suddenly comes running up to provide his own special brand of medical attention. "Stop this right now, you fucking bitch," he screams, "or I'll kick the shit out of you. Do you hear me?" Wow. He must have learned that one from Kiefer.
Back at the Body Shop, the brothers are bickering over buying a replacement casket for the Titan Nate sold. Rico enters, and interrupts them to break the news that he and Vanessa are buying the house. Then he asks to borrow eleven thousand dollars. Dude, my boss wouldn't even lend me five bucks to buy lunch on the day before payday, so I'm not sure why Rico thinks this is a good idea. Surprisingly, however, David seems at least somewhat understanding, and he shocks both Nate and Rico by promising to have an decision on the loan by the day.
Cut to Nikolai The Flower Guy's Shoppe For Roses, Lilies, And Wayward Characters In Search Of The Meaning Of Life. Ruth and Robbie (and aww, I missed Joel Brooks) are arranging flowers, and Robbie has something he wants to say. Basically he forgives her for "destroying the natural order of the universe," and for the fact that, "for his own carnal reasons," Nikolai prefers Ruth to Robbie. Ruth doesn't feel she needs forgiveness, however, and the conversation turns a bit testy before Robbie can bring up what he really wants to talk about. It seems he's graduating from something called "The Plan," which is a "multi-disciplined course that allows you think way beyond yourself and rebuild your life from the ground floor, plank by plank," and he wants her to be there. "That sounds awful," replies Ruth. I'll say. I'm reserving judgment on this plotline for the time being, but if it ends up just being yet another excuse for Ruth to occasionally blurt out inappropriately touchy-feely sentiments, I'm going to feel like the foundation for my intimacy with this show has been betrayed. After much awkward fumbling and repressing of emotions, Ruth agrees to attend the ceremony.
And now here's where the Michael C. Hall lovers start wearing out their VCRs. The brothers are all done up in their fancy suits, and walking into a room whose contents cause David's face to light up with joy and amazement. We reverse to see what they're looking at, and it turns out to be a huge wall display of various casket types. An obsequious Alan-Cumming-wannabe salesman extols the unit's virtues, leading Nate to grudgingly admit that it is "impressive." "Impressive?" says David. "It's fucking gorgeous!" Hee! "It's a completely interactive retail experience," explains the salesman. "Because human beings? We're tactile. We like to touch the fruit before we buy." David is practically giggling with glee as he convinces Nate that they should use the last of the money they got from Mom to buy the unit and fix up the second viewing room. After Nate's wildly effective haggling head tilt gets the salesman to knock $1,500 off the price without even saying a word, they agree to make the purchase. "You really like it?" asks Nate. "Who wouldn't!" exclaims David, as he starts opening the unit's drawers and playing with his new toy.
"I've never seen David so happy," explains Nate later on at the Brotherfucking Boudoir. "It was like Christmas morning when we were kids." Brenda responds by repeatedly banging a meat tenderizer into the counter, and goes right back to talking about her upcoming dinner with Trevor. Nate is blandly supportive, and even asks for advice on what to wear. Brenda's suggestion? A Speedo and some hair extensions. Uh, okay. Has she ever even seen Nate? Because believe me, hair extensions are the last thing he needs. The guy's practically got corn rows on his pectorals by this point. She then changes her mind, and instructs him instead to "wear something that makes [him] look like the sexy bad guy [he] really is. Something that makes Mr. Wife & Kids question all his middle-class choices." Nate moves in for an embrace, and reports that he's fine with that idea, as long as Brenda wears something "low-cut in the back, so he can see [Nate's] name branded on [her] ass." This oh-so-tender moment between lovers is interrupted, however, by the spectral appearance of the now newly-named Number 22 (formerly Actually Dead Black Guy), who stares Nate down as we fade to white.
Fade up on the sounds of construction at The Formaldehyde Fortress. Evil Kroehner-Vixen Mitzi Dalton-Huntley arrives, and congratulates a befuddled David on the purchase and installation of his new casket wall. Then she finally introduces herself and suggests that she and the brothers Fisher sit down for a quick cup of coffee. Cut to later, as an angry (and sweaty) Nate returns from his morning run to find her waiting in the sitting room. They banter about whether or not running is bad for the knees (Nate thinks that "everything is bad for something"), and then she drops the bombshell that Gilardi is gone. Mitzi goes on to explain that with the economy being such as it is, Kroehner has its own problems and isn't worried about taking over Fisher & Sons. David arrives with coffee for everyone, but Mitzi is still a little cautious (and caustic as well). "You didn't put rat poison in here, did you?" she asks. "Try it and find out," answers Nate. Then he tells her to skip the foreplay. "But that's the best part," is her hilariously sultry reply. Heh. You never saw Mike Binder making foreplay jokes. Probably because he doesn't even know what foreplay is. Anyway, Nate goes off on a little rant: "It's not that we don't trust you, we despise everything you stand for. Corporate profits over personal service, stockholders over clients. Greed over everything else. So I think you should take your gesture of good faith and shove it up your ass." When David agrees that Nate has "pretty much summed [their] position up," Mitzi gets up to leave, enabling Nate to make the name joke he's been saving. "Who the fuck is named Mitzi anyway?" he asks. "Sounds like something you name a fucking Chihuahua." Wanna take bets on whether or not Brett Butler ever had a Chihuahua named Mitzi? I mean, Alan Ball is almost as unforgiving as I am.
Aaron: It's not just that we don't like you, we despise everything you stand for. Lame chauvinistic "humor" over actual insight, gratuitous sex scenes over character development. Polishing your outsized ego over everything else. So I think you should take your craptastic little show and shove it straight up your ass.
Mike Binder: All right, you know what? I really don't appreciate you constantly portraying me as some kind of…whoa! Check out the funbags on that hot little hose-hound!
Alan Ball: Ew.
Aaron: I know. And also? We're the only ones here, so I really hope he's talking about you.
Mike Binder: Hey, I'm being serious. I mean, just where do you get off acting so superior, Mr. Marry Me Lauren? I'd like to see you try and put on a quality show, instead of just hiding out in your living room quoting the Bible and messing with other people's livelihoods.
Aaron: 1 Corinthians 2:15 -- "He that is spiritual judgeth all things, yet he himself is judged of no man."
Mike Binder: Yeah, well, even the devil can quote scripture according to his needs.
Aaron: Which is why I'm surprised I've never seen you do it.
"Pretty bitchin', huh?" asks Nate, as he and Claire examine the newly installed casket wall. "When did you start getting a pup-tent over caskets?" asks Lauren, before teasing her brother that he's "turning into David." "Don't ever say that again," replies Nate. Then Rico arrives, prompting this week's ultimate Cute Claire Scene. "Welcome to Casketeria, can I take your order?" she asks, complete with a little hand gesture. Aww. Sigh. Rewind. The boys both laugh, and then Rico solemnly leads Nate into a back room somewhere to get an answer on his loan request. Meanwhile, Claire wants to know if she can hide stuff in the sample coffins. Well, I guess that's better than the aspirin bottle.
In the back room, Nate lays out all the reasons why they can't give Rico a loan, which basically boil down to fact that they just spent all their money on the casket wall. Rico is miffed, and starts in with the whole "I'm not a partner" thing again, causing Nate to finally snap: "God! You know, I've had it with you moping about not being a partner. It's not happening, all right? I wish I could help you, but I can't. I mean, fuck, we're your EMPLOYER, all right? We're not a goddamn savings and loan." Amen, brother. Rico really needs to shut up here, a point which is further proven when he attempts to guilt Nate by reminding him that his kids play "in a parking lot to a dumpster." Whatever, Rico. When I was a kid, I thought dumpsters were cool, so I'm not even sure what the problem is here. Plus, parking lots are perfect for street hockey. Nate just looks uncomfortable as Rico storms out.
Now we get a quick DGDJ interlude down in the Body Shop, as Number 22 whines that he's scared of what's going to happen to him while Nate tries furiously to ignore him. "I was so young. Why me?" wonders 22, and that's finally enough to get Nate's attention. "Well, why the fuck not you?" he shouts. "What did you think, you were immune to this? Everybody dies. Everybody. What makes you so fucking special?" And as Nate realizes that he's screaming at no one, we all in the audience realize (once again) that the boy has some issues with death.
Over at Ruth's storyline, she's arrived at the graduation ceremonies for The Plan. Some random old lady comes up and starts making small talk, explaining that her daughter will be graduating that evening as well. We get some more exposition on the fact that The Plan is really just a shady self-improvement group, and then Ruth and her new friend head inside to sit down. Up onstage, the group's leader (played by Alice Krige) is giving a speech. "I am Krige of Borg," she says. "You might remember me from such other self-improvement cults as Sesame Street, Sleepwalkers, and Star Trek VIII. Now lower your shields and surrender your dignity. Prepare to be assimilated. We will add your biological and horticultural distinctiveness to our own. Your family will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile." She's then followed by a number of her drones, who all give testimonials to their successes in The Plan. Robbie is one of them, and he just wants everyone to know that he swears to "build the life [he] always wanted to live." Ruth, however, is particularly touched by the story of one woman, who's still speaking "fiercely from the 'I'" even though her children won't even return her phone calls.
Okay, now I always thought I was without doubt the worst racquetball player in the world (and I've got the broken nose to prove it), but apparently David could give me a real run for my money as Keith kicks his ass all over the court. Aww, they're racquetball buddies again. How cute. Of course, Keith then feels the need to step on the joke by explaining it to anyone who wasn't watching last season. Yeah. Step off, Keith. That's my job. Anyway, Keith invites David to his niece's birthday party that afternoon, and David jumps at the chance to tag along like a little puppy dog. If only he'd jumped after a few of Keith's serves like that, he wouldn't have lost so badly.
School. DangerSlut runs up to Claire in the parking lot, and shouts that Peanut Testicle was high on "fry" when he passed out at school. Claire, much like myself, has no idea what "fry" is, which forces DangerSlut to explain that it's pot that's been soaked in embalming fluid. Ew. Why can't kids these days just snort rubber cement like we did? It takes Claire way longer than you'd expect to put two and two together and realize that Gabe must have stolen the stuff last week, but when she finally does, she's pretty pissed off.
Cut to the Brotherfucking Boudoir, where Brenda is laying out a plate of caviar and other hors d'oeuvres that sort of look as though they've been dipped in embalming fluid as well. Nate seems to agree with me, as he reminisces about a food stylist he used to date in Seattle who would put hairspray on food to make it look better for picture-taking. "They do stuff to food that is way worse than what we do to dead bodies, believe me." I'd also like to point out the subtle bit of foreshadowing right there for those of you who read spoilers. For those of you who don't, I'll instead point out that Peter Krause's head appears particularly rectangular in this scene. Suddenly, there's a knock at the door, and Brenda gathers herself to go answer it. "Tell me I look beautiful," she says. "You are beautiful," replies Nate with no small amount of sincerity. "Wow. You even mean that," she says before heading to the door.
She opens it to finally reveal the long mysterious Trevor, who looks sort of like a cross between Chris Noth and a scruffy Ken Olin. There are introductions all around, as Brenda finally meets the new wife and also somewhat pointedly forgets to introduce Nate. As Brenda heads off to pour much-needed glasses of wine for everyone, we see Trevor and his incredibly loud and obnoxious child sharing a tender father/son moment. Nate seems moved by this, but Brenda appears more threatened than anything else. Cut to later, as Brenda and The Wife chat in the kitchen. The Wife is complaining about having to be on Politically Incorrect with Kobe Bryant and "that emaciated chick fromThe Practice". Damn, even Ragdoll is getting shout-outs this week. Then they both confess to having read each other's book (Brenda's being Charlotte: Light And Dark), and The Wife quizzes her about being "a classic borderline personality." Brenda claims (somewhat self-servingly, to my eyes at least) that she went to the library and looked up the symptoms just to mess with her doctors' heads. Because we all know that Brenda doesn't have any REAL mental problems; she's just faking it all the time. Of course she is. The Wife thinks that the "borderline personality" diagnosis is really just "a misogynistic attempt to pathologize women who refuse to toe the patriarchal line." Oddly enough, that's exactly how I feel about Mind of the Married Man.
In the living room meanwhile, the menfolk are discussing more manly pursuits, namely rock-climbing. Both Nate and Trevor have climbed at some of the same places, but Trevor had to give it up because he's got to think about his kid now instead of just himself. After some awkward silence, they switch to the topic of Brenda, and Trevor reminisces about how much smarter than him she was. I don't really have a hard time believing that. Then he adds that "everybody expected such great things from her," and we all take a moment to feel sad for the vast reservoir of untapped potential that is Brenda Chenowith. Not that we've ever really seen said potential, but we sure have been told a lot about it. Then Trevor asks about Billy, and I'll give Tuc Watkins credit for having a facial expression that really says it all as he remembers just how creepy the Creepy Jesus can be.
And now the scene that never ends shifts to the dinner table, as Brenda fills everyone in on how she got into shiatsu. Trevor remarks that the masseuse at his health club is really "gifted," then adds in another "gif-TED" just to make sure we get it. Of course, it's not until they discover that Nate is a funeral director that they're really impressed. "What makes one decide to want to become a funeral director?" asks Trevor. "I was born into it," replies Nate. "It's sort of like being born into the Mafia." Everyone laughs excessively and inappropriately at this little "joke," and then the annoying little kid comes up to Nate and starts driving a Matchbox car all over his leg. As he stares at the little moppet, Nate gets another flashback to Number 22, which is then interrupted by the kid shrieking directly into the camera. The Wife scoops him up and hustles the screaming kid out of the house, saying, "Sometimes he becomes completely irrational just to get attention." "Hell, sometimes I do that," answers Brenda. Heh.
Now Keith and David arrive at the niece's house, where Keith is warmly greeted by a cute, glum little girl in braces. When they get inside and discover that there's no birthday party to be found, however, Keith starts getting angry. It's even worse when he notices the laundry and dirty dishes strewn about the apartment. ["Remind me not to give Keith my address." -- Sars] Keith hands over his gift, which turns out to be an E-Z Bake Oven, and then heads into the back bedroom to speak to his still sleeping sister. He wakes her up and immediately starts with the yelling and screaming. First he accuses her of being back on drugs, and then he insists that she needs to "stop living just for [herself] and start taking care of that little kid out there." Mom explains that she's been clean for seven months, and is tired from working two jobs, but then undermines her own argument a bit when she adds, "So I forgot her motherfucking birthday, you want to arrest me for that?" Keith grabs her by the arms and shakes her pretty violently as he yells some more, but she's just not having it. "Take your hands off me," she whispers angrily. "I will file an assault charge and you do not want that."
Out in the living room, David and the niece are getting acquainted. David explains that his own sister used to have an E-Z Bake Oven, but he broke it by putting a three-hundred watt bulb to try to cook a pizza. "That's dumb," says the niece. "I know," replies David. "And I was seventeen." As has been noted on the forums, that would have made Claire about three at the time, so either Lauren is really, really precocious (which I don't have a hard time believing), or David was just embellishing a bit to get the girl to laugh. And quite frankly, she needs all the humor she can get right now, as we hear the sounds of Keith and Mom's argument drifting out from the bedroom. The niece looks like she's heard it all before, and then she asks David if he's "got a daddy." "I used to," replies David, before Keith comes back out and joins them. You can totally see him trying to hold back his rage as he promises to take his niece out to a movie the night, and then he quickly hustles David right on out of there.
Back at The Boudoir, Nate and Brenda are discussing the dinner. "Oh my God. What was I thinking?" wonders Brenda. "Well, I was only nineteen…what a dork. And his ears were filthy. Did you notice that?" Ah-ha! So that's why she likes Nate. The mutton chops cover up his dirty earlobes. You see? It all makes sense in the end. Nate suggests that they make friends with some couples they don't hate, and Brenda thinks they should volunteer somewhere that will help make a positive change for the world. You know, like a "needle exchange program" or something. "Brenda, I'm dying," Nate suddenly blurts out, and then we get an extreme Kathy Bates close-up as he explains his condition. It's a touching moment as he confesses his fears about death and starts crying, but then Brenda smacks him on the forehead and asks if he's been listening to her. Psych! It was just a dream sequence. And now it's Brenda's turn to flip out (some more) as she starts rolling a joint and babbling about whether or not she's a "self-fulfilling prophecy" who really is a borderline personality. "I spent my childhood performing for clinicians, the rest of my life taking care of my train wreck of my brother, and I have no idea who I am," she moans. "I'm gonna make a cup of tea. Do you want one?" Ahh yes, that's right. It's always all about Brenda. Nate just looks sad as we fade to white.
Fade up on the Formaldehyde Fortress again, as the boys show off their new casket wall to Ruth. "God, I can't wait until our funeral," gushes David, but Mom just thinks the whole unit is too "modern." When she finds out that they spent $20,000 on this thing, she demands a full accounting of all the money they've spent. David interrupts to reassure her, but Ruth, as is her wont, blurts out, "I am speaking fiercely from the 'I'!" before storming off. The Alan Cumming Wannabe Salesman arrives to let them know that everything is fully installed, and then he drops a bombshell of his own. It turns out that Applebee Caskets is owned by Kroehner, and Mitzi Dalton-Huntley has comped their casket wall. David, as is his wont, is unable to derive any happiness from having just saved $20,000, and is instead worried that they're now selling Kroehner caskets, and they still can't lend Rico any money because they need a contingency fund. Nate, as is his wont, just looks put-upon as he shows off his denim-clad butt to the camera.
Downstairs, Vanessa is pressuring Rico about the house. It turns out that even though the Fishers said no to the loan, she went ahead and wrote a check to the mortgage company anyway. When Rico asks where she got the money, all Vanessa has to say is "don't be mad" before he realizes that it came from her sister the actress. Rico gets all huffy, screaming that he works all day to provide for his family, and he doesn't need to be taking hand-outs from her sister. Except that with all the time off he asks for, he probably hasn't worked a full day in months, and on top of that, he DOES need to be asking for hand-outs. I'm not sure how borrowing from her sister is worse than borrowing from his boss, but whatever. We've already covered the "shut up, Rico" portion of the recap, and since I'm skirting my deadline as usual here, I'll just move on. Vanessa tells him she doesn't want to put up with any "machismo" bullshit, but Rico picks up the phone to cancel the check. Vanessa runs down all the different times her sister has lent them money to help out, which doesn't seem like it would be a very persuasive argument in this case, but Rico finally does hang up and consent to the loan.
School. Claire accosts Gabe on the Quad, and asks if he knows what Peanut Testicle was smoking when he freaked out. "It wouldn't happen to be embalming fluid that you stole from my house, right?" she demands. Gabe tries to explain himself, saying that he saw the stuff in the Body Shop, and he just wasn't thinking. "Oh, you were thinking," Claire says. "You were thinking about YOURSELF." In yet another example of his supreme stupidity, Gabe tries to make the situation better by confessing to the convenience store robbery and saying that the cops are closing in on him. "Who the fuck are you?" asks an astonished Claire. Gabe responds by dropping to his knees, beating his fists against his head, and repeating "everything I touch turns to shit" over and over again. He's making a total fool of himself in front of the whole school, but Claire doesn't care. With a look of melancholy resignation, she slowly backs away. "Everybody was right about you," she says, before breaking things off and running away. Man, Gabe is a tool. At least she's finally starting to realize it, though. And, also? Whatever Lauren may think of me, at least she can count on never having to see ME acting like that. For God's sake, I can't even work up the courage to call her agent for an interview, much less prostrate myself in front of her friends.
And now we return to the Formaldehyde Fortress's Sun Room Of Dramatic Revelations About Life And Death, where Number 22 is still sobbing and imploring Nate to "look at [him]." Again Nate tries to ignore the annoying dead guy, but 22 is persistent. He appears right in front of Nate's face, and solemnly intones, "Look at me," like some sort of zombified version of Chili Palmer. And I have to say, any time you've got a scene that would be improved by the presence of John Travolta, you've got problems. And hell, Kathy Bates was in Primary Colors, so she really should have known that by now. Anyway, Nate finally manages to make eye contact with the DGDJ, and the swelling soundtrack seems to indicate that we should be learning something here. So, do you get it? Do you? How Nate has to "look at" his own mortality? Are you sure? Because I could do a whole thing here about how the only catch is Catch-22, and how that symbolizes the inevitability of death. Or, if you'd prefer, we could talk some more about The Omnipresent Alan Ball Oracle Of Oppressed Ethnic Minority Wisdom. Either way, all I can say is that with ham hands like that, I sure hope this kid wasn't planning to play wide receiver.
And now that the talking corpse has tidily wrapped up all of this week's extant plot points, Nate comes downstairs to talk to his brother. They take a seat on a window ledge, and as both the picture and sound fade out, Nate begins explaining about his AVM. He cries, and David holds his hand, and then the credits roll. Aww. Sniff.
Mike Binder Hey, you know what would make these credits better?
Alan Ball: More shots of roses?
Aaron: Making them shorter so my TiVo doesn't always cut off the previews?
Mike Binder: Well, yeah, but I was thinking blowjob shots. You know, we could make them all arty and European and stuff.
Aaron: Yeah. I've got just three little words for you, my friend.
Mike Binder: Happy endings rule?
Alan Ball: Death before dishonor?
Aaron: Get out. Now.