“ Are annoying people doing unpleasant things entertaining merely on the merits of their honest emotions, or are they just plain annoyingly unpleasant? Evidence would seem to suggest that it's the latter, although that's certainly never stopped Alan Ball in the past. ”
I guess it was bound to happen eventually. On a night when Alias and even The X-Files were airing superlative episodes, HBO decided to offer up a three hour block consisting of the worst episode ofThe Sopranosever, an extended documentary about a Jewish woman's unexplained obsession with vinyl home siding, and an episode of Six Feet Under that asks an almost unanswerable question: Are annoying people doing unpleasant things entertaining merely on the merits of their honest emotions, or are they just plain annoyingly unpleasant? Evidence would seem to suggest that it's the latter, although that's certainly never stopped Alan Ball in the past.
Oh, and speaking of the past, I'd like to take a quick break here to celebrate a monumental landmark. Last week was my fiftieth recap, and since God only knows when David Chase is going to get off his ass and do another season of The Sopranos, I may never make it to a hundred. So I just wanted to acknowledge a few of the people who got me this far: Sars, Wing Chun, Glark, Jessica, Strega, Rachael the Bible Scholar, Marc, Matt, Pooh, Miss Alli, Shack, Demian, and Gustave. You guys rock. So do all the other people I didn't mention by name, by the way. I'd also like to thank all you kids in the forums, especially those of you who've sucked up enough to earn a little award I like to call The Golden Pontoon: 100 watts, K-Town Girl, babyfishfel, pikajew, Myn, ebullient, Koenig (still got that shirt?), and Moya the Leviathan. What do you say we all move to Utah and get married? Oh, and I'll give a super-special Uncle Bob-style shout-out week to the first person who can correctly name all fifty recaps. Now we'll find out who's been stalking me.
Jessica: So what are we doing in here again?
Strega: Oh, just a harmless little prank. You dip his hands in warm water, I'll remap his keyboard so that every key types the letter "Q."
Qqqqqqq: Qqq qqqqqqqqq-qqqq qqqq qqqq'q q qqqqqqqqq qqqq?
Strega: Good point. Maybe we should hold off on that one.
Jessica: But I still don't understand why we're doing this. Besides, what if he wakes up?
Strega: Haven't we already discussed this? He likes FRED, for God's sake. And you know what else he told me? He actually thinks Moronica and Dawson would make a cute couple.
Jessica: Oh, yeah. This freak's going down.
Aaron: [Snore.]
We open this week as an individual whom I've elected to provide absolutely no information about whatsoever (lest said information be in some way construed as prejudicial) keels over and dies. Yep, that's it. Just an anonymous heart attack. No evisceration, no decapitation, no cat shoving curlers into the bathtub. Hell, we don't even get an ironically detached musical selection. I guess this was supposed to be a metaphor for the ultimate banality of death, but in the end, it was really just banal. Why hast thou forsaken us, oh God of wacky death scenes? I did, however, like the symbolism of the spilled recycling bottles. Farewell, Benjamin Sisrai. Ashes to ashes, plastic to plastic.
Perhaps in response to last week's introduction of the new quadratic grading formula, this week's StC value is but a mere three seconds. We fade up on the posed corpse of a middle-aged woman, and pull back to reveal Claire snapping a few photos of her. This artistic enterprise is interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell, and Nate runs down the steps to meet Lisa in the foyer. She's got some papers for him to sign, and she also blames her supermarket freak-out from the episode on "the hormones." Having spent an extended amount of time these past few months with a number of variously pregnant women (and no, none of the children are mine, thank you very much), I've taken to blaming pretty much everything that goes wrong in my life on "the hormones." It's a great excuse; you should try it. Anyway, Claire quickly joins them in foyer, and she's a bit shocked to see Lisa's belly. In what will become one of this episode's many recurring themes, Peter Krause does an excellent acting job with minimal script support, as he contorts his face into an endless array of expressions, all intended to demonstrate just how uncomfortable he is with the thought of Lisa telling his sister who the daddy is. Heh. That's the sort of conversation you usually only hear in West Virginia. Or Cleveland. Claire takes the time to plug eBay (which, for the moment at least, is NOT a wholly owned subsidiary of AOL Time Warner), and then runs off to school.
Elsewhere, David is sipping coffee and reading the paper in Keith's living room. Except I guess it's his living room now, too. Either way, he's not happy to have spilled some coffee on the couch, and he quickly moves to cover it up when Keith enters. "Do you think that chair seems right for that space?" wonders Keith, in reference to David's TV chair, which is newly ensconced about six inches in front of the set. Yeah. Thanks, Vern. You got any other decorating tips? Then again, my chair is about six inches away from the TV itself, so I guess I shouldn't say anything. In fact, I'm currently sitting within about three feet of one TV (32 inches) two computers (both fully functional), a TiVo, a VCR, a digital cable set-top, a DVD player, my X-Box, two printers, a complete set of Simpsons figurines, eight surround-sound speakers, and about ten thousand dollars' worth of digital video gear. The best part is that this job makes it all tax-deductible, although I am surprised I don't have cancer yet, what with all the radon they must be giving off. Flick. Ahhhhhhh. Anyway, Keith also makes a crack about how much he loves Steve McQueen movies, and while I peruse Steve's IMDb page in an attempt to decide whether I should go with Blob jokes, junkie Bullitt humor, a crack about making my own Great Escape, or just simply the obvious "queen" reference, David quickly agrees to return the videos they've rented, and the scene is over.
Back at the Fortress, Nate is reviewing the papers Lisa wanted him to sign. She explains that he'd be signing away all his custodial rights, but the copy of the papers available at "The Wake" (or through the clever use of your pause button) makes it appear that he'd be doing exactly the opposite. There's lots of talk in there about admitting paternity and agreeing to pay child support and whatnot. Nate himself appears concerned about what he's signing, but Lisa insists that it's just a formality, and he needs to "cut the bullshit and just sign." So he does. She also asks if he knows "what's weird about dead people," to which Nate responds with a hearty "everything." Heh. Lisa's theory, however, is that they look too perfect. "I just want to mess this one's hair up a little bit," she says, referring to the coffin-encased corpse she's so casually leaning against. "Please don't," replies Nate, as he hands her the signed documents. They head for the exit, and chat a bit more about how happy Lisa is to be a new mother. She absolves Nate of any blame in the situation, and generally does her best to convince us that she's the sane one in this relationship. And you know what? She just might be right. A little ant told me so. Lisa finishes up by saying how proud she is to be having a baby with "the last person in the world who would ever want a child," and suddenly Irony bursts through the window, does a triple back-flip over to my TV chair, ties me down by shooting webbing out of his wrists, and proceeds to beat me about the face and neck with a large metal anvil. Ouch.
Upstairs (or maybe downstairs, or around back, or wherever), Nikolai is packing up his belongings to leave. He's off his crutches, and Ruth is shocked to see him hobbling around on his own two feet. As you can probably guess without my even telling you, Ruth doesn't want him to go, and predictably gets all huffy about the whole thing.
“ Sounds like a pretty typical evening at the Aaron Abode, if you ask me. Which is probably why you didn't. ”
And while we're on the subject of "huffy," it's time to meet the angry relatives of this week's DGDJ. The bereaved son is grilling Nate about whether or not he understands the intricacies of putting on a traditional Buddhist funeral. Nate, who really should know better than to try to handle these intakes alone by now, is completely and utterly clueless, even though he does claim to have read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in high school. Given that he also wrecked his motorcycle in high school, I'm not so sure it's stuck with him. ["Just as well, I think. That book sucks. Shut up, Phaedrus." -- Sars] Just then we hear David enter through the front door, and since he can't see the DGDJ's family, it must be time for a wackily inappropriate comment. "Sorry I'm late," he shouts. "I had to stop at Video West and some fucking [Fk=3 already] idiot in front of me was writing a check. I didn't even want to watch a movie last night, but Keith got his way as usual." Apparently David doesn't know his way around the Fortress either, because he clearly heard Nate's voice coming from Das Sargzimmer, and yet he still delivered his little rant anyway, even though they're never in there without clients. When he does finally realize that there are paying customers in the house, he instantly switches over to his funeral director demeanor, and offers his condolences. He also runs down the list of requirements for a Buddhist funeral, which include keeping the body at a temple for three days, and also providing a Buddha, an altar, carpet kneelers, and some monks for chanting. Sounds like a pretty typical evening at the Aaron Abode, if you ask me. Which is probably why you didn't.
It's also new set week on Six Feet Under, and we now get to see Nikolai's place for the very first time. It's pretty much what you'd expect: dark, dingy, and with clothes strewn all over the floor, although Ruth says "it's soit's veryit has a lot of charm." Hee! Frances Conroy gets all breathy as she warns her boyfriend that he could be attacked by more "ruffians" at any moment there, and Nikolai assures her that he'll be able to pay the mob back because February is the biggest month for flowers. It's February already? Man, L.A. needs seasons in the worst possible way. Anyway, Ruth makes it clear that she's having a hard time letting go of having Nikolai around 24-7, but he finally manages to shoo her out of the apartment. Despite her concerns about "ruffians" from three sentences earlier, Ruth blithely leaves the front door wide open as she departs, seemingly for no other reason than to provide cool lighting for the shot, wherein Nikolai collapses into his favorite recliner. And then farts. Twice.
Oh, and just because it doesn't get said enough: I hate Ruth, but I lurve Frances Conroy. That is all.
“ I'm not sure whether to reference the similar 'Dr. Rosenpenis' scene from Fletch here, or to just point out the irony inherent in Brenda's new sex-therapist being named 'Joanna Lovinger.' ”
Moving on, we now join Claire and DangerSlut in a darkroom. I can't even begin to tell you how many dreams I've had that start out that exact same way. DangerSlut goes on and on about how great Claire's photos are, and we -- well, those of us who didn't watch the previews at least -- are informed that Claire has been taking pictures of every corpse that's passed through Fisher & Sons for the past few weeks. She's putting them together for a school project, which she describes as being "really geeky," but DangerSlut remains effusive in her praise. "They're genius," she says. "You could really do something with this." And then she reveals the real reason why she's buttering up Claire, which is that she's been accepted to Yale, presumably on the strength of her falsified SAT scores. You know, I was going to do a whole rant here about how high SAT scores in no way guarantee your admission to the Ivy League, but that would have prevented me from pointing out once again that I scored higher than resident Princeton alum Sars. I also scored higher than Strega, by the way. Which is why I get the classy HBO shows, and she's stuck over on the WB writing about vampires and their wacky baby-related subplots (as opposed to funeral directors and THEIR wacky baby-related subplots, that is). As Nelson Muntz would say, "HA ha!" Claire doesn't take this news very well, especially once it's revealed that she herself didn't even get into UCLA (go Bruins!), and as a result will be stuck at East Valley Community College for at least a year. "Hey, I'm gonna be a famous photographer and make a gazillion dollars taking pictures of anorexic models and fucked-up actors," she says. "So maybe I don't even need to go to college, right?" Well, I don't know about that. While Claire is clearly the exception that proves the "smart is sexy" rule, a college diploma does tend to come in pretty handy in life. Trust me, I know.
Cut to Brenda, checking out a listing of doctors in an office building. I'm not sure whether to reference the similar "Dr. Rosenpenis" scene from Fletch here, or to just point out the irony inherent in Brenda's new sex-therapist being named "Joanna Lovinger." Because I can assure you, Joanna ain't the only one loving her. Once in the office, Brenda helpfully provides a list of her recent illicit liaisons, and to no one's surprise, the list is significantly longer than we've previously been privy to. "So there was that one a month ago in the bookstore," she tells her shrink, "and then I met this other guy at the farmer's market. That place has gotten so touristy. And then there was this guy last week at the Rose Caf who, uhwell, that doesn't count. That was an almost one." Does that mean he only fingered her? Yeah. I know. Ew. The therapist makes a stab at getting Brenda to admit that she's a sexual addict, but the whole thing just makes me miss Dr. Melfi even more. Sigh. The scene ends up being a rehash of everything we've already heard about Brenda all season, although Rachel Griffiths does a very nice job of selling Brenda's existential "edginess" about the whole thing. When Dr. Feelgood starts describing sexual addiction as being "the sublimation of emotions that are too painful to address," Brenda tunes out and starts making up dialogue in her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can help you because you don't need any help," she hears. "You've clearly evolved beyond the need for therapy. I'm actually in awe of you, because I'd be fucking strangers like a truck-stop whore on crack if I wasn't so inhibited by my pathetic Judeo-Christian upbringing." Heh. And also, remember that "sublimation" thing. We'll be talking more about that later.
“ Since my power just went out and erased three paragraphs that I had to re-write, I'm not feeling very Zen at the moment, and as such, I'll refrain from any further comment. Besides, I like Phil Jackson too much to crack on his religion. ”
Strega: Whoa! Hold on. Back it up. He said what?!?
Jessica: That he scored higher than you on the SATs, and that
Strega: Un-fucking-believable. He's so gonna have to suffer for that one.
Jessica: What are you going to do?
Strega: I don't know, but I'm sure I'll think of something. I am a witch, you know.
Jessica: Butbuthe's usually so sweet, and cute. And he always says nice things about us.
Strega: Yeah, I wonder why.
Aaron: [mumbling in his sleep] Man, I'd be fucking recappers like a truck-stop whore on crack if I weren't so inhibited by my pathetic Jewish upbringing.
Jessica: Hmm. Do you think you could turn him into a toad?
Strega: I think we should honor his Jewish upbringing and give him another bris.
Hey, look! The Ironic Segue Fairy is back! This time, he cuts us from a comment about a "Judeo-Christian upbringing," to Nate and David searching the basement for a Buddha. Nate explains that the only thing he remembers about Buddhism is that "everything is nothing." "Is that it?" asks David. "I thought it was nothing is everything." Since my power just went out and erased three paragraphs that I had to re-write, I'm not feeling very Zen at the moment, and as such, I'll refrain from any further comment. Besides, I like Phil Jackson too much to crack on his religion. They finally locate a Buddha, albeit one that Nate thinks is "kind of girly." David, meanwhile, just wonders if anyone has ever poked their eye out on its pointy little hat. That's got to be a shout-out to someone, but I have no idea who. , Nate notices the boxes of unclaimed "cremains" lining the wall, and inquires aloud how anyone could have a loved one cremated and then not pick up the ashes. Since it now seems likely that I'll never be able to use "How can we sleep while our dead are burning?" as a show-page recap title, I'm going to take advantage of this (somewhat limited) opportunity, and mention it here. I'd also like to say that "cremains" is the by far funniest new word I've learned so far from Six Feet Under. For the record, "angel lust" is second, and "DangerSlut" is third. The brothers' meditation on the tenets of Buddhism is interrupted by David's cell phone, and we hear him not only confirm that he returned Keith's videos, but also agreeing to have swordfish for dinner. Although, given the context, I actually thought he meant Swordfish the movie for a second. And let me tell you, anytime your significant other starts renting Swordfish, it's time to get out of the relationship. That and Glitter are the two sure signs that a break-up is imminent. Since he couldn't help but overhear, Nate is quick to point out that David hates swordfish, and David explains his reasoning thusly: "It's funny, but now that Keith and I are living together, I find myself trying to be so fucking agreeable all the timebecause if you aren't, things come up and you have no idea how big the thing is going to be. It's like this constant negotiation. You can never just relax. Is that a phase, or is it always going to be like that?" "Don't ask me," replies Nate. "I have no fucking idea." Me neither. "Maybe that's just what a relationship is," he sighs. "Constantly doing things you have absolutely no desire to do."
“ For you trivia buffs out there, they've chosen to go with Lucky Charms. Mmm. I bet Lauren is magically delicious. Sorry. ”
While the Ironic Segue Fairy takes a quick breather, the guys in the sound truck fade the noise of Brenda's blender into that of Ruth's vacuum, and we're quickly back in Nikolai's Neighborhood. Her cleaning chores complete, Ruth invites him in to survey the room. "It feels like whole new place," he says. "Yes, it really does," she replies, before adding, "Who am I kidding? I can't stay here. I'll never be able to stay here. It's too dank. It will always be dank." Heh. "Dank" is a pretty funny word, too. "Nikolai, this is crazy," she blurts. "Why aren't you moving into my house?" Uh oh. Given the tone of this week's episode so far, Ruth should have known better than to ask that question during depression week. Predictably, Nikolai sadly explains that he doesn't want to move in with her, even though he wants to want that more than anything. "Maybe I am the one with the problem," he sighs. "Maybe I have been alone and cut off for so long that I no longer know how to do it." Suitably chastened, Ruth picks up her cleaning supplies and departs, once again leaving the front door wide open.
Strega: She thinks THAT place is dank? Obviously she's never been here. Ew. Is that a pair of underwear on the lamp?
Jessica: Aww. They've got little singing frogs on them. Isn't that cute?
Strega: Don't ever talk to me about Aaron's underwear again.
While their mother is out cleaning apartments and breaking hearts, Nate, David, and Claire are stuck at home, eating cereal for dinner. For you trivia buffs out there, they've chosen to go with Lucky Charms. Mmm. I bet Lauren is magically delicious. Sorry. Anyway, after determining that everyone's significant other is busy for the evening, Nate pulls Claire's "English" "paper" out of her backpack, and notices that the subjects of the photographs look somewhat familiar. He and David quickly page through the album, identifying people they've buried recently. "So do you think they're any good?" asks Claire. "I think they fucking suck!" Nate shouts back. "Do you have any idea what kind of lawsuit this could bring us? What kind of stupid, fucked-up child are you?" Note the extraneous usage of the word "child" in that last sentence. Claire tries to explain that she was just doing something she "gave a shit about," but they're interrupted by Ruth's return before she can finish. "What's going on here?" demands Mommie Drearest, causing the kids to quickly clam up. Nate tries to change the subject to why Mom isn't at Nikolai's, and she sternly blurts that it's none of their business. We get some awkward silence, then fade to white as Mom wonders where all her precious intimacy has gone.
“ 'Oh, I'm sorry,' mutters Keith. 'Am I boring you?' Actually, yes, Keith, you are. We already know you're angry, so get a new plot and move on already. ”
We fade back up on some random homeless guy, foraging for cans. He also darts out into the street to beg for change from a passing car. Just when I start to wonder if I've maybe changed the channel by accident somehow, we cut back to Karla and Taylor in the car. Taylor is whining that her shirt is too scratchy, and Karla explains that it's her only clean one, and that she doesn't want to deal with Keith's "bitching" if he sees "so much as one crummy little apple juice stain." Now far be it from me to defend Angry Keith, but he did seem to take the coffee stain somewhat in stride. At least so far, that is. Regardless, Taylor's whining distracts Karla enough to take her eyes off the road, and suddenly we're treated to a rare mid-episode death scene as the homeless guy goes down like a sack of bricks. Or cans, or bottles, or whatever it is that homeless people are filling their sacks with these days. The point is that he's dead. Karla immediately slams her Volvo into reverse and high-tails it out of there.
Across town, Claire and DangerSlut are touring the campus of East Valley Community College. You know it's a bad episode, by the way, when even the Claire scenes are boring. She just whines a lot in this one, although she does get bonus points for use of the phrase "Baptist phone sex." That line actually does make sense in context, but it's equally funny even without explanation.
Having successfully escaped the scene of the crime, Karla pulls over and frantically starts searching her Volvo for contraband. Taylor insists that they tell the police what happened, but there's no way Mom would ever go for that. She's so enraged by the very idea, in fact, that she pounds on the seat and shouts, "I am so fucking tired of this shit. Why can't I ever have some fucking peace?!?" Well, it's not quite "I hope you like herpes," but it is good to see that Six Feet Under is still portraying motherhood in such a positive light. I wonder if Joss Whedon watches this show? After calming down a bit, Karla makes her daughter promise to keep this incident as "[their] little secret." She even makes Taylor repeat that back to her. Of course, if they really wanted to keep it a secret, they wouldn't have named the episode after it, now, would they?
While Karla and Taylor engage in some highly illegal mother-daughter bonding, David and Keith are waiting for them at their apartment. Keith whines about how his turkey breasts are drying out, and David responds to that with a big old yawn. "Oh, I'm sorry," mutters Keith. "Am I boring you?" Actually, yes, Keith, you are. We already know you're angry, so get a new plot and move on already. But alas, 'twas not meant to be, as Keith continues to complain about the nightmares he's been having. Finally the doorbell rings, and he answers it with even more bitching as he reams out Karla for being late. Ignoring her surly uncle, Taylor runs right into the living room to give David a huge hug. Aww.
Apparently unable to leave a tender moment alone, the editors step on my sniffling at David and Taylor's reunion by over-dubbing Nate saying, "Well, fuck, Brenda, it's Saturday night." He's ostensibly miffed that she's canceling their plans due to illness, but he really seems more interested in getting back to the legal papers that are covering his desk. And since Brenda's not really sick, that probably works out well for everyone.
Back at David and Keith's place, Taylor is jumping up and down on the bed while David tries to get her to stop. It's not until she casually mentions that her mother ran a guy over, however, that David finally manages to hold her still. "It was an old, bald, white guy," explains Taylor. Shout-out? "We're not going to tell anybody," she continues. "It's a secret. But secrets are so stupid. People always find out about secrets." Ahh, from the mouth of babes. And I don't mean that in the Lauren Ambrose sense of the word "babe," either. Then Taylor says she's just kidding. As the scene ends, David isn't quite sure what to make of this news.
Oh, and in addition to the "Name All Fifty Recaps" contest, what do you say we run another one to come up with nicknames for David and Keith's apartment? You guys were pretty good at that last season, and I've been letting you slide without homework for way too long this year. So let's see what you've got. There's a fresh, shiny "TM" just waiting for the winner.
There's also some fresh, shiny naked people waiting for Brenda and Scrunchie at their orgy party. The show gleefully continues their strict reality-based "Ugly People Only" nudity policy, right down to the creepy guy in the corner, standing all by himself. But hey, we've all been that guy at some point in our lives, right? What? It's just me? Okay, then. Never mind. Brenda loves what she's seeing, but Scrunchie can't even be bothered to wipe the "been there, done him" look off her face. They sit down and watch for a while, which prompts Scrunchie to observe that "sex is so stupid." Which, if you think about, it kind of is. I've always wondered how the first two humans figured out what they were supposed to do. It's sort of like that first guy who figured out you could dry tobacco leaves, roll them up in a sheet of paper, light them on fire, and stick them in your mouth. Flick -- ahhhhhh. Anyway, Brenda insists on mingling, which leads them to a cramped sofa where an ugly naked guy snorts cocaine and claims that "this shit is amazing. I found it in my kid's room and beat the crap out of him." Oy. Irony stops pummeling the Green Goblin just long enough to swoop down and pass the mirror to the guy's wife, who adds, "Don't get me started on my kids. They leave the house at all hours. I have no idea what they're up to. If I think about it, I could cry." Irony himself takes a quick snort before leaving, and then Brenda and Scrunchie get up to check out the rest of the party. They pass by a bedroom where there's a foursome in progress, and Brenda stands in the doorway to watch. I don't suppose anyone can explain to me why a show that treats death with such joie de vie is so clinically detached when it comes to sex. I find that odd.
“ Nate leans back to investigate, and is pleasantly surprised to find a little girl standing there. Stanley Kubrick, however, is NOT pleasantly surprised, and immediately begins calling his lawyers from the grave to find out if this dream sequence was plagiarized from The Shining. ”
And once again, David and Keith are fighting. This time it's about Taylor's little secret, and why David waited so long before telling Keith about it. You know, this relationship is really starting to remind me of our forums of late, which is why I'm moved to quote the foremost social thinker of our times here. No, I don't mean Noam Chomsky. I'm talking about Rodney King. Can't we all just get along, people? Of course, Noam would totally hate the phrase "Big Black Sex Cop," which is one of the reasons I take so much delight in using it so regularly. In fact, I think I'll use it now: Keith picks up his Big Black Sex Phone and dials a number. David begs him not to call Karla, and Angry Keith spits back a bitter "I'm not calling her, idiot."
He's not calling Nate either, by the way, despite the prominent placement of phone in the foreground of Nate's desk. Rectangle Head is still hard at work on his legal documents when he hears a sound coming from the other room. He leans back to investigate, and is pleasantly surprised to find a little girl standing there. Stanley Kubrick, however, is NOT pleasantly surprised, and immediately begins calling his lawyers from the grave to find out if this dream sequence was plagiarized from The Shining. Without so much as an introduction, the little girl announces that Nate killed her. Then she starts chanting, "Redrum! Redrum!" and riding her tricycle around the Fortress. Okay, not really. She does, however, explain that she's the ghost of the baby Nate and Lisa aborted seven years earlier. "Don't get me wrong," she says. "I don't harbor any bad feelings. I'm pro-choice." Heh. She's then joined by another kid, who says he was miscarried by the "girl who worked at that Starbucks on Fremont," and then yet another, somewhat older girl, who would have been the child of Nate and his very first girlfriend. Why am I not surprised to learn that Nate is a serial abortionist? Hearing more laughter from the other room, he gets up to investigate, and finds a veritable horde of children waiting for him. Ruth strides through the scene, offering milk and cookies to the kids and an ominous smile to Nate. Finally, he turns to discover one last child standing in the corner, holding a glass of Ma Chenowith's sea anemone liqueur. "I know the secret to everything," says the kid. "But you'll never know it, because you killed us. Also, fire-walk with me. And there is no spoon."
Aaron: [Snore. Snurffle. Harrumph.] That's no spoon! That's a space station!
Strega: Huh?
Jessica: I think he's dreaming.Darth Ball: Impressive. Most impressive. Obi-Sars has taught you well. Now, release your anger! Only your hatred can destroy me!
Aaron Skycapper: I'll never join you!
Darth Ball: If you only knew the power of the dark side. Obi-Sars never told you what happened to your father.
Aaron Skycapper: She told me enough! She told me you killed him.
Darth Ball: No, Aaron. I am your father.Jessica: I've got a bad feeling about this.
“ I'm just going to pretend the woman in the back with the mismatched shoes is Lulu Smigel. Hi, Lulu! Love the hair. ”
Back at An Apartment To Be Named Later, Keith hangs up the phone and reports that Taylor's story was true. The guy died, and a description of the vehicle matches Karla's. "What do we do?" asks David. "What the hell do you think we do?" replies Keith.
Hey! It's that guy! You know, the one from Space: Above and Beyond. What do you mean I'm the only one that ever watched that? I used to love that show. And now I'm pissed they used Dina Meyer instead of Kristen Kloke last week. Anyway, we're back at the sex party, and it's obvious that he was only cast because Alan Ball couldn't get Chris Cooper to show up and play the part. Or possibly because his character name on Space was Lieutenant McQUEEN. Hmmm. He and his wife explain to Brenda and Scrunchie how fucking strangers has saved their marriage, and the wife even offers to demonstrate "the little gizmo" that he bought her off a sex-toy web site. Speaking of which, have you visited the TWoP store recently? Scrunchie's ennui reaches a critical level, and she heads off to get another drink. Brenda, however, stays behind to banter a bit more with the husband. Then she accepts an invitation to tour Lt. McQueen's personal Hammerhead, if you know what I mean, and sadly, I doubt many of you are nerdy enough to even have a clue. Fade to white.
We fade back up on the DGDJ's funeral, with David narrating the basics of a Buddhist ceremony. Claire and Ruth come downstairs, carrying gifts and preparing to leave for Brenda's wedding shower. Claire catches someone photographing the corpse, and wants to know why he gets to do it and she can't. Nate explains that family is allowed to do whatever they want (unless, of course, Rico has done something funky to the body, and then they're not allowed anywhere near it), and even apologizes for his outburst the night. He assures her that it'll only take two sips of Ma Chenowith's punch to get her drunk, however, and this does seem to cheer Claire up a bit.
And me as well, as the scene opens with Ma asking, "More punch, anyone?" "Yeah, I'll take another hit," replies Claire. Heh. See what they did there? Punch? Hit? Very punny, guys. Also, since it's never explicitly mentioned, I'm just going to pretend the woman in the back with the mismatched shoes is Lulu Smigel. Hi, Lulu! Love the hair. Just then, the door swings open and a heavily disheveled Brenda stumbles in, looking like she spent the night sleeping in a dumpster. Or between a husband and wife from the Valley. You know. Whichever. "I'm not late, am I?" she asks, and Zhora assures her that she is. Scrunchieface, meanwhile, stands behind Brenda and does her best to fade into the woodwork.
Sars: Hey, guys. What's up?
Strega: Sars? What are you doing here?
Sars: Who, me? Uh, I was just, uh
Strega & Jessica: Oh my God!
Jessica: You are having a secret affair with him! I knew it.
Sars: Ew. Are you people insane? It's 8:59. I'm just here because the recap is late.
Aaron: [Snore. Cough. Hack.]
Sars: Heh. Secret affair, my ass. And why are those frogs singing?
Back at the funeral, David is still explaining Buddhist tradition. The bereaved are now performing a cleansing ceremony, which involves pouring a cup of water into a bowl that rests inside the coffin. "Do you really think that changes anything?" asks Nate. "Pouring a little water into a bowl?" David isn't sure, but given that every major religion I can think of has its own version of the "pouring water into a bowl" ceremony, I wouldn't bet against it. David also has to leave, and gives Nate some last-minute instructions on how to end the service before he goes.
Ruth and Brenda, meanwhile, are trying to make small talk at the wedding shower. "This punch is delicious," says Ruth. "Your mother made it with a liqueur from Belize. It's some word with a tilde over the end. So what's new?" Uh oh. That's another question Ruth shouldn't have asked this week. Here's Brenda's response: "Actually, I spent all night doing it with this couple from Orange County, and I have absolutely no idea why. It's one of those sex things, you know. Lifestyle partiesthey have this little high-tech Japanese vibrator that stimulates the clitoris through very, very low-voltage electrical shocks. Anyway, they invited me, you know, to go with them, and I thought, now this would be crossing a line, which I seem to be doing more and more these days. Because you know what? The lines are only in our heads. In actuality, there are no lines at all, which is really fucking terrifying if you think about it!" Okay, the clitoris part gets a heh, but what really sells the speech is Frances Conroy's reaction and the jangly piano music in the background. Either way, the dream sequence ends, and Brenda laughs it off. And now it's Ruth's turn to deliver a little speech: "I want you to know something, Brenda. II love you. I love you because you're so independent and spirited. And you make no apologies for yourself. And you know that you can't smother someone or you'll lose them. You accept Nate as he is, and that is beautiful. I don't know how to do that. Not at all. Maybe that's why I resented you so much, but now I don't. Now I admire you." Aww. They hug, and Brenda looks thoroughly disgusted with herself. As well she should, even if Nate isn't any better. "I have to go to the bathroom," announces Ruth, and she heads off to do just that. Must be the liqueur.
“ In case you haven't been paying attention for the last seventeen pages, everyone is sad and feeling lost. What's really sad is that I could have written just that last sentence, and it still would have been a pretty complete recap. ”
On the way there, however, she runs into Claire, who's slumped against the wall and looking like she's barely awake. Mom wonders if her daughter is sick, and wins even more bonus "Aww" points by checking for a fever by kissing Claire's forehead. Claire reports that she's merely tired, although not "want to go to sleep tired." She's actually more "sick and tired of everythingjust, like, all the lies we're fed and the bullshit we're supposed to care about, and, like, how everybody is just so scared of anything that's different from, like, everything else." Like, really? I had, like, no idea. Of course, if Claire really needs to be comforted, I guess I could volunteer. Or not, because she decides to get up and fetch some coffee, leaving Ruth to try for the bathroom once again.
Only she's not going to make it there this time, either, as she's shocked by the emergence of a robe-wearing Pa Chenowith. He explains that he's supposed to be hiding in the master suite, but Ma doesn't like him using her bathroom. "She gets insanely territorial about that damn bidet," he confides. Well, really, who wouldn't? Ruth wonders why the kids have never set up a dinner where they could all meet each other, and Pa Chenowith gets off the best line of the night by replying, "I could give you half a dozen reasons just off the top of my head." He also asks what steps Ruth is taking to treating Claire's depression, but once again the anvil/sublimate motif kicks in, and Ruth runs off to finally take that bathroom break.
And now we've come to the chanting portion of our evening, otherwise known as The Plot Wrap-Up Montage. While the Buddhists monks perform their chart-topping hit "Om Mani Padme Hum," Nate watches the funeral, Keith watches the cops take his sister away, Brenda watches Scrunchie flirt with her father, and David watches Taylor sulking on the sofa. In case you haven't been paying attention for the last seventeen pages, everyone is sad and feeling lost. What's really sad is that I could have written just that last sentence, and it still would have been a pretty complete recap. The montage ends with Nate pouring out the bowl of cleansing water onto a tree in the front yard, with the ghosts of his aborted children looking on.
With one or two plot threads still left dangling, Brenda takes Scrunchie out into the hall to break up with her. So to speak. "I need to be around people who aren't like you," she explains. "People who have clearer values, or something." Scrunchie seems hurt by this, but not particularly surprised, even when Brenda continues with, "You know, if I hadn't met you, I probably wouldn't be doing all this shit I've been doing." Yeah, right. You were doing it with Nate when you'd just met him, remember? Scrunchie does manage to get off a good parting shot, however, when she tells Brenda to "can it, sweetheart. You can't stand to see the truth about yourself, so I've got to take the fall." And with that, she's gone, presumably headed off to a huge party somewhere with Gabe, Hiram, EMT Eddie, and the Hoedown Ho. Farewell, Hooker Scrunchieface. You weren't actually all that scrunchie, and they stopped mentioning the "hooker" thing like eight episodes ago, but we'll miss you nonetheless.
And finally, we get Nate and Lisa, sitting on the Fortress's front porch. Nate explains about his anvilitis, and Lisa asks if "the Western medicine" is controlling the seizures. Nate also expresses a desire to be a part of his child's life, which makes Lisa ask if he's doing it because he wants to be a father, or if he's doing it because he's afraid of death. "Does it really matter?" wonders Nate. And apparently, it doesn't, because Lisa is delighted by the news. Until, that is, she discovers that Nate hasn't said a word to Brenda about the whole thing. She bitches him out extensively before finally leaving him alone on the porch, but it's 8:30, and I don't have time to transcribe it for you. So let's just fade to white, shall we? It's so much more peaceful that way.
Aaron: [Cough. Hack. Yawn.] Huh? What? Well helloooooooooo, ladies. How YOU doin?
Jessica, Strega, and Sars: Ew.
Sars: We're just here for the recap. It's nine o'clock.
Strega: And for the love of God and all that's holy, would you PLEASE put on some pants!
Sars: I know. That's just
Aaron: Impressive?
Sars: Well, I was going to go with "explains a lot," but you go ahead and stick with whatever it takes to get you through the day.
Aaron: You know, I'm not really feeling the love here.
Jessica: Yeah, and don't expect us to start feeling your love anytime soon, either. In fact, you need to get out. Now.
Aaron: Butbut this is MY apartment.
Strega: We don't care.
Aaron: Now THAT'S depressing.