这是我看过的第一部、也是唯一一部好不容易追完的韩剧。因为平常我就是那种对于追完几千章的网络小说极不耐烦的人，看完这个剧我才发觉16集的剧也很难让我始终被剧情吸引。

有些地方，特别是前面几集很戳泪点，我哭得一塌糊涂。无论是女主被霸凌的时候、女主站在楼顶的时候，甚至后来女主妈妈还不理解她的时候把她

这是我看过的第一部、也是唯一一部好不容易追完的韩剧。因为平常我就是那种对于追完几千章的网络小说极不耐烦的人，看完这个剧我才发觉16集的剧也很难让我始终被剧情吸引。

有些地方，特别是前面几集很戳泪点，我哭得一塌糊涂。无论是女主被霸凌的时候、女主站在楼顶的时候，甚至后来女主妈妈还不理解她的时候把她化妆品丢掉的时候，那种孤独、无助、绝望，真的很让人心疼。以前不理解有些人为什么会选择自杀这条不归路，女主站上楼顶的时候似乎能够理解一点了。——不过再怎么样我也会选择和那些人同归于尽鱼死网破吧！自己那样太不值得了吧！还有女主的视频被秀真上传以后，为什么全班、全校人都讨厌她？她化了妆又没有玩弄感情、也没有傲慢，就一直安安静静过自己的生活，代言也不是她想做的（好吧这一点全校人确实不知道），但是凭什么以貌取人，她顶着这张脸去偷去抢去骗了吗？还好班主任人很好，校园霸凌就是缺少这样正确的管理和引导！

【详细】

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当初实在是太喜欢郑秀文的表演风格，那种自自然然的憨美，凌乱的动作，穿衣风格，整体造型设计，独具一格，特立独行，都是吸引我的点。当然，这部电影是鬼马行空般的编剧，剧情稍雷，不烧脑，纯属商业片，但可能那个时期应该是比较受欢迎的吧。雷点太多，不吐槽了，就是一部浪漫爱情喜剧，看着开心就好。

剧情其实没有变，主要故事线还是在，前面都有在铺垫，只不过是在以更加轻松的方式逐渐引导出来，但的确没有那封寄给陌生人的信了。把情感转而寄托于小说的曾鲤，相比原著更加轻松自在，不知道为什么看到这样的曾鲤，我反而是长舒了一口气。

但对我来说更主要改动的是曾鲤的家庭，重组家庭的继父和哥哥带给了曾鲤安全感，导致虽然她还

剧情其实没有变，主要故事线还是在，前面都有在铺垫，只不过是在以更加轻松的方式逐渐引导出来，但的确没有那封寄给陌生人的信了。把情感转而寄托于小说的曾鲤，相比原著更加轻松自在，不知道为什么看到这样的曾鲤，我反而是长舒了一口气。

但对我来说更主要改动的是曾鲤的家庭，重组家庭的继父和哥哥带给了曾鲤安全感，导致虽然她还是内心戏很多，还是又拧又怂，但表面开朗活泼勇敢了很多。也因此垫定了这部剧的基调，轻喜剧，挺上头也挺下饭的。我还蛮喜欢这个改动的，温暖而细腻。

其实开播前2小时看完预告片一直在给自己预警洗脑说这是一部新剧和书没有什么关系，想要骂编剧，寄刀片的

但是8集看下来后熟悉的温暖和感动还是回来了，也就原谅编剧了。

不否认有粉丝滤镜，不否认主演演技会有夸张的部分，有时也会让我笑的脚趾抠地，更不否认剧里也有不少bug的，但是不论是男主还是女主都没有让我出戏（心肺复苏那两段除外，医学生真真忍不了这么大的bug）。

画面真的很美，而且节奏把握的很好，符合快节奏的生活基调又恰恰不需要你打开倍速，温暖和感动就这么细水流长的传递了出来，的确，是下了功夫的。

深夜了，一颗心像在蜜里泡开一样，早起上班好像也不是什么困难的事了。

那么晚安

世界微尘里

晚上见

——————————

8.23更新

万万没想到信也还在，主线剧情还原的真的还蛮完整的，惊讶了

曾鲤于易这条暗恋线也好好嗑啊怎么办

QAQ

——————————

8.24更新

小表舅这条线，真的是be美学

懵懂的初恋

无意的错过

心碎的遗憾

永远珍藏第16集

——————————

8.26更新

看完大结局了，也终于让我放下了执念

的确一开始这么温暖的剧口碑这么差我是很意难平的。于是我游走在微博豆瓣，想要去争论但又什么都说不出口，最后只能默默看着。

但是看完大结局之后我释然了

不管舆论如何，这部剧，这本书，都给我带来了久违的温暖。这份心意，我将永久珍藏，反复回味

感谢主创团队们的用心，这部剧的确不同于传统的偶像剧，是一次大胆的尝试。至少在我心里它是成功甚至封神的。真的很谢谢你们。感恩。

世界微尘里，我只喜欢你。

祝愿大家都能遇到属于自己的温暖。

——————————————-

9月8完结更新

看着短评评分升升降降升升

评论坏坏好好坏坏再好好

还是有很多温柔的人在的

开心??

【详细】

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整体来看还好吧不算很恐怖，鬼怪的画风甚至有点可爱是怎么回事？但是女主每次遇到之后的反应真的很可爱，就是那种傻白甜的感觉，而且也很重友情，多次想保护身边的朋友。哈哈哈哈哈。女配误会的剧情也很搞笑，甚至脑补女主那里，真的很中二。而且好几个意料之外的剧情翻转都能感动到我。我觉得是10月里面最好看的番了，很期待后面会发生什么剧情。

女主的周遭环境可以说是极致理想了。

除了快乐甜蜜的官配cp，我还关注着paige、stacey和dillon三个人相处时的状态。有几个细节：1.当paige喝醉的时候，dillon第一时间察觉，放开stacey的手，带着paige回家，2.paige被AJ误会受委屈时，dillon抱住她，给她安慰……这些情况

剧荒于是开始浏览各大视频网站，居然在yk找到了这部日式脑洞神剧，改编自《刚刚好的丑女指南》，通过重塑三名性格各有缺陷的所谓‘性格丑女’让女性正确认知自己，得到更好的生活，收获幸福。

剧荒于是开始浏览各大视频网站，居然在yk找到了这部日式脑洞神剧，改编自《刚刚好的丑女指南》，通过重塑三名性格各有缺陷的所谓‘性格丑女’让女性正确认知自己，得到更好的生活，收获幸福。

【详细】

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不断指责的教育方法总是在人犯错后不断的去批评与责骂，让犯错的人陷入内疚，自责，甚至是无法抽离的恐惧中。这就就好比你的女（男）朋友开车不小心撞到了柱子，你除了不断的说他笨，他蠢之外，却从来没教过他如果避免下次出现类似的错误。从此他开车更加害怕，害怕导致没有自信，没有自信导致持续不断的错误。

我很不认同这样的教育方法，因为这并没

我看完之后对于学长是不是到底是不是告密者或者说有些事是他告密的有些或许不是 产生了很多疑问，还有就是他既然做到这份上的话 并且他又不喜欢孟娟，为什么不把孟娟也举发了呢？第二个疑问就是书兰最后到底是回马来西亚了还是真的被关绿岛了？许志祥这边故意当着孟娟面说被关绿岛，实际在背后和同学承认是回马来西亚。但最后哥哥嫂子又说在绿岛上还有一个监狱没查，所以到底是哪个答

第一次世界大战结束后，战胜国于1919年在巴黎召开了大会，这次会议本应是全世界各国一同协商建立和平新世界的大好机会，却被以法国、美国、日本等国家为首的列强阴谋篡改为重新瓜分世界的会议。在这次会议上，中国，作为战胜国，在一战期间贡献了数以十万计的中国劳工，这些中国劳工远赴欧洲，在那里他们有效地支援了各国的工作，给一战的胜利做出了不可磨灭的贡献。而这些，却被日本代表称之为“中国在

第一次世界大战结束后，战胜国于1919年在巴黎召开了大会，这次会议本应是全世界各国一同协商建立和平新世界的大好机会，却被以法国、美国、日本等国家为首的列强阴谋篡改为重新瓜分世界的会议。在这次会议上，中国，作为战胜国，在一战期间贡献了数以十万计的中国劳工，这些中国劳工远赴欧洲，在那里他们有效地支援了各国的工作，给一战的胜利做出了不可磨灭的贡献。而这些，却被日本代表称之为“中国在一战期间毫无贡献，未派一兵一卒”。作为中国代表团的一员，顾维钧怒不可遏的对日本代表予以驳斥，赢得了在场众人的掌声，而日本代表也被说的哑口无言。

顾维钧于1888年出生于江苏省嘉定县，毕业于美国哥伦比亚大学，专攻国际法及外交，获得博士学位。曾任袁世凯总统英文秘书、内阁秘书、外交部顾问和宪法起草委员等职务，后任中华民国国务总理摄行大总统职，国民政府驻法、英大使，联合国首席代表、驻美大使，海牙国际法院副院长，被誉为“民国第一外交家”。他被历史学家唐德刚先生认为是自有近代外交以来，中国出现的两个半外交家中的半个，另外两个是“李鸿章”和“周恩来”。

弱国无外交，当时的中国积贫积弱，虽然同样是战胜国，却被剥夺了应有的权利，最终也没有在会议上保住中国的山东。随后，国内因此而爆发了五四运动，而五四运动直接影响了中国共产党的诞生和发展。历史不可遗忘，当时的屈辱我们不可遗忘，2018年联合国安理会召开了叙利亚化学武器问题紧急会议，当时，叙利亚驻联合国代表在会上怒斥美国以谎言为由发动侵略战争，但他发言一开始，美英代表就纷纷离席，叙利亚外交官会后无奈的坐在大厅的一角，这一幕与我们当时在巴黎和会上的遭遇多么的相似。庆幸的是，我们的祖国已经强大起来了，再也没有任何国家可以像以前那样任意践踏我们国家的尊严。

【详细】

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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