Back to the Garden

To: Bob Wright, President of NBC
From: Dick Davidson, Director of Development -- Warner Brothers TV
Subject: 2003 Fall Pilots

Dear Bob,

I've given a lot of thought to that memo you sent a few months back about the challenges a show like The Sopranos poses to network television, so I had the writers down in the dungeon (or wherever it is we keep those long-haired hippie freaks these days) work up a few pilot ideas we could use for a counter-attack. Let me know what you think.

Seven Feet Over
Starring: Gheorghe Muresan and Rebecca Lobo
A half-hour "reality" sitcom about the trials and tribulations of a romance between two basketball stars. Also features frequent cameos by Billy Crystal as their wacky neighbor.

The Tenors
Starring: Luciano Pavarotti, Placido Domingo, and that other fat guy
A team of super-secret crime fighters conducts dangerous missions to prevent (tasteful and low-key) terrorist attacks while struggling to maintain their cover identities as world-class opera singers. Also features frequent cameos by Nathan Lane as their vaguely gay valet.

Becks and The City
Starring: Jennifer Love Hewitt, Jessica Biel, and Shannon Doherty
Combines the best of all worlds -- a sitcom set in New York, starlets with big dinners, and plentiful opportunities for product placement. It's especially relevant now that you've decided not to air those hard-liquor ads after all. The lawyers tells me the FCC won't even be able to say 'boo' at this one. Also features frequent cameos by Geena Davis as the older and sluttier member of the foursome.

Gauze
Starring: Anthony Edwards
America's favorite trauma surgeon returns in the much anticipated Mark Greene spin-off. The hook for this one is that the opening scene each week features the main character getting anally raped by a special guest star. The pilot has a couple of tour-de-force performances by Heathen and Wing Chun as wacky neighbors who witness the rape but just sit around pointing and laughing instead of calling the police.

The Mind of the Married Man
Starring: Mike Binder
I hear HBO might be canceling this one. It's a total pile of shit, but picking up scraps seems to be working for the UPN, so we might want to give it a shot. Besides, it can't be worse than anything else you've aired in that post-Friends slot.

Anyway, let me know which one you like. And give me a call week. We'll do lunch and then we can come back to the studio and raid Sorkin's stash.

Sincerely yours,
Dickie

Good morning, TwoPitnam! Yep, that's right kiddies! Back by popular demand and topping the charts at number one again this week is a funky-fresh new remix of that ever popular Six Feet Under theme, this time with the added bonus of actual lyrics! So all you crazy kids out there in recap-land need to cue up your VCRs and get ready to sing out loud and sing out strong! Oh, and this one goes out as a long-distance dedication to special guest-editor Niki and all my homies in the forums. ["Awwww!" -- niki] Thanks for keeping it real, yo.

Death! Death! Death! It happens to us all. Death! In your home or at the mall. Death! Don't even try to hide. Alan Ball will be your guide. Sex and death will soon collide. The irony just won't subside. Oh...on this show, you'll never know, who's going to go, with tag on their toe. Nate's got hair, everywhere. Aaron really really loves that Claire. So there. Alan-Ball-he-runs- the-show. He-loves-to- mock that...Death! And when we convorse, here's what he always says to me: "Oh, where oh where did I put my God damn BONG!" There? Ahhhhhh!!!!! Brenda's a nut, and a big slut, Rico should up shut, while David and Keith strut. Ruth is alone. To blurting she's prone. Just be glad they don't all live in your own home. Because-if-they- did-you-would-want- to-beat-them-all-to...Death! And that's the end. So now let's just fade to white. Ahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Note: That took me like fourteen million billion hours to write, so everybody reading this damn well better print it out and sing along every single week until the season is over. I'm not kidding. I'll withhold the convorsations if you don't.]

Anyway, on with the show. This week's opening scene finally represents the ultimate combination of sex, death, and loneliness, and all I can really say about it is that I'm quite frankly shocked it took them this long to go there. Basically we follow a well-dressed businessman as he comes home on his lunch break to indulge in a nice, relaxing round of [insert your favorite euphemism for masturbation here]. His preparations for the event include procuring a sliced lemon wedge, popping a porno tape into the VCR, and hanging himself from a workout machine with his belt. Oh yeah. This is going to end well. Incidentally, the porno is one of the worst I've ever seen. Not that I'm, you know, a connoisseur or anything, but I think it's safe to say that anytime your porn would actually be improved by the presence of either Joey Tribbiani or John Wayne Bobbitt, you've got some serious problems. Of course, Alan Ball remains ever the master of subtle misdirection, and if you look real close, one of the male stars of the video bears a disturbing resemblance to Rico's cousin Ramon. Remember that one later on in the episode. After several rather squicky shots of the guy's face as his oxygen supply runs out, the moans on the soundtrack rise in volume to the point where I begin to be afraid of what my neighbors might think, and then everything goes blurry as we fade to white. Farewell Jeffrey Marc Shapiro. If only you'd called Brenda instead.

Fade back up on Keith's apartment, as the Big Black Sex Cop moves to answer his ringing doorbell. It's David, and the poor boy is soaking wet. "You're all wet," exclaims Keith, flashing some of his famed police observation skills. "Were you crying?" David replies that it's raining outside, but yeah, he was also crying as well. "I love you," he declares, and Keith admits that he loves David, too. And then they kiss, and the camera swirls around them, and anyone who didn't already know this was a dream sequence is finally tipped off by the cheesy pop music in the background. It's still kinda sweet, though. The gimmick here (and there's always a gimmick) is that it's Keith's dream instead of David's. After the kiss, we cut to Keith waking up and finding Taylor eating breakfast in front of the TV in the living room. Taylor continues her habit of watching the most disturbing TV shows possible, and her choice of entertainment on this particular morning features an overly cheerful talking skeleton. I guess that's better than talking hamsters, but still. Keith berates her for not eating enough, and Taylor reports once again that her stomach hurts. Their bickering is interrupted by the arrival of Eddie, who offers some friendly, if unsolicited, parenting advice. Keith instantly switches into Angry! mode, and after dragging Eddie into the hallway and expositing that it's been two months since he shot the junkie (which is NOT a euphemism for masturbation), the long-awaited break-up finally occurs. Farewell, EMT Eddie. You were no Little White Sex Dork, but I liked you just the same.

Formaldehyde Fortress. Ruth is toasting waffles and telling Claire that she can't go to stay at Aunt Sarah's house for the weekend. Claire protests, and Mom is forced to remind her of "what was done to Nate" when he went to stay there. Claire quite correctly points out that nothing was "done" to Nate, and adds, "In case you haven't hung out with any fifteen year-old guys lately, they're like total hornswagglers." Which is precisely why she should be hanging out with a twenty-eight-year-old man such as myself. We're only partial hornswagglers. Ruth, however, just can't let it go. "It was a much more innocent time," she says. "What, the eighties?" answers Claire. Heh. After some more reasons from Ruth why Claire shouldn't be allowed to go (including the fact that David "cut his ear on a bramble" while hiking at night in the canyon), Claire finally decides to stand up to her mother. She constructobabbles about scaffolding for several minutes (to which even Ruth rolls her eyes), and then declares that she's heading out to Aunt Sarah's after school, and there's nothing Mom can do to stop her. As she leaves, we see Ruth looking exasperated at the kitchen table, and I realize that unlike Apple, Corona, and Astroglide, Aunt Jemima must not be a paying sponsor, as the label on the syrup bottle is purposely facing away from us.

Das Zargzimmer. This week's Widow DJ is telling her story to Nate and David, who for some reason are each sitting in the other's usual chair. The Widow has also brought her (female) rabbi along for the session, and all I can say to that is hubba, hubba, hubba. How come rabbis never looked like that when I was getting Bar Mitzvahed? After establishing that Fisher & Sons has handled Jewish funerals in the past, and reminding us all that Talmudic law requires the DGDJ to be buried within twenty-four hours, the Widow provides us with this description of his untimely death: "My husband, Jeffrey Shapiro, who worked for the third-best law firm in LA, and was three months away from making partner, came home on his lunch break and he hung himself with his pants around his ankles in our goddamn sunroom. There's your fucking eulogy. Can you say that in Hebrew?" Actually yes, I can. It's "Gimlas michbash." Who says these recaps aren't educational? (Also, everyone thank Rachael the Bible Scholar for that one).

Across town, Brenda and her mother are having lunch at a sushi restaurant. Zhora is going on and on about how much she loves her new condo and the fact that it has a bidet. She's thrilled to be finally on her own again, now that she and Papa Chenowith are getting divorced. Raising her cup of sake, she toasts to "living alone," and Brenda replies with a toast to bidets. Oh, how very Brenda. Zhora apologizes for all the nasty things she said in the stakeout episode, and then makes Brenda apologize for hitting her afterwards. She also explains that "the whore of Tranquility Spa" has moved in with Papa Chenowith, even though Zhora can't for the life of her understand why. "What's in it for her?" she wonders. "Money? I know she's not in it for sex. God knows your father's not what he used to be, not after three years of Paxil." Ew. Zhora switches the subject to Brenda's life, and her daughter finally decides to let slip that she and Nate are getting married. The reaction is predictable: Zhora cracks up laughing, and asks if Brenda is sure that Nate is smart enough for her. Because, you know, Brenda is a genius. Or something. Has Brenda ever once shown any signs of hyper-intelligence? No really, I'm serious. They've been harping on this for two seasons now, and I still just don't buy it. I mean, it's not like I want to see her solving complex differential equations while working as a janitor or dating Jennifer Connelly or anything, but the time-honored screenwriters tradition of "show, don't tell" is certainly taking a beating on this one. Hell, we get more shots of Nate's brain in a single episode than we've had of Brenda's all year. Anyway, Zhora's not one to lightly dismiss the charms of an "uncomplicated" man, but she also says that the only reason she stayed with Papa C as long as she did was that she knew he was much smarter than her. "That's why it's still so hot with us, all these years later." Ew. And also, yeah! I've said it before, and I'll say it again: smart is sexy. Which is why I don't like Brenda. Finally proving that annoying behavior is clearly genetic, the two women end the scene by trading insults and cackling loud enough to disturb all the other patrons in the restaurant.

Down in the Body Shop, Nate, David, and Rico are discussing the manner of the DGDJ's death. Rico apparently talked to some guy at the morgue, and has been clued in to the fact that it wasn't suicide by the presence of the porno tape in the VCR. And also the Astroglide. "What's Astroglide?" asks Nate. "It's lube," replies his brother. "Lubrication for sex." Nate: "Thank you, David!" David: "No problemo." Heh. Snerk. Nate finally realizes that the DGDJ was doing auto-erotic asphyxiation, "just like the guy in that band," and we also learn that Rico knows way more about this subject than you'd probably expect. David looks like he wants to jump into the conversation as well, but before he can, his cell phone rings. It's Keith, and he's just calling to give David a friendly heads-up on the fact that he's broken things off with EMT Eddie. David, however, isn't quite sure what to make of that fact, and pretty much just hangs up on him.

Michael Hutchence: You should try it some time. It's quite the new sensation.
Alan Ball: Uh, I'll pass thanks. I need to conserve my lung strength for the new bong I just ordered.
Michael Hutchence: Come on! It'll free the devil inside --
Alan Ball: Do you have an excess of ear-wax or something? I said no.
Michael Hutchence: Hey, it's your loss, buddy. But you should really -- ack!
[Cough. Gasp. Sputter. Silence.]
Alan Ball: Ew. Now see, that's just mean.
Aaron: Sorry.

Brenda's Bordello of Boredom. Hooker Scrunchieface is stretched out on the floor reading a magazine and listening to Brenda describing scenes from her novel. Scrunchie is pleased to discover that one of the characters is a "high-class hooker" that's based on her. "Excellent," she says. "As long as she doesn't get raped and murdered to pay for her sins. I'm so sick of that tired old story." Hmm. Now is that foreshadowing, misdirection, or just ironic commentary on network TV? You be the judge. Brenda sparks up a pipe of her ever-present pot, and gleefully confesses to having jerked off a client. Scrunchie is surprised, but only mildly so. Brenda recaps the entire incident, but (if I do say so my own damn self) does so without any of the alliterative wit, panache, and utter revulsion that I displayed last week. "Well, as long as it's all for your art," says Scrunchieface. Whoa. Hang on there, Scrunchie. Art? What art? The Art of Whore? Patricia Clarkson in High Art? Or maybe she just means the arterial blood that will be flowing from my wrists if Brenda doesn't shut up soon. Either way, I highly doubt she's referring to the Judith Krantz-esque, Clan of the Cave Whore scribblings that Brenda's been typing into her laptop recently.

Hmm. Do I seem overly bitchy this week? I guess I'm just having a bad day. But at least my salvation has now arrived. Claire pulls up to Aunt Sarah's place in the lean green corpse machine, and parks it at an angle that artfully hides the fact that this appears to be the exact same place they filmed last year's ecstasy-induced interaction between Ruth and The Late Nate. Aunt Sarah comes out to greet her niece, and after some confusion over whether or not it's the right weekend for Claire to be there, she announces that it's her annual "Howl" weekend. "Like Allen Ginsberg Howl?" asks Claire. "Yes!" replies a relieved Aunt Sarah. "So you're down. That's wonderful." Also notice how wonderful it is that they SHOW us that Claire is smart, instead of simply telling us. And I think you all know me well enough by now to understand that a repetition of "smart is sexy" pretty much goes without saying when it comes to Claire. "[Ginsberg] was a dear, dear friend," name-drops Aunt Sarah. "We once shared a flat in Berlin, until I got fed up with the parade of Aryan star-fucker boys." Oh, the irony. Oh, the humanity. She leads Claire inside, all the while running down the guest list for the party, which includes "a couple of freaks and some nasty hippies from [her] drug days." Oh yeah. This is going to end well.

Back at the Fortress, David has called Keith back to demand an explanation for why he called to let him know about Eddie. David seems pretty worked up about the whole thing, whereas Keith remains his usual suave Big Black Sex self. Keith's partner, meanwhile, is sitting beside him in their patrol car, and continuing his quest to win the coveted "Fabulous Furio" award as the show's Best Recurring Character. Keith claims not to have had an agenda in telling David about the break-up, and David ends the call with a brusque "Well, thank you for sharing." The Keithstone Kops mock each other for a moment, and then go back to stuffing their faces with lunch.

Brenda's Bordello of Boredom. Apparently, it's some time after 4:20, because the munchies are out in full-force. Brenda and Hooker Scrunchieface are chowing down on some nachos and being careful to ensure that the labels on their Corona bottles always face the camera during close-ups. They discuss whether or not Brenda should become a stripper, and Brenda evinces amazement at some of the "pole-work" she's witnessed, saying, "I once saw this woman, she could hang upside-down from twenty feet in the air. She looked like an inverted Jesus." Hey! I saw that episode of G-String Divas, too. Also, shut up, Jesus. Uh, I mean, Brenda. The stripping chat continues, with Brenda claiming that she'd be afraid to take off her clothes on stage because she "harbors a vague feeling of hatred about [her] body." Perhaps that's why she apparently never washes it.