在《被遗忘的时光》中，我们抵达了某种真正意义上的断裂。从表面上看，这一断裂当然体现在作者的叙事意图与文本效果的落差之中；而在根本上，它却横亘于苦难的生命本相与内在的存在激情之间。正是从后者这里，一种具有严肃伦理学意义的浪漫主义现身了。

《时光》 聚焦于所谓“失智老人”的生活，以流畅的跳切和多线穿插叙事呈现了台北一家失智老人社会福利基金会所主持的养护中心的群落生态

胡桃夹子与四个王国，一个美丽聪明少女的奇幻之旅。

上一部类似胡桃夹子与四个王国的影片我想应该是爱丽丝梦游仙境，说实话，我不太喜欢爱丽丝梦游仙境的故事情节还有人物，但她奇幻瑰丽的画面还有天马行空的异世界深深吸引了我，所以我对胡桃夹子与四个王国期待值很高。

剧情很简单，一个美丽任性少女为了妈妈的遗物而闯入异世界，发生了一系列奇妙梦幻的事情。套路有些老套，姜母女王是被冤枉的

The pace is extremely slow. The first forty minutes just tells one thing: two lovers are going to have a baby. The non-linear structure, or the flashback way is just unnecessary in this movie, maki

这个纪录片我一直在跟，从一粉解湘愁，百味米食君，巷味争食记，大厨的仰望，湘野奇闻录，湘味的倔强，归园食歌集已经看了7集了，我每次都是看两遍才能更深刻体会到湘菜美食的精华。它都是通过人物带进美食，体味人生的同时体味美食，强烈推荐，并期待傲椒的湘菜把更多的湘味美食带给我们。我喜爱美食更喜爱湘菜。

在昨日上映的《加勒比海盗5》中，巴博萨船长又gg了，但是这次他会不会再回来呢？个人认为可能性不大，毕竟他已经把自己交代得差不多了，这个人物已经大致完整，这次应该是真的离开了，永远的留在传说里了。当在荧幕上见证了巴博萨的离开以后，心中还是一阵激动，正如Jack所说：海盗的人生。巴博萨的一生，就是一个传奇海盗的一生。言至此，笔者就以电影顺序来谈谈巴博萨船长。一开始的巴博萨是黑珍珠

在昨日上映的《加勒比海盗5》中，巴博萨船长又gg了，但是这次他会不会再回来呢？个人认为可能性不大，毕竟他已经把自己交代得差不多了，这个人物已经大致完整，这次应该是真的离开了，永远的留在传说里了。当在荧幕上见证了巴博萨的离开以后，心中还是一阵激动，正如Jack所说：海盗的人生。巴博萨的一生，就是一个传奇海盗的一生。言至此，笔者就以电影顺序来谈谈巴博萨船长。一开始的巴博萨是黑珍珠号的船长，带着金币的诅咒，承受着诅咒的折磨。而当最后一枚金币落入海洋，巴博萨船长终于找到了结束诅咒的希望。于是围绕着诅咒，《加勒比海盗1》的剧情便就此铺展开来。影片中交代了一些巴博萨的过往：作为杰克的大副，为了宝藏而背叛杰克，把杰克和一把枪扔到了无人岛上；把唯一的反对背叛的船员——老特纳绑在大炮上沉入海底；为了解开诅咒不择手段，四处劫掠，生灵涂炭，连海盗都为之丧胆。在1中，巴博萨是一个十足的反派，斗杰克，打海军，不死之身所向披靡，俨然一个大boss的设定。虽然最后输给了杰克，但是不得不说，巴博萨和杰克打了个55开。只不过他作恶太多，老天爷终不饶他，最后让他第一次gg了。巴博萨的回归是在2的结尾。当时，杰克已经和他的黑珍珠号一起被海怪吞进了生与死的间隔空间。而科莉布索为了自由就必须需要杰克和他的银币，所以她和巴博萨达成了交易，巴博萨回归，回报是救出杰克，帮助女神获得自由。于是被杰克杀死的巴博萨在复活后的第一件事却是救出杰克。然而在后续的影片中两位黑珍珠号的船长虽然针锋相对，但却并没有歇斯底里的以命相搏。有些人或许会疑惑，而笔者是这样解读的：在1中，巴博萨背叛杰克，将杰克扔到无人岛，虽然杰克没死，但是实际上已经是杀了一次杰克。而后来，巴博萨被杰克成功复仇，自己也被杰克杀了一次。这可以说是平手。毕竟经历过生死的人会看淡生死，所以就算是救出了杰克，完成了与老女巫的交易，巴博萨也没有过河拆桥搞死杰克的意思。说到底，在1中的对战之后，两人之间的恩怨已清，所以往后的剧情中，两人更多的是惺惺相惜。既然如此，就自然要说到3和4。3中，为了抵抗东印度公司，抵抗强大的海军，为了海盗最后的希望，所有的海盗都团结一致，同仇敌忾。3中巴博萨的戏比较简单，就是救出杰克解放科莉布索，而主要戏份还是给了特纳和伊丽莎白，就连主角杰克也只仅仅是串联剧情，没有多少高光时刻。但是，从片中我们还是已经可以看出巴博萨和杰克的投机之处，感受到一点惺惺相惜。【由于旨在讨论巴博萨，所以3就不再赘述】4的整体剧情就比起三部曲要简单许多，一句概括就是围绕不老泉。黑胡子被巴博萨成功复仇，杰克也通过和巴博萨的合作摆脱了黑胡子，收回了黑珍珠号。在影片中，巴博萨和杰克一开始依旧是飙对手戏，但是一到了不老泉所在地，双方终于将互相之间的了解与尊敬表露无遗。杰克说出了巴博萨复仇的目的，而巴博萨也向杰克说出了失去黑珍珠号的故事。最后，他同杰克里应外合，一同搞定了大boss黑胡子。在这部戏中，可谓是为巴博萨做足了戏码，当时可能费解为什么会将巴博萨洗白？殊不知这一切都是为5做的嫁衣。4向我们展现了巴博萨的另一面，展现了他的斗争精神，展现了他的卧薪尝胆，证明了他是一个合格的船长。作为告别系列的角色，5中的巴博萨已经是为了父爱而献身的英雄。而这部戏，也让巴博萨足足carry了一把。有钱任性的他直接去找女巫拿到了罗盘以及重要信息：杰克有黑珍珠号，有寻找三叉戟的航海路线。于是他决定兵行险招，先同萨拉查合作，借自己的手去寻找杰克，这样，就能确保自己第一时间见到杰克，免得被萨拉查抢先。而找到杰克之后，他又果断解放黑珍珠号，利用这唯一一艘打败过萨拉查的船去寻找海神三叉戟。一开始，他只是不想让死人军团损害他的既得利益。但是当他遇到了自己出色俏丽的女儿时，他的目的改变了，之前所有迷人的财宝都已黯淡无光。要不是那证明身份的日记本以及杰克那神奇的罗盘，巴博萨绝对不会认定眼前这位佳人竟是数十年前自己留在孤儿院门口的女儿。所以，他心里萌生了父爱，他决定守护他的孩子。于是，在最终，巴博萨抓住的杰克送来的剑，一剑刺穿萨拉查，一击多杀，成功登上全场最佳，挽救了女儿，女婿，杰克。回顾巴博萨船长的一生，年轻时，他同杰克一起兴风作浪，四处漂泊，战斗，美酒与佳人。那时，他是激情四射的青年。渐渐地，他被欲望所控制，为了财宝，背叛杰克，在中了诅咒之后更是变得十恶不赦，欲望让他彻底迷失。这时，他是一个十足的邪恶的坏蛋。在被杰克击败之后，归来的巴博萨学会了控制欲望，所以在杀死黑胡子完成报仇之后，他甚至成为了海上的霸主。此时，他是一段脍炙人口的传奇。最后一战，他为了自己的女儿，义无反顾，自我牺牲。如今，他已是一位伟大的父亲。再见，巴博萨。Farewell，my captain.

【详细】

85632128

看完电影后莫名的很不爽哈哈哈

可能里面受困的对象都是以女性为主，曾经小有名气支持单身的作家在访谈上说出支持结婚，鼓励去爱

在网络上骂骂咧咧支持单身的白领也是为爱所困，被爱所害的不得者

表面家庭和睦、温柔贤惠的主妇是想回归工作，想拥有自己生活与话语

看完电影后莫名的很不爽哈哈哈

可能里面受困的对象都是以女性为主，曾经小有名气支持单身的作家在访谈上说出支持结婚，鼓励去爱

在网络上骂骂咧咧支持单身的白领也是为爱所困，被爱所害的不得者

表面家庭和睦、温柔贤惠的主妇是想回归工作，想拥有自己生活与话语权的女性

还有喜欢亮晶晶生活，坚持“不卖艺不卖身”的年轻女孩

四个人在生活上没有很多交集，但是她们都羡慕着对方的生活，作家因为受够了家里妈妈的唠叨，迫切的想着结婚算了，但是妈妈的一句话，“结婚后也要做好一个人的准备，我不希望你成为我这样的人”，让我破防

男方父母希望结婚后她能放弃自己的工作，很不客气的语气

（看着我难受极了，倒也不是女quan思想，但是结婚后的平等与尊重是爱情的基石，为什么结婚体检就女方去，男的就没病了？两个人一起去，一起带孩子，一起规划未来，如果结了婚，在很多时候都是平等的双方，太不喜欢被支配被使唤的压抑感了）

单身白领与家庭妇女则是大学同学，一个还没结婚，一个孩子都有了，在聚会上的见面也是比较尴尬（哈哈哈一直互戳痛点）

在最后，作家选择不结婚，白领扔掉了为打算同居而买的大床，女孩开始了正经工作，家庭主妇也要求孩子他爸一起带孩子出去玩，几个人在路口有了一个短暂的会面，故事到此结束

“打算一直单身吗”

这个话题问出来就是对现在单身风气的一种不认可，潜意识里表达着，你需要脱单，你需要谈恋爱，你需要被人爱

但是爱人与爱己是一个有着同样本质的过程，我需要先爱自己，再爱别人

我相信以后我的另一半肯定也是因为看见在他没有出现之前我也把自己照顾的好好的，因为我身上有这样的品质，所以他选择爱我

我不需要他爱我所缺失的东西，他要爱我就有的东西

【详细】

141681170

后来断断续续的

2018年没怎么吃

但是也吃了一些

2019年吃了，但是不多，零打碎敲的。

2020年猛吃

2021正在想法设法减

而且到现在为止，已经吃了寄来的1/6了

要是不吃完再回去

恐怕也不是那个意思

而是在调节好作息时间再回去

那个连接处，比较有好处

So I stopped at a Jack in the Box on the way here, and the girl behind the counter said, “Hiya! Are you having an awesome day?” Not, “How are you doing today?” No. “Are you having an

So I stopped at a Jack in the Box on the way here, and the girl behind the counter said, “Hiya! Are you having an awesome day?” Not, “How are you doing today?” No. “Are you having an awesome day?” Which is pretty… shitty, because it puts the onus on me to disagree with her, like if I’m not having an “awesome day,” suddenly I’m the negative one.

Usually when people ask how I’m doing, the real answer is I’m doing shitty, but I can’t say I’m doing shitty because I don’t even have a good reason to be doing shitty. So if I say, “I’m doing shitty,” then they say, “Why? What’s wrong?” And I have to be like, “I don’t know, all of it?” So instead, when people ask how I’m doing, I usually say, “I am doing so great.”

But when this girl at the Jack in the Box asked me if I was having an awesome day, I thought, “Well, today I’m actually allowed to feel shitty.” Today I have a good reason, so I said to her, “Well, my mom died,” and she immediately burst into tears. So now I have to comfort her, which is annoying, and meanwhile, there’s a line of people forming behind me who are all giving me these real judgy looks because I made the Jack in the Box girl cry. And she’s bawling, and she’s saying, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” and I’m like, “It’s fine. It’s fine.” I mean, it’s not fine but, you know, it’s… fine. And I would like to order a Double Jack Meal, and I’ve kinda got somewhere to be, so maybe less with the crying and more with the frying, huh? [inhales] And the girl apologizes again and she offers me a free churro with my meal. And as I’m leaving, I think, “I just got a free churro because my mom died.” No one ever tells you that when your mom dies, you get a free churro.

[people murmuring]

[clears throat]

Anyway, I’m sorry, that’s not part of the… [clears throat] All right. Okay, here we go. Let’s do this. Here I am, BoJack Horseman, doing a eulogy, let’s go. Hey, piano man, can I get a, like an organ flourish? [organ plays] Nicely done. You know, I was a little worried I wouldn’t have the right accompaniment today. I guess it’s a good thing my mom was an organ donor! [rimshot plays] What happened to the organ? [horn ‘oogahs’] Okay, why just leave the comedy to the professionals? Okay? This is a funeral, sir, for my mother. Can you show a little respect? [trumpet whines] I’ll take it.

Beatrice Horseman, who was she? What was her deal? Well, she was a horse. Uh, she was born in 1938. She died in 2018. One time, she went to a parade, and one time, she smoked an entire cigarette in one long inhale. I watched her do it. Truly a remarkable woman.

[rustling]

Lived a full life, that lady. Just, all the way to the end, which is, uh, now I guess. Really makes you think, though, huh? Life, right? Goes by, stuff happens. Then you die. Okay, well that’s my time, you’ve been great! Tip your waitress! No, I’m just kidding around, there’s no waitress. But seriously, that’s all I have to say about my mother. No point beating a dead horse, right? So…

[inhales] Now what? I don’t know. Mom, you got any ideas? Anything? Mom? No? Nothing to contribute? Knock once if you’re proud of me.

Can I just say how amazing it is to be in a room with my mother, and I can just talk and talk without her telling me to shut up and make her a drink? Hey, Mom, knock once if you think I should shut up. No? You sure? I mean, I don’t want to embarrass you by making this eulogy into a me-logy, so, seriously, if you wanted me to sit down and let someone else talk, just knock. I will not be offended. No? Your funeral.

Sorry about the closed casket, by the way. She wanted an open casket, but uh, you know, she’s dead now, so who cares what she wanted? No, that sounds bad. I’m sorry. I-I think that if she could’ve seen what she looked like dead, she’d agree it’s better this way. She looked like this.

[groaning]

[mourners gasping]

Kinda like a pissed-off toy dinosaur. The coroner couldn’t get her eyes closed, so now her face is forever frozen in a mask of tremendous horror and anguish. Or as my mom called it, Tuesday! Tuesday! My mom called it Tuesday.

[woman coughs]

Hey, Mom, what did you think of that joke? You like that? You never did care for my comedy.

[clears throat]

Here’s a story. When I was a teenager, I performed a comedy routine for my high school talent show. There was this, uh, cool jacket that I wanted to wear because I thought it would make me look like Albert Brooks. For months, I saved up for this jacket. But when I finally had enough, I went to the store and it was gone. They had just sold it to someone else. So, I went home and I told my mother, and she said, “Let that be a lesson. That’s the good that comes from wanting things.” She was really good at dispensing life lessons that always seemed to circle back to everything being my fault.

But then, on the day of the talent show, my mother had a surprise for me. She had bought me the jacket. Even though she didn’t know how to say it, I know this meant that she loved me.

Now that’s a good story about my mother. It’s not true, but it’s a good story, right? I stole it from an episode of Maude I saw when I was a kid, where she talks about her father. I remember when I saw it, thinking, “That’s the kind of story I want to tell about my parents when they die.” But I don’t have any stories like that. All I know about being good, I learned from TV. And in TV, flawed characters are constantly showing people they care with these surprising grand gestures. And I think that part of me still believes that’s what love is. But in real life, the big gesture isn’t enough. You need to be consistent, you need to be dependably good. You can’t just screw everything up and then take a boat out into the ocean to save your best friend, or solve a mystery, and fly to Kansas. You need to do it every day, which is so… hard.

When you’re a kid, you convince yourself that maybe the grand gesture could be enough, that even though your parents aren’t what you need them to be over and over and over again, at any moment, they might surprise you with something… wonderful. I kept waiting for that, the proof that even though my mother was a hard woman, deep down, she loved me and cared about me and wanted me to know that I made her life a little bit brighter. Even now, I find myself waiting.

Hey, Mom, knock once if you love me and care about me and want me to know I made your life a little bit brighter.

[owl chirping]

My mother did not go gentle into that good night. She went clawing and fighting and thrashing, hence the face.

[groaning]

[mourners gasping]

If you’d seen her, I swear to God the only thing you’d be thinking about right now is that I am nailing this impression.

[woman clears her throat]

[chairs squeak]

I was in the hospital with her those last moments, and they were truly horrifying, full of nonsencial screams and cries, but there was this moment, this one instant of strange calm, where she looked in my direction and said, “I see you.” That’s the last thing she said to me. “I see you.” Not a statement of judgment or disappointment, just acceptance and the simple recognition of another person in a room. “Hello there. You are a person. And I see you.”

Let me tell you, it’s a weird thing to feel at 54 years old, that for the first time in your life your mother sees you. It’s an odd realization that that’s the thing you’ve been missing, the only thing you wanted all along, to be seen. And it doesn’t feel like a relief, to finally be seen. It feels mean, like, “Oh, it turns out that you knew what I wanted, and you waited until the very last moment to give it to me.” I was prepared for more cruelty. I was sure that she would get in one final zinger about how I let her down, and about how I was fat and stupid and too tall to be an effective Lindy-hopper. How I was needy and a burden and an embarrassment—all that I was ready for. I was not ready for “I see you.” Only my mother would be lousy enough to swipe me with a moment of connection on her way out. But maybe I’m giving her too much credit. Maybe it wasn’t about connection. Maybe it was a… maybe it was an “I see you,” like, uh, “I see you.” Like, “You might have the rest of the world fooled, but I know exactly who you are.” That’s more my mom’s speed.

Or maybe she just literally meant “I see you. You are an object that has entered my field of vision.” She was pretty out of it at the end, so maybe it’s dumb to try to attribute it to anything.

[woman sighs]

Back in the 90s, I was in a very famous TV show called Horsin’ Around.

[man coughs]

Please hold your applause. And I remember one time, a fan asked me, “Hey, um, you know that episode where the horse has to give Ethan a pep talk after Ethan finds out his crush only asked him to the dance because her friends were having a dorkiest date contest? In all the shots of the horse, you can see a paper coffee cup on the kitchen counter, but in the shots of Ethan, the coffee cup’s missing. Was that because the show was making a statement about the fluctuant subjectivity of memory and how even two people can experience the same moment in entirely different ways?” And I didn’t have the heart to be, like, “No, man, some crew guy just left their coffee cup in the shot.” So instead, I was, like… “Yeah.”

And maybe this is like that coffee cup. Maybe we’re dumb to try to pin significance onto every little thing. Maybe when someone says, “I see you,” it just means, “I see you.” Then again, it’s possible she wasn’t even talking to me because, if I’m being honest, she wasn’t really looking at me. She was looking just past me. There was nobody else in the room, so I want to think she was talking to me, but, honestly, she was so far gone at that point, who knows what she was seeing? Who were you talking to, Mom? [sighs] Not saying, huh? Staying mum? No rimshot there? God, whatever I’m paying you, it’s too much.

Maybe she saw my dad. My dad died about ten years ago of injuries he sustained during a duel. When your father dies, you ask yourself a lot of questions. Questions like, “Wait, did you say he died in a duel?” and “Who dies in a duel?” The whole thing was so stupid. Dad spent his entire life writing this book, but he couldn’t get any stores to carry it or any newspapers to review it. Finally, I guess this one newspaper thought he was pretty hilarious, because they ran a review and tore him to shreds. So my father, ever the proud Mary, decided he would not stand for this besmirchment of his honor. He claimed the critic didn’t understand what it meant to be a man, so he demanded satisfaction in the form of pistols at dawn. He wrote the paper this letter, saying anyone who didn’t like his book, he would challenge to a duel, anyone in the world. He’d even pay for airfare to San Francisco and a night in a hotel. Well, eventually this found its way to some kook in Montana, who was as batshit as he was and took him up on the offer. They met at Golden Gate Park and agreed: ten paces, then shoot. But in the middle of the ten paces, Dad turned to ask the guy if he’d actually read the book and what he thought, but, not looking where he was going, tripped over an exposed root and bashed his head on a rock.

[murmur]

I wish I’d known to go to Jack in the Box then. Maybe I could have gotten a free churro. It would’ve been nice to have something to show for being the son of Butterscotch Horseman. My darling mother gave the eulogy. My entire life I never heard her say a kind word to or about my father, but at his funeral she said, “My husband is dead, and everything is worse now.”

“My husband is dead, and everything is worse now.” I don’t know why she said that. Maybe she felt like that’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to say at a funeral. Maybe she hoped one day someone would say that about her. “My mother is dead, and everything is worse now.” Or maybe she knew that he had frittered away all her inheritance, and replaced it with crippling debt, which is a pretty shitty thing to leave your widow with. “Bad news, you lost a husband, but don’t worry, you also lost the house!” Maybe Mom knew she’d have to sell all her fancy jewelry and move into a home. Maybe that’s what she meant by “everything is worse now.” Is that what you meant, Mom?

I gotta say, I’m really carrying this double act. At least with Penn and Teller, the quiet one does card tricks. Hey, piano man, when I say something funny to my mom, how about you give me one of those rimshots?

[rimshot plays]

Yeah, but not now. When I say something funny. Like, okay. What’s the difference between my mother and a disruptive expulsion of germs? One’s a coughin’ fit and the other fits a coffin! That’s an example of a funny thing.

[rimshot plays]

Thank you. Let’s try again. Hey, Mom. What’s the difference between my mother and a bunch of Easter eggs? One gets carried in a basket, the other gets buried in a casket!

[rimshot plays]

Ready for one more? Last one. What’s the difference between a first-year lit major and my mother, Beatrice Horseman? One is decently read, and the other’s a huge bitch!

[woman gasps]

[murmurs]

Yeah, might have gone a little too far with that one. That one might’ve been a little too “my mom’s a huge bitch” for the room. I’m sorry, Mother. You’re not a huge bitch. You were a huge bitch… and now you’re dead.

[woman sighs]

You know, the first time I ever performed in front of an audience, it actually was, uh, with my mom. She used to put on these shows with her supper club in the living room and she used to make… [inhales] She used to make me sing “The Lollipop Song.”

[organ playing tune]

Those parties, they were really something. There were skits and magic acts, and ethnically insensitive vaudeville routines, and the big finale was always a dance my mother did. She had this beautiful dress that she only brought out for these parties, and she did this incredible number. It was so beautiful and sad. Dad hated the parties. He’d lock himself in the study, and bang on the walls for us to keep it down, but he always came out to see Mom dance. He’d linger in the doorway, scotch in hand, and watch in awe, as this cynical, despicable woman he married… took flight. And as a child who was completely terrified of both my parents, I was always aware that this moment of grace, it meant something. We understood each other in a way. Me and my mom and my dad, as screwed up as we all were, we did understand each other. My mother, she knew what it’s like to feel your entire life like you’re drowning, with the exception of these moments, these very rare, brief instances, in which you suddenly remember… you can swim.

[flashback]

[partygoers laughing]

[classical music playing]

But then again, mostly not. Mostly you’re drowning. She understood that, too. And she recognized that I understood it. And Dad. All three of us were drowning, and we didn’t know how to save each other, but there was an understanding that we were all drowning together. And I would like to think that that’s what she meant when we were in the hospital and she said, “I see you.”

You know, the weird thing about both your parents being dead is it means that you’re next. I mean, you know, obviously it’s not like there’s a waitlist for dying. Any one of us could get run over by a Snapchatting teen at any moment. And you would think that knowing that would make us more adventurous, and kind, and forgiving. But it makes us small, and stupid, and petty.

I actually had a near-death experience recently. A stunt went bad and I fell off a building. I’m an actor, I do my own stunts. I’m on this new show Philbert. I’m Philbert. Star of the show. It hasn’t come out yet, but it’s already getting Emmy buzz. Oh, speaking of buzz… [inhales] I’m supposed to take two of these every morning, but my days are so screwed up ‘cause of the shooting schedule, I don’t even know what morning means anymore. There’s a joke in there somewhere, about a guy who’s been to so many funerals, he doesn’t even know what mourning means anymore. Let you guys figure that one out for yourselves. [gulps]

Anyway, you know what I thought, when I was falling off the building and I went into panic mode? The last thing that my stupid brain could come up with before I died? “Won’t they be sorry.” Cool thought, brain.

[rimshot plays]

No, that wasn’t… would you just… dial it back, all right?

I don’t even know what “they” I wanted to be sorry. My mom, even before she died, could barely remember who I was. And of course, my dad’s dead. The last conversation I ever had with him was about his novel. He was so certain this book was his legacy. Maybe he thought it would vindicate him for all the shitty things he ever did in his stupid worthless life. Maybe it did, I don’t know. I never read it, because why would I give him that?

I used to be on this TV show called Horsin’ Around. Seriously, though, hold your applause.

[man coughs]

Well held. It was written by my friend Herb Kazzaz, who’s also dead now, and it starred this little girl named Sarah Lynn. And it was about these orphans. And early on, the network had a note, “Maybe don’t mention they’re orphans so much, because audiences tend to find orphans sad and not relatable.” But I never thought that the orphans were sad. I-I always thought they were lucky, because they could imagine their parents to be anything they wanted. They had something to long for.

Anyway, we did this one season finale, where Olivia’s birth mother comes to town. And she was a junkie, but she’s gotten herself cleaned up, and she wants to be in Olivia’s life again. And of course, she’s like a perfect grown-up version of Olivia, and they go to the mall together and get her ears pierced like she’s always wanted and—sorry, spoiler alert for the season six finale of Horsin’ Around, if you’re still working your way through it. Anyway, the horse tries to warn her, “Be careful, moms have a way of letting you down.” But Olivia just thinks the horse is jealous, and when the mom says she’s moving to California, Olivia decides to go with her. And the network really juiced the cliffhanger: “Is Olivia gone for good?” But of course, because it’s a TV show, she was not gone for good. Of course, because it’s a TV show, Olivia’s mother had a relapse and had to go back to rehab, so Olivia had to hitchhike all the way home, getting rides from Mr. T, Alf, and the cast of Stomp. Of course, that’s what happened. Because, what are you gonna do, just not have Olivia on the show? You can’t have happy endings in sitcoms, not really, because, if everyone’s happy, the show would be over, and above all else, the show… has to keep going. There’s always more show. And you can call Horsin’ Around dumb, or bad, or unrealistic, but there is nothing more realistic than that. You never get a happy ending, ‘cause there’s always more show.

I guess until there isn’t.

[chuckles]

My mom would hate it if she knew that I spent so much time at her funeral talking about my old TV show. Or maybe she’d think it was funny that her idiot son couldn’t even do this right. Who knows? She left no instructions for what she wanted me to say. All I know is she wanted an open casket, and her idiot son couldn’t even do that right. I’m not gonna stand up here and pretend I ever understood how to please that woman, even though so much of my life has been wasted in vain attempts to figure it out. But I keep going back to that moment in the ICU when she looked at me, and… “I-C-U.”

“I… see… you.” Jesus Christ, we were in the intensive care unit. She was just reading a sign. My mom died and all I got was this free churro.

You know the shittiest thing about all of this? Is when that stranger behind the counter gave me that free churro, that small act of kindness showed more compassion than my mother gave me her entire goddamn life. Like, how hard is it to do something nice for a person? This woman at the Jack in the Box didn’t even know me. I’m your son! All I had was you! [inhales]

I have this friend. And right around when I first met her, her dad died, and I actually went with her to the funeral. And months later, she told me that she didn’t understand why she was still upset, because she never even liked her father. It made sense to me, because I went through the same thing when my dad died. And I’m going through the same thing now. You know what it’s like? It’s like that show Becker, you know, with Ted Danson? I watched the entire run of that show, hoping that it would get better, and it never did. It had all the right pieces, but it just—it couldn’t put them together. And when it got canceled, I was really bummed out, not because I liked the show, but because I knew it could be so much better, and now it never would be. And that’s what losing a parent is like. It’s like Becker.

Suddenly, you realize you’ll never have the good relationship you wanted, and as long as they were alive, even though you’d never admit it, part of you, the stupidest goddamn part of you, was still holding on to that chance. And you didn’t even realize it until that chance went away.

My mother is dead, and everything is worse now, because now I know I will never have a mother who looks at me from across a room and says, “BoJack Horseman, I see you.” But I guess it’s good to know. It’s good to know that there is nobody looking out for me, that there never was, and there never will be. No, it’s good to know that I am the only one that I can depend on. And I know that now and it’s good. It’s good that I know that. So… it’s good my mother is dead.

[gulps, sighs]

Well. No point beating a dead horse. Beatrice Horseman was born in 1938, and she died in 2018, and I have no idea… what she wanted. Unless she just wanted what we all want… to be seen.

Is this Funeral Parlor B?

—— from Reddit