Six Feet Under
Bomb Shelter

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Oh Me, Oh Maya
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

Shout-out to my sister-in-law for letting me come over and use her HBO so I could fill in for Djb this week. Here's hoping that SFU does not stand for "Sub Fucks Up."

A non-product-placed sport futility vehicle drives down a darkened Los Angeles street. Inside is the typical American nuclear family. Dad's trying to navigate using the built-in GPS, Mom's yammering away on her cell-phone headset, Junior's playing a handheld video game, and Daughter's DVD just ran out. It's a short scene, and everybody's talking over each other, so can we just agree that it's a trenchant commentary about how modern technology is a curse that has made it impossible for us to connect with one another on any sort of human level? We can? Okay, then. I'm much more interested in the fact that the GPS screen places them about six blocks from where I stayed last time I was in L.A. Anyway, Dad's distracted by his GPS, his daughter's demand for a new DVD, and his wife grilling Junior about whether the game he's playing is violent (it is, but Mortal Kombat also promotes hand-eye coordination and deductive reasoning skills for youngsters who want to figure out how to rip out someone's spine). While Dad's trying to deal with all this, the missus orders him to take an immediate left turn, which he does, not taking into account the fact that he's cutting across the paths of not one but two oncoming trucks. The grill's-eye view of the screaming daughter fades to white just before they are all instantly interconnected on a molecular level due to the fact that their vehicle has been transformed into a scale model of a Frank Gehry building. RIP, Edward Gordon Gorodetsky (1956-2004), Coco Grimes Gorodetsky (1962-2004), Michael Timothy Gorodetsky (1992-2004), and Amanda Lynn Gorodetsky (1995-2004). Wiped out the whole fam damily. That'll learn 'em to use electronics.

At the breakfast table, Nate "Ashes to Asses" Fisher "admires" a picture of Lisa's sister Barb and Hoyt and the kids, observing to Brenda "The BC Stands for Biological Clock" Chenowith that the twins are creepy and smell like bananas. No comment on Michaela. Brenda points out that Nate just doesn't think any kid is as good as Maya. Nate agrees, and so do I. Other kids Maya's age tend to misbehave by displaying such disruptive behaviors as motion and speech. Brenda suggests that they could have a pretty great kid. Just as I "could" get drafted by NASA. Nate has no answer for that. They exchange mistimed looks -- his surprised, hers annoyed. They back up into some nice, safe exposition about a visit they're expecting from Barb and Hoyt the following afternoon. Brenda's wondering if she's expected to cook for someone who hates her, and Nate's claim that Barb doesn't hate her is a pretty clear yes. She brings up the procreation issue again, and Nate's had enough time to recover from his whiplash to agree that "it's something to think about." Not good enough. Brenda's in a hurry all of a sudden: "I'm kind of at an age where I can't commit to a relationship that doesn't have the possibility of having a child." I think we can all agree with the six words in the middle of that speech. But way to lay down the mom ultimatum this early in the game. Nate does a fair job of concealing his panic, but he insists that he's not saying no. Brenda lets it go, her every look and gesture screaming, for now.

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Six Feet Under

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