We open on a crane shot, gliding near a giant red-nosed mime statue, like the French cousin of Bob's Big Boy. Who is also gay and depressed. This may be a famous Los Angeles landmark, so forgive me for not knowing it, but using The Googles with "Giant gay French mime thing that waves and cries a bloody tear" yielded results you don’t even want to know about. Moving on: The camera moves from the scary Digression Mime to Hank in his old Porsche. He looks up at the mime. Sitting next to Hank, also wearing sunglasses, is his ex, who still remains nameless on the show. She's doomed to be Exy Von NoName. She asks what he's thinking about. Paycheck? He says he absolutely loathes this city. This guy is an original: a writer who hates living in L.A. Exy says she was just thinking about how much she adores living in L.A. He tells her he hasn't written a fucking word since he's gotten there. No, dude, you did write "Fuck." Once. He misses New York. She says she misses him because he's still stuck in his own thick head. Thanks? "Come back to us, Hank," she tells him, "your girls miss you." They kiss passionately as funky music plays.
And it was just a dream sequence. Does every episode start like this? At least on Six Feet Under, someone died with every opening. Skateboarders glide in front of Hank's car as he sits at a stoplight. A woman in another convertible next to him asks whom he was talking to. Himself. Occupational hazard, he tells her. She asks what he does. Audiobooks? He says he's a non-practicing writer. The woman, slutty and wearing huge sunglasses, says she has something he can read. She floats him a purple paper airplane. She drives off. Hank, smoking a ciggie, opens the airplane. Picking up chicks in L.A. is easy! Hank, reading the paper, says he thinks she has potential.