All language subtitles for murphy_brown_s06e10_reaper_madness

I'll make this empty, Fran. Normally,
I'd have my coffee ready by now, but you

missed it kind of there.

But, you know, we still have three hours
until we go on the air. Make that

haphazard safety inspection.

You know, there's really no reason Miles
has to know about this. You know how

that guy always panics when he thinks
you waited until the last minute? Fran!

Did you get my clearance from legal? You
know if I don't have my show time, I

have no story. Do you hear me? I have no
story. Hey, hey, hey, I was here first.

So what, Frank? Everybody expects you to
be late. I have a reputation to

protect. Oh, what's that supposed to
mean? I always wait. Keep typing, Fran.

Now listen to me.

Hey, hey, hey.

What's all this about?

No? Let me guess.

You waited until the last minute again,
didn't you, Frank?

Not really. I... So did Corky. She has
no clearance.

Don't be upset.

I'll get it done on time. I know. I'm
not worried.

You're not?

If I've learned anything from Audrey
leaving me, it's that I've got to start

putting things in perspective.

Do you guys realize this is my 153rd
show as executive producer of FYI?

163 times it's come down to the wire,
and we've always pulled it off.

Miles, I have no commentary for
tonight's show.

I was all prepared to address the issue
of urban flight when I found out Koppel

covered the exact same subject Monday on
Nightline, complete with my Conestoga

wagon metaphor.

Nothing.

Now, Jim, we're not going to panic. You
always keep a few extra commentaries in

your drawer for just such an emergency,
right? That's what I'm trying to tell

you, Miles. The drawer is empty. The
well is dry.

All I found was make way for the metric
system and a half -finished Gary Hart.

There's no stopping him now.

Okay. Okay, it's still okay. You thought
you were dry before, but you weren't.

The rains always come.

Replenishing that well, irrigating the
fertile topsoil of your brain. I want

quiet in here.

Work talk only. Go ahead, Jim. No
pressure.

Hey there, everybody.

What a great day.

You ever have one of those stories where
everything just falls into place? I'm

telling you, it's like this one
practically wrote itself.

It's nice, right? Yep. I had the whole
day free, so Avery and I went to the

Look what I got.

Everybody must have been at work or
something because we practically had the

whole place to ourselves.

Health care, child care, welfare, bad
air, the neighbor's damn dog.

I guess I've got nothing to do until
showtime, huh? Is that great or what?

Great?

There's nothing great.

Jim's dry, Frank's late, and Corky's
gonna get us soon.

So what if we pulled it off for 163
shows?

Maybe it's the 164th that's the killer.
Go away. We're still working here.

Oops. And here I am bragging about
having nothing to do. Guys, I am really,

really sorry. I feel awful.

Awful? Good!

The only thing better about not having
to work is not having to work when

everyone else does. This day just keeps
getting better.

Bobby, listen, I'm going to need you
to... Just the person I was looking for.

Can I see you for a minute? Now? Murph,
look, I'm really swamped here.

Ah, ah, sure. You're swamped. I
understand. No problem. Even though this

just take a second, one teeny tiny
moment out of your day. But if you're

swamped, you're swamped.

I understand.

You don't have time for me.

Sorry to have bothered you.

Okay, okay, I'm coming.

Boy, you are really getting this mother
thing down.

John, what's up?

I just have one quick question, Frank,
and then you can go. Shoot.

What do you think happens when we die?

Excuse me?

You know, when we pass on by the farm,
take the big dirt nap. What do you think

happens?

Do you think this is it, or do you think
there's something more? And if so,

what's it like?

Okay, that's three questions, so I lied.
Well... This is what you come up with

when you have a half hour of free time?
No wonder you don't like to go on

vacation.

Childhood, the early years, yeah?

So I had a little free time. I started
catching up on my reading, and I started

skimming ahead. There's only so much you
can read about potty training. And I

came to this chapter here.

When your child asks about death.

Death, Frank. I haven't even figured out
how I'm going to explain the Reagan

years.

Aren't you rushing this a little? I
mean, Avery's barely talking.

Frank, he is very advanced. He's already
learned how to climb out of his crib.

How long before he walks into my room,
pulls the pacifier out of his mouth, and

says, Mom, I'm having an existential
crisis?

You're serious about this, aren't you?
You really want to talk about this? Yes,

I do, Frank. It's the one thing we all
have to face, and nobody wants to talk

about it. You are my best friend. I know
so many intimate things about you, but

I don't know how you feel about death.

Personally, I'm against it.

Frank, you're not comfortable talking
about it. No, no, no. Look, you just

caught me by surprise. I am not
uncomfortable with this. In therapy,

up all the time.

Almost as much as sex.

The only difference is I don't cry as
much when we talk about death.

Remind me not to come to you when Avery
hits puberty. Okay.

I'm sorry. I am going to help you with
it. So, one of these days, you're going

to have to talk to your kid about death.

Well, why don't you just start by
telling him what you believe?

That's just it, Frank. I don't know what
I believe. I always avoided thinking

about it. I guess I figured that if you
didn't think you were going to die, you

wouldn't.

Hey, it's worked so far.

What about your parents? They must have
told you something.

Yeah. When I asked my mother, she said,
you have too much free time on your

hands, and she signed me up for tennis
lessons. My father's answer was, if you

pull the plug on a refrigerator, does it
keep running?

From age five to seven, I thought
goodwill came to take us away.

You're lucky. My parents sent me to
Catholic school. Death was practically a

required course.

Heaven, hell, purgatory, limbo.

I'll tell you something. When you've got
Sister Mary Catherine standing over you

saying that one... One peep into the
girl's locker room could condemn you for

all eternity. You believed her. That
woman had a muscle in her right arm the

size of my head.

I don't know. It's just too much
pressure. I should have been a parent 40

ago when parents were expected to screw
up their kids.

Man, that Catholic school stuff stayed
with me for years.

And then I started seeing stuff that
sort of shook my faith.

After reporting from Beirut, Belfast,
Cambodia...

Going to hell for seeing Patty Hagen
change into her field hockey uniform

make that much sense anyway.

Yeah, I know. I always thought if there
was a benevolent being, then how do you

explain all of the injustice and the
suffering and the Chicago Cubs?

Something we just can't explain.

So after a while, what I started doing
was looking for answers someplace else.

met this woman named Andrea.

She got me into Eastern religion and
Swami Sukhananda.

He taught that death was a return to the
universal soul.

But then the Swami got caught skimming
donations to buy a Gap franchise.

Then there was Robin.

She got me into Buddhism.

Then it was Celia and the Christian
scientists. Or was that Judy and the

Rastafarians? What's the matter, Frank?
Couldn't you find an Amish chick?

This is death and the meaning of life
we're talking about here. I guess I was

just looking for a comforting answer.

Okay, so what about now?

Well... I don't know. I'm not really
seeing anyone right now.

I've got to get back to work. Otherwise,
I'm never going to be ready for the

show. Okay, just one more thing, Frank.

With all of your doubts and searching
and exploring alternative religions, how

come you still go to confession?

Oh, if Sister Mary Catherine was right,
I'm going to need all the help I can

get. So, what are you reading there,
kid?

Death and dying?

Life after death?

Tibetan book of the dead.

Murphy, honey, reading all this and
eating my meatloaf, how's it gonna look?

I'm just doing some research, Phil. You
know, in case the subject ever comes up

with Avery.

Phil, you've got kids. Any chance they
never ask?

And not when you got eight kids and the
easiest thing to win at the school

carnival is a baggie full of goldfish.

On really hot days, the grieving started
even before we left the party.

So what did you tell them? Oh, that
death isn't the end.

Everything goes on in one form or
another.

You know, it's been almost four years
since my dad died and I still talk to

about once a week.

You talk to him? Sure.

I like to tell him how the family's
doing, ask his opinion about the

Oh, I don't know if he hears me, but
nobody's ever going to convince me that

wasn't Dad that guided me into buying
that cappuccino machine.

$3 .50 for a thimble full of coffee and
some steamed milk?

Dad would have loved the 90s.

Let me get this straight, Phil. You
think you have a direct line to the

hereafter and you're talking about
appliances?

If it were me, I'd be looking to nail
him on the bigger questions. Where are

you? What's it like there? Is it tough
to get in?

Oh, hey, I can find out all those things
when I get there.

Right now, we've got a business to run.

Murphy, I'm glad I found you.

I'm shifting the order for the show.
You're no longer up first. Now, I know

you're not happy about this, but we go
on the air in a little over an hour and

don't have time to debate it.

Miles. Did you know that story about
your hair and fingernails continuing to

grow after you die is just an old wives'
tale?

Apparently, it just seems that way
because your skin actually shrinks when

you're dead.

Okay, you're up first.

But this is the last time I'm getting
into one of your threats.

Wait a minute.

I'm dealing with something kind of
difficult here. I thought I could handle

myself, but... What do you think happens
when we die?

What do I think happens when... Why are
you talking about this?

People don't talk about this unless...
Oh, my God.

Murphy. What?

I knew this day would come sooner or
later.

It doesn't take a genius to see it. It's
your diet, your stress, the way you

keep your anger all bottled up inside.

Wait. You don't do that. I do that.

Miles, I'm not dying.

Oh, thank God.

For a minute there, an image flashed
through my head of this guy in overalls

stenciling the name Jane Polly under
your dressing room door.

After a suitable grieving period, of
course. Well, back to work.

Five more minutes.

I'm trying to figure out what to tell
Avery about death, and since he's half

Jewish, well, what do you believe
happens when we die?

Oh, sure.

Can't start with the easy stuff, like
why we play hide the matzah on Passover.

Five minutes and I'm out the door.

Jews.

We don't really talk about heaven and
hell and all that stuff.

We're supposed to focus on the here and
now.

We're sort of like the Unitarians that
way, only they don't have to eat gefilte

fish.

So let me understand this. You've got
one of the world's major religions.

been around for over 5 ,000 years, but
the subject of the hereafter never came

up? I'm not saying we don't think about
it. You should have seen me as a kid. I

was obsessed with it.

Some kids would play doctor. I would
play funeral.

I used to put my arms over my chest like
this, lie there, and pretend I was

dead. Then all the kids in the
neighborhood would bring sponge cake. It

really quite lovely.

Miles, I need answers.

You're dead, you get sponge cake, and
then what happens? You have to wonder

comes next.

Not really, because... Well, uh, I never
really talk about this, but I had a

near -death experience once. This isn't
that time you thought you had Lyme

disease, is it? No, I... Chronic fatigue
syndrome? No. Swine flu? You wouldn't

hear this. Yes.

I was nine years old. We were on a
family vacation.

I was eating Cracker Jacks in the
backseat when we hit this bump in the

one of those little candy -coated
peanuts got lodged in my throat.

My mother always used to tell me, don't
eat in the car, but did I listen?

Yeah, yeah, you're bad to the bone, so
what happened?

I remember choking, and then I passed
out, and then it was like all those

stories you hear. The tunnel, the bright
light, my Aunt Shirley standing there,

reaching out to welcome me, which was
pretty weird because she was living in

Jersey with my Uncle Sid at the time.

Then, just as I was about to enter the
light, I heard this voice telling me it

wasn't my time yet. And suddenly, I was
back in the car spitting out that

peanut.

I like to think that that voice, Murphy,
was the voice of God.

Of course, it also said I told you not
to eat in the car, so it can't be 100 %

true.

But ever since then, I thought, maybe
this life is just a prelude.

Maybe there's a whole beautiful world
waiting for us after this.

So, let me understand this. You're
basing your whole faith on an afterlife

pothole and a peanut?

Well, okay, it's not a burning bush, but
what's the alternative?

That we die and then that's it?

Don't get me wrong, Miles. I'd like to
believe there's something more. It's

that I'm having a very hard time
picturing it.

So what are you picturing? That we wind
up lying under six feet of topsoil? Our

eyelids glued shut?

Turning into little piles of mulch?

That we have no soul?

Or if we do, we just drift for all
eternity in the cold black emptiness of

void? Are minds still working?

Trapped in an endless nothingness
stretching on forever and ever and ever

ever.

Oh, God.

We were talking about death and you
didn't even blink. Last week when the

curling iron was missing, we practically
had to sedate you.

I'm sorry, but death just doesn't bother
me that much.

Now, I'm not saying that it isn't sad.

In fact, that's why I never can stay mad
at people.

I just picture how I'll feel when they
die, and I end up forgiving them.

How do you think I've been able to get
along with you so well, silly?

I'm talking about other people's death.
I'm talking about when you die.

Doesn't that fill you with some anxiety?

Not really.

When my time comes.

I'm going to heaven.

You sound like one of those Disneyland
commercials.

Margie Sherwood, you've just been run
over by a speeding bus. What are you

to do now? I'm going to heaven.

It's right there in the Bible.

Rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great
is your reward in heaven.

Matthew chapter 5, verse 12.

Or is that the part where Jesus is
washing lepers' feet? I always get those

confused.

Okay.

So, you're going to heaven.

What's it like there?

Well, the streets are all paved with
gold.

There are lots of famous people.

And the buildings shine with the
brilliance of a thousand lights.

So you're saying heaven is like spending
eternity in Las Vegas?

You can't really believe that. Why not?

Because it doesn't make any sense. It's
like saying heaven's up in the clouds

somewhere. I mean, all you have to do is
take a plane trip and you can kiss that

theory goodbye.

Murphy, what do you think? God would
just plop heaven down right there in the

sky where any old 747 wandering by could
just plow right into it?

Really? Give the Lord a little credit.

All right.

For the sake of argument, you're in
heaven, dead.

There's Gold Street, Sprite Life, lots
of famous people. You can hear Mozart

play. You can watch Nijinsky dance. It's
paradise for the first millennium or

two. But then, after the next 3 ,000
years, even Einstein's stories are

to get a little stale, and you're
checking your watch, looking for the

out of there. But there is no bus, only
a weekend shuttle to hell where you can

watch the 25th billionth performance of
Cats.

Don't you understand, Murphy?

There aren't going to be any problems.

If there were, it wouldn't be heaven.

I'm beginning to think you're not even
trying.

Corky, I am trying. A part of me would
like to believe the way you do. You have

no doubts. You're perfectly happy and
content.

Well, it's not that hard. You just have
to have a little faith.

You know, Murphy, if you ever wanted to,
you could always join me at my church

sometime. This Sunday after services,
we're having a potluck lunch for

Oh, thanks, but no thanks.

They're raffling off a car.

Wow, what a deal. I could find the Lord,
meet Mr. Wright, and drive away in a

brand -new Buick.

Oh, hi, Jim.

Oh, I see you came up with a commentary
for tonight. Yes, I'm proving it now.

What's it about?

Stress and overcrowding in contemporary
society, with particular attention paid

to my neighbor's damn dog.

Oh. Stop toying with me.

I know what's coming.

Murphy's little death talk.

This is no escaping, is it?

Don't worry. I'm through talking about
it. No one's given me anything useful

day. I can't understand it. How many
people fall back on faith to cope with

deeper mysteries of life?

I make the waiter show me the pot before
I believe it's decaf.

All right.

Five minutes, people.

I'm sorry, Murphy. I can't talk about
death. Union rules.

Okay, you're right. There is no escaping
me.

Jim, you go to church, you seem at peace
with yourself.

I envy that. I want to understand it.

Yes, well, there's not much to
understand.

It's just something Doris and I do.

Yeah, but you do it Sunday after Sunday.
You must be getting something from it.

What?

Oh, so many things.

The music is inspiring.

There's a look of joy and good
fellowship on the faces of those around

No offense, Jim, but throw in a plastic
slide and some bouncy balls and you

could be at Avery's Gymboree class.
There's got to be something more.

Well, yeah, certainly.

There's more.

But it's not something that can be
easily articulated.

Oh, come on, Jim, give it a shot.

What are you hearing that helps you cope
with life and death?

I don't understand.

I go to church because I see a world
filled with cruelty and chaos.

I need to believe that there's some
order, some purpose to all this.

So I surround myself with the trappings
of belief, hoping that someday that

belief will be mine.

What if there is no order or purpose?

I'm praying that there is.

Jim, I don't know. I guess there's just
too much of the reporter in me. I have

to have facts.

And when it comes to death, the only
facts you have are that you live and

you die.

Oh, man, the angel of death has struck
again.

Don't stop on our account, Murphy. I'm
sure there are still a few people left

the studio who haven't been sucked into
your vortex of doom.

In case anyone's interested, there's a
potluck this Sunday at my church.

Could win a car.

All right, if the loved ones will line
up behind the hearse, the procession is

about to depart.

talking about it would help.

Because whether we want to face it or
not, death is the elephant in the room

that no one ever mentioned.

And it's coming closer with every tick
of the clock.

In five, four, three, two...

Hi,

Eldon. How's he doing?

Got a dozen times through the three
little pigs to finally get him to sleep.

If I have to go through all that huffing
and puffing one more time, I'm going to

need a respirator.

Oh, Eldon.

Look at him.

He's so innocent.

Wouldn't it be great if he could stay
like that?

Never have to face the big questions
about life.

And death.

You read ahead in that baby book, didn't
you?

I don't know what to tell him, Eldon.

Think he's too young for tennis lessons?

You know, I always thought that death
has gotten a bum rap.

I mean, without that big deadline
hanging over our heads, there would be

push to get anything done.

And what's more, if we were never going
to die, you'd have to buy a whole lot of

pants.

I can see you've given this a lot of
thought.

Actually, no.

But I tell you this. I do believe in
life after death.

You're just turning.

He's just turning.

You believe in life after death? Oh,
absolutely.

Oh, but not in the way that you probably
think. I mean, I believe that you live

on in the things that you create.

Like, for me, it's my art.

I mean, that's my immortality.

Maybe you got something like that, too.

Remind me to give him a raise.

I heard that.