In the beginning, there was nothing. And the internet was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of ScoopMe.com. Then Sars said, "Let there be mockery of Little Lord Foreheadleroy," and there was. And Wing Chun looked upon the mockery, and saw that it was good, and thus on the second day was born Dawson's Wrap. And the many readers gave thanks, and there was much rejoicing throughout all the lands. And so Dawson's Wrap begat the fishcakes, which begat the recap, which begat Mighty Big TV, which begat Television Without Pity, which begat the forums, which begat a spastic spat between Rick Cleveland and Aaron Sorkin, which in turn begat the most egregious example of televised smug self-aggrandizement since Mike Binder was so foolishly first allowed to pick up a video camera.
And then upon the third day, as The Good Book tells us in Genesis 1:12, "the earth brought forth grass, and herb," and thus was born the seed of Six Feet Under. And the morning and the evening were the fourth day, and the Network Execs brought forth abundant life from the waters, saying unto them, "Be fruitful, and post, and expand to fill up the bandwidth upon our blessed servers." But then came the fifth day, when the heavens faded slowly unto white, and an eerily empty bus that may or may not represent death stalked the stirring Earth, sowing much confusion and despair amongst all the people. And when the sixth day brought no answers, the people grew restless, and began to pray unto the pagan gods of poetry threads and top ten lists. But having not yet tasted the wicked poison fruit of fan-fic, they were forever allowed to remain in the Garden of Eden.
Alan Ball: Dude, what is up with you and The Bible?
Aaron: It's tradition. In the beginning, there was this. And besides, I die in the paragraph, so hedging my bets a little seemed pretty smart.
Alan Ball: Good point.
Aaron: Amen.
Alan Ball: So was it weird recapping your own death?
Aaron: I don't know. I haven't done it yet. I can say that I was a little disappointed to have died in Nate's arms rather than Claire's, but then I remembered that being all about Nate is highest honor Six Feet Under can bestow upon one of its tertiary characters, so I'll just take pride in being the new Tracy The Annoying Funeral Stalker.
Alan Ball: Well, as you know, men are the new women, so that makes sense.
Aaron: Good point.
Alan Ball: Amen.
In a move that surely sent shivers down the spine of anyone who's never watched television before, this week's episode fades up on a foreboding brain shot of a sleeping Nate. I guess we're supposed to think he's going to die or something, but I'm more interested in trying to figure out why AOL Time Warner passed on the blatant meta-synergistic opportunity here to simultaneously promote both their buddies over at Apple and also the upcoming crop-circle flick Signs by shearing a giant Macintosh logo into the gently waving grassy expanse of chest hair that his blankets have left so tantalizingly uncovered. Meanwhile, the rest of the family is downstairs at breakfast, checking out photos of Baby Maya The Leviathan and wondering aloud if vegans breastfeed. There's some general discussion of Nate's childhood tendencies towards constant farting (not to mention David's relative "peep"-lessness), and my overwhelming desire to stab the fast-forward button to rid myself of that particularly noxious mental image is abated only by the lovely Lauren Ambrose, who complains that "no one ever remembers anything about Claire. I'm starting to think I just walked in off the street." "That's not true, dear," replies Ruth, before suddenly remembering that her only daughter's high school graduation is but a few days away. Oh, and speaking of just walking in off the street (or wherever the hell it is he sleeps when he's not at Brenda's), here comes Nate, who barely stops to get a cup of coffee before snatching the pictures of his child out of his mother's hands. David is shocked to learn that it's the first time Nate has even seen his daughter, and Nate is equally shocked to learn that Ruth has been spending so much time with her. The discovery prompts him to storm out of the house, while Ruth gathers her strength for a final blurt about her intention to remain a part of Maya's life.
Cut to Nate, as he heads out on the highway, and gets his motor(cycle) running. It's clear he's looking for temptation, or whatever comes his way. And while you'd think the bike would make him look cool, he's actually wearing a pair of Bono's sunglasses and what appears to be a vintage World War I German Kaiser helmet, so you'd be SO wrong about that. You'd also think that with all the swerving and skidding he's doing that we'd still be afraid he might die, but as there's nary a bus in sight and I've already spoiled who dies here anyway, you'd be wrong about that, too. Eventually he arrives at the hospital, where he finds a pale and gasping Aaron on the edge of death. "Go away," I whisper, before hacking a load of phlegm out onto my chin. Ew. Although if nothing else, it is good to know that I'll be bitter and coughing right to very end. After all, that is pretty much how I've always imagined it would be. Flick. Ahhhh. Somehow divining that my time is near, Nate grasps me tenderly in his arms, thrusting a perfectly triangular sideburn into my face as he softly implores me to "just let it all go." Sadly, I'm not able to do that, complaining that there's "no fucking light," and proving once and for all that even when death is imminent, there's always time to say a few "fucks." Still locked in our touching embrace, Nate tearfully repeats, "It's okay. It's okay. It's okay," over and over again, and we fade to white on a wide shot of my lifeless, slack-jawed body.
Wow. Recapping my own death was even weirder than I thought it would be. And yeah, I know there are some of you out there who think this guy may be a shout-out to Sorkin, and with this show's obvious affinity for satirizing the former crappy bosses of Alan Ball, it's certainly conceivable that Rick Cleveland could be engaging in a bit of a morbid mind-fuck here. But really, people. His name is Aaron BUCHBINDER. I mean, you change that last initial to an "F", and you've pretty much got my motto in life (not to mention Alan Ball's favorite word). So farewell, Aaron Fuckbinder. May heaven be the only happy ending you ever need know again.
The episode proper opens with yet another brain shot, as we watch Nate calling his doctor's office to schedule surgery for his anvilitis. The conversation isn't going very well, and just when it gets to the point where the inappropriate and repeated use of the word "fuck" comes yet again into play, David walks in behind him with none other than Benny from L.A. Law in tow. And yeah, I know he's not really playing Benny here, but if Larry Drake thinks he's ever going to be known as anything but "Benny from L.A. Law" for the rest of his career, he's got a nasty surprise coming. Although when you consider that his second-most famous role was his turn as the lead character in an '80s slasher flick called Dr. Giggles, he's probably not real upset about it. Anyway, he's playing some sort of health inspector here, and after he excuses himself to go to the "little boys' room," David explains that the unscheduled inspection must be the "final mind-fuck of Mitzi Dalton-Huntley." Oh, please. Like they're going to let the Kroehner storyline die that easily. Those guys have had more lives on this show than Hobey and Little Joe combined. Oh, and incidentally, am I the only one who thinks it would have been funnier if Benny had asked for the "little morticians' room?" Yeah. That's what I thought.
Over at LAC Arts College, it's time for Claire's interview. There's no way I can describe this scene easily without just coming right out and saying that it's a parody of the Jennifer Beals audition scene in Flashdance (hmm -- Pittsburgh shout-out?). We see Claire (complete with a black leotard and leg warmers) enter an artfully darkened room, which is empty except for a few school officials lined up at one end. Now I'll admit that my original thought here was that they were doing that Paula Abdul video, but as soon as the needle dropped on the Flashdance record, I started giggling like a little girl. In fact, this scene's utter comic hilarity is marred only by the annoyingly minor fact that Claire's dance double is about three feet taller than Lauren Ambrose. She does, however, do an excellent job of falling flat on her ass, so all is forgiven. As she sits spread-eagled on the floor, Claire nervously asks for permission to start again. Unfortunately, however, when she tries to stand, she actually ends up ripping her right leg clean off. Hee! Obviously, the dream sequence comes to an end at this point, and Claire is called into an office for a real interview.
Aaron: Heh. Best dream sequence of the season.
Alan Ball: Aw, thanks. But given the position that Lauren ends up sitting in, I'm not really all that surprised that you liked it.
Aaron: Speaking of which, do you think it's creepy that I'd kinda like to have that prosthetic leg as a souvenir?
Alan Ball: Um, yes.
Aaron: Yeah. That's what I thought.
For the math fans amongst us, I'll report here that the season's final StC value is precisely 557. When you combine that with the above-average Fk coefficient and the special bonus points I'm awarding because the corpse in question is me, it's easy to understand why this episode gets an A. Anyway, Rico and Vanessa are down in The Body Shop, trying to decide how they should spend their contrivance -- er, "inheritance" -- from last week. Vanessa wants a pool, but Rico insists on paying back her sister the money they borrowed to buy the house. They also take this time to sit down for a nice relaxing lunch break amongst all the corpses and chemical odors. Damn. And I thought my office had a crappy break room. They're soon interrupted, however, when David comes rushing in to warn them to hide all the food. Benny appears just seconds later, and apologizes for interrupting their lunch. Heh. As he looks around the Body Shop, he finds any number of code violations, including the fact that my body has been left to decompose on a table instead of being stored in the freezer. He also notes a tiny puddle of blood on the floor (which Rico hilariously failed to conceal), and his overall attitude throughout the scene is best demonstrated when he describes himself as being "knee-deep in human waste." Basically, the boys are busted. But we'll talk some more about that later.
Back at Claire's interview, the school official she's talking to asks why her grades took a nosedive the spring. Claire initially shrugs it off as being due to a "bad boyfriend," but she also eventually admits that The Late Nate's death might have played a role as well. The school official, a nice middle-aged woman who apparently doesn't merit a name, is obviously sympathetic, especially when Claire launches into a long monologue about how she always used to love to "make stuff" before her father died. Now, however, she uses art as a way of dealing with his death (among other things), and that's why she's so excited about art school. Eventually she bursts into tears, and my attempts to reach out and comfort her through the TV screen are sadly met with abject failure and several bruised knuckles. "It's fine," says the nameless woman, "I constantly cry at inappropriate moments." Well, I guess that better than constantly saying "fuck" at inappropriate moments.
Across town, Nate is delivering my body to the crematory. Dude! All I get is a cardboard box? Well, that sucks. And here I wanted the Our Lady of Guadalupe casket. Oh, well. Anyway, the crematory operator is played by J.P. Pitoc from Trick (and also Sorority Sluts III: Spring Break!), so once Alan Ball casts someone from Kiss Me Guido and Billy's Hollywood Screen Kiss, he'll have finally completed his long running quest to use either an actor, writer, or director from every single gay-themed independent film produced in the last ten years. J.P. (and anyone dorky enough to get why calling him J.P. is also a subtle crematory-fuel joke is either in the Air Force or has way too much free time on their hands) proceeds to inform Nate that an exploding pacemaker has damaged the oven, so he'll have to come back the day to "torch" me. And as the crematory door slams shut in Nate's face, we get a low-angle shot of him looking disgusted by the casual banality of it all, and I'm left to wonder why it is that every single director on this show (including Alan Ball himself this week) just loves to use Nate's big, rectangular head to block out the sun so much. I guess if you've got, you might as well flaunt it.
Angry-La. Keith is sitting in the living room when David comes home bearing gifts for young Taylor. Unfortunately, however, Taylor is nowhere to be found, and Keith quickly explains that his parents have taken her down to San Diego. "For how long?" wonders David. "For good," answers Keith. "There's no way we could have kept her," he continues. "Not after what I did." David insists that they could have tried, but Keith also reveals that he's been suspended from the police force, and that he has no intention of returning. David tries to change his mind, but Keith leaves the room before he can even finish his sentence, and in what will be the first of several times this episode, we slowly fade to white as David sits sadly on the floor.
Fade up on a support group somewhere, with some random dude talking about nipples and the fact that he can't watch "The Ass Parade" anymore because it "takes [him] out of [his] effing reality." We finally pan over to reveal Brenda seated in the back row, just as Mr. Ass Parade goes on to obliquely reference one of her own fantasies by telling how he wanted to lick the sweat of some girl he pulled up to at a traffic light. For those of you who care, by the way, Mr. Ass Parade is played by that guy from The Fugitive. You know, he was that one cop dude who wasn't black, deaf, or Joe Pantoliano. Of course, seeing as how Alan Ball was in last season's finale, I'm sort of wondering why he didn't cast himself here. Now that would have been funny. Anyway, he keeps going on and on about his problems with sexual addiction, thus making sure we know why Brenda is there, and also assuaging my fears that she won't be turning into Marla Singer anytime soon. Eventually Brenda notices our old pal Grant Show sneaking into the meeting late, and they exchange a quick look.
The Body Shop. David and Rico are dressing a tattoo-encrusted corpse when Nate walks in to inform them that replacing the drainage system (as ordered by Benny The Inspector) will cost upwards of $38,000. Since the boys don't have the money, and Kroehner can't even buy them out anymore, they'll have to close the home for a while. Oh, whatever. This is all just set-up for later (and an excuse to use the word "fuck" seven times in ninety seconds), so you don't really need to concern yourself with it right now.
Meanwhile, back at Sluts Anonymous, the meeting has come to a close. Brenda heads over to get reacquainted with Grant, and even manages to remember her "Candace Bavard" fake name from their first meeting. Grant, however, instantly wins a permanent place in my heart by shutting her down with, "I'm so sorry, Candace. I had sex with like two hundred women last year, and all the faces are a blur." Heh!
And continuing with our parade of returning minor characters, here's Dr. Dick (not to be confused with last week's Dr. Dildo) explaining to Nate that his anvilitis has worsened considerably over the course of the season. There's a great deal of medical babble involved with that, but the only really important part comes when Dr. Dick lies and says he never told Nate that the anvil was in a "not overly eloquent" portion of the brain. You can thank the previouslys for pointing that one out. He also schedules Nate for surgery that coming Saturday, but not before warning him that there's a "high risk for paralysis, loss of speech, vegetation, or death." Dr. Dick looks so young in some of these shots that I'm frankly surprised they didn't just cast Neil Patrick Harris and be done with it. I guess there are only so many anvils you can have in one scene.
The Palace of Promiscuity. Brenda and Grant are sitting at the kitchen counter, enjoying a huge gourmet sushi feast that I absolutely refuse to believe Brenda prepared herself. She spends most of her time here cracking on the losers at Sluts Anonymous, but Grant seems to take it all a bit more seriously, especially when he reveals that he was "spreading gonorrhea all over Los Angeles last year." Ew. And also, ow. "So when did you admit you were powerless?" inquires Brenda, and Grant quickly answers with a degree of specificity that would be frightening to anyone who's never participated in a twelve-step program (or counted the seconds until the first appearance of a corpse on their favorite TV shows). "And now your life is just one long hot fuck with God?" she continues. Ew. And also, ew again. Grant claims that he's an atheist, but he demonstrates his prayer technique anyway, and to no one's surprise, it consists mainly of thinly veiled flirting disguised as a plea to his higher power. "Well, I'm not going to stop drinking or smoking pot," says Brenda in response, and then she also throws an extraneous "fuck" into the sentence, just so we know she won't quit swearing, either. Yeah, right. As if that one was ever in doubt. You take away the pot and the swearing, and this show's episodes would only be seven minutes long. "You know, I'm curious," says Grant. "How does having compulsive sex with strangers, no close relationship with friends or family, a job that you hate, and a broken engagement feel manageable to you?" "I didn't say my life wasn't unmanageable," replies Brenda. "I just said that I hadn't admitted I was powerless." From here the scene devolves into psychobabble, which allows Rachel Griffiths to do that thing where she turns her head to the right and scratches her neck whenever things get too uncomfortable for her. It's a nice touch of acting consistency, and it almost makes lines like "I don't want to be one of those horrible people that walks around in pain all the time" nearly palatable. Yeah. I said "nearly."
Mike Binder: Heh. "One long hot fuck with God." You mind if I use that? I'm thinking of doing an episode where the reanimated corpse of Mother Theresa goes down on me in a Calcutta whorehouse.
Alan Ball: Ew. You disgust me.
Mike Binder: Aww, come on! We're Sundays On HBO buddies! Where's the love? Speaking of which, have you ever banged that Meadow Soprano chick?
Alan Ball: Um, no.
Mike Binder: Damn, she's hot. I'd love to make HER bellybutton sing, if you know what I mean. Or hey, what about your girl Brenda? I hear she's like some kind of total slut or something. You think I could get her number?
Aaron: Whoa! Hold on! If Fuckbinder here gets Brenda's number, then I want Lauren's.
Alan Ball: Yeah. Nobody's getting anybody's number. Except for my assistant, that is, who really needs to get me the number for security right away.
Ow! Hey, that's hot! Damn! Yep, that's right. It's finally my moment in the sun, so to speak. Nate and J.P. slide my cardboard-coated corpse into the crematory oven, and with a quick press of the button by Nate, I begin to return to the ashes from whence I came. Meanwhile, J.P. tells the story of the exploding pacemaker from the day before. Apparently, it was in some young, buff-looking guy, so nobody expected him to have any exploding machinery in his chest. "Ah, vanity," sighs J.P. "These guys are out there taking pills, getting implants…men are the new women." Heh. I wonder what he'd say about Michael Jackson's sixth nose job? J.P. peeks into a little window in the side of the machine, and bitches that he has to reposition my body to make sure that my chest is "right under the main burner. That's where most of your mass and fluids are. All that stuff that really fuels the burn." This is all shot from inside the oven, and we can clearly see the nauseated look on Nate's face as he watches. "We used to leave it chunky," continues J.P., "so that people would know it was real cremains, and not just wood chips like that place in Georgia." Ahh, at last we get the Georgia reference. That was definitely this season's equivalent of the "putting the fun back into funerals" Sword of Damocles. You just knew it was coming eventually, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. J.P. also relates the story of how a distraught father found a charred tooth in the cremains of his baby, and then further opines that when a baby dies, "it's a lot of dead hope." Ahh, at last it's all about Nate. You just knew that was coming, too. On the other hand, what kind of a father goes poking through his baby's ashes? That's just sick.
Anyway, a giant baby-shaped anvil suddenly crashes through the crematory roof, and we cut directly to the scene, where Nate agrees to go with Ruth to visit his daughter. They quickly arrive at Lisa's house, and Nate is surprised to learn that his mother even has a key to the place. Once inside, he spies a tiny little knitted bootie on the floor, and the tinkly piano music of sorrow kicks in on the soundtrack as he bends over to pick it up. Just then, Lisa comes home, and she walks straight over to Ruth and starts babbling about her day at work without even noticing Nate at all (this despite the fact that he's standing three feet away in an open room). When he does reveal his presence, Lisa is delighted to see him, and she gently places Baby Maya in his arms, saying, "This is your daddy. This is where you get your little mouth from." Um, little? Please. Nothing on that baby is little, least of all its facial features. At least we definitely know it's Nate's kid, though. That is, until Lisa starts translating Maya's name into a variety of different languages, which makes me wonder if somebody in our "Great Black Bobbin of the Sex" thread might be the daddy. Nate is too entranced by his daughter to care about any of this, but he does at least look up when Ruth starts snapping pictures. "Mom, please," he says. "You'll thank me when you're old," she replies, and she's probably right about that. Ruth also stops to answer the phone at this point, and while she chats merrily with Lisa's sister, Lisa herself lobs a few anvils at Nate about how great a mother Mommie Drearest really is. The scene ends when Ruth presents Lisa with a blanket that she made for Nate when he was a baby, and now I'm all sad and nostalgic for my own lost blankie. Sniff. Damn you, Six Feet Under! I mean, really. Killing and cremating me wasn't enough?
In the car on the way home, Ruth prattles on and on about how Lisa reminds her of herself, and how when she was younger, "getting married was really the only way you could have sex at all." Oy. I didn't need to know that. Nate looks more and more uncomfortable as she goes on, and it's not just because he's yelling at her that he's not going to marry Lisa. "I think you should find some place and pull over for a minute," he says. "Why? Are you all right, dear?" she asks. "No," he answers. "I'm not."
Cut to an empty parking lot, where they're both still sitting in the car. Nate explains about his upcoming surgery, and Ruth is absolutely crushed when she finds out that both David and Claire already knew about it. When Nate explains that Claire only knows because she saw him have a seizure, Frances Conroy does a phenomenal job of conveying Ruth's mixed emotions. He apologizes once again, but she's too sad to speak.
Later, back at The Fortress, Ruth is explaining the logistics for Saturday. She'll go the hospital with Nate, and David will take Robbie's video camera to Claire's graduation so they can watch it later. It seems like a pretty good plan, but both siblings insist that they would rather be with Nate than attending Claire's "lame-ass" graduation. "It's a rite of passage," explains Ruth. "And I'm not going to let you get overshadowed by your brothers like you always do." I can't believe I'm saying this, but I totally agree with Ruth here. Yes, Nate is having major surgery, but it's been less than twenty minutes since Claire was complaining that no one ever remembers anything about her, so you'd think that something as major as her high school graduation would at least warrant a few minutes of videotape. David, however, disagrees, which prompts Ruth to get blurty again. "David, goddammit, I am the mother here!" she shouts. "And I happen to be a damn good mother, no matter what you might think from your limited point of view. This is what we are doing! Now, who wants milk?" Heh.
Rico & Vanessa's house. Even though it's their last scene together this season, I still can't really bring myself to care. Vanessa wants Rico to buy a partnership in Fisher & Sons, but he still thinks they'd never let him in. There's some business with Vanessa yelling at their kid to turn off the faucet, and even though it's stirred all sorts of debate in the forums about a potential future drowning incident, I'm pretty sure it was supposed to be just another example of how she keeps the Diaz men directly under her thumb.
Back at The Fortress, Nate and David are sitting in Das Sargzimmer, filling out a pre-need for Nate. They only get a few lines into the form before David confesses that "this is very difficult" for him. "You're not going to die," he insists. "I have to get ready for it," replies Nate. "And I think you should too." David finally agrees to finish, and Nate mentions that he'd like Rabbi Ari to perform his service. Ooh! Now I kinda hope he does die. David wonders why he wouldn't want Father Jack to do the service, but he also admits that he doesn't want Father Jack either, because he doesn't want to give him the wrong idea. "What kind of idea is he going to get when you're dead?" wonders Nate. "I don't know," answers David. "I just don't want him cruising me in the afterlife." The boys giggle right along with me on that one, and then Nate reintroduces the required level of gravitas into the scene by asking if David thinks that the afterlife is "some sex club that never closes." "Yeah," responds David. "And no one ever tells you if it's heaven or hell." You know, it's an electric word, afterlife. It means forever, and that's a mighty long time. But if the elevator tries to bring you down, just go crazy, and punch a higher floor! What? Oh, sorry. Anyway, Nate lets out a loud sigh and admits that he's truly scared about all this. "I wish you could come with me," he says, which prompts David to declare that there's no way he's going to Claire's graduation. "That's not what I meant," says Nate, and now I sort of wonder what he did mean. Does he want to have David buried with him like one of the Pharaoh's cats? David gets up from his chair and sits beside his brother on the couch. They share an embrace, and the scene comes to an end.
International House of Mancakes. David comes home and finds the place empty. He sits down to read the newspaper in the living room, but almost immediately begins bawling uncontrollably. He's forced to stop when Keith returns, but he doesn't do a very good job of covering it up, especially when he tries to wipe away the snot with his sleeve. Keith explains that he was out getting something to eat, which makes David sad, because he was planning to cook for them. "I was going to make a poached Chilean sea bass and polenta," he explains. "And a wild mushroom cassoulet." Mmm. Now I'm hungry. But didn't David watch last season? Chilean Sea Bass is like the official Six Feet Under meal of break-ups. That certainly doesn't bode well for their relationship. Of course, neither does Keith's incredibly rude attitude throughout this scene, so I guess these two have bigger problems than mere menu selection. That's demonstrated even further when David tries to ask if Keith has made any progress in his job search. "I don't need to pay someone to tell me I can get a job in security," answers Keith, but it's clear he's not too thrilled by the prospect. "What's wrong with security?" inquires David. "It's a national obsession. It's the new freedom." "You know what?" replies Keith. "My career is not your problem." And with that, they both sit back in silence, and we slowly fade to white. At least David's not on the floor this time.
Aaron Sorkin: Hey! "It's the new freedom"? What's up with that? Sanctimonious liberal proclamations are my turf, and you damn well know it!
Alan Ball: Oy. I really need to buy a better lock for that door.
Aaron Sorkin: And I also don't appreciate you guys bogarting all the good weed in this town.
Alan Ball: Or maybe just a gun.
Aaron: You want me to handle this one?
Alan Ball: Be my guest.
Aaron: Okay, listen up, Sork-Boy. Deborah's too nice a girl to tell you what we really think of you here at TWoP, so I'm gonna step in and take a swing at it. You, sir, are an arrogant, self-indulgent, 'shroom-guzzling bong monkey whose delusions of literary grandeur are surpassed only by your obviously marijuana-induced inability to remember even the simplest items your fact checkers pull for you. The fact is, West Wing has steadily increased in suck since Season Two, and now that you've scored the dubious distinction of being the only show in all of recorded history to include blatant rip-offs of both Les Miserables and Chuck Norris's Delta Force IN THE SAME SCENE, I think it's safe to say that the shark has been jumped. And let me tell you, it is ALL downhill from here. Which is why everyone who knows anything about Hollywood is already counting the days until your mug-shot ends up plastered across the front page of The National Enquirer. You're the new Robert Downey Jr., buddy-boy, and the amount of time it'll take you to go from being a TV producer to a cocktail party joke can be clocked with an egg timer.
Alan Ball: Whew. Amen, brother.
Aaron: Anybody got anything else they'd like to say?
Rick Cleveland: I'd just like to add that he also smells funny.
Aaron: Thanks, Rick.
Rick Cleveland: No problem.
At Nikolai's Flower Shop Of The Last Time We'll Ever See Nikolai, Ruth is desperately trying to show him stack after stack of baby pictures. When he makes it abundantly clear that he's not really interested in looking at photos of someone else's little dirty diaper machine, Ruth suddenly decides that it's time for her to quit. "I'm just not growing in this environment," she blurts, before going on to mention that Fisher & Sons might be closing because no one has the money to pay for a new septic system. Nikolai insists that he never asked for her money, and also swears to pay her back as quickly as possible. He even gets up and cleans out the register for her. Of course, it only comes to a total of $62, but Ruth puts in her pocket nonetheless. And with that, Nikolai leaves us forever. Farewell, sweet Nikolai. Even though pretty much anyone would have been an improvement over Ed Begley Jr., you were still my favorite out of all the Fisher relationships.
Claire's room. She's lying on her bed, listening to music and checking out brochures for various local colleges when Nate walks in behind her. He turns down the music, and announces that he just stopped to say hi. Claire isn't really sure what to make of that, so Nate changes the subject by asking why she's checking out these other schools. "I so totally blew the interview," explains Claire, adding that she started bawling after mentioning their father. Nate gives her a kind, big-brotherly sort of look, and she in turn asks him if the operation will be serious. He assures her that it is "SO not a big deal," and she's relieved. Her relief is quite short-lived, however, as Nate notices the black-and-white pictures of Billy on her bed. She starts getting all defensive, but he's more interested in telling her how good they are than giving her another lecture. "I didn't yell at you," he says, "I was just looking out for you." Aww. Now I have to go call my sister. I'll be right back. Right. Okay. So where was I? Oh, yeah, Claire was dissing her brother. "Okay, don't take this wrong way," she tells him, "and I know I have a tendency to fall for kind of insane boys, but you have a tendency to, like, dole out the wisdom like you're the Dalai Lama or whatever, and it's not like you're so incredibly together that I'm like dying for your advice." Wait. Hold on. Back up a second. She has a tendency to fall for insane boys? And I have a tendency to fall for neurotic women? How the hell are we not together yet? I just don't understand that. Anyway, she goes on to explain that even though her boyfriends tend to attack people with knives, guns, and sanctimonious criticism of her cynicism, he's the one who doesn't appear to be really "dealing" with life here. "All right," replies a chastened Nate. "I'll never give you advice again." Claire clarifies that she only meant he shouldn't "act like he knows anything," and they both smile and decide to let the subject drop. The scene ends with Nate closely examining one of the pictures and wondering if Billy is naked.
The Body Shop. Rico makes his big presentation about becoming a partner, which basically consists of him sitting in a chair and offering them $50,000 because the business would be worthless if they had to shut it down. He also demands to be an equal partner, but before David can yell, "Shut up, Rico," Nate drags him out into the hallway. "I'm sorry to have to say this now," whispers Nate, "but I think you might really want another partner right now." David isn't happy, but he does realize the wisdom of that idea, so his only concern is that Rico not be an equal partner. The boys walk back into The Body Shop, and Nate pulls the figure of $75,000 for twenty-five percent of the business straight out of his ass. Rico instantly accepts, and jumps up to hug them both while repeating, "Okay! Okay! Okay!" over and over again.
Yeah. So while we're here, can anyone tell me why is it that the ownership of this damn funeral home is always the most consistently contrived element of the show? I mean, first there was the goofy split in The Late Nate's will, then there was Gilardi and his Fishdar, then we got Ruth's Big Bag O' Cash, then came Mitzi Hot-Tub-Huntley, and now Rico just happens to inherit $150,000 the week before the brothers need some extra dough. I get the ultimate point behind all these machinations, but why not just make him a partner and be done with it? Did I really have to listen to Vanessa babble about swimming pools just to get here?
Anyway, the Ironic Segue Fairy cuts us straight from Rico saying "okay" to Nate telling Brenda, "Okay, so I just wanted to tell you that a lot of what you said was true." He's referring to the big break-up, and Brenda keeps apologizing profusely, saying, "I didn't have the right to say anything to you. I'm the one who's fucked up." Yeah, well, we've all been there, haven't we? They're actually having a very adult, mature conversation about all their problems, which is something of a miracle in itself, and when Brenda hands Nate a copy of a book about sexual addiction, it seems that she's finally come to terms with her issues. "I went to one of these meetings up in Seattle," says Nate, as he flips through the pages. Brenda asks why, and he sadly replies that he thought "it might apply." Brenda seems almost touched by his confession, as if she's realizing that other people have been where she is now. "Well, it says in the book that once you realize what it is," she says, "and you work really hard, you can…people have this whole new experience of love. Some people, I mean." Nate isn't sure what she's getting at, so she explains even further: "I really love you. And I don't think I would have done what I did if I didn't really love you." "That's a very…strange thing to say," he responds, but when you think about it, it really isn't. Only the people we truly care about can make us do such stupid things, and that's almost a universal fact. "It's the fear of feeling something real," says Brenda, and Nate replies with a simple, "okay." What is it with "okay" in this episode? It's like it's the new "fuck" or something. "I love you, too," he adds. "I just wanted you to know that even though you really pissed me off." They talk some more, and Nate delivers a long speech about how she made him "feel more" than he ever did with anyone else. Then he mentions the surgery, only he lies and says it's just an embolization. Brenda asks if she can be there with him, and he answers with rather harsh "no" that would seem to indicate he's not fully over everything that's happened. That's made even more obvious when he practically bolts from her house at this point, leaving a sadly resigned Brenda all alone in her Palace of Promiscuity.
Crate & Quarrel. Keith is watching TV in the living room, and once again I have to give props to whoever finds the video snippets. This time it's Mimi from the Drew Carey Show, and it makes the perfect contrast to the sad Brenda who closed out the scene. David joins him on the sofa, and Keith mentions that he thinks having a Latino influence will be a good thing for Fisher & Sons. "Yeah, too bad it comes in the form of a controlling homophobe," replies David. "When we first met, YOU were a controlling homophobe," points out Keith, and David proceeds to remind Keith how attractive he found that. Then he invites Keith to go to Claire's graduation with him, but Keith flat-out refuses to attend. "Why?" snarks David. "Because you might miss The Young & The Restless?" Yeah, right. I seriously doubt Mathew St. Patrick will EVER miss that show. He must think he's died and gone to pay-cable heaven with the scripts he gets now. In-jokes aside, David is still pretty angry. "What do you think we are, roommates?" he yells. "You act like I don't even exist." This gets Angry Keith up off the couch, and the shouting begins in earnest. There's too much to transcribe everything, but David is mostly pissed off about Keith's selfishness, as evidenced by his sending Taylor away without asking, and his failure to even notice that David was upset about Nate. Keith, however, is angry about -- well, pretty much everything, it seems, and eventually he ends up pinning David against the wall as they scream at one another. The struggle continues, and eventually they collapse onto the floor, with Keith lying on top of David. There's a long beat, and then just as they lean in to kiss…
…we cut to some frat boy, puking up his beer onto the lawn. Ew. Claire and DangerSlut wander past, with Claire commenting on the fact that she won't miss high school even the teeniest little bit. There's some discussion of their various classmate's college selections, and then DangerSlut asks how Claire's LAC Arts interview went. "It severely sucked," she replies, before sadly beginning to extol the virtues of East Valley. "They've got a darkroom," she sighs. "They've got paint. And everyone always says you get out of college what you put into it anyways, so…whatever." "Well, I'm glad you're so delirious about it," replies DangerSlut, "because it looks like I'm going there, too." Heh. Apparently, the girl who took the SATs in DangerSlut's place turned herself in, and now Yale wants nothing to do with her. Or at least that's the story she's telling us. I think we all know the real reason is that, unlike Eric Balfour, Marina Black didn't get a pilot for season. For some reason (probably the joint she's smoking), Claire finds this absolutely hilarious, and almost falls out of her chair from laughing so hard.
Oy. You know, Claire's giggling just made me realize that I've only cracked like two jokes in like three pages here. I'm sorry, but this is some pretty heavy shit this week. And besides, now that the Season One reruns are on, you've got thirteen whole recaps just chock-full of witty Aaronisms to peruse. Check out the one for "The Will." That one's my favorite.
And now we quickly head back to the International House of Mancakes (which incidentally is located in the same strip mall as John & Walter's House of Pies, Clark & Lex's Chicken 'n' Waffles, and Angel & Wesley's Hair Force One salon), where a sweaty and naked David and Keith are basking in the afterglow on their living room floor. For the love of God, people, don't these two own a bed? Before I can spend too much time wondering about that, however, we fade to white, and whatever relationship resolution these two might find will have to wait until season.
Fade back up on the Promiscuity Palace, as Brenda packs up the last of her belongings. And then we cut to the Formaldehyde Fortress, where Nate is packing up, well, me. He slides the box of my cremains onto that shelf in the basement, and as Mark Snow's Sad Music Of Begging For Another Job plays in the background, Nate closes the door forever on my ashes. Sniff. Oh, and to hell with Lauren's plastic leg. That box is REALLY the souvenir that I want. If anyone from the show is reading this, email me, and we can make a deal. Anyway, Nate wanders around the Fortress for a while, examining the various empty rooms, until he eventually comes across a picture of himself, David, and The Late Nate in happier times. He looks around, as if expecting to see his dad, but there's no one there. Hmm. Do you think that might be symbolic?
Nate finally wanders into the den, where Ruth is already waiting for him. He mentions that it's time to head to the hospital, and Ruth is typically maternal when she asks if he's had anything to eat. Unfortunately, she also chooses this time to get upset at him for telling David and Claire about his illness long before he told her. "I just didn't want to worry you," he explains, but that's the one thing she didn't want to hear. "You're not supposed to protect me," she cries, "I'm supposed to protect you…that's what a mother does. She tries to protect you and most of the time she fails, but it's the trying that makes you feel loved. How are you going to feel loved if you don't ever let me try?" And now Nate is crying as well, sobbing that he doesn't want to go in for the operation, and as she holds him in her arms and rocks him slowly back and forth, Ruth finally gets the intimacy she's always wanted. And to think it only took two years and twenty-six episodes to get it.
Claire's room. She's wearing her graduation gown and smoking some pot, which is something I kind of wish I had done before my graduation. It would have made things so much funnier when the idiots in the back row released the live chickens during the commencement speech. Yeah. You think I'm kidding about that, but I'm not. Welcome to Pittsburgh. Anyway, David barges in with a video camera in hand, and Claire quickly ducks into her bathroom to exhale a cloud of smoke. Hee! Although it would have been funnier if she'd kissed him and then blown it out, just like in The Graduate. Sure, it would have also been really creepy and incestuous, but it could have funny nonetheless. David quickly notices the aroma in the air, and jumps at the chance to get stoned as well. Cut to later, as he leans over the edge of her bed and exclaims, "God, these dust balls are like tumbleweeds!" Hee! Again! They move on from Claire's lack of cleanliness to mock Nikolai for a while, complete with David beating his chest and mimicking a Russian accent as he repeats Nikolai's epic saying of grace from the season premiere. Damn. These two should get stoned more often. Things turn a bit more melancholy, however, when they start talking about Nate. David, good little brother that he is, knows all the medical details of the upcoming operation, but Claire doesn't want to hear them. When they realize that Nate's surgery is about to start right at that moment, they both quickly decide to skip graduation and head for the hospital. And just out of curiosity, has Claire ever been to the hospital when she wasn't stoned? Because last time she was there, everything was burning just a little brighter on crystal meth.
Cut to Brenda, closing the hatch on her Volkswagen, and preparing to drive off for parts unknown. And for the first time in the history of Six Feet Under, I'm actually wishing this show was more like Buffy, because then Brenda could end up waitressing in some seedy California diner before getting sucked into a demon hell dimension and forced to work as slave labor mining whatever the hell it is they mine in demon hell-dimensions. Besides, that way she'd be the Couch Baron's problem, and I wouldn't have to worry about her anymore. Either way -- buh-bye, Brenda. Don't let the guys down the street fuck you in the ass on your way out.
And now the music kicks in, and we cut to the hospital, where we see the single most shocking sight ever broadcast on television. It's Nate, but he's…he's…well, he's bald. Completely and totally bald. I seriously have now lost all faith in the universe. It's like nothing makes sense anymore. Up is down, left is right, everything is just…wrong somehow. I wonder if things will ever be the same again? ["However, the hair of his head began to grow again after it had been shaven." -- Judges 16:22] Well, thank God for that, at least. The doctors slowly wheel him into the OR, and he turns his head to reveal a surgical diagram drawn on the back. Again, I'm not really sure why they passed up the product placement opportunities here, but I can assure you that David Chase would have definitely known how to sell a big, bald, rectangular advertising space like that. Anyway, Ruth sits patiently in a lonely waiting room somewhere, but she's soon joined by David and Claire, and she looks quite happy to see them.
Back in the operating room, the anesthesiologist gives Nate a quick shot, and asks him to count backwards from ten. He does, but he only makes it to six before going under, and soon the only sound is his steady breathing. Fade to white.
But it's not over yet! Fade back up on Nate, as he goes for a symbolic jog of life along a deserted highway. From behind him appears a city bus, and it pulls to the side of the road just in front of him. As the Darth Vader-like breathing continues to play, Nate steps up to the open door, but when he looks inside, the bus is empty. We get a wide shot of him staring at the driver's seat, and then we fade once again to white, and Six Feet Under's sterling second season comes to a silent end.
Aaron: Okay, so the bus represents death, right?
Alan Ball: No, no, no. Baldness is death. The bus represents destiny.
Aaron: Then what about the jogging?
Alan Ball: Oh, that's just because Peter looks good in tight shorts.
Aaron: Oy. I'm gonna need the whole damn summer just to sort this out.
Alan Ball: Yeah, well, for a while there it seemed like you were gonna need the whole damn summer just to write the recap.
Aaron: Yeah. Sorry about that.
Alan Ball: Eh, that's okay. I've grown to find you, well, almost tolerable these past few months.
Aaron: Aww. Does that mean you'll miss me?
Alan Ball: Um, no.
Aaron: Oh, well. Wanna do some bong hits?
Alan Ball: Amen.
And so upon the [eighth] day I rested, with the recap finally complete. Now you kids have a great summer, and we'll meet back here whenever David Chase finally gets off his ass and makes some new shows.
David Chase: Hey! I heard that! First of all, LATE BOY, I'm meticulous, not slow. And secondly, I really don't appreciate this constant obsessive need of yours to make reference to…
Aaron: Get out. Now.