Tears, Bones and Desire

Ahh, the triangle -- that most devilishly simple of all the geometric forms. It possesses merely three sides, three angles, three vertices, and one hundred and eighty degrees. And while the humble triangle may lack the elegant simplicity of the circle or the sly insouciance of the rhombus, it more than makes up for these failings through the sheer linguistic exuberance of its contribution to the mathematical vernacular (Obtuse! Hypotenuse! Isosceles! Pythagorean!). Did you know that some triangles are considered to be rational, while others are labeled irrational? Did you know that the triangle is the basic protein building block of the virus? Yep, that's right. Even the mighty SARS (with her deservedly legendary curves) is made mostly of triangles. In fact, structural engineers have long considered the triangle to be the strongest shape in nature. That's why suspension bridges look the way they do. Dramatists, however, know it to be the least stable structure in any relationship. That's why this week's episode of Six Feet Under looks the way it does. And so, without any further protracted protractor-related ado, let's get on with the recap.

Fade up on a what appears to be a coven of witches assembling a passel of tiny broomsticks for their local pee-wee Quidditch team (sponsored by Der Zauber Kasten, of course). Except it turns out that the broomsticks are actually hand-mops, and the "witches" are actually all the many polygamous wives of a cuddly David Koresh-type who goes by the only-slightly-less-creepy-than-it-sounds name of "Daddy." You'll have to forgive me for thinking they were witches, by the way, because the powerful dark influence of the occult seemed to be the only logical explanation for why they would all be tunelessly crooning America's "Horse With No Name" while they work. I sense the hand of Tsathoggua in all this. ["The presence of Amanda Foreman, who played a Wiccan on Felicity, is probably an unconscious cue also." -- Sars] Out back, meanwhile, Daddy himself is delivering a home-school mathematics lesson that only Vanessa could love to a brood of a dozen or so excessively cute ragamuffins. When one of them correctly calculates the amount of change that should be returned when a three-dollar hand mop is purchased with a "hundred-and-eleven-dollar bill," Dad declares the lesson to be over and sits everyone down to hear a few words of wisdom from "The Book of Daddy." The expected Vladimir Nabokov quote fails to materialize, however, and Daddy instead just suggests that "every day we must dance, if only in our minds." Incidentally, this guy looks as though he's just made a narrow escape from the set of A Mighty Wind, which is in itself a particularly apt metaphor for the gale force blast of hot air that he's spewing here. His proclamation comes complete with accompaniment from The Dramatic Synthesizer Of The Transcendent Wisdom Of The Crazy White People, which is distinguished from The Sagacious Wisdom Of The Ethnically Downtrodden by its peppy neo-hippie cheerfulness and a complete lack of hard-won, gritty urban realities (see Tracy the Annoying Funeral Stalker vs. Paco the Gang-Banger for further elaboration on this theme). In the end, Daddy dismisses his students and settles down into a comfortable lawn chair, where his eyes gently close and his silent death is noticed by only the cutest of his children. Farewell, Daddy. I can only hope the answer to the eternal "Who's your?" question awaits you on the other side.

The Ironic Segue Fairy pulls a familial fast one on us, as we fade from a dead Daddy to the grave of a dead mommy. Vanessa's dead mommy, to be exact. She's got the whole Diaz family there with her, and it appears that they've actually packed a picnic lunch to go sit beside the gravestone. Okay, that's a little creepy. Rico would seem to agree, because he suggests that visiting her mother's grave every single Sunday for four months might not be the healthiest way for Vanessa to express her grief. He wants to have a party instead. "I can't," replies Vanessa. "It feel like someone tore out my heart and fed it to dogs." Not to worry, though. Rico can always make her another one out of duct tape and some leftover pork chops. "You don't smile or laugh anymore," complains Rico. "You don't act like you." And then he brings out the really big guns: "You act likeyou act like one of the Fishers!" Heh. Vanessa's look of horrified disgust is priceless, and she finally consents to let him take the boys to Knotts Berry Farm for the afternoon. Then she starts sobbing again. "I'm never going to see my mother again," she wails. "This is normal! I'm normal!" Uh, okay.

Formaldehyde Fortress. Nate and David are handling Daddy's intake, and it's not going very well. After ascertaining that Daddy's organization was called "The People," and that it's really more of a "family" than an organization, the brothers are shocked to learn that the five women standing before them were all Daddy's wives (or wives-to-be, which we'll get to later). The women's actual names are Eve, Abigail, Rachel, Rebecca, and Mary Jane, but for the sake of convenience, I've decided to dub them (from left to right) Bossy, Dopey, Greasy, Bashful, and Lolita. Bossy up offers a short prayer, and the others respond with a chorus of "Amen," "Selah," "We make it so," and "Let it be," which scores bonus giggle points for the odd pop-culture pairing of Paul McCartney and Jean-Luc Picard. David suggests having Daddy embalmed, and Bashful -- who is a "new soul" on her "first life" -- is forced to plead with her co-wives to preserve the body. The Book of Daddy delivers an impressive SttM score of 364 by way of argument with this notion ("The physical body is only tears, bones, and desire. You transcend. You don't preserve."), but Dopey and the others finally give in and consent to embalming. Bossy, however, wants to post sentries to guard the body. "There are government agents," explains Greasy. "Space forces are always following us," adds Bashful. Hee! I want a harem of unhygienic paranoids too, dammit! Oh, well. Bossy escorts the fully assembled family (kids included) out of the Fortress, and Lolita stops to flash Nate a peace sign and a nervous smile as she goes. That'll be important later.

Upstairs, Ruth pops into Arthur's room to deliver his laundry. And then they kiss! Just kidding. First, they talk a little and sniff the freshly washed sheets a few times. And then they kiss! Really! Incidentally, here's Ruth's version of a pick-up line: "Have you ever noticed your profile? You look like an emperor." Arthur's response? "Stop, you'll give me megalomania." Heh. The kiss itself (which was wholly instigated by Ruth) is just as awkward and squirm-inducing as you might expect, and it's hard to tell who's more embarrassed when they finally pull apart. I'm going to go with Ruth on that one, but only because she compounds her already uncharacteristic behavior here by muttering "Shit!" a few times as she sprints out of the room. "Language!" cries Arthur, as he marvels over the fact that his lips have finally touched another person, and, even more surprisingly, that the person was actually alive when it happened.

Down in the kitchen, Nate is explaining the whole concept of "The People" to Rico. We also learn that Greasy and Bashful are actually sisters. Ew. "You could do like a whole Warhol series, only with polygamous Mennonite concubines," offers Claire. And because it's Claire, I'll refrain from pointing out that concubines by definition can't be polygamous. On the other hand, "Make me your concubine, Lauren!" does have a nice ring to it. David further reports that "The People" live right down the street, and while Nate is disturbed by the idea that they're "neighbors with the Children of the fucking Corn," Rico is more worried about being alone down in The Body Shoppe with "sharp things and a Manson chick." Bwa! David also exposits out that he can't help with the embalming chores because tomorrow is "gay paintball day." Before anyone can inquire as to whether or not gay paintball requires rainbow-colored balls (or freshly shaven ones, for that matter), Ruth staggers into the kitchen and immediately heads for the refrigerator. She also says "shit" again, but no one gets to admonish her for swearing this time because there's suddenly a Boy Asking For Cheese there. No, really. That's what the credits call him. "Boy Asking For Cheese." Now there's an IMDb entry to be proud of.

Cut to the office, where David is on the phone discussing his gay paintball plans with his buddy Sears and Ho-Buck. In the background, meanwhile, Boy Who Has To Pee Really Badly performs a festive interpretive dance expressing his urgent need to urinate and his bitter disgust at not landing an credits-worthy speaking part of his very own. The Ho-Buck decides to invite himself and the Little White Sex Dork II along for paintball because he's not a "candy-ass," and because "everybody loves guns." Hmm. I never would have figured The Ho-Buck as a member of the Pink Pistols, but I guess you learn something new every day. There is, however, at least one caveat: "If we're showing skin, I have to go to the gym first." Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Shut up, Charlene Heston.

Art class. Olivier rants. Oy. It's all "blah blah this is supposed to be sexy? Blah bleh blank adolescent expressionism bling blech only religious fanatics with frozen shit up their asses could produce such horror blah blee real fucking would overthrow your government." Sigh. You get the idea. His taunting, as always, is particularly aimed at Russell and Claire. "You're eighteen!" he yells at them. "You should be consumed with sex! Everything that happens should make you want to fuck. Your flesh should be on fire all the time!" "It is," replies Claire, in a perfect deadpan tone. "Yeah," confirms Russell. Hee! Unfortunately, the image of Claire as a constant horn-dog has left me with an urgent need for a cold shower and a bitter disgust at my inability to devise a clever quip with which to end this paragraph, so you're all just going to have to excuse me for a few moments.

Okay. I'm back. That wasrefreshing, I guess. Anyway, David and Keith are eating dinner, and David is cautiously confessing that his friends will be joining them for paintball. Keith takes this news much better than anyone would have expected, and that "anyone" obviously includes David, who is forced to further confess that he didn't want to tell Keith about this earlier because he was afraid Keith would "rip [his] head off." "I know, I should trust you more," he adds, but Keith is completely understanding about the whole thing. "We're getting better and better," opines a pleasantly impressed David, but Keith responds to that particular sentiment with nothing more than a Spock-like cocking of his eyebrow. Uh-oh.

Over at the Sinkhole de Maya (which is roughly the date on which you'll be reading this recap if I don't get my ass in gear), Lisa is haranguing Nate yet again about his break-up with Brenda. They're all in bed for the night, and as soon as Maya hears her mommy say the dreaded "B" word, she immediately starts squealing with disgust and trying to climb out of the family bed. Heh. Unfortunately, she's unable to break free of the massive gravitational vortex generated by her own cranium, so instead she's forced to just lie there and whine a lot. Hmm. Like mother, like daughter, I guess. Nate, meanwhile, is doing what any good husband would do when faced with an interrogation about his ex, which is to provide safe, noncommittal answers while simultaneously attempting to gnaw off his own arm so he can escape before things get ugly. Whoops! Too late. "Nate, that's way too clean," whinges Lisa in response to his claim that they just "walked away." "Break-ups are gory and humiliating. You get dumped like you're nothing, like you're fucking garbage. Then you crawl around in public with your bloody guts hanging out, crying all over total strangers on the bus." Now, that's odd. I always assumed that last part was what happens when your father dies, not when you break up with someone. "What? It wasn't me," adds Lisa helpfully, if not believably. "It was a friend." Um, okay. And while we're at it, I really hope that's a body mic and not her nipple that's causing the large oddly-shaped protrusion in her nightgown. Nate finally admits that things with Brenda were "seriously fucked up," and that it "fucking hurt" when they broke up, which for some strange reason appears to be exactly what Lisa wanted to hear. She gives him a quick kiss, and then they both lie there silently, presumably thinking very different thoughts about the state of their marriage.

Fading from the subtextual to the merely ridiculous, we go to The Body Shoppe, where Bashful is pulling guard duty and warding off the ever-present "space forces" with the mighty power of a Simon & Garfunkel ballad. Oh, if only Mulder had known. Fade to white.

Fade back up on skinheads with paintball guns. I could make a joke here, but the image really speaks for itself, I think. David, The Ho-Buck, and the LWSD II make their way over to registration, discussing the "psychic footprints" Keith seems to be leaving all over David's back as they go. The Ho-Buck, by the way, is wearing tight jeans and an ascot. That image speaks for itself as well. "We'd like to play with the other gay children," he announces to the director. "So is there like a Sears around here anywhere? Maybe a nice JC Penney?" Thankfully, there isn't, so we cut straight into the scene where their teams are being selected. Unfortunately, nobody wants to join up with David and his pals, because they're clearly "newbies" who are "stupid and weak, like kittens." That "nobody" obviously includes Keith, because he's purposely joined the opposing team and refuses to listen to David's pleas for him to make a switch. This prompts David to call a little sidebar, and the two head over for a quick private conversation wherein David discovers that gay paintball day is actually Keith's clever method of exacting retribution for his humiliation at the hands of "the leading ladies." "Welcome to MY party, baby," teases Keith. "Bitch, you set me up!" answers David. Heh. When the guy running the game realizes that no one wants to switch on their own, he dismisses one of Keith's friends and calls over a guy named "Sarge" to "even things up." For the record, Sarge looks exactly like what would have happened if Chris Meloni and Ron Livingston had ever met, fallen in love, and somehow found a way to produce offspring while confined in some godforsaken World War II-era prison camp. Now there's a lovely image for the ladies. And many of the men, as well.

Everyone is then given five minutes to scout out the playing field, but David and his friends end up using most of that time just ogling the Sarge with looks of barely concealed lust. All those people who later thought Keith forced David into that threesome should definitely take note of his expression here. Keith, on the other hand, uses his time to go all Colonel Kurtz on our collective ass as he squats in a rice paddy and smears orange paint all over his face. And then we're off, with the chorus kids pinned down behind a small wooden board as paint splatters all over the other side. The Ho-Buck wants to leave and go to Magic Mountain "like normal fags," but David is more interested in moving to some cover he's spotted a few meters away. "I can't do metric conversion in combat!" whines the LWSD II. Well, that's okay. I can't even do it in math class, so I wouldn't get too worried about it. I don't care what anyone says, the rest of the world is stupid. David insists that they move out, but the other two aren't interested, and continue cowering behind the board.

Claire, meanwhile, finds herself deep in enemy territory as she arrives at Olivier's house with Russell in tow. They giggle about their professor's shoddy housekeeping habits, and actually find themselves engaged in a brief debate about the differences between stale hummus and aged baba ghanoush. They're unable to reach any definitive conclusions before Olivier makes his grand entrance, however, and he fixes them with a smarmy stare as he announces, "You brought your shadow." "He's not my shadow," replies Claire. "Mine either," adds Foreshadowing, as he wipes a thick layer of grease from Russell's brow, thereby allowing us to notice that Russell seems to have thought Olivier might have been talking to him with that remark. Olivier blahs a bit about the ways in which Americans choose to name their towns, and then orders Claire to drive out to some tiny little village named Azusa ("Everything from A to Z in the USA") to pick up a sculpture from one of his former students. Then he wonders aloud about just what exactly it is that he's been eating all this time. "Taste this," he orders Russell, before shoving it into the boy's mouth without giving him a chance to say no. Wow. Propriety prevents me from making the obvious "I bet this isn't the first time that's happened" joke here, but I know you guys well enough to know that you're way ahead of me on that one anyway. Claire reluctantly accepts her assignment, but when she tries to bring Russell along with her, Olivier demands that he stay behind to help him "organize [his] monographs." So that's what the kids are calling it these days. "What would you do in Asuza anyhow?" he asks. "Um, fuck?" replies Claire, as I fire up another cold shower. She departs, leaving Olivier and Russell to stare awkwardly at each other. "I love her, too," confesses Olivier. Yep. That sounds about right. Everybody loves Lauren. Maybe she should move to Utah.

Paintball. Just so you know, all of these scenes are accompanied by dramatic, military-sounding music and anything else the director can think of (short of the Saving Private Ryan shaky-cam) to make them seem more combative and exciting. It also serves to make the chorus kids (David excepted) seem that much more wussy by comparison. In any case, the first casualty of the afternoon turns out to be David, who gets hit in the ass by some friendly fire courtesy of The Ho-Buck. "Sorry!" shouts The LWSD II, as they all duck for cover behind a row of sandbags. "I thought you were enemy ass." Despite the possibility that he'll "be known as a wiper for the rest of [his] life," David decides to cheat and discard his paint-splattered jacket so that he can continue playing. Just then, one of the opposing team members bolts from cover to attack, and David actually manages to shoot the guy right in the forehead. We'll forget for a moment that Keith's friends are likely to be cops who would never do anything that stupid in combat, and instead just focus instead on the fact that David can quite clearly be seen NOT pulling the trigger in the shot where he's supposed to be firing. Oh, well. At least Keith shows up to save the day, as he stalks along the edge of the battlefield, hunting for prey. "Come on, you fa-la-la mimosa motherfuckers," he grunts. Heh. Sarge suddenly appears beside David and crew to rally the troops, and they're soon huddled around him to devise a plan. Sarge, by the way, thinks it's "cool" that David is a "wiper." He would.