开场这个宣传彩票的主持人太搞了，本山大叔附体，东北人是不是都是这么幽默啊，哈哈

开场这个宣传彩票的主持人太搞了，本山大叔附体，东北人是不是都是这么幽默啊，哈哈

【详细】

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按理来讲，这部电影的总体评分其实还算公正，在下私心多给了一点点。

观感就是，表哥做导演跟他当年做演员一样，都是合格的，中规中矩的，不起眼却永远不跳戏的。

我有很多不够满意的地方，但竟然各个方面都能让我感到是一部及格的片子——流浪地球那种在我心里9分往上的片子，也有一个我恨不得一把从屏幕

人们对于战争和战士最朴素的愿望就是战士历经生死，终能踏上返乡的路途，硝烟远去，已望见家乡的炊烟，娶妻生子，奉养老人，从此过上平静的生活。

可我们的战士还不能卸甲。

组织上的一个决定，就得远赴千里之外的陌生地域，是的，当时的全中国缺干部缺人才到了极致，甚至不得不留用大量的果党果府旧人。<

人们对于战争和战士最朴素的愿望就是战士历经生死，终能踏上返乡的路途，硝烟远去，已望见家乡的炊烟，娶妻生子，奉养老人，从此过上平静的生活。

可我们的战士还不能卸甲。

组织上的一个决定，就得远赴千里之外的陌生地域，是的，当时的全中国缺干部缺人才到了极致，甚至不得不留用大量的果党果府旧人。

从一个被战乱、殖民、寄生接济祸害百年的基础上建设中国谈何容易？从一个几千年小农经济的基础上建设一个工业化的现代国家谈何容易？

张富清，这样一个退伍军人带着新婚妻子从家乡陕西洋县来到了湖北，开始了三十多年的建设生涯。

剧中展现了那个年代一个优秀的基层干部是如何做好工作的（注意，不是什么官场智慧）:

1.真正和群众生活在一起，生产在一起。只有这样，才能真正和群众建立血肉联系，获得群众信服，也能从群众哪里获取鲜活的经验和信息，避免盲目决策。

2.自己干在前面，有坚定的目标，积极处理面对的困难，遇到利益取舍，把自己考虑到后面。先锋不是说出来的，是做出来的。

3.对群众有强烈的同理心和责任心，从解决群众最迫切的需求着手。

该剧集展现了张富清带领干部群众修小水电、挂壁公路那种筚路蓝缕的创业历程，那种干群一起劳动、齐心协力改造山河的坚韧和气冲霄汉的自信。这其实是前三十年的重要历史的浓缩。旧中国的落后的农业生产水平怎么改变？怎么供养众多脱离了农业生产的现代化建设群体？靠上千年的小农经济么？发挥合作和规模优势，密集投入劳动，改良农业生产所需要的土肥水种，实现农业生产力的进步是唯一可行的办法，有了小水库，可以发电、灌溉了；有了路，先进的技术和装备可以流通了，闭塞的状态被打破了，农民的视野不会被封闭了。

剧中也表现了张富清一家人的人性冲突，要求妻子退职、要求儿子退出招工指标竞争（即便是单纯从能力的角度公平竞争，张富清也认识到干部子弟身份给儿子带来的潜在优势）、长期不能照顾家人（母亲去世未能奔丧、大女儿罹患脑膜炎得不到好的救治，这是最催泪的地方）。很多人可能会觉得这样太没有“人性”了，可是如果干部对自己对家人太有“人性”是什么后果，我们看到了。张富清不是一个冷冰冰的人，对群众他是充满人性关怀的（尤其让我感动的是他对烈属老奶奶的照顾）。笔者想到，有一个人也是这样充满了人性，他会要求从国外回来的儿子先去当农民学种地，举国之战的时候儿子先报名。人前，他坚强无畏被倚为泰山，只到他去世很久，人们才知道，他曾多次独自在深夜里抚摸着战死儿子的生前衣服。

张富清为什么会这样？他是一个解放战士，经历过无数血战，他是战斗英雄，但他说过一句话，他不是仅仅为了自己而活，也是为了那些牺牲的战友而活。建立新中国死了多少人?有谁认真想过?他是想过这个问题的。

当然了，不是所有干部都是张富清这样的，对于干部们应该不应该缺乏点“人性”，这就是一个大问题了。

【详细】

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毕业季说分手的案例不在少数。不用过多久，广大学子就将迎来人生中最重要的一个转折点：毕业。找工作、选择未来发展的城市等事足以让初出茅庐的毕业生们焦头烂额，而另一个广泛存在于毕业生中间的“诅咒”更是火上浇油，那就是毕业分手的魔咒。

这部剧里的女主和男友钱绍枫，却打破了这一魔咒，完美的演绎了毕业不分手。

这对CP我站定了，非常看好。

文/满囤儿

《侏罗纪世界3》的结尾被人吐槽了，因为最后的打戏，竟然是人家恐龙间的内斗！如此一来，作为人类的观众，感觉好泄气啊。其实像这种大恐龙、大鲨鱼、大猿猴、大蜘蛛、大异形等怪兽影片，观众想看的，一方面是怪兽对“低等生物”的虐杀，另一方面也想看看虽然力量低

文/满囤儿

《侏罗纪世界3》的结尾被人吐槽了，因为最后的打戏，竟然是人家恐龙间的内斗！如此一来，作为人类的观众，感觉好泄气啊。其实像这种大恐龙、大鲨鱼、大猿猴、大蜘蛛、大异形等怪兽影片，观众想看的，一方面是怪兽对“低等生物”的虐杀，另一方面也想看看虽然力量低等，但智慧高等的人类，面对这样的险境，如何逃生甚至如何反杀。

【详细】

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原本看邓家佳的新剧结果邓家佳出来几分钟啊这是？你要早说李梦是女主我连第一集都不会看！我很无语。。。虽然李梦耍大牌，但也不会上升的角色。之前看隐秘的角落，就觉得这个演员演的神经兮兮的，不过跟角色也算是符合。这演的是police！我的亲导演！演技太尴尬了吧……看得我浑身不适，应该庆幸这是个悬疑片。。

原本看邓家佳的新剧结果邓家佳出来几分钟啊这是？你要早说李梦是女主我连第一集都不会看！我很无语。。。虽然李梦耍大牌，但也不会上升的角色。之前看隐秘的角落，就觉得这个演员演的神经兮兮的，不过跟角色也算是符合。这演的是police！我的亲导演！演技太尴尬了吧……看得我浑身不适，应该庆幸这是个悬疑片。。

【详细】

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狗血的内容，抓马的剧情，这是什么狗东西？京剧不是在清朝才传入中国吗？现在才哪儿跟哪儿啊，女主角好歹是官家小姐，就不能矜持一点吗，而且，你们怎么又找古偶丑男来演古装剧，不辣眼睛吗？看到有些人说，这部剧是一步轻喜剧，我看不出来他哪轻喜了，拍剧得尊重一下历史，还择君记，不如改名叫我和我的两个夫君日常，不觉得很毁三观吗？那两个男的放到现实中就是舔狗，又是一个傻白甜女主，我不想说话了

为了郭晋安看的，前十集真的很不错，让我喜欢上田蕊妮，我一开始以为是一部以田蕊妮为主视角的轻松搞笑古装喜剧，还以为要写田蕊妮怎么通过屡破奇案打响名堂，然后成功以女人身份登上公堂当状师的励志女强人的故事，结果看到14集发现不太对了，忍住恶心看完结局更是想问候编剧。后面的剧情都是什么玩意儿？？全体正派集体降智，荒唐镜想杀谁就杀谁，想诬陷谁就诬陷谁，前十集铺垫了半天的陈梦吉多么多么厉害，结果连荒唐镜

本文标题由译者自拟，原标题为《玛莎·米切尔：从社会名流到水门事件吹哨人》（Martha Mitchell: The Socialite Turned Watergate Whistleblower），

本文标题由译者自拟，原标题为《玛莎·米切尔：从社会名流到水门事件吹哨人》（Martha Mitchell: The Socialite Turned Watergate Whistleblower），原文于 2022 年 4 月 25 日发布于 History。作者 Cate Lineberry 是一名畅销书作家，曾在《国家地理》杂志和《史密森尼》杂志担当编辑。她最新一本著作是《自由还是死亡：罗伯特·斯莫斯的故事——逃离奴隶制，成为合众国英雄》（Be Free or Die: The Amazing Story of Robert Smalls' Escape from Slavery to Union Hero）。

然而，不好笑。李雪莲不管你是因为房子还是孩子的问题假离婚，你半毛钱证据没有的情况下强行要求法院主持公道，不爽就一告向北，到了结尾还一副世人皆醉我独醒的感觉，强盗逻辑这边请进。政府官员用千古一遇的刁民不停自我反省，黑色是黑色了，但大段的官员发言是哪里幽默了，想解决群众问题还是想保帽子，肯定后者居多啊，前者她自己都不乐意你解决，你还能帮她脱裤子吗？这世界，不是技术、策略就可以摆平一切的，林子大了

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