Anyway, let me know which one you like. And give me a call next week. We'll do lunch and then we can come back to the studio and raid Sorkin's stash.
Good morning, TwoPitnam! Yep, that's right kiddies! Back by popular demand and topping the charts at number one again this week is a funky-fresh new remix of that ever popular Six Feet Under theme, this time with the added bonus of actual lyrics! So all you crazy kids out there in recap-land need to cue up your VCRs and get ready to sing out loud and sing out strong! Oh, and this one goes out as a long-distance dedication to special guest-editor Niki and all my homies in the forums. ["Awwww!" -- niki] Thanks for keeping it real, yo.
Death! Death! Death! It happens to us all. Death! In your home or at the mall. Death! Don't even try to hide. Alan Ball will be your guide. Sex and death will soon collide. The irony just won't subside. Oh...on this show, you'll never know, who's going to go, with tag on their toe. Nate's got hair, everywhere. Aaron really really loves that Claire. So there. Alan-Ball-he-runs- the-show. He-loves-to- mock that...Death! And when we convorse, here's what he always says to me: "Oh, where oh where did I put my God damn BONG!" There? Ahhhhhh!!!!! Brenda's a nut, and a big slut, Rico should up shut, while David and Keith strut. Ruth is alone. To blurting she's prone. Just be glad they don't all live in your own home. Because-if-they- did-you-would-want- to-beat-them-all-to...Death! And that's the end. So now let's just fade to white. Ahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[Note: That took me like fourteen million billion hours to write, so everybody reading this damn well better print it out and sing along every single week until the season is over. I'm not kidding. I'll withhold the convorsations if you don't.]
Anyway, on with the show. This week's opening scene finally represents the ultimate combination of sex, death, and loneliness, and all I can really say about it is that I'm quite frankly shocked it took them this long to go there. Basically we follow a well-dressed businessman as he comes home on his lunch break to indulge in a nice, relaxing round of [insert your favorite euphemism for masturbation here]. His preparations for the event include procuring a sliced lemon wedge, popping a porno tape into the VCR, and hanging himself from a workout machine with his belt. Oh yeah. This is going to end well. Incidentally, the porno is one of the worst I've ever seen. Not that I'm, you know, a connoisseur or anything, but I think it's safe to say that anytime your porn would actually be improved by the presence of either Joey Tribbiani or John Wayne Bobbitt, you've got some serious problems. Of course, Alan Ball remains ever the master of subtle misdirection, and if you look real close, one of the male stars of the video bears a disturbing resemblance to Rico's cousin Ramon. Remember that one later on in the episode. After several rather squicky shots of the guy's face as his oxygen supply runs out, the moans on the soundtrack rise in volume to the point where I begin to be afraid of what my neighbors might think, and then everything goes blurry as we fade to white. Farewell Jeffrey Marc Shapiro. If only you'd called Brenda instead.