Six Feet Under
Singing For Our Lives

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M. Giant: A | 1 USERS: A+
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I Say Quakerism, You Say Aneurysm

Claire drives her green hearse into the parking garage at work, and has trouble finding a parking spot as she listens to Air America radio. Finally she squeezes into a spot so tight that she can't open either of the car's front doors. So she climbs over the back seat to exit via the rear door. I've done that in my station wagon more than once. In fact, it's part of the reason I drive a station wagon. Naturally, Lawyer Ted is waiting for the elevator as this happens. As the door opens, he looks behind him and happens to spot a woman in business clothes hopping out the back of a lime-green hearse some distance away. He hurries into the elevator so he doesn't have to share a ride with the freak, just before Claire wipes her hair out of her face and looks in his direction. He seems to recognize her at the last second before the elevator door closes in front of him. Claire curses -- now she's been embarrassed in front of her workplace crush, and she's going to have to wait that much longer for the elevator to come back.

Nate is busy doing the intake for the Corpse of the Week, whose parents don't speak English. Bad idea. He's struggling manfully to keep up by riffling through a Spanish phrase book, and it takes him a minute to figure out that they're saying "polished." "Polished what?" Nate asks. "I don't know what you're talking about." Clearly, since his handling of this so far is the opposite of polished.The aging, Spanish-speaking couple looks at each other in frustration and doubt. ¿Dónde está Rico? Reading my mind, and sensing that he's losing them rápidamente, Nate gives up and says, "Por favor, un momento."

Of course, you can't ask Rico for help without Rico making you pay for it. Down in the Body Shop, he acts like a pissy bitch as Nate defensively explains that he's trying to learn Spanish and the Sandovals were a walk-in. Rico asks what he's supposed to do with the Corpse of the Week, who's already hooked up to the embalming machine. "You wanna take over? Ohhh, that's right, you can't." He snottily takes the folder from Nate, who says he already did most of the work. Rico looks at the paperwork and browbeats Nate for letting the parents make the decisions when he wasn't sure of the deceased's marital status. Looks like somebody's taking out his domestic frustrations out in his professional arena. Rico, don't you know you've got that backwards?

My Spanish isn't any better than Nate's, but we can both understand what's going on a bit later when Rico walks the bereaved parents to the front door and they exchange whatever the plural of gracias is. They're no sooner gone when Nate accuses Rico of overselling. And indeed, the first four items on the list total eight grand. Nate doesn't think the parents can afford everything Rico sold them. Rico condescends, "Besides learning to mangle a few words in Spanish, maybe you should learn a little something about Latin culture as well. We honor our dead, Nate." "And end up broke because of it," Nate answers, which Rico calls "so fucking racist." Nate argues that Rico is the one who brought up culture. Rather than pointing out the difference between culture and socioeconomic status, Rico angrily explains that everyone in the family chips in for funerals. "We take care of each other. No one's left broke." He stomps off to finish embalming his client, presumably with the expensive imported stuff that's extracted from the pituitary glands of Madagascarian unicorns.

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Six Feet Under

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