太高能了太高能了最后一集简直了！这部剧看的时候给了3星，后来越来越好看，冲着第一季的结局必须给5星！

最后一集开头的时候就很平常的其他集差不多，三个人没有进去大学而是直接当兵去了，预料之中。黑队对锡拉掏心掏肺有点反洗脑，也是有点猜到的，毕竟上一集她亲自目睹了将军控制总统，再加上三人小队没进入大学，肯定对将军对军队对自己的信念有了质疑，后面放锡拉走也就不奇怪了。（看漏了，黑队居然是

13年的那个时候好像这些剧挺多的 也挺受欢迎的 神话剧 由一个一个的小故事组成 然后土地公土地婆帮助人们解除困难

该剧非常轻松幽默、积极励志，本剧通过神仙下凡的一个个精彩故事诠释了人间百态

穆婷婷当时印象最深的就是总是在古装的荧屏上见到她 和陈浩民演的天天有喜也是很好看的 很清新 青春有活力的表演 很好 看 最后都是以圆满的大结局结尾 特别适合全家一起看 一起

"大学老师最装了"（印象最深刻的电影台词）一部实验性的电影，改编自《西游记》第九回至第十一回。古今结合，将古代的人物（李世民、龙王、魏征……）套到了现代生活化的场景中，里面人物说话都是湖北方言。整部电影都是黑白色调，并采用了文字、连环画等辅助叙事，节省成本，还能弥补一些拍摄、演员演技上的不足（学姐提供的思路）。影片里面的隐喻挺多的，讽刺了一些官僚的做法（阎王并不真的关心李

在新冠疫情期的这些憋闷日子，我们每个人都或多或少有了点医学知识，担忧自己和家人多出张不正常的肺片。在阿莫多瓦自传式杰作《痛苦与荣耀》中，也有一大段漂亮揪心的医学影像。作为电影导演，主人公萨尔瓦多在各地影展中收获了地理学；而作为积劳成疾的病患，他也在一次次体检中掌握了解剖学，严重的脊柱问题引起全身病痛，直达脑神经中枢，继而导致心理疾病和抑郁症。而导演也承认，由御用明星安东尼奥·班德拉斯饰演的萨

第一集看下来就是坂东无官小青年渴望政治地位和权力对远方血亲的平家积累不满造成的反派。政子花痴的时候归花痴，杀伐果决的样子也能看的出一点将来尼御台的味道了。八重目前看起来就是有那么一点公主病，男人的世界，孩子女性都是牺牲品，弄死就弄死了，不会有一丝怜悯的。大泉洋演的真不错，就是个彬彬有礼的冷血之人，或许也是像他自己所述看多了生死。第二集看完，八重更是一个大写的惨，亲

冯小刚导演的关注度、话题度都非常高。

冯小刚导演的关注度、话题度都非常高。

【详细】

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最近媒体爆料了最新消息，奇异博士2中会有旺达和一位变种人对打，至于是谁，从实力上来看能和旺达对打的就是凤凰女琴葛雷了，毕竟凤凰之力对混沌之力，场面一定会很精彩，也有可能是x教授和万磁王，漫威可能会通过这部电影引入x战警，毕竟电影标题就叫疯狂的多元宇宙。

最近媒体爆料了最新消息，奇异博士2中会有旺达和一位变种人对打，至于是谁，从实力上来看能和旺达对打的就是凤凰女琴葛雷了，毕竟凤凰之力对混沌之力，场面一定会很精彩，也有可能是x教授和万磁王，漫威可能会通过这部电影引入x战警，毕竟电影标题就叫疯狂的多元宇宙。

【详细】

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【伙计办大事】当然是期待更多了，哪有人会不喜欢欧阳胖胖，可是这部剧，演员不错，几个案子也不错，有几个角色的人设也不错，演出来却很一般，问题到底出在哪呢？欧阳胖胖的人设很有趣

剧情真的很奇怪，第一集男主在大街上追犯人被刺伤了，下一个镜头就昏昏沉沉推门进入女主所在的小倌馆的二楼包厢，他怎么进来的，他想上二楼要经过一大群小倌正在跳舞的一楼大厅吧，他不是正在追犯人吗，怎么突然跑这儿了，也没有镜头交待犯人跑小倌馆了啊，就是为了和女主相遇吗

然后因为受伤前一刻眼神迷离和女主抱在一起，突然看到窗外犯人的身影，立刻眼神锐利精神矍铄从二楼跳下去抓犯人。受伤到底重不重?

這部劇其實主打懷舊，有很多其實都有所本。這部劇有很多老戲骨，秦沛、鄭則仕、金燕玲、湯鎮業、張慧儀等。

有人說湯鎮業終於返出來拍戲了，其實湯鎮業2015年就已經回歸拍劇了，2015年王心慰劇集《梟雄》主演之一就是湯鎮業。2017年《心理追兇Mind Hunter》也有湯鎮業。《守護神之保險調查》也有。還有張慧儀，去年年中的《宮心計2深宮計》也還有她，更別說《守護神之保險調查》了。<

在国漫里是很棒的了。

画面精美，故事元素很有想象力有吸引力。

人物形象塑造上面还欠火候，寥寥几个画面就能刻画人物性格，但人物性格一成不变，要是随着情节推动人物也会成长就更棒了。

故事情节不错，刚开始战争那部分最棒，战争场面排兵布阵、调兵遣将以及诡奇策略很有意思。情节发展比较严谨但还是不足够严谨：第一集道士感觉都要被打死了，结果戴了面具后似乎没有受伤一般

这部电视剧拍的非常好，可能让人很心痛很难受，一种年轻对衰老的恐惧，一种衰老的对年轻对立的恐惧。两种恐惧在一起让人非常害怕，恐惧未来，恐惧，现在恐惧过去，他们讲了一个故事，一个人慢慢变老，在变老的过程中与社会产生越来越多的关联，越来越多种联系。甚至联系越来越深刻，越来越强壮，再也无法分割，哪怕你重返了20岁也再一次有直接联系，是你回到70岁的束缚中。还有一种衰老了以后对现实的妥协，对梦想的妥协

这部电视剧拍的非常好，可能让人很心痛很难受，一种年轻对衰老的恐惧，一种衰老的对年轻对立的恐惧。两种恐惧在一起让人非常害怕，恐惧未来，恐惧，现在恐惧过去，他们讲了一个故事，一个人慢慢变老，在变老的过程中与社会产生越来越多的关联，越来越多种联系。甚至联系越来越深刻，越来越强壮，再也无法分割，哪怕你重返了20岁也再一次有直接联系，是你回到70岁的束缚中。还有一种衰老了以后对现实的妥协，对梦想的妥协。妥协中透着无奈，透着成熟。一种成年人必须所做的事情就是仿佛似得梦想的妥协。最后失去一切得到一切，我看到24集女主真爱为了献血而放弃自己的梦想，再一次为家庭，为亲情所放弃自己所拥有的一切，又一次奉献了自己，再次失去了机会。虽然可能实现就会变得衰老，这个设定就让我想起了，肯定最后会因为女主会因为什么事情而被迫献血。我的预想是孙女受伤了以后要出现没有想到，最后是因为女儿怀孕大失血导致的。

【详细】

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真的想不通这个导演的脑回路，不论是实验剧情，还是感情发展剧情，还是海盗安德鲁剧情，真的一点都不通畅，男女主关系一会好一会坏，一会儿爱一会儿恨，毫无征兆，想怎么来就怎么来，不需要理由，不需要剧情过渡。

安德鲁一个通缉犯，正大光明的到处跑没人管，潜水想杀叶海吧你特么一把刀都买不起吗？再不济你来条绳子也能勒死啊？硬是用手把人勒晕了就放了，阿西吧恕我直言这智商别当反派了。

别

因为之前看到第二季的消息又把爱丽丝看了第三遍，这次一出来一晚上就直接看完了，但还是挺失望。。

首先还原最完美的果然是梅花k，男女主的矛盾和这关的情节可以说是完全复刻漫画，所以观感还不错，并且久间的演员也挺好看，这部分还原的还挺赞的，给个五星。

第二个就是之前非常期待的单人牢房，但是可能是演员限制所以把次要人物的情节改了，把诈骗师的戏份给了乱入的苣屋，然后把苣屋在方块J

「名字之歌」（The Song of Name）。一个延续了35年寻找的故事。

不知道电影内容，所以当发现剧情与音乐有关，是惊喜。再等到Martin出现，又是小惊喜，是「海上钢琴师」的1900蒂姆·罗斯（Tim Roth）饰演。演对手戏的是克里夫·欧文（Clive Owen）。

「名字之歌」（The Song of Name）。一个延续了35年寻找的故事。

不知道电影内容，所以当发现剧情与音乐有关，是惊喜。再等到Martin出现，又是小惊喜，是「海上钢琴师」的1900蒂姆·罗斯（Tim Roth）饰演。演对手戏的是克里夫·欧文（Clive Owen）。

电影的背景是二战，更确切地说，是以波兰大屠杀为背景。从音乐的角度讲述犹太人的命运。名字之歌，是指犹太人把逝者名字串成歌吟唱下去，让生者不会遗忘。名字之歌是逝者之歌。

我更喜欢电影的回忆部分。Martin和Dovidl初初相识。两个男孩在弥漫着音乐的温情、弥漫着友情的纯真里一起长大。所有的相遇都是有原因的，Martin和Dovidl也是。电影的配乐更多是以小提琴为主，合着迷蒙的怀旧摄影，铺设出一个有些悬念、锥心之痛的故事。

我理解Martin35年对Dovidl不放弃的寻找，因为，其间有对自己父亲的情感，当然更是因为Dovidl带给他生命的烈度和热度。「我不愿错过那生活，一分一秒也不愿。Dovidl带来和揭开的是情感的烈度。他向我展现，激情能避免无趣的生活。自然迸发的音乐，就连世俗之人也能升华、动容。我无法抹去那个想法，也不愿抹去。它是我存在的理由。」

电影最后，Dovidl留下珍贵的小提琴和一封信后，再次消失在Martin的生命里。彻夜难眠的Martin坐在桌前，读起名字之歌……

【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