Six Feet Under recap: In Case of Rapture (Season Four, Episode Two) (original air date 20 June 2004)

THIS WEEK'S EPITAPHS:

• Dearly beloved, we are so over Rico.
• We are gathered here today to mark the passing of Keith's pride.
• If you plug the drain, does it not bleed?
• Ashes to ashes and dust to dust: the secret to Brenda is not simple lust.

Dorothy Sheedy (1954-2003) — Lots of blow-up dolls are being blown up by two guys, and the jokes are too many and too easy. I expect more from this show. Well, at least one of the blow-up dolls has a penis -- why settle for just a fuck toy if you can have a gender-bending fuck toy? The guys, who will never be anyone's fuck toys, are filling the dolls with helium so they can "float from the rafters" at the Adult Video News awards, which are apparently "the Oscars of porn." How clever. But I guess if you have to have balloons, they might as well be interesting ones -- and you probably don't have to worry about latex allergies if you use blow-up dolls. Um, at least not for the usual balloon-related reason.

The guys play around with the balloons a little (yeah, it's still too easy) and then haul them off in a pickup. They slam on the brakes to avoid hitting a skateboarder, and of course the netting that's covering the dolls comes a bit loose, and several of them fly on up and out.

Cut to a station wagon with a bumper sticker that says "I brake for the rapture." I like the ones that say "In case of rapture, can I have your car?"

You can see where this is going. The woman at the wheel of the wagon (whose glasses are as bad as Jenny's on The L Word) is listening to a radio program about Jesus and thinking about the rapture, which of course is also another word for a really good orgasm. And there are those sex toys floating in the sky. She thinks they're a bunch of angels, so she gets out of the car and runs right out into the street, where she is promptly flattened by a car that doesn't brake for the rapture or the enraptured of any sort. I shouldn't laugh.

Remember that movie The Rapture with David Duchovny and Mimi Rogers? That was freaky, partly because Duchovny had that really bad mullet. There were cool horsemen in the sky in that movie though, not some stupid blow-up dolls, and the whole thing was kind of complex and thought-provoking, rather than just, well, easy. This scene should have been accompanied by that Blondie song "Rapture" to give it an edge.

The Fishers' kitchen table — Nate's kid is awfully cute. Everyone says that about kids, but look at her! She's cute.

Ruth comes in, carrying a rock. She points out the new table. Oh no! Not a new table! They've always had that old table -- what can this possibly mean? That change is inevitable? That the heart of the home is taking on a new shape? That people like to shop for new furniture sometimes?

So the table is Persian, and Nate wants to know how that's different from Indian, which was his guess for its origin. Ruth knows, of course, that Persia is Iran, India's India, and Nate's full of himself. She's talking in that sort of defensive yet offhand way that she reserves for her children when they're not really seeing her -- and Nate clearly doesn't see her at all right now, because otherwise he would ask why the fuck she has a big rock in her arms.

We find out that the table is not just Persian: it's also George's, because he and Ruth have been married for three months and so it's high time he took over the kitchen. Three months?! This show does that fast-forward thing way too often: they should change the name from Six Feet Under to Six Months Later.

Ruth explains the rock: it's called a horse. Nate tells Maia that "where Daddy comes from, it's called a rock." George saunters in and fills in the details: apparently a horse what you call a rock that was wedged between the walls of a fault line. Wouldn't it make more sense to call it a wedgie?

Claire is there now, and she knows what a horse is: she states its definition clearly and without irony. George is impressed and proud.

Claire: "George has been telling me all about his rocks. Who would have thought they could be so fascinating?"
George: "Aren't they?"
Claire: "It's like going to school in your own home."

Can there please be a special sarcasm Emmy for Lauren Ambrose? Because she rocks. Or she horses, I guess.

Ruth suggests that Claire take some photos of George's "keepsakes"; maybe they would inspire her since she hasn't "done her art" in a while. Claire asks whether it looks like she needs to be inspired; Nate says yeah.

Arthur, a.k.a. Enunciation Man, walks carefully into the room and apologizes for breathing. He'll get his cottage cheese and take it up to his room. What will you do with it there, Arthur? Maybe I don't want to know.

Arthur notices the table; he's not sure it works in the kitchen, but it's beautiful, and he identifies it as Persian because he's not a flaky angst-riddled widower who doesn't know that a horse is a rock.

Downstairs at Fisher & Diaz — I can't remember what these rooms are called, where David and Nate meet with the bereaved to make arrangements. I think they should be called bereaveries.

Dorothy Sheedy's husband is not terribly bereaved, though; he's big on the God thing too, so he says it was just Dorothy's time and he's not really very curious about death or dying or blow-up dolls. Nate doesn't get that at all: why doesn't everyone whose wife died mysteriously behave just like Nate, and go out and scream at the dawn? So Nate starts to give the guy a little lecture about grief and how to do it properly. David kicks him out of the bereavery.

The refrigerator — Arthur is putting his name on his condiments. I did that once when I had five roommates, but only after someone else started it. And sometimes I'd buy something really weird or gross and put one or another of my roommate's names on it. I'm trying to distinguish myself from Arthur, here: can you blame me?

Art school — Claire is at the back of a huge lecture hall; it's dark and the professor is talking to his notes rather than to the class. Another bored chick, Anita, says hi to Claire -- actually, she recognizes Claire and compliments her work. They bond in their boredom:

Claire: "How much of this gothic stuff can there be? Some of it's really beautiful, but it's all kind of starting to run together in my head."
Anita: "I hear that. If I see one more bleeding Jesus, I think I'll hurl."
Claire: "Maybe if you hurl on a bleeding Jesus, you could get an independent study credit. Or a grant."
Anita: "Yeah, I'm sure the NEA is just dying to hand out money to Christ-defacers."
Claire: "The NEA is dying, that's for sure."

Okay, it's official: I wanna be 19 again so I can go to art school. With Claire.

Anita and Claire talk some more and laugh; they make plans to go to an open mike thing the next night, where Anita's friend Edie will be doing a punk/performance art/whatever kind of thing. Claire casually says "why not?" but she's really jumping up and down inside, because she has a cool new friend who likes to talk about Christ-defacers and the Incredible Hulk's green package.

The basement at Fisher & Diaz — Nate is having a fit about the improperly bereaved customer. David lets him ramble. Rico says something about God, but I think Rico probably sees blow-up dolls when he looks at paintings of angels, so nobody's very interested.

Safeguard Protection Agency — Keith is at a job interview; he wants to be a security guard to the stars. One of the interviewers is trying hard to be cool, and the other is not trying hard enough. Keith comes across as sincere and strong and nervous: I'd hire you, Keith! Well, not to be my security guard, but maybe you could be my housekeeper. How do you feel about French maid uniforms?

As Keith gets up to shake the cool interviewer's hand, he knocks over a bottle of water. He starts to freak, but reins in his temper because the cool interviewer guy is looking for that kind of thing. Who knew Keith was even capable of that? Next thing you know, the Fishers will do something unthinkable like get a new kitchen table.

Infinity the Stripper's apartment — Rico, what the hell are you doing there? You're giving her gifts? Are you "keeping" her? Fine, stay there for a while so I can go comfort Vanessa.

A restaurant — Brenda is revealing her new plan to Joe. She's going to be a therapist: she was raised by crazy people and is crazy herself, so what could be more perfect? I have no problem with it. I have a history of being attracted to my therapists anyway, so I'll take Wednesdays at 5:00.

Joe wants to know what day this is. It's Sunday, Joe: that's why we're watching Six Feet Under. Do try to keep up. Oh, I see: he and Brenda are counting the days until they can have sex. Is this like Kissing Jessica Stein, when Helen and Jessica decided they'd do it on day 10? Yeah, sort of, except Brenda and Joe are going six times as long, because Brenda has issues. Apparently she also has an overbite, according to my friend Jerome. I hadn't really noticed, but I guess he's a little more observant about things like that than I am, despite being equally twitterpated by Brenda. Who can help it? She's got that something.

Joe, on the other hand, bugs me. I suppose I'm just jealous. I always did want to play the French horn.

Nate's hallucination — The dead woman, Dorothy Sheedy, experiences another sort of rapture: she climbs right on top of Nate and fucks him, because that's her personal heaven. Nate, maybe you should go see Infinity the stripper.

David and Keith's place — Keith wants to know if he looks okay in his spiffy suit.

David: "Yes, sir! You are all that and a box of cookies."
Keith: "You have to say that?"
David: "Yeah. I kinda do."

David hopes that Keith will be guarding Denzel Washington or Russell Crowe, or preferably both. He's being sweet and supportive; he fantasizes about what they'll be able to buy with Keith's superstar money. Keith says maybe they'll buy a house, and then he and David get all handsy with each other. These two are going to be the only stable couple on the show, aren't they? Relatively speaking, of course.

A swanky hotel— Keith delivers some sort of case to his co-workers. They're impressed, or maybe just surprised, that he expresses no curiosity about what's inside: Cameron Diaz's bling. Now that he's delivered that, he gets to stand around and be on "lobby duty." I'm glad they're paying you a lot, Keith, because that looks hella boring. And those other guys are wankers.

The Persian kitchen table — George is eating yogurt from a container marked "Arthur." Uh oh.

Arthur decides to tell George about the history of Formica^TM because he misses the old Formica table. George tells Arthur he's got it all wrong. I could give you the details, but they're not terribly fascinating, although Ruth thinks they are. Arthur says something bitchy about the yogurt and goes back to his room; or maybe it's a formicary, which has nothing to do with Formica even though it looks like it should.

The swanky hotel bar — Keith's coworkers are talking about which asses they'd tap and all the fine asses they've had. How old are they? Never mind: the important thing is that after sitting there for a bit looking nervous and bouncing his knee, Keith joins in. Keith, how long have you been out of the closet? This is no time to go back in.

Brenda's couch — Brenda and Joe are making out. She stops him and makes him go home because her 90 days of rehab aren't up. She tells him he's not 17, so he can wait, and that just this once she wants to get to know someone before she sleeps with them. That's right, she said "them," not "him," which is grammatically incorrect but gender-ically right on! Go home, Joe: I can outlast you. I can wait 90 days or 900. Never mind that Seinfeld episode.

Shakey's Pizza — Rico is not talking to Vanessa, nor is he eating his greasy pizza, and Vanessa wants to know why. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that he's a lying, heartless, self-centered asshole and doesn't deserve you.

Open mike night — Look, it's geeky Andrew from Buffy the Vampire Slayer! He recites a pathetic little poem about a clitoris and the "crack of the world," and it makes me giggle because it's Andrew. Then Edie (Mena Suvari) takes the stage and declares a new rule: no more "angry poems or songs with clitoral or vaginal references in them" unless you actually have a clitoris or a vagina. It seems the corollary, however, is just fine:

Edie: "Here's my poem, dedicated to every guy I've ever been with:
Your penis is kinda nice / Too bad you're attached to it."

Then she does her performance art thing. It's a bit... jumbled, but she does it well, so it kinda works. And we can tell this by the look on Claire's face, which is definitely inspired, and clearly moved, and more than a little turned on, and simply happy. So The L Word went the grand Stendahl syndrome route; Six Feet Under takes a different road, preferring to show us one beauty-hungry heart and its piecemeal victories, and ultimately managing to be art while talking about art.

Dorothy Sheedy's viewing — Nate peers into the casket. The dead woman waggles her tongue at him in a lascivious, hilarious way. The husband shows up just in time to rescue Nate from his hallucination and then get another lecture about the proper way to grieve. David has had enough, so he whisks Nate off behind a curtain:

Nate: "Don't expect me to feed them lame shit like it's gonna get better, because it won't. People need to know that."
David: "Well, maybe some people aren't ready for that."

You're both right. Let's move on.

A boy and his dictionary — Arthur looks up Formica and confirms that he was right and George was wrong. I don't buy this: if Arthur were really the geek he seems to be, he'd have consulted Formica.com, not a dictionary.

Open mike night — Claire thinks Edie's performance was great, but Edie's not hearing it: she says it was self-indulgent and she doesn't really know what it's about. But she also says, "I figure: do the work, stay out of the results." Is that pretentious? I dunno; it's kind of interesting. Yeah, but I just want to like her because I want Claire to like her. I'm so shallow.

Edie asks Claire a bit about herself, and takes her to task for not picking up her camera in months, because the best time to work is when you're having a tough time and "your guts are all raw." I thought that was the best time to increase the amount of fiber in your diet?

Edie tells Claire that if her work sucks, the worst that can happen is that "some asshole will make fun of you," and life is too damn short to worry about that. I think I really do like Edie.

The office space at Fisher & Diaz — Nate is having trouble coping with Lisa's death, and every death that comes through reminds him of it.

Nate: "I keep thinking it's gonna get easier."
David: "No one ever said it gets easy."
Nate: "Not easy: easier."

I think it probably doesn't get easier either: you just get used to it. I mean, I haven't lost a wife or the equivalent, so I'm not entirely sure, but I've lost close family members and friends and pets, and that doesn't get easier. Your guts just get less raw eventually. And then your art starts to suck, apparently. So you turn on HBO and knock back a few vodizzies (see footnote) and the pain just goes away!

But Nate just can't get it out of his head -- all that death -- so he quits his job, because he doesn't believe that anything he does or says helps anyone. Maybe it doesn't, at least not right away: but is that really the point?

And you know what I can't get out of my head now? That song "Can't Get It Out of My Head" by ELO. Dammit.

David's stunned that Nate has abandoned him, but I think we all knew it was going to happen eventually. Anyway, David, this way you can hire someone who won't keep going off on the clients and telling them how to grieve.

Brenda's bed — Brenda's reading in bed while someone somewhere makes orgasm noises. Brenda knows it's Joe, so she calls him; he's masturbating while thinking of her. Big deal: who hasn't done that? She finds it flattering, though, or something, so she tells him to come over before she changes her mind. He crosses the courtyard in his birthday suit, and yeah, it's kinda funny, especially when he skips a little and when he wipes his feet on the mat.

The Persian table — David tells Ruth that Nate quit. Ruth is serene about it: she points out that David hasn't been happy with Nate's work lately anyway, and it's probably for the best if Nate doesn't really want the job. George chimes in:

George: "Did you know that the average American changes careers seven times during his or her lifetime?"
Ruth: "Hmm."
David: "Is that information supposed to be useful in some way, George?"
George: "It's just a fact."
David: "Ah."

The funeral service — Nate leaves. On the way out, he passes the dead woman's son, who's leaning against a tree and sobbing. Nate strolls right on by him with a sort of freedom beginning to glimmer on his face.

Inside, Rico's cell phone rings: it's Infinity the stripper, wanting him to come over later. Fuck you, Rico. Fuck. You.

Rico Unsuave tells David he has to go because Augusto has an ear infection. I hope you get an ear infection, Rico -- no, make that a urinary tract infection. And a kidney stone. Oh, and crabs. Scabies. Lice. Chronic flatulence. All of that and a bad haircut.

The Fishers' kitchen sink — Claire switches on the garbage disposal. Up bubbles a hell of a lot of bright red blood. She screams, and it's funny and actually kind of pretty -- the red blood against the white porcelain sink. It reminds me of that movie The House That Bled To Death, brought to me by Elvira, Mistress Of The Dark, on some late-night UHF horror showcase when I was in high school. (Sorry. Vodizzies make me nostalgic.)

Down in the basement, the blood's bubbling up from the floor drain and David's growling about the $38K he spent on the plumbing a couple of years ago. Claire rushes in with her camera because it's gross and amazing, and because Edie has "inspired" her. Mmm hmm.

The park — Nate sees his dad sitting on a park bench. His dad waggles his eyebrows at a cute mom who's also on the bench. That's right, Nate: find another woman so you can fail to appreciate her. And please keep seeing dead people. That'll be the whole new life that you and Maia need.

Two kinds of plumbing — The plumber has made short work of the floor drain and the bad PVC pipe. David thanks him for "coming so quickly," so the plumber says that's what he's there for, and the meaningful look on David's face would help me fill in the blanks if I hadn't already noticed how tight the plumber's coveralls are. Why does this sort of thing never happen to me? Oh, that's right: my plumber is a balding married straight guy who doesn't even wear cute coveralls.

Brenda's bed — The sparks aren't exactly flying. Joe's trying hard, and so is Brenda, but it looks like something's missing -- a little thing like chemistry, probably because Brenda is larger than life and Joe is twerpy. It's funny, though, especially when Joe says "I really like you, Brenda." Dork.

The basement — There's still blood all over the floor, and now there's a plumber on the floor too, on his knees, and David's awfully happy about it.

George's ears — Ruth is trimming George's ear hair. Did I need another reason to be a lesbian? George says he doesn't think Ruth's children care from him much. Oh? Maybe if you didn't have so much hair in your ears you'd have discerned that they actually despise you. But Ruth says sooner or later they'll love him as much as she does. That would be a hell of a lot: I don't think I'd even trim Brenda's ear hair, if she had any.

A sidewalk — Nate talks to his dead dad about how much bullshit comes with the funeral director gig. Then he stops whining and admits this: "I'd give anything if Lisa hadn't died. But, then again, when she was here, I just wanted to be free..."

Never mind all that: look at that cute kid!

Nate and his cute kid stop to pick up a parcel on the doorstep before they go inside their house. You know it's never good to get a parcel on your doorstep, especially not if your doorstep is one of death's hangouts.

David and Keith's place — The happy homo couple are drinking beer and eating Chinese food. Keith talks about his new job a little, and then they have the most enlightened conversation anyone's ever had, on TV or otherwise:

David: "I got a blow job today."
Keith: "You did not."
David: "I did."
Keith: "From who[m]?"
David: "From the plumber."
Keith: "You got a blow job from the plumber?"
David: "His name was Andy."
Keith: "A white guy?"
David: "Yeah. He was good with a wrench."
Keith: "Did you return the favor?"
David: "No."
Keith: "Well, you'd better not think you're gettin' out of having sex with me tonight."
David: "Okay. But I might need you to talk about water rams and hand snakes."

They chuckle. I love them!

The Persian table — George opens the parcel that was on the doorstep. Inside is a plastic container, and inside that is some shit. Or, as George puts it, feces.

Ruth wonders who would send such a thing. I think maybe his name rhymes with Le Morte D'Arthur -- but that's what we're supposed to think, so it could be anyone. Maybe it's a message from beyond. Maybe it's performance art. Maybe it's a random act of senseless defecation.

Claire tells everyone to hold still until she gets her camera. And with that, I think the new table has finally been properly initiated into the Fisher household: from Persia to poop in one fell swoop.

NEXT WEEK ON SIX FEET UNDER: Women take pity on woeful Nate; Keith uses a celebrity loo; Claire wonders just which way Edie swings; Arthur and Ruth clear the air; Joe tries to be cool about the sex thing; Rico continues to irritate the feces out of me.

* vodizzy = what I call the tantalizing concoction of vodka, preferably 3, plus Izze, preferably the new blueberry flavor.