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 have a good reason to be doing shitty.
So if I say, "I'm doing shitty,"
他们就会问 为什么 出什么事了
Then they say, "Why? What's wrong?"
我就得回 不知道 全都不顺心吧
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.
她放声大哭 嘴里说着"对不起 对不起"
And she's bawling, and she's saying, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,"
我就安慰 没关系 没关系
and I'm like, "It's fine. It's fine.
我是说 并不是很好 就是没事
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?"
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 when your mom dies, you get a free churro.
Anyway, I'm sorry,
that's not part of the… All right.
好吧 重新来 正式开始
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 like a, like an organ flourish?
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!
What happened to the organ?
Why don't you leave the comedy to the professionals?
好吗 这是我母亲的葬礼 先生
Okay? This is a funeral, sir, for my mother.
Can you show a little respect?
I'll take it.
马男碧翠斯 她是谁 一生是怎样的
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.
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?
时光匆匆 世事无常 奔向死亡
Goes by, stuff happens. Then you die.
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?
现在怎么办 我不知道 妈你有主意吗
So… Now what? I don't know, Mom, you got any ideas?
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 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
让别人来讲话 就敲一下 我不会生气的
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, you know, she's dead now, so who cares what she wanted?
不 这话可不好听 抱歉
No, that sounds bad. I'm sorry.
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.
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.
妈 你觉得这个笑话怎么样 你喜欢吗
Hey, Mom, what did you think of that joke? You like that?
You never did care for my comedy.
Here's a story.
When I was a teenager,
I performed a comedy routine for my high school talent show.
There was this cool jacket that I wanted to wear
美国演员 编剧 导演
because 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.
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 knew this meant that she loved me.
Now, that's a good story about my mother.
这不是真的 但是个好故事 不是吗
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,
但在内心深处 她是爱我 关心我的
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.
妈 如果你爱我 关心我 想告诉我
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.
My mother did not go gentle into that good night.
She went clawing and fighting and thrashing,
hence the face.
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.
I was in the hospital with her those last moments,
and they were truly horrifying,
full of nonsensical screams and cries,
但有那么一刻 很奇怪 她平静了好一会
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.
"你好 你是个人 我看到你了"
"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 it'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.
我太粘人 是个负担 让她难堪
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, "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 out of it at the end, so maybe it's dumb
to try to attribute it to anything.
Back in the 90s,
I was in a very famous TV Show called Horsin' Around.
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,
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.
因为 老实说 那时她并没有看着我
Because, if I'm being honest, she wasn't really looking at me,
she was looking past me. There was nobody else in the room.
I 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?
Not saying, huh? Staying mum?
No rimshot there?
天 不管我付了你多少钱 都太多了
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.
比如 "等下 你是说他死于决斗"
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.
所以 我的父亲 曾经的骄傲玛丽
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.
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 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."
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 rimshot?
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.
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!
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!
Might have gone a little too far with that one.
That one might have been a
little too "My mom's a huge bitch" for the room.
抱歉 妈妈 你不是个大混蛋
I'm sorry, Mother. You're not a huge bitch.
You were a huge bitch… and now you're dead.
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…
She used to make me sing "The Lollipop Song."
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,用惊讶的目光看着他娶的这个
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.
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.
I would like to think that's what she meant
when we were in the hospital and she said, "I see you."
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 wait list 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…
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.
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.
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.
或许是吧 我也不知道 我从没读过
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, hold your applause.
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."
I never thought the orphans were sad.
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?''
但当然了 这是电视剧 她不会永远离开
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.
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 even 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… 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!
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.
我现在知道了 很好 我知道了也好
And I know that now and it's good. It's good that I know that.
So… it's good my mother is dead.
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?
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