"The Blessed Lord said: 'You are grieving over those who are not fit to be grieved for, yet you speak words like a great man of wisdom. But the wise do not grieve, neither for the living nor the dead.'"
- Bhagavad Gita 2.11
"Now therefore restore the man his wife; for he is a prophet, and he shall pray for thee, and thou shalt live. If thou restore her not, know that thou shalt surely die; thou, and all that are thine."
- Genesis 20:7
And so another season comes to a close, and that can only mean one thing: It's time for shout-outs! Props to Sars, Sobell, Wing Chun, all the other recappers, everyone in the forums, Brandi, Rosjag, The Mysterious Hawaiian, the even more mysterious Johanna, Cassie, Shane, DD, Raggedy Andrea, and -- because she totally deserves it -- Sars a second time. That's one disease I wouldn't mind catching, people.
Fade up on a father and his young child in a park, as they prepare to release a pigeon that the little girl has nursed back to health. "We're doing a good deed," explains Dad. "When we do something kind, even for a little lost bird, we give a gift that resonates throughout all humanity. Be free, little lost bird. Be free!" To my eternal disappointment, the guy behind them (who may or may not be Foreshadowing) totally fails to yell "Pull!" and whip out a shotgun as soon as the bird flies off into the air. Even more disappointing, however, is the missed opportunity for a History of the World shout-out. "I love the peasants! They are my people! I am their sovereign! Pull!" Ahh, it's good to be the king. From there, we cut to a scruffy-looking Hollywood wannabe who is cruising down the street sipping a smoothie and running lines out of a script encased in a bright red CAA folder. "Fuck you, motherfucker!" he snarls. "No, fuck you, motherfucker!" As has been noted on the forums, he's clearly auditioning for the role of Nate. He's even got the stubble going a little bit, although it's nothing compared to the amber waves of grain Krause is able to command. At any rate, Foreshadowing was clearly a busy boy this week, as the laxatives he slipped into that pigeon's birdseed take effect and cause the newly-free flying rat to crap all over Mr. Motherfucker's pointy red ski cap. The actor heads into a nearby convenience store to wash off the bird crap, and the stereotypically foreign clerk tells him not to use the broken toilet. Which, of course, he promptly does, shouting "Fuck you, motherfucker" all the while. It's like a mantra with these writers. Or perhaps a koan. What is the sound of one man swearing, anyway? Mr. Motherfucker blithely goes on his way (after perfecting his line reading one last time by shouting at the clerk), and the Armenian Apu is left to clean up a rapidly spreading flood in the bathroom. Instead of whistling, he places a call to his wife while he works, and we see the cheerful-looking Mrs. Armenian Apu struggling to get decent reception on her cell phone in a warmly-lit kitchen. She finally gives up and heads outside so that she can hear her husband screaming about broken toilets and asshole actors, and the long chain of airborne events that have resonated throughout all humanity finally comes to an end when a giant chunk of blue ice falls from sky and crashes right into her head. Heh. Farewell, Anahid Hovanessian. But don't worry; your death was not in vain. Due to the disturbingly high frequency with which anvils fall from the sky in this, our Alan Ball world, the California state legislature will no doubt be passing the Mandatory Hovanessian Hard-Hat Ordinance any day now. After all, what's the use in keeping people from smoking in public places if you're just going to keep dropping shit on their heads every time they step outside?
Speaking of which, here's a few season-ending fun facts for you: In thirty-nine episodes of Six Feet Under, we've now had forty-five DGDJs (including Lisa). Fourteen have died of illness or other natural causes (not counting Nate); eight were deliberately murdered (not counting the lethal injection guy); and two committed suicide (not counting the additional two who killed themselves unintentionally). There have been six vehicle accidents, eight shootings (two self-inflicted), six friends or relatives of a regular cast member, two electrocutions, three asphyxiations (chicken, a hot dog, and autoerotic), and six more who suffered some form of blunt force trauma to the head. Perhaps most interestingly, men are outpacing women by a two-to-one margin (30:15), and even more surprisingly, Arthur seems to be the only one who's noticed. In any case, my favorite is still the Hot Dog Lady, although I do have to give points to the call center shoot-out for its sheer visceral impact. And also the fact that everyone in my call center is still talking about it. At least the ones who don't watch Alias, that is.
Fade back up on Nate, as he lies awake in bed. And by the way, lying awake in bed has totally become the new massage. In fact, I'll be writing the words "lies awake in bed" this week almost as many times as I write the word "fuck." And that's saying quite a bit, considering that our Fk Coefficient is already up to 16. That's an absolutely astounding 4.57 FPM (Fucks Per Minute), people. I smell a world record. After a brief moment, Nate hops out of bed, pulls on some clothes, gives Maya a quick check to make sure she's sleeping, and then heads out into the street for a midnight cigarette. Hmm. Don't mind if I do. Flick, ahh. Nate paces around out there, enduring yet another angry Lisa flashback (Fk = 17), and quite frankly, I don't even know where to begin describing his hair at this point. If you added up all times Austin Powers has ever said the word "shag," it still wouldn't be shaggy enough to describe the shagadelic shaggy shag carpet that's transformed the Rectangle Head into something more closely resembling an Amazon rain forest than an actual human cranium. Perhaps sensing the inevitable encroachment of land developers and clear-cutting cattle ranchers, Nate angrily grinds out his cigarette and goes running off into the night. You know, because cigarettes totally make people want to engage in strenuous aerobic activity. Cough. Hack. Heave.
Cut to Claire, lying awake in bed. Through an open window, she hears Maya crying, and we head over to Schrödinger's Flat to find the entire Fisher family (plus George) there taking care of the baby. Despite the fact that it's 4 in the morning, both Maya's parents are gone, and she's being held by a strange man who smells vaguely of pigs and tachyons, Maya remains resolutely silent. It's a little bit frightening, but I think I'm actually starting to be able to tell the Tosh twins apart. The one with the slightly smaller head likes to hold hands. The one with the bigger head likes to smile a lot. I just hope they remember me when they start making that Mary-Kate and Ashley money. David indulges his inner neat freak by starting to clean up the beer bottles which are strewn everywhere around the apartment, and Claire quietly worries that her brother might be becoming a "total alkie." "Sometimes he goes outside to smoke," she adds. "He paces underneath my window. He talks to himself. Seriously, like whole conversations." Shout-out? And if so, there's nothing wrong with talking to yourself. Sometimes it's the only way to get an intelligent response. Suddenly, Nate appears in the doorway, demanding to know why everyone is in his apartment. Ruth, in turn, demands to know what was so important that Nate would leave a baby alone in the middle of the night. "I was having a cigarette," he replies. "In Pomona?" wonders David. Heh. Incidentally, it's 63.4 degrees and slightly hazy in Pomona right now. I just thought you should know. Ruth reluctantly returns Maya to her father, who is not only unrepentant but also somewhat unnecessarily snarky. "Are you living here now?" Nate asks George, who hands over Maya's blanky. George takes the snide in stride, and calmly declares that he's making a big pot of coffee, and that he and Ruth would like to see the entire family down in the kitchen for an important announcement. I'm declaring right now that if the announcement is about the value and durability of Makita cordless drills, then I'm quitting this recap in protest.
Fortunately, the announcement is completely unrelated to power tools. "You're getting married?" asks David incredulously. "You guys met, like, last week," adds Claire. "Uh, six and a half weeks ago, actually," corrects George, displaying the sort of mathematical accuracy that makes the temperature reading/station identification decimal fiasco in the last recap that much easier to understand. The kids are predictably shocked, and Nate is even more predictably rude about it. "Yeah, that's just so fucking moving I can hardly stand it," he gripes (Fk = 18). "Do whatever you want. What do I care?" He stomps out of the kitchen, and David tries to suggest that maybe this isn't the best time for a wedding, what with the one spouse they already have in the family being missing and all. "Life doesn't stop," answers Ruth. "We didn't die. We have this precious gift of life and it's so terribly fleeting, and that's precisely why it's so important to keep on living and not give up hope. And I intend to keep on living by marrying a strange man who may or may not have murdered several of his ex-wives. And if no one is going to celebrate this with us, then I don't want you there."
Upstairs, Ruth and George lie awake in bed and discuss the kids' reactions. George reports that his own two children are basically fine with it, although neither will be attending (one wants pictures, the other says six is his limit). "I don't need their approval," says Ruth. "Not one of them has ever had a relationship I'd want." Hee! It's funny because it's true. Although you'd think the frequency with which Brenda received oral sex might at least make that one a candidate. I'm just saying. "I don't want to wait," she concludes. "I feel like I've been waiting my entire life. Especially all that time I spent with Arthur. Man, that guy's a freak."
Back in the kitchen, Claire and David are trying to come to terms with the news. "They don't even know each other," sighs David. "Although maybe that's the best time to marry someone. Otherwise you'd never do it." Heh. Maybe I should adopt that strategy with the "Marry me, Aaron" thread. Or maybe someone should point out to Lauren Ambrose that she doesn't really know me. It could work, you know. Ever the considerate big brother, David wonders how Claire is dealing with all the recent trauma in their lives. "Not that good," she replies. "With Lisa just...gone, and Nate, like, totally losing it, I feel like I don't really have a right to have my own problems. Not to mention the fact that I'm still scraping grease off the pillowcases." When David asks about Russell, Claire tells him that it's "so much more than that," but instead of confessing that she had an abortion, she instead blames everything on art school. "It's just so sickly political and dumb," she complains, "and full of evil, hateful freaks, that now I just despise the one thing that was my only hope." Hmm. Sickly political and dumb? Full of hateful, evil freaks? Are we sure Rick Cleveland didn't write this episode? Because that sure sounds like a West Wing/Sorkin shout-out out to me. Remembering that she's not the only one with problems, Claire turns the conversation back around on David by reminding him that his relationship "fell apart." "Well, I wouldn't say...yeah," he answers sadly. Claire gets up to go back to bed, and David asks her to be sure to return her coffee cup in the morning. "We're running out of cups in this kitchen," he says, in an oddly wistful close-up. "People keep leaving with them." That probably would have been more moving if I could remember an actual specific example of someone stealing a cup, but I can't. Sorry. I'm lost. Fade to white.
And while we're waiting for the commercials to be inserted for syndication (and all the "fucks" to be over-dubbed), now seems like a good time to talk about the contest we're running. You see, several months ago I was contacted by Strega's friend Johanna, who told me that she accidentally received an extra Six Feet Under messenger bag when ordering from the TWoP store. She graciously offered to put the bag up as a prize for a contest or something, and I've been sitting on it ever since. It's survived a move, a flood, and several weeks at the bottom of a box that I spent the last few days frantically searching for, and now I'm going to give you, my dear readers, the chance to own it yourselves. I may even decide to fill it with some official random Aaron knick-knacks before sending it off, if that's the sort of thing you think you might enjoy. The goal of the contest is to come up with the best suggestion for a Six Feet Under spinoff to tide us over during the long year before Season Four is scheduled to return. I'll open a thread in the forums, and you can post your ideas there. Entries must be less than two hundred words, feature at least one SFU cast member, and be posted prior to 11:59 PM on Wednesday, June 18. Judging will be totally arbitrary, and the winner will be chosen solely based on whichever entry I like best. To help you out, I'll sprinkle a few sample entries throughout the recap. Here's one to get you started:
The K-Files
Starring: Keith Charles, his dad Kersh, Kris Kristofferson, and Anna Kournikova
Plot: An open-minded security guard investigates paranormal occurrences while dealing with a pan-gender love triangle featuring himself, his loyal partner (Kournikova as Dana Skully), and a mysterious white-haired gentleman with a fondness for nicotine (Kristofferson). Wacky hijinx ensue.
Good luck, and know that whether you win or lose, your ideas will still be better than most of the dreck the networks plan to roll out fall.
Das Sargzimmer. As has become increasingly more common this season, the family of the DGDJ gets only this one token scene. Mostly it just consists of the Armenian Apu explaining precisely what "blue ice" is all about. In case you didn't know, it's frozen chemical waste from an airplane toilet, and apparently it has a nasty tendency fall off and come crashing to the ground in the most inopportune locations. Or something like that. I wasn't really paying attention. And neither was Nate, for that matter, because he's practically falling asleep right there in his chair. "Hey!" shouts Apu. "Are you not listening to me? These places! You are taking from people when they are most vulnerable. What is this, some kind of a fucking business to you [Fk = 19]?" Uh oh. The F-word finally got Nate's attention. "You're goddamned right it's a business," he yells, as he jumps out of his chair. "What do you think, I'm here for the love of humanity? Do you think I want to be here with people on the worst fucking day of their lives [Fk=20]? Do you think I have some kind of gift or something?" He goes on to yell a bit more, and ends up throwing them out and promising to ship the DGDJ's body to wherever they end up, "free of fucking charge [Fk =21]." The only other thing worth noting here is that there were two more fucks that I didn't transcribe, bringing us up a grand total of twenty-three. For the record, we just passed the twelve-minute mark.
The Body Shoppe. David and Rico, who have become quite the comedic duo this season, are downstairs chatting about David's relationship problems. The DGDJ's corpse is in the foreground (StC = 755. And for gambling purposes, let's make that the over/under on the Fk Coefficient, okay? Personally, I'm taking the over), and even though she's covered by a sheet, you can totally see that her entire head above the jawbone has been smooshed like a pancake. Ew. Although I will admit that the flattened hair peeking out from under the blood-stained covering was a nice touch. "I felt so free," explains David. "For, like, a week. But all of a sudden, within days, I went from 'Yay, I'm independent!' to 'Holy fuck, I'm going to die alone [Fk = 24]!'" We've all been there, my friend. We've all been there. Rico seems highly amused by this litany of romantic woe, although he does offer that all relationships go through "tough patches." "Have you and Vanessa ever gone through a time where you felt like by staying with her your entire sense of self would be obliterated?" asks David. "Uh...no," answers Rico. Heh. David hops off the counter to go stand his partner, and I don't know if Freddy Rodriguez is sitting on something behind that table, but Michael C. Hall is like eight thousand feet taller than he is in this shot. I knew the guy was short, but damn. Rico then delivers his own list of problems, blaming everything on Angelica and the fact that Vanessa always takes her side. "It's like I have a fucking two-headed wife [Fk = 25]," he finishes. "As opposed to a no-headed wife," snarks David, nodding towards the near two-dimensional DGDJ. Hee! Even Rico liked that one. Just then Nate comes tearing in, demanding that they "fucking unhook" the corpse (Fk = 26). He tries to cover the fact that he went fucking ballistic on the husband by blaming everything on the "priest or pastor or whatever" at the Armenian church, and David and Rico are livid when they learn that Nate promised the family that transporting the corpse would be free. "I made a mistake, all right," he bitches. "Yeah, I made a fucking mistake. You want to take it out of my fucking paycheck? Fuck you guys!" Oy. You know what? I'm not even going to bother counting the fucks as we go along anymore. I'll just put an update at the end of each paragraph. Fk=29.
Upstairs, Claire is watching the same Schrödinger's soap opera that we saw in the season premiere. This time, it's all about Budapest and brainwashing, with nary a dead cat joke in sight. It is, however, just the tiniest bit of fodder for the small minority of viewers who still continue to believe that this entire season is going to turn out to be just a anesthesia-induced dream as Nate lies on his anvilitis operating table. But as much as I'd love to forget all about Crazy Carol and that girl with the dumb-ass rapist-imitating friends, I think we can safely say that it's time to let the Bobby Ewing fantasy die a peaceful death. I don't think Lisa is going to wake up and find Nate cleaning hair out of the shower drain any time soon. Anyway, Nate comes into the living room and attempts to pawn Maya off on Claire so that he can go out. She tries to refuse, saying that she's "as out of it" as he is and that her "energy" wouldn't be very good for Maya right now. It's all in vain, however, and before she even knows what hit her, she's got a completely silent, big-headed baby on her lap. They stare warily at each other for a moment, with Maya wondering if she'll be that cute when she grows up, and Claire wondering why all the annoying people in her life can't be as quiet as the kid. Here's hoping I'm not on that list. While Claire holds the mute reminder of her abortion...er, "baby," the soap opera gets massively subtextual in the background with one of the characters solemnly announcing, "Maybe when it comes to forgiving, you need to start with yourself." Oy. Fk = 29.
His baby thus taken care of, Nate proceeds to do what any good single dad would do in a situation like this: he heads to a seedy bar to get drunk in the middle of the afternoon. A slow pan along the bar reveals a mean-looking guy who keeps lighting matches and blowing them out, a blonde-haired floozy, and Chewbacca's lesser-known twin brother Bronwynbacca, who's been on a drunken downward spiral ever since George Lucas gave the part to his more talented but significantly less hairy sibling. Except then it turns out that the Wookiee is actually Nate, who really should try to avoid looking downward and pointing his hair at the camera. It was an honest mistake, people. Just like the fact that the MS spell-checker knows "Chewbacca" but not "Wookiee." Nate orders himself another round of drinks (he's doing shots and Budweiser), and asks the elderly, blue-haired bartender if there's any food to be had in the joint. After suggesting one of the pickled eggs in the requisite jar behind the bar, she also offers to order him a pizza. This catches the attention of the blonde floozy, who wants to share a slice with him and even recommends that they order the pizza Hawaiian-style with pineapple and ham. "I'm not a pineapple-on-pizza kind of guy," replies Nate. "Oh, yeah?" she answers, blowing smoke right into his face. "What kind of guy are you?" "The kind of guy who wants to fuck you senseless," Nate informs her. Oh. Ew. Blondie 2.0 laughs a bit, and then gives him a highly suggestive look. Whether she's suggesting sex or a haircut remains to be seen. Fk=30.
While we're still processing the prospective visual of Nate and Blondie 2.0 getting naked and figuring out exactly what he would be willing to eat pineapple off of, we cut to Brenda, meditating silently in the lotus position. Heh. She's disturbed by a strange noise coming from outside, and she heads over to the apartment across the lawn to check it out. A guy who wants to be TWoP favorite Ron Livingston but isn't pokes his head out to explain that he's been practicing his French horn, which in this case is surprisingly not a euphemism for anything. Although as someone who played the baritone in high school, I can certainly appreciate anyone who has willingly devoted his entire life to the inherent dorkiness of the brass family of instruments. If your occupation involves frequent use of a spit-valve, you're a stronger man than I. Or possibly a woman I'd like to date. Either way, I could never do it myself. Seeing as how Not Ron doesn't share any scenes with Nate this week (thus depriving me of the obvious "Dr. Livingston, I presume" jungle hair joke), I'll just go ahead and call him by his real name, which is Joe. He and Brenda share some introductory chit-chat, and Joe even offers to show her around the neighborhood so she'll know where everything is. "I'm not going to have sex with you," Brenda non sequiturs. "That's okay," replies an utterly non-fazed Joe. "I doubt there's anything in that particular neighborhood that hasn't been discovered a long time ago and turned into a tourist trap by now anyway." "I'm sorry to be so blunt," she continues. "I've, uh, been celibate for quite a long time now, and it's been a good thing for me. And you're really attractive...but you know that, right?" Well, if he didn't, he certainly would after reading the forums. ["Or my secret, dirty diary." -- Wing Chun] Brenda goes on to explain that she doesn't drink or smoke pot, and describes herself as being sort of "boring." Wow. She really has changed since last season, hasn't she? With that out of the way, she heaves her giant breasts back into their titanium-alloy portable suspension network and heads back to her apartment. Joe, meanwhile, goes back inside to toot his own horn a bit. Yeah. Sorry. Fk = 30.
Cut to a strange house, where a strange kid is watching HBO's Boxing After Dark. Given what we later learn about his family life (not to mention the toilet paper and hand lotion on the coffee table), however, we probably should be thankful he wasn't watching Mind of the Married Man. Speaking of which, what the hell is Lauren Ambrose thinking? You know, if you're trying to hurt my feelings, Lauren, it's totally working. I haven't been this depressed since the restraining order. Anyway, Nate and Blondie 2.0 enter, and Blondie sends the kid to his room by telling him that "Mama's got company." Oy. That's how serial killers are made, you know. Well, that and the clothespin thing. Before the kid is even completely out of the room, Blondie 2.0 has already stripped down to her bra and underwear, and her idea of foreplay is to simply stand there and announce, "I'm ready." Wow. I bet her spit valve gets a lot of use, if you know what I mean. And judging from the sound of your dry heaves, I'm betting that you do. Nate starts pulling off his own clothes, although I can't help but notice that his hair is so mussed up that it looks like he's already had sex. With a Flowbee. FK = 30.
Hey, look! Someone is actually sleeping in a bed! If you watch this episode long enough, you start to forget what those things are for. This time it's Claire sleeping in Nate's bed, as the proverbial (but not Schrödinger's) cat drags Nate back in looking like death warmed over. Claire wakes up and chews him out for not coming home until 2 in the morning, and mutters, "God, you're so fucking sad," as she walks back to her own room. "I know," replies Nate once she's gone. Then he has another Lisa flashback, although this one is to a happier time when they were both trying to start over. And that right there is what sealed Lisa's death warrant for me, by the way. Nobody gets to be happy on this show and still stay alive. Fade to white. Fk = 31.
Fade back up on David, sitting in the office and debating with The Late Nate about whether or not he should call Keith. Aww, The Late Nate! We've missed you, buddy-boy. Please don't tell me you were gone all season because you were off filming The Core. I just don't think I could handle that. The Late Nate is totally in favor of the Call Keith plan, pointing out that David really misses Keith and should make the call as soon as possible. "I miss a lot of people," replies David. "I miss you." Now, see? That was sweet. So what does David follow it up with? "I miss having sex with him." Yeah. That one wasn't so sweet. "You can have sex with anybody," says Dad. "Yeah. I did that," answers David. "I saw," his father tells him. "Slut!" Hee! What is it about this room that makes people want to call David a tramp? There's some talk about "replacing" the people in our lives, and that naturally leads to a discussion of Mom's upcoming wedding. "George reminds me of you," offers David. "Huh," deadpans The Late Nate. "I don't really see that." Heh. "Just enough to make me sad," his son continues. "Enough to make me wish I could see you and Mom together again." "Well, that man is alive and I'm dead," comes the reply. "I think that means he wins." David thinks about that one for a minute, and then steps over to the phone. As he dials, we see that Dad has vanished from the room. David settles back into his chair, and anxiously invites whoever answered the phone to come to church with him that morning. Fk = 31.
Nate, meanwhile, is still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday as he sits in his apartment and watches Maya playing on the floor. He's also drinking more Budweiser, which is obviously the product placement of the week. If drinking alone on a Sunday morning while you're supposed to be caring for an infant is your idea of a good time, then this Bud's for you, my friend! George appears at the door behind Nate, who grudgingly welcomes George into the room. After getting his own beer out of the fridge, George asks Nate what he's doing. "Watching the baby," Nate replies. I mention that only to make it clear that Nate said "baby" and not "Babe." Which would have been funny, but a little too anvillicious, even for SFU. George then tries to deliver a little spiel about how everyone is worried about Nate, and how Nate needs his family now more than ever, but Nate isn't having it. "You're not going to try and lay some sort of homespun wisdom, instant bonding load of horseshit on me right now, are you?" Nate asks. "Because that would be seriously obnoxious." I'm not absolutely positive about this, but that could very well be the longest "fuck"-free sentence he's managed to string together in this entire episode. Which he immediately spoils by getting up in George's face and shouting, "Fuck you! You can sit in our goddamn TV room and rent movies, you can bone my mother day and night if you want, but don't you dare come in here and act like you're my fucking father. Because you're not. And you never will be." Nate then scoops Maya up off the floor and announces that it's time for her nap. Incidentally, I've completely run out of synonyms for "silent," so unless otherwise noted, you can just assume that the baby didn't make a peep. "I only wanted to..." starts George, but Nate cuts him off. "Just leave me the fuck alone!" he shouts. And while they usually edit around Maya in these fight scenes, she was definitely right there in Nate's arms when he yelled that one. And yet she still didn't make a sound. You know, if I could have a baby like that, I might actually consider having kids. Of course, you'd have to find a way to plug up the other end, too. I'm not really a diaper-changing kind of guy. George sadly sets down his beer and leaves without saying another word. Nate cradles Maya in his arms and whispers an apology for swearing so much. "Fuck you, motherfucker," replies the baby. Fk = 34.
Church. David waits nervously in the lobby, and I don't think anyone was surprised to see that it was Keith he invited to join him. After all, the LWSD II's idea of a relaxing Sunday morning is a mimosa and a gay-themed parlor game.
We then cut to later, with David and Keith sitting in the now empty lobby. "I remember the first time I saw you," reminisces David. "Out there in the parking lot. Getting out of your car, all studly. You looked so intense, the way you pointed your little alarm thingy at the car. Like, 'Fuck you, car. Now you're locked!'" Hee! I've totally been saying that to all the inanimate objects in my apartment this week. "Fuck you, computer. Now you're off." "Fuck you, dishes. Now you're washed." "Fuck you, girlfriend. Now you're inflated." You know, that sort of thing. David also admits that he was stalking Keith a little in the beginning, by timing his arrival so they could pull into church to each other. When he found out that Keith was a cop, it even made him feel safe. Or maybe he just liked "knowing that [Keith] was strapped to a gun all day." See? Keith'll never be able to escape the Big Black Sex Cop label. It's who he is, people. Keith takes his turn at the nostalgia game, admitting that the first time he saw David he wondered, "Who is that beautiful new white boy?" Aww. David protests (a bit too much, if you ask me), and Keith seems almost surprised when he asks, "Don't you know I think you're beautiful?" "No," whispers David, as a bit of a tremor creeps into his voice. "And kind, and smart, and loving," continues Keith. "You didn't know that?" They both take a moment to ponder the vast communication breakdown in their relationship, and I'm left to wonder what it means that they've made this breakthrough in a church lobby rather than in therapy. Fk = 35.
Cut to Claire, lying awake in bed. Suddenly she jumps up, and the shot is of her in the Lean Green Corpse Machine, pulling into a cemetery. The jaunty Organ of Personal Introspection plays a cheerful tune as she wanders amongst the graves, searching for The Late Nate's. For those of you wondering when the dream sequence portion of this whole scene actually began, I'm thinking the headstones she encounters labeled simply "Mother" and "Father" might be a bit of a clue. The little girl with the red balloon that goes running past is probably a hint, as well. "You looking for me?" asks The Late Nate, attired -- as he always is with Claire -- in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts. "Yeah," Claire answers. "Where the fuck is your grave?" He laughingly tells her that she's not even close, and then offers to walk her there. "How's life?" he asks. "Eh," she says. "How's death?" Heh. "It's good," he replies. "I've made some new friends, joined the chess team..." That's probably a Bergman shout-out, but I still thought they only played Chinese Checkers in the afterlife. Then again, this whole little sequence totally destroys all of the established rules we've seen on this show about communicating with the dead, so who know what's going on, right? Anyway, The Late Nate leads Claire over to a giant street festival (complete with balloons, cotton candy, and hundreds of people) that's appeared in the middle of the cemetery. If you listen closely, you can even hear an elephant in the background on the soundtrack. I mean, why settle for a pony when you can ride the actual elephants Hannibal used to cross the Alps? "Is this some kind of special occasion?" Claire asks. "Nope," answers The Late Nate. "It's like this every day." Fk = 36.
Back at the Fortress, Nate is feeding Maya in the kitchen. Ruth comes home carrying some groceries, and whispers a little greeting to the baby as she passes. The tiny wave Maya gives in response was totally edited in from another shot, but it was super-cute nonetheless. Nate here, however, is the opposite of cute. He's the anti-cute. He's a hairy pimple on the ass of cute. He's also been waiting for the opportunity to tell his mother how to run her life. "I've got tell you," he says, "I think you're making a big mistake marrying George." He then goes on to describe Mom's fiancé as a "presumptuous, full-of-himself know-it-all. Plus he's selfish. It's so obvious." Hmm. Sound like anyone we know? And if you said me there, you need to stop reading this recap right now. Ruth defends her betrothed, but Nate insists that George only wants Ruth so that she can take care of him: "He wants you all for himself. He's not even thinking about how much Maya is going to need you." That's code, of course, for how much Nate is actually going to need Ruth. Especially now that he's on such a busy schedule of drinking, insulting the customers, and floozy-fucking. Ruth points out that Maya still has one parent, which is more than a lot of kids have, and also calls Nate out for not coming home the past few nights. "You can't keep expecting us to be there every time you want to check out," she adds. "Well, why the fuck not?" Nate wants to know. "I stuck around when Dad died." He goes off on a rant about how Ruth practically tied him down and forced him to stay, and how his life was so much better back in Seattle where he was stocking produce and throwing Lisa the occasional pity fuck. "I changed everything in my fucking life because of you," he yells. "And maybe, maybe if I hadn't, none of this fucking shit would have happened. And now, when I need you the most, you're not even fucking helping!" Ruth swears that she is trying to help, but while she's "on the shore trying to pull [Nate] out of the water, [he's] strapping on lead boots." Which still wouldn't be enough to overcome the positive buoyancy of his hair, but that's a different story. "I don't know what to do," she finishes. "Watch you self-destruct? I can't do that. I won't do that." "Thanks for fucking everything, Mom!" shouts Nate as he runs out of the room. She turns and throws a box of cereal at him, but it falls harmlessly to the floor as the door swings shut behind him. Then we get an all-time classic cut to Maya, who remains her usual freakishly calm self as she pivots her head back and forth to watch the argument like a tennis match. Ruth starts sobbing, but even a fight that registered a 7.3 on the Richter scale isn't enough to set off Maya. That kid could totally be a Fremen. Fk = 46. 46!
Lady Deafstryke
Starring: Marlee Matlin, Christy from Survivor, and Maya Kimmel-Fisher
Plot: A sassy, hearing-impaired lesbian couple uses their unique talents to perform covert anti-terrorist operations for the US government while struggling to raise their totally mute adopted daughter. Wacky hijinx ensue.
Locust Lanes. Brenda looks up from the book she's reading just in time to catch Joe feeding a bunch of cats out on the lawn. She wanders out to join him, wondering if all the cats belong to him, or just to the writer who wanted to bring a little feline symmetry to the opening and closing episodes of the season. "No, they're the building's," Joe explains. "But if I don't feed them, they're just going to eat dead, diseased birds or something." Which, to be perfectly honest, they'd probably enjoy a whole lot more than the processed chemical kibble he's doling out here. And by the way, I was really trying to be polite and not mention the fact that Brenda is sporting two of largest mammary glands on the planet and isn't even offering to share the milk, but I just can't help it. Those things are ginormous. And you can't tell me they were always like that. That's totally something I would have noticed. Trust me. Anyway, Joe goes on to describe himself as being "so fucking noble" for being willing to feed the cats, but not willing to get them spayed or actually find them homes. And then at long last Brenda finally gets us off the subject of the damn cats by apologizing for "unloading too much personal stuff" on him the last time they met. Then she asks if he still wants to go out. Unfortunately, going for coffee isn't an option at the moment because the place is closed on Sunday and Joe has to do his laundry first, anyway. He suggests dinner instead, and placates Brenda's anti-dating sentiments by calling it "lunch in another time zone," and affirming that he already knows "sex is not an option." Powerless to resist the charm of a man who obstinately refuses to make the obvious "I promise not to get too horny" joke, Brenda accepts the invitation and heads back inside. Fk = 47.
The Dead Man's Party continues in full swing as Claire and her dad walk around checking out all the sights. Claire is astonished to see a monkey there, but The Late Nate doesn't think anything of it. "What?" he asks. "You think monkeys don't die?" It's good to know that Alan Ball agrees with the sentiment that monkeys and ninjas make everything better, although I will admit to being a little disappointed that it wasn't a flying monkey. After all, every time a bell rings, a monkey angel gets his wings. Because I'm a freak, I watched this scene in slow-motion a half-dozen times trying to see if there were any past DGDJs walking around in the crowd, but unfortunately the casting director must have been too busy trying to make sure that James Cromwell was signed for Season Four to make any extra phone calls this week. But then just when I was about to give up hope completely, Claire spies Gabe and his little brother Anthony playing catch out on the lawn. "He's dead?" she asks, much to the delight of a significant percentage of our promo-dissecting posters. "Don't ask me," answers Dad. "This is your thing." I have to admit, I never ever thought they'd bring Gabe back. I mean, there are some tertiary characters I'd love to check back in on (Tracey, Mitzi, hell, even Gilardi), but Gabe wasn't really one of them. And I'm not just saying that because he stole Lauren away from me back when our love was still new and exciting. I just figured they'd gone as far as they could go with him, but I guess not. Fk = 47.
Anyway, Claire and Gabe sit down for a conversation, and one look at that scraggly goatee is all it takes to bring my Gabe Hate back to full strength. And those ridiculous hoops in his ears aren't helping, either ["And Aaron said unto them, break off the golden earrings...and bring them unto me." -- Exodus 32:2]. Gabe explains that life "just wasn't the right environment" for him, and that he's doing much better here in the afterlife, where he's taking care of his brother and "doing the whole home-schooling thing." Claire seems genuinely happy to hear that he's doing okay, and doesn't even rub in the fact that all nine trillion of Eric Balfour's pilots have failed since he left the show, or even the fact that he was replaced on 24 by freaking Darlene from Roseanne. Their conversation is kept mercifully brief when Anthony comes over to say that he has to go to the bathroom, and I don't even want to think about the spiritual and biological implications of dead people needing to urinate. Nor do I want to consider the fact that Anthony's bullet wound is no longer visible, even though all the DGDJs we've seen so far have retained their injuries after death. Gabe says goodbye, and pulls Claire in for one final hug. "I love you," he says, and Claire's face lights up when she hears it. "I love you too," she whispers. Oy. Sigh. ["And Aaron held his peace." -- Leviticus 10:3]. Fk = 47.
Back at the church, David is rambling on about Catholic guilt and the fact that he's an Episcopalian, but all the Jew in me hears is "blah blah blah Jesus, blah blah blah punishment, blah blah blah do the right thing." Whatever. Jews invented guilt, for God's sake. It says so right there in the Bible. ["And Aaron shall offer the bullock as a sin offering, which is for himself, and make an atonement for himself and his house." -- Leviticus 16:6]. "We should do the right thing because we can do it," agrees Keith. "Because we choose to do the right thing, even if it's going to make life harder, which it often does." "I just don't know if it's right for us to be together," sighs David. "I don't know if it's wrong, either." Hmm. Let me see if I can help you out with this one, Dave. He's hot, he's madly in love with you, he shares your obsession with gay porn, and aside from the occasional bouts of emotional unavailability and irritable bowel syndrome, he's by far the best guy you're ever going to land. Why is this even a question for you? After a long moment of silence, David confesses that he slept with Patrick. Keith's face totally crumbles for a moment, but then he regains his resolve and replies with a simple "Okay." "Listen to me," Keith continues. "I love you with all my heart, and I'll do everything I have to do to work through this, because I don't want to lose you." This highly tender moment is suddenly interrupted when the service ends and everyone comes streaming out into the lobby. Oops. "I can't promise you anything," says David. "Just don't give up," insists Keith. "Not yet." Aww. Fk = 46.
Diaz house. Rico wanders into the living room to find the entire family camped out around the sofa watching XXX on their new big-screen TV. He's all peppy and full of energy, and suggests that everyone get up and go to church. Um, didn't we just see church ending? Or do Catholics...excuse me, "Episcopalians" have like nine services in one day? You know what, I don't even want to know. Shut up, Rico, just for making me think about this. ["I know you don't want to know, Aaron, but in case anyone else is wondering: yes, Catholic churches usually do have several masses on Sunday, plus a couple late Saturday afternoon and at least one every weekday." -- Wing Chun] Vanessa tells him that Angelica just rented a bunch of movies, so they're going to stay inside and watch TV all day. Rico finally notices that his house has been defiled by the presence of Vin Diesel, and immediately demands that Angelica change the tape to something a little more kid-friendly. "What they get, they get," she snarks, "and what they don't get goes over their heads anyway, so don't even stress about it." That's how serial killers are made, you know. Well that and watching their mothers fuck total strangers. "That doesn't make any sense," replies Rico. Heh. Anhellica gets up to use the bathroom, and Rico is furious to discover that she's wearing his sporty "Fisher & Sons" baseball t-shirt. Damn. I so want one of those now. I could wear it with my Tony Soprano terrycloth bathrobe. Once the sister is out of the room, Rico demands that Vanessa get rid of her. Vanessa, however, reminds Rico that Angelica was there with a loan when they needed to buy the house, and that now it's their turn to help her out. Rico storms out of his own home, and even slams the door despite Vanessa's specifically ordering him not to. The scene ends with Julio trying desperately to ignore his parents so he can focus on the movie ["For Aaron stretched out his hand with his rod, and smote the dust of the earth, and it became lice in man, and in beast; and all the dust of the land became lice." -- Exodus 8:17]. Fk = 46.
Cut to a giant room which, for lack of a better term, I'm going to call a coffinarium. ["To me it looked like a columbarium, where urns full of cremains are kept -- sort of like above-ground graves." -- Wing Chun] The doors open to reveal Claire and The Late Nate, and he sends her in alone because he's not allowed to smoke in there. Wow. Who knew California ordinances even extended to the dream world? Claire wanders down the hallway, looking confused, until a familiar voice suddenly calls to her from atop a nearby staircase. It's Lisa, which means that our long national nightmare is finally over. She's dead. Hallelujah. She's also frantic that Claire might be dead as well, but Claire quickly assures Lisa that she's just visiting. "So you're...?" Claire asks. "Couldn't be better," answers Lisa. "They serve tofu at every meal here, and I get to boss around anyone I want." "If I'd known you were going to die," Claire offers, "I'd have hung out with you more." Aww. And ooh! I'm going to die! No, really. I am. Flick, ahh. So how come Claire's not hanging out with me? Claire and Lisa share an embrace, and Claire notices a little baby seated on the floor behind them. "Isn't he beautiful?" asks Lisa. "And don't worry, I'll take good care of him. And you take good care of Maya for me, okay?" Claire looks puzzled at first, but then it finally sinks in that this is her own aborted baby we're talking about. You know, I have to admit that I find it a little odd that people in the forums were shocked and put off by that revelation. I mean, it's not like you couldn't see it coming from a mile away, and no matter what your politics on the subject might be, you do have to admit that it's the only possible dramatic resolution to the stories we've seen this season. And they certainly didn't beat the anvil anywhere near as hard as some other shows might have. I mean, can you imagine this plot on 7th Heaven? The kid probably would have leapt out of his baby seat and delivered a fifteen-minute monologue on how he was all set to grow up and become a concert pianist until he had a speculum rudely shoved up his ass. I'm just saying. Fk = 46.
Back outside, Claire and The Late Nate go for a little walk. "You know, I miss you and I think about you all the time," Claire tells him. "Right back at you," he says. Aww. "It's so weird that Mom is getting married," she continues. "It's like you're being erased or something. Aren't you pissed off?" "Nah, that's you," he answers, before pointing out that they've finally reached his grave. He disappears, and Claire sits down beside the headstone to think. Fk = 46.
Cut to Nate, lying awake in bed. The phone starts ringing, and he lets it go a few rings before sullenly reaching over to pick it up. Or maybe he just couldn't move his arms there for a minute, because he's been wearing that suit for an eternity now, and it has to be getting a little crusty. At any rate, it's the police calling, and they have some bad news for him. "We've found a body," Nate is told, "and it matches with your wife's dental records." We're not told, however, how she died. Was she murdered? Was it suicide? Do you really care? Fk = 46.
We then sum up the mood of the population at large upon hearing this news by cutting to Rico getting funky on the dance floor. Heh. He's dancing with some random blonde (albeit one significantly less skanky than Nate might have chosen), and they display none of the natural chemistry that Rico and Vanessa had when they went dancing. That's a nice touch. Fk = 46.
Brenda, meanwhile, is out on her date with Joe. She's also talking about herself a lot, which probably isn't the best idea, because nothing says "great first date" like stories about nymphomania, drug addiction, and incest. Trust me. I learned that one the hard way. Brenda tells Joe all about the death Pa Chenowith, and adds that even though she came back to L.A. with the intention of reconnecting with her family, she ended up being more on her own than she's ever been before. "But believe it or not, I'm not lonely," she says, trying to convince herself as much as him. Then she makes yet another first-date faux pas by getting all meta and wondering aloud about whether they're actually on a date here. And while I know that her nervousness is supposed to be a reflection of the fact that Brenda's trying to start over with a new outlook on life, it's still almost enough to make me wonder how she ever managed last season to get all those guys to fuck her in the first place. But then I remembered the giant breasts, and the world made sense once again. Joe tries to calm Brenda down by defiantly stating, "Fuck dating. Dating is stupid." And surprisingly, the subtle reminder of Nate seems to be exactly what she needed. The old Chenowith coyness returns, and she promises to think about whether or not they're on a date and get back to him. Here's a tip, Brenda: You're wearing eyeliner. It's a date. Fk = 47.
Dance club. Rico hangs out at the bar, reading a flyer while the rest of the dancers head for the exit behind him. The instructor comes over, and after some small talk he announces that there's a private party in the room later than night and everyone needs to clear out. Then he invites Rico to join him for a drink. Raise your hand if you thought the instructor was hitting on him. ["My hand is up." -- Wing Chun] Yeah. That's what I thought. Fk = 47.
Fresh from learning of his wife's death, Nate has returned to the same bar he visited the day before. So I guess it's appropriate that he's still wearing the same suit, as well. Mean-Looking Match Guy is still there, and he's still playing with matches, but Blondie 2.0 is nowhere to be found. I guess she must be out shopping for clothespins or something. Nate grabs his usual chair, and orders a shot of tequila. "Keep 'em coming," he adds. The Ironic Musical Selection Fairy (who's been gone almost as long as Gabe) drops a few quarters in the jukebox and The Doobie Brothers' "It Keeps You Running" starts playing the background just as Nate downs his shot. Tequila keeps me running, too, but it's an entirely different kind of runs. You probably didn't need to know that. Fk = 47.
Formaldehyde Fortress. Ruth is getting dressed for her wedding, and I have to say, she looks fantastic. I'd marry her. And not just because that would mean I could live with Claire. ["Uh, okay, Humbert." -- Wing Chun] And speak of the devil (albeit a really cute one), Claire herself appears in the doorway, asking when it will be time to leave for the wedding. Ruth is ecstatic that at least one of her kids wants to attend, although she is saddened to have to ask Claire to take care of Maya during the ceremony. "Where's Nate?" asks the daughter, with just the tiniest hint of irritation in her voice. "I have no idea," says Mom. "I've been trying his cell phone all afternoon, but there's no answer." Perhaps she should try calling the local Bo-Rics. "I have something for you," announces Claire, suddenly remembering the gift she's been holding this entire time. She hands over a small paper packet, which Ruth unfurls to reveal a pair of earrings. "They're antique," explains Claire, "so they're old. But I just bought them, so they're also new. And technically I'm giving them to you rather than letting you borrow them...but they're blue, right? I love you, Mom. I'm so happy that you found your soulmate." Ack! There's that word again. Even with Dawson finally off the air for good, we still can't escape it. "My sweet, darling Claire," gushes Ruth, "You don't know how much this means to me, from you." And then they hug, and Ruth reaches up to start putting on the earrings. What's that? No! Are you joking? Of course I'm not crying! I've got...smoke in my eyes. Yeah. That's it. Flick, ahh. See? Smoke. And damn you for thinking otherwise. Fk = 47.
Simply Red
Starring: Ruth Fisher, Claire Fisher, Alicia Witt, Thora Birch, Eric Stoltz, and Julianne Moore.
Plot: An extended clan of redheads bands together to fight off a crazed film director with a fetish for sassy teens who's been stalking them for years. Wacky hijinx ensue.
And just when I thought it couldn't get any better than Claire being all cute and sweet, we immediately cut to a strip club. All right! Now this is my idea of a finale. Hell, throw in a midget and an alien-invasion cliffhanger, and it would be the best damn show ever. In any event, Rico and the dance instructor sip their drinks and ogle a stripper who looks oddly familiar. The bad news is that my TiVo cut off the end credits, so I can't check and see who the actress is. The good news is that there are people in the forums who watch even more TV than I do, and they were easily able to identify her as former MTV VJ Idalis. You know, I don't know too much about her VJing skills, and to be perfectly honest, she's not a very good stripper. I can say, however, that she's got one hell of a plastic surgeon. Those are some sweet implants. And besides, would you rather have Martha Quinn? Idalis gives Rico a little wink, and the smile he offers in return makes him look even more like a twelve-year-old kid than he already does. And that's hard to do. Fk = 47.
Brenda and Joe are wrapping up their date by standing silently on the lawn between their apartments, and Joe finally decides to break the tension with...a forehead kiss? What's up with that? Then he redeems himself by going in for the real thing, and Brenda doesn't exactly push him away. She does, however, break it off rather quickly, and then heads back into her apartment with a jaunty little stride. Joe stays out on the lawn, and I'm betting that's the last we'll ever see of him. Eh, whatever. He wasn't that bad, but Brenda still belongs with Nate. And even Billy would be more interesting than this guy. ["You're fired. That guy's hot. He can and should stay on the show forever." -- Wing Chun] FK = 47.
Back at the strip club, Rico is propped up against wall, drunk out of his mind. The stripper from before comes over and introduces herself as "Infinity." Because "Idalis" just wasn't symbolic enough, I guess. On the other hand, that's about as close as we're going to get to a Pot = ∞ reference this week, so I'll take what I can get ["And Aaron shall burn thereon sweet incense every morning." -- Exodus 30:7]. Rico basically makes a drunken fool out of himself here, but Idalis doesn't care. She just thinks he's cute, in a tiny Latino elf sort of way. Aww. Strippers in love. Fk = 47.
The wraparound continues, and we cut back to Nate's bar, where Match Guy is still lighting his matches. "Could you please stop doing that?" grunts Nate, from his perch at the end of the bar. "If you can give me a good enough reason," answers Match Guy. And can you guess what Nate's reason is? "Because it's driving me fucking crazy." Well, I'll bet you got the "fuck" part right, at least. "That's not good enough," snarls Match Guy, and then that really annoying guy leans into the frame and shouts, "Let's get ready to ruuuuuuuuuumble!" Nate staggers off his stool and delivers a pretty decent right cross. And then Match Guy stands back up and we realize that he's a hell of a lot bigger than Nate. Which makes the pummeling that follows pretty easy to understand. Four punches, one kick, and three "fuck"s later, Nate finds himself slumped against the bar, bleeding profusely from a half-dozen cuts on his face. "Come on!" he shouts at Match Guy. "Come on, you fucking dipshit! I can still fucking stand up. Come on and finish what you started!" You know, I can understand the whole death-wish thing, but isn't there a less painful way to go about it? I mean, he's got to have some pretty good drugs left over from the brain surgery. That's got to be simpler than picking a bar fight, right? Right? Fk = 54.
Now of all the patently unbelievable things Ruth has done this season (a list that ranges from shoplifting to trying to sex up Arthur), the one I have the hardest time swallowing is the notion that she would ever get married in a place called The Guadalupe Wedding Chapel. It's just so...not her style. Are we really supposed to believe that's the only place in all of Los Angeles she could find to hold the ceremony? Hell, Father Jack could have done it in the back room of the video store and I'd have believed that more. Regardless, however, Ruth and George exchange their vows while Claire, David, Keith, and Maya watch from the front row. George's vows are all about sharing and constant companionship. Ruth's are all about having fun and being George's personal property. And I'm not making that up. Claire suddenly loses it and starts bawling in the middle of the ceremony, only she's sobbing way harder than just your normal wedding cry. Hmm. Maybe she's got smoke in her eyes. David takes Maya away from her, and the wedding concludes with Ruth and George sharing a fairly deep kiss. Everyone smiles except Maya, and that's only because it's the small-headed Tosh twin this time and she's too busy holding onto Keith's hand like it's the last life-preserver on the Titanic. Oh, and Claire isn't really smiling too much, either. You know, if it weren't for that one scene with the baby monitor back in Episode Two, you could actually say that everyone has cried this season except the baby. And that's just not right. Fk = 54.
Just for the record, I could have died a happy man without ever seeing Rico's orgasm face. Oh, well. At least he's not naked. After sixteen straight hours of recapping, I don't think I could have handled that. ["Seeing Your great form with many faces, many eyes, many arms, many thighs and feet, and many terrible tusks and stomachs, O Mighty Armed, the worlds are terrified and so am I." -- Bhagavad Gita 11.23] He's got his car parked in the woods somewhere, and Idalis's head pops up into the frame just as Rico moans a particularly loud "Oh my God!" Then he makes yet another classic first-date faux pas by assuming she's a prostitute and asking how much he owes her. Yeah. I had to learn that one the hard way, too. He apologizes profusely, and makes sure to rub his forehead while he does it so that we can all see the wedding ring. Idalis is a lot less angry about the whole "hooker" thing than you might expect, although that's probably just because Carson Daly used to make the same mistake all the time. "Cutie, don't you know?" she asks. "I just want to be your friend. I like you, dum-dum." She starts licking his ear, but that only makes Rico even more uncomfortable. He finally has to plant his left hand right on the steering wheel so she can see the ring while he offers to drive her home. Oh, yeah. Who's the dum-dum now? Fk = 54.
Over at the Formaldehyde Fortress, the wedding reception is in full swing. If, that is, you can call Ruth and George "dancing" in the living room a "reception." Personally, I'd call it an affront to actual dancers everywhere, but that's just me. And speaking of affronts to people everywhere, here comes Arthur, joining David and Keith in the kitchen. He hands over a gift he bought for the happy couple, graciously accepts a piece of cake, and then goes off to eat alone in his room after he spots George giving Ruth a good tongue-nuzzling. And that's it for Arthur, folks. May he never darken our television screens again. ["Oh, dude. No. Now you're more fired than ever." -- Wing Chun] Keith comments that Arthur seems like a very sad guy, and then observes that while David was born into the mortuary business, Arthur actually chose it. David, of course, takes personal offense to that, and bickering rapidly ensues. The boy quickly realize, however, just how stupid their argument is, and they both share a good laugh as they remember the problems they've had as well as the good times. Fk = 54.
A New York Yankee In King Arthur's Court
Starring: Derek Jeter, Arthur Martin, and Dan London as Lance Lott
Plot: Three best friends have their relationship put to the test when their electronic music album becomes a surprise #1 hit. Things go especially wrong in the pilot when one of the boys gets the chance to date Mariah Carey, and wacky hijinx ensue.
Claire, meanwhile, is dancing in the slumber room with Maya. And is it just me, or are we seeing baby's first steps here? I only ask because I'm fairly certain we've never seen her walk before, and yet you'd think they'd make a bigger deal out of it than just a quick shot in the middle of a montage. Oh, well. I don't know why I'm watching the baby anyway, especially because this is the last time we'll be seeing Claire all year. Farewell, my sweet. You'll know my love is true when I actually pay eight bucks to see a Mike Binder movie. Fk = 54.
Smash cut to a car weaving through traffic, with a bloodied and battered Nate slumped behind the wheel. The Late Nate is riding shotgun, and he's giddily suggesting that Nate head to a perfect little spot he knows on the highway where he can drive the car right into a canyon. "Look at you," Dad says. "You're such a mess. You'll take anyone as long as they'll fuck you or fight you. Let me tell you something, buddy-boy. Those are just love taps. Wisps of nothing compared to the nut you'll bust when this whole fucking car rips through you and tears your ass in half. You'll shit a million stars!" Wow. That's almost poetic, in a...fecal sort of way. Suddenly, Lisa appears in the back seat. "Go ahead, honey," she encourages him. "It's the least you can do for me. You know you fantasized about me being gone, and now you got what you want." Lisa and The Late Nate both pile on Nate with more and more suicide suggestions, with Lisa coming off particularly creepy when she tells Nate that, this way, they can be "together forever." Well, they do say that all suicides go to hell, so I guess that does makes sense. Nate is finally reduced to tears, and he just repeats, "I don't want to die, I don't want to die" over and over again. Fk = 58, and that's a final folks. It comes out to just a hair over one fuck per minute. And I'm no prude, but even I have to admit that's pushing it just a little. And besides, when you say it so much, it totally takes away all the shock value. Now you're going to have to shove a spoon up someone's ass just to get our attention.
We return to the Fortress one last time to see that Keith and David have joined Ruth and George on the dance floor. Ruth takes a short break to head into the kitchen, and she hears a strange noise coming from the pantry. She investigates, and finds The Late Nate sobbing on the floor. He turns his back when he sees her, and Ruth eventually just walks away without even saying a word. Aww. Ghosts in love.
And finally, Nate comes knocking at Brenda's apartment door. She opens it to see him standing there, blood drying on his now totally ruined suit, and she invites him inside without saying a word. He gives her a pleading look, and then the door closes behind him and we fade to white for the very last time. The season ends with Lisa getting an Ironically White Title Card of Death of her very own. So farewell, Lisa Kimmel-Fisher. You made marriage look bad and Brenda look good, and even if we don't know how you died, we're still glad to see you gone.
Wow. I can't believe it's finally over. Barring last week's vacation and the occasional substitution, it's now been thirty-two consecutive weeks of commercial-free recapping (and the three subs were more than cancelled out by the three Dune recaps and the seventy some-odd extra minutes shoehorned into all the extended season finales). In other words, I'm definitely ready for a vacation. But if Six Feet Under has taught me anything, it's that death could come at any moment. And if Alan Ball gets his way, it'll probably come from the sky. So just in case this is the last recap I ever get to write, I want to be sure to tell you all just how much this has meant to me. I've bitched about the time commitment, I've bitched about the sometimes crappy shows (and even a few of the good ones), and I've bitched about the trolls and the prank calls and the stupid emails, but I swear on my life that I wouldn't trade even a second of it for anything in the world. The friends I've made, the things I've seen, the jokes I've read, and the sheer joy of checking the forums on a Monday morning have turned the last three years into one hell of a ride. So thanks for reading, thanks for writing, and thanks for making some of the best shows on television. Aww. Recappers in love. You know what? I want to marry you all.
Alan Ball: So that's it? That's all you have to say? "I want to marry you all"?
Aaron: Oh, I think I've said enough, don't you?
Alan Ball: Well...yeah. But we'll be gone for a whole year this time, and I'm really going to miss these precious moments we get to spend together.
Aaron: "The bowl over-filled will spill. The blade over-sharpened will dull. A house of gold and jade cannot be protected. Wealth and titles invite disaster. Retire when the work is done, this is Tao."
Alan Ball: Huh?
Aaron: Get out. Now.
Have a great summer, everyone!