In the beginning, there was nothing. And the internet was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of ScoopMe.com. Then Sars said, "Let there be mockery of Little Lord Foreheadleroy," and there was. And Wing Chun looked upon the mockery, and saw that it was good, and thus on the second day was born Dawson's Wrap. And the many readers gave thanks, and there was much rejoicing throughout all the lands. And so Dawson's Wrap begat the fishcakes, which begat the recap, which begat Mighty Big TV, which begat Television Without Pity, which begat the forums, which begat a spastic spat between Rick Cleveland and Aaron Sorkin, which in turn begat the most egregious example of televised smug self-aggrandizement since Mike Binder was so foolishly first allowed to pick up a video camera.
And then upon the third day, as The Good Book tells us in Genesis 1:12, "the earth brought forth grass, and herb," and thus was born the seed of Six Feet Under. And the morning and the evening were the fourth day, and the Network Execs next brought forth abundant life from the waters, saying unto them, "Be fruitful, and post, and expand to fill up the bandwidth upon our blessed servers." But then came the fifth day, when the heavens faded slowly unto white, and an eerily empty bus that may or may not represent death stalked the stirring Earth, sowing much confusion and despair amongst all the people. And when the sixth day brought no answers, the people grew restless, and began to pray unto the pagan gods of poetry threads and top ten lists. But having not yet tasted the wicked poison fruit of fan-fic, they were forever allowed to remain in the Garden of Eden.
Alan Ball: Dude, what is up with you and The Bible?
Aaron: It's tradition. In the beginning, there was this. And besides, I die in the next paragraph, so hedging my bets a little seemed pretty smart.
Alan Ball: Good point.
Alan Ball: So was it weird recapping your own death?
Aaron: I don't know. I haven't done it yet. I can say that I was a little disappointed to have died in Nate's arms rather than Claire's, but then I remembered that being all about Nate is highest honor Six Feet Under can bestow upon one of its tertiary characters, so I'll just take pride in being the new Tracy The Annoying Funeral Stalker.