Six Feet Under
Driving Mr. Mossback

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Things To Do In Seattle When You're Dead

School. Claire is back in George Twostraightweeksofthis's office, and it seems that last week's encounter with Keith has rubbed off a bit, turning her into Angry Claire. George is perturbed that she's missed the last three sessions, but Claire snots that "sometimes coming in here and talking about my life gets in the way of my having one." Yeah, and right now my coming here to talk about her life is getting in the way of me having one, too. Isn't it ironic? Don't you think? Also, I was actually going to make a comment last week that the picture of "Jenny" on George's desk didn't even look like it had people in it, but I decided not to, because the shot was so quick that I couldn't be sure. This week, however, we get a full-frontal view of the photo, and it now appears that someone has scotch-taped a photocopy of a reproduction of a cheesy magazine ad photo of some random couple onto a photo of some other guy's backyard and placed it on the desk. Anyway, George is concerned that Claire may be angry with him, and he explains that he's "obligated" to work with the police in situations like this. He also exposits that Gabe hasn't been caught yet, so I guess Kiefer was busy with other things this week. I mean, uh, "this hour." George tells Claire that she did the right thing, and just as I'm about to get really annoyed with his habit of trying to create a phony connection between them by ending each sentence with her name (a trick we use where I work, by the way), Claire busts out with, "If you don't stop saying my name at the end of every sentence I am gonna..." George: "What?" Claire: "I don't know. Just…don't, okay?" Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. Forgive me, Lauren. George's response to this is to ask if she feels like throwing something. He offers to let her pick up anything off his desk and throw it across the room. He even seems sort of sincere about it. Freak. Somewhat nonplused by this turn in the conversation, Claire sits back down by his desk. After some deep conversation about Gabe (about whom she not-very-believably claims to not care at all), she suddenly decides to take him up on his earlier offer, and spills his coffee all over the desk. George does that pursed-lips/eye-flick thing which causes him to bear an unfortunate resemblance to Jeff Probst, and Claire reports that yes, she does feel better now.

Das Sargzimmer. The son and daughter of the deceased are there, explaining that Dad's body is still in Seattle, and will have to be returned to L.A. for the funeral. The sister, incidentally, is substantially more attractive than her brother, which leads me to wonder about the genetics at work in this family. Then the brother explains that the DGDJ enjoyed going on bus tours for fun, and I REALLY start to wonder. I mean, I've been on a bus tour (32 cities, 65 days, 47 teenaged Jews), and "fun" is not the first word that leaps to mind. "Slow," perhaps, or maybe "smelly," but definitely not "fun." David says that they can have the body flown back from Seattle, but that one goes over like a lead balloon (Get it? Because lead balloons can't fly? Stop looking at me like that). The brother explains that Dad hated flying, so David offers to "make arrangements to have him shipped via rail or freight." The brother is surprised, asking, "You can do that? Like FedEx?" Heh. David assures them that it's very common, and then regales them with a story about the corpse of Abraham Lincoln being packed in ice and shipped back to Illinois.

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Six Feet Under

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