Original subtitles

- [Man] That's a really lovely watch.

- Thank you.

I got it as a birthday present from my Nana

on my ninth birthday.

It's my very first watch.

On my 10th birthday, she died.

- [Man] So sorry.

And I'll bet you wind it every day

and you've never let it stop once.

Am I right?

- I have nothing to say today.

- [Man] May I ask some silly questions then?

What kind of books did you read when you were a little girl?

- How little?

When I was all sugar and spice?

- [Man] How old was that?

- Nancy Drew, Anne Frank, Philip Roth.

I like to think I'm still all sugar and spice.

Okay.

You mean when I was, this little?

I had so many friends that I suppose that's why

I didn't have time to read much.

One of my friends, her parents had this karaoke machine.

We would carry on for hours.

Her parents were so rich.

So rich.

They had this bathtub, this enormous bathtub.

I suppose her parents used it more often to get dirty

than to get clean.

If you catch my drift.

Five of us.

Five of us.

Four friends and me.

I had so many friends.

We were all so little that we'd squeeze

into the bathtub together.

It was disgusting.

But it was fun.

Disgusting fun.

Once we almost brought the karaoke machine in there

with us, but one girl said we'd be electrified.

That's what she said, electrified.

Not electrocuted.

She was wrong on both accounts.

Once I checked into it I decided she was too stupid

to be my friend anymore.

I was so shallow.

So shallow in the shallow end of the tub.

I babysat a lot.

Gee whiz, I suppose I was a born babysitter.

I used to love giving babies baths.

They smelled so good.

I also love my dad's smell.

The smell of his dental office.

I would sweat so much in a hot bath and come out

smelling so good.

(gentle jazz music)

- Oh you made it.

Aw, sweetie.

Good to see you.

- I'm so proud of you, Mom.

- I'd grow tumors for her.

- I love your, Richard.

- You're gonna be great.

- Let's go, come on.

- In the movie, Norma Ray, Norma has to explain to her

children that she's a jailbird.

And she feels compelled to put that scarlet letter

in the proper context for her kids.

So that they understand the principles

for which she was jailed, so that they fully grasp

that the reason their mommy was jailed was to make

life better, for hundreds of other people.

For hundreds of friends.

For hundreds of other mommies,

with whose children they played.

Well,

I'm a jailbird, too.

I broke the law when the law stopped making sense to me.

When a law that was wrong was hurting a great many people.

I crossed state lines, and I paid a computer hacker

a known felon, to track down a domestic terrorist.

A man who had vowed to kill a Planned Parenthood doctor.

A physician who performed abortions legally, safely

and affordably.

A man who also saved the lives of many other women.

And I stalked this man, this terrorist,

with the intent to kill him before he had a chance

to commit his act.

And I intended to kill him with a handgun,

that I purchased legally from a gun shop.

A gun shop owned by that very terrorist.

But my plan was thwarted

when a security camera mounted on that very clinic

just a block away,

spied my weapon in the passenger seat of my car.

It was my passenger.

I was sentenced to a year in prison.

Released after 36 weeks.

How's that for irony?

But my imprisonment lead to a nationwide outcry.

I don't have to tell you what it lead to.

You were at the forefront.

But that conflagration of protest,

flickered to a few dying embers within a week.

Maybe 10 days.

Yeah, they used to wrap fish in day old newspaper.

What do they wrap in day old cyber news?

(laughing)

And then you people, you people, Iris Glen people.

You began to do a funny thing.

You began to sign a petition.

A petition that would put me on November's ballot

as a mayoral candidate!

(applause) (cheering)

And I've decided to run!

I've decided to win!

I've decided to serve!

(applause)

(cutlery scratching)

Three bites and it's back to work.

I'm not gonna violate my first campaign promise

only four hours after the polls close.

- Now we'll worry about that tomorrow

after you're sworn in.

- [Harper] This is delicious, (mumbles).

- [Nevada] Chew your food young lady.

- [Harper] Sorry.

- That's not pressure you're feeling, is it?

- No, it's hunger, real hunger.

- Okay, let's eat.

- Where's Daddy?

- He doesn't get back from his conference till tomorrow.

- I heard a noise, and I was scared.

- What kind of noise?

- I don't know.

Can't explain it.

Silence maybe?

(gentle music)

(birds screeching)

(gentle music)

Thanks.

(gentle music)

(chattering)

- Oh hey, this is my daughter, Nevada.

This is Kurtis.

(chattering)

Kurtis is about to publish his first book.

- [Nevada] Grandma.

- Oh sweetheart, good to see you.

You look gorgeous.

- Thank you.

Thank you, thank you.

Hi, can I have a glass of ice tea?

That would be super.

- [Woman] Would you like some potato salad?

- [Nevada] I'm gonna, yeah, I'm gonna hit that up.

Daddy, help me.

- Nevada Smith, my favorite waitress.

- I thought I was your favorite ballerina.

- Not since you were five.

- You are such a pig.

- I love corn on the cob.

It's taste, it's texture, with butter, without butter.

- You really do, don't you?

What are you doing out here?

Are you pissed at someone back there?

- Oh no.

- Now you sound scared.

I never heard that sound from you before.

- I can only recall being this scared once before

in my life.

- Daddy?

- 17.

I was 17 years old, and I was working

as a delivery boy at a local deli.

It's still there, the deli.

Different delivery boy.

After work, it must have been just before midnight.

I was clowning around.

Trying to look like a big shot.

I played a game of chicken with another kid

who worked at the deli, on the street,

on the four lane street for the affections of a

17 year old who worked with us.

We told her she would have to make out with whomever

would lie down the longest, prone on the dark street.

As a car approached, before escaping to safety.

Stupid.

He was my best friend at the time.

I barely knew her, but she had just started working

at the deli and we'd heard that she was recently dating

the much older owner of an aquarium in the same strip mall

and that he had taught her how to do things.

Sex things.

I was still a virgin, so my imagination ran wild.

I don't think I wanted to win.

I was terrified of what the aquarium owner might

have taught her.

Things that would make me look foolish to her.

Of course she'd agreed to none of it.

My buddy had already slept with a girl, so...

I was in it for him.

After he was run over,

no one paid me any attention.

Not even after he had his leg amputated.

No one, not him, not his parents.

It was as if I was nothing more than

a late arriving bystander.

I felt so much fear every day after that.

It was as if their silence was taunting me.

The girl never spoke to me again.

My own parents would speak to me for...

Months.

The only one who would even say hello to me was

the guy who owned the aquarium.

I was scared for years.

Until I met your mom.

Even then, she knew how to vanquish fear and...

Make you feel worth something.

Make you feel,

make you appreciate your full worth.

- Dad you're scaring me.

- Look at you.

It blows my mind

that I was able to make something as perfect, as beautiful.

As you.

See the men in that car there?

I'm going to be arrested, honey.

I don't fear jail.

What I fear is that the kid with the amputated leg

is finally gonna come after me.

(mumbles)

(birds screeching)

- You know, some people call me an activist.

Others call me something else.

(laughing)

I think it's a word that begins with C.

(laughing)

Crack pot!

(laughing)

All paradigms begin with crack pots.

Revolution isn't easy, making history legally is hard.

Does anyone know what this is behind me?

It's Vermont's flag.

Not it's state flag, it's the flag of the nation of Vermont.

More specifically, the Second Vermont Republic.

A movement founded by an economics professor in 2003.

In a recent article, in the New York Times,

they reported that the Obama Administration had been

floonded with secession petitions by eight states,

including Texas, as state whose laws I find dubious.

(audience murmuring)

The Texas petitioned, signed by 125,746 citizens

declared that withdrawing from the union was quote

practically feasible, since the state had a balanced budget.

And Austin is its capital for crying out loud,

so Texas can't be all bad, am I right?

(laughing)

The Vermont movement embraces many of the same values

as our founding fathers.

Ideals are hard.

They're hard to conjure up.

They're hard to wrap other people's minds around.

And they're hardest of all to achieve and maintain.

- [Nevada] You dropped acid?

- [Richard] Isn't that statutory rape charge worse?

- [Harper] It was my LSD.

- You're forgiving him?

He was inside another woman.

- [Richard] A girl.

- Is there any lust?

There's a 10 year old who's moved in down the block

I've had my eye on.

Where you going?

- [Harper] To get you some Valium.

- (grunts) Unbelievable.

Dad, why don't you just pull out the nitrous, hmm?

That used to calm me down just fine.

And you're gonna start a country.

- [Harper] Yes, but first I'm giving my daughter

10 milligrams of Valium.

Take this.

- Do you remember last August when Mom and I

went to Jones Beach to see John Fogerty and Jackson Browne?

- [Nevada] Pathetic.

- Do you even know their work?

- Not really.

- Pathetic.

- Before we left for the show,

we dropped acid.

It had been 30 years, but we kept a vial

in the back of the freezer.

The show began and I was tripping and I needed to go

to the men's room.

That was the last time I saw Mom until I got home.

She was already in bed sleeping when I got home.

(chuckles)

I have no recollection of how I got home.

When I walked into the men's room, there were,

and I have no idea why, there were half a dozen cans

of spray paint in the corner of the room.

All different colors.

Well, maybe different colors.

There was a simple lock on the men's room door,

so I locked myself in.

And instantly all of the sounds occurring outside

of the room clicked off.

They didn't fade out, they just switched off as

if there was a power failure.

Not even the music could penetrate my trip.

So I gathered up the cans, and I began to paint the

floor, it looked like a blank canvas to me

and so I decided I needed to create a mural,

so I did and I don't paint, but there was some pretty

impressive shit I was spraying.

- What was Mom doing?

- I tell you what I can remember later.

- Don't do drugs.

(chuckles)

I painted an amusement park.

Rides, cotton candy vendors, side shows, freak shows.

One side of the park was day, the other was night.

And then she, this girl, walked out of one of the

men's room stalls, she was 16.

It didn't seem odd to me that this young woman was

relieving herself in an otherwise empty man's room.

- Maybe it wasn't actually otherwise empty.

- Maybe it wasn't.

But she began conversing with me as if she'd been

watching me all along.

I described my park to her, the people and the families

in the park but all she could see in my painting were

sexual things.

She was probably high off her ass, not on LSD.

She made me cry.

She brought me to tears because she couldn't see

what I was seeing in my painting.

She said if we had sex, maybe I could understand

what she was seeing.

And suddenly I imagined it was the end of the world.

And I thought of all the things I might do

if I knew the world was coming to an end.

And so, I had sex with her.

Afterwards, she left the room, and I continued to

paint the floor and that's all I remember about that

night at Jones Beach.

She got pregnant, and she had an abortion.

And she posted the story of her experience,

of our experience, on Facebook.

And so here we are, this woman--

- Girl.

Girl.

(laughing) Oh my God.

Oh my God, this girl doesn't live anywhere Iris Glen,

does she?

- No.

- And where are you going?

- [Richard] I'll be right back.

- Conspiracy to commit murder and now statutory rape.

You're approval rating is sure to hit an all time high, Mom.

What is it?

- They're from my first year of dentistry,

when I shared a practice with three other young dentists.

I worked on kids almost exclusively then.

Kids were so afraid of the dentist.

But I won them over, I quelled their terror.

Almost without exception, my young patients hand wrote

thank you cards and letters to me.

Some said they were inspired to be dentists themselves

so they could grow up and teach the next generation

of kids not to be afraid of the dentist.

- Most of these are from girls.

It's creepy.

- You're trying hard to hate me.

Nevada, this is the real me.

Please hold onto them for me.

- Who's gonna tell Jude?

- I already did, I Skyped with your sister this morning.

Well actually middle of the night, our time.

I wanted to get her before she went to work.

- [Nevada] What did she say?

- Our call was interrupted.

She got a text that a young boy had just been shot

and she was needed some place, some place dangerous.

- There are so many things that I wanted to do with you.

- Put 'em on a list.

Bury 'em in a time capsule.

We'll dig 'em up together.

- There you go again, charming the pants off me.

What a waste.

You could have been a great dad.

- Right now, tell me one of the things you

wanted to do with me.

- [Nevada] No.

- Nevada.

It'll get me through.

Why not?

- Because I don't want to get my hopes up.

Just in case I hate you as much when you get out of prison

as I do now.

How's that for a going away gift?

(computer keys clicking)

(tennis ball smacking)

What?

- I'm really sorry but I've gotta say this.

You have the greatest legs I have ever seen.

It even looked like you were moving in slow motion.

- I was in slow motion.

- I've been watching you for a week, or so.

- A week or so, huh?

See that guy over there.

- [Otto] Yeah, who is he?

- He's been watching me for over four years.

So, you're not so special.

- I am special.

What's he doing to the kid?

- He's feeding the kid.

Kid's name is Brett.

I'm babysitting the kid.

I gotta make a living too, ya know.

I don't know what the guy's name is.

You like tennis?

- You don't know anything about that guy?

- It's okay.

He's my ball boy.

I love the attention, it's flattering.

Makes me feel like I'm gonna live forever.

I change the diapers.

- Who's?

You like getting attention from that guy?

- Wouldn't you rather know if I don't mind

getting your attention?

I know you've been watching me for ever.

You're really not so different, eh?

- My name's Otto.

- Otto what?

- Otto Breyer.

- Nevada.

- Nevada what?

- Smith, you're leering at me.

- I beg to differ.

- I'm tough.

- I'm tough.

- Really?

If I let you punch me in the stomach,

will you let me punch you in the stomach?

- I am not--

(grunts)

(heavy breathing)

(coughing)

(grunts)

(coughing)

(groaning)

(coughing)

(heavy breathing)

(laughing)

- [Nevada] I didn't think you'd do it.

(heavy breathing)

Come on, I gotta get the baby.

How are you doing, beautiful?

- [Otto] I've read Bukowski's Women, loved it.

Danced at the Viper Club in West Hollywood.

Didn't live up to the hype.

I adore sentimental education.

- Do you ever work?

- I do very well, I am Executive VP of Business Development

for a company called Think Already.

No exclamation point.

- Business development?

You develop businesses?

Like developing photos?

- People don't really develop photos anymore.

- Do you every worry that people won't develop

businesses anymore either?

Okay, what businesses?

- Hybrid businesses, wondrous businesses,

destination sites, and that's hard these days,

thanks to Mr. Bezos, but I'm good at it.

For example, we all know most women love to try on shoes.

And most women get pregnant at one time or another

and have to expand so to speak, their wardrobe,

so I came up with the barefoot and pregnant chain.

- Clever.

But it sounds like a one hit wonder.

What else?

- I'm just getting started, Nevada Smith.

Everyone loves ice cream.

And, everybody has to die.

There's a franchise in New Hampshire and Maine

called Heaven and Hell, that one's mine, too.

- Is ice cream the heaven or hell part?

- [Otto] It's also a crematorium.

It's a ice cream-atorium.

- That chain is successful?

- We had to throw in a bar for good measure.

It's doing good.

It's coming along.

- No offense, but it sounds a tad easy.

Your job.

- You think?

Always up for some competition, huh?

Okay, knock yourself out, any ideas?

- Okay.

Everyone's online these days.

And...

Nuts are very good for you.

Inter-nuts.

Snacks.

Aw, I like your ideas.

I did.

I liked your ideas.

You wanna know something embarrassing about me?

I have a paralyzing fear of the sight of blood.

My father was so disappointed I wouldn't follow

in his footsteps.

He's a dentist.

My sister, she's the (mumbles) of our family.

She is a pediatrician.

So she's a saint to both of my parents.

I pass out when I see a kid with a bloody nose.

- You and your sister get along okay?

- She's my hero, too.

She's in the Ukraine, Doctors Without Borders.

So I only see her when we Skype.

I had another sister, but she died of cancer when she was

a baby, she was only three.

- What about bloody movies?

- Oh, you don't wanna know.

- [Otto] What about your period?

- Ah, you wanna know?

I keep a big month calendar in my bedroom to remind me.

To be fully prepared.

My friends, my friends do it online,

and what if their computer crashed?

It's chilling, I don't leave anything up for chance.

So that's why I'm also on the pill.

- Wow.

- Are you glad to hear I'm on the pill, Otto Breyer?

- [Otto] Ecstatic.

- Do you like to play tennis?

- You mean a game where you hit something

and it doesn't hit you back?

- I gotta be honest, your name is really dumb.

- My dad was an English Lit professor

and thought it would be noble or funny anyway

to come up with palindrome for my name.

- Thank God you don't have any siblings.

What do you mean was an English Lit professor?

Is he retired?

- He died, six years ago.

Pancreatic cancer.

- I'm really sorry.

- I'm really pissed.

I did want to follow in his footsteps,

be a teacher, but I...

My grades plummeted when he got sick,

so I had to find a job that didn't require

an advanced degree, or a...

A degree.

- You can still follow in his footsteps.

- He was a Mensa.

Tough act to follow.

- So is my dad.

He's embarrassed by it.

Did he suffer much?

- Why do people ask that question?

Why should you care, really?

When did that become (speaking in foreign language)?

Do you know the meaning of (speaking in foreign language)?

Did it make you feel like a better person to ask me that?

- Did he suffer much?

- Yes.

What does your mom do?

- Housewife.

I own an house in Ireland, in County Clare.

About 100,000 people live there.

It was my grandfather's.

- Do you have a picture of it?

- I've never seen it.

- Why?

- I'm afraid I'd fall in love with it.

That it would be like looking at something

out of a fairy tale, like out of a storybook.

That's not real life.

- (mumbles) my ass.

Come over to my house tomorrow.

- [Male Reporter] Miss Smith?

I'm a reporter with the Times, I'd like to schedule

and interview with you.

- [Harper] Ah, didn't you used to write for Rolling Stone?

- [Male Reporter] You're a rock star.

Mrs. Smith goes to Washington.

- [Harper] Oh you're good.

- [Male Reporter] Medical Center, nothing wrong with you,

is there?

- [Harper] Well, I'm having my annual physical.

You wanna come with me?

- [Male Reporter] No, I saw that in a movie once.

Never ends well.

- [Harper] Gimme your card.

I'll give you something.

Soon.

- [Male Reporter] Thank you.

Really.

- 17,621.

That's the population of Iris Glen.

Our unemployment rate is 0.4%.

Impossibly low?

No, coincidence?

Providence?

No, 17,621.

Eight billionaires.

121 millionaires, and they all signed my petition.

And one of the top ten constitutional attorneys

in the United States calls Iris Glen her home.

When my daughter, Nevada and I accompanied my husband

to a dental convention in 2000 in Washington DC,

my world was rocked.

We visited quite a few historical monuments.

But what took my breath away, was when we took in

the National Archives.

This is where the original Declaration of Independence

and Bill of Rights holds sway.

Every elected official should be compelled by law

to make a pilgrimage to the National Archives

once a week (laughing) at a bear minimum.

As a reminder, as a reminder.

Parchment that changed the world.

(applause)

So here's what I proposed to do.

My first act as Mayor will be to impose term limits.

A mayor may only serve one six year term.

And the very first victim of term limits will be me.

In six years I'm through.

I have lofty goals to put it mildly.

But six years is plenty of time to achieve most of them.

Or to fail, six years is plenty of time to rise to

a challenge, not dilly dally campaigning for re-election.

Next, in a recent poll it was determined that 82%

of the adult population of Iris Glen do not smoke.

Disposal of cigarette butts.

It's littering, it's disgusting and you're going to

jail for 72 hours.

(applause)

(hollering)

Oh right on 18 percenter because I'm gonna get it passed.

(laughing)

And you'll also perform 70 hours of community service

picking up, sweeping up, spearing trash, including

cigarette butts after your incarceration.

Expectorating in public.

(audience murmuring)

Why are baseball players always spitting?

What is it exactly that they're spitting?

And why can't they simply swallow?

(laughing)

70 hours in jail.

(laughing)

(applause)

Immigration.

Oh, that shut ya up, didn't it?

(laughing)

(moaning) (breathing heavily)

- You don't have to wait when you're this excited.

Just pull your pants down and fuck me.

Oh ye whose dead lie buried beneath the green grass,

who standing among flowers can say, "Here,

"here lies my beloved."

Ye not know the desolation that broods in bosoms like these.

What bitter blanks than those black-bordered marbles

which cover no ashes.

What despair in those immovable inscriptions.

What deadly voids and unbidden infidelities

in the lines that seem to gnaw upon all faith

and refuse resurrections to the beings who have been

placed without a grave.

As well might those tablets stand in the cave of

Elephanta is here.

- [Otto] So, you're telling me I should ignore the fact

that your neighbor is looking at my Johnson?

- Baby I'm reading Melville.

- What's his deal, Nevada?

- I don't know, he represents the sum total of

Iris Glen's unemployment rate.

He won a wheelbarrow full of lottery money,

so he doesn't have a job.

He's our talisman.

Our protector.

My mom says she's actually glad he's there so she

can keep an eye on him.

- Have you ever met him?

- None of us have.

Maybe my baby sister once.

- Why do you say that?

- Sixth sense.

My dad's in prison, please don't look up what he did.

- I know he's in prison.

And why, and I know who your mom is.

I'm really crowding you, huh?

- Promise me you won't tell anyone?

Your friends, your family?

Who I am?

Who my mother is?

- [Darlene] So how are you gonna introduce me to Otto

when he gets here?

- [Nevada] How about Otto, meet my best friend, Darlene.

Who was once my babysitter and who cruelly left

my beautiful baby godson home today with his grandmother.

I love that kid.

- You're so mean.

I'm so jealous of older couples who are so openly

affectionate with one another.

So clearly, spectacularly in love.

- You think that's because they're getting older

or because you're presently single?

- I have to lower my standards.

I have to stop being superficial.

I would never date someone named Otto, for example.

(laughing)

I can't wait to get older so I can do things like that

and people, young people like me jealous.

Does Otto have any discernible flaws?

- He doesn't know how to say guacamole.

He pronounces it guaca-mole.

I think he thinks that's how it's actually pronounced.

- Uh-huh, correct him.

- I think it's adorable.

He's a great lover, see how I just cut to the chase there?

We're both creatures of habit.

We only eat baked salmon for lunch.

We only drink kale and fruit smoothies.

- Only?

- Neither of us particularly like to eat dinner.

- That's crazy, aren't you hungry when you wake up

in the morning?

- Yeah, I eat breakfast.

We both eat big breakfasts.

We both like taking walks through Times Square, five AM.

Between five and six in the morning,

we own that town.

- [Darlene] Does Harper like him?

- He punched me in the stomach.

- That only means you punched him in the stomach first.

You have become so predictable.

Does Harper like him?

- I don't even know she likes you, babe.

Since I met Otto, I've been obsessing

about palindromic names.

Anna, Ava, Anna.

(laughing)

- Good.

- He says the oddest things.

Once he asked me if I thought there was a finite

number of songs that could be written,

since there are only so many musical notes.

- [Darlene] Are there, only so many?

- It made me wonder if that was true with people, too.

Only a finite number of people allowed.

- Huh?

Maybe he thinks he's just another transitional

relationship to you.

Like a snowflake that'll dissolve the moment

you turn your face away from his.

- That's horrible.

Anyway, you just answered the question.

Every snowflake is different.

So is every song.

So is every person.

- I still daydream, radiant daydreams.

I love your mom for that.

You never stop dreaming no matter how old you become.

There's still so much I want to do.

The trouble is, with each passing year with each

new kid, I become frustrated so the only thing I do

about my dreams is contract new ones.

How did you become a babysitter?

Or why did you become a babysitter?

- That might be the oddest segway I've ever heard.

- Oh, nothing if not odd, just ask my kids.

- Hey.

- Hi.

Darlene, this is Otto, my boyfriend.

- Hi.

- Hi.

- No Otto jokes?

Nice to meet you.

- Nice to meet you, too.

- Oh, honey, about tomorrow.

I'm going to visit my Grandma, Julianne.

- Oh hey, how did her Seder go?

- Your grandmother is Jewish?

- Honorary Jewish.

What can I say, she craves Gefilte fish.

She's the traditional sort of gal.

Her best friend growing up was Jewish,

so when the friend went to live in Israel

on a Kibbutz, so did Grandma.

That inculcated the concept of paradigms in Grandma.

I'm certain that's how it took root in my mom.

My mom was actually born in Israel.

In Haifa, technically she's Israeli.

I don't know how she keeps it a secret.

Grandma even enlisted in the Israeli army.

Her best friend, it was compulsory for her best friend.

And they were inseparable.

Inseparable.

- But she's not Jewish?

- The Army stent is when she took up archery.

She was so good she was recruited to train with

the Israeli Olympic archery team.

But uh, she was retrieving her arrows one day

on the range and one of her eyes, she was blinded

in a freak accident.

Her cornea was sliced open by the

fletching of someone else's arrow.

In the end I guess she was lucky.

But now even still, she goes to the range once a week,

every week.

She's not intimidated by anything.

Stubborn fake Jew.

(dog barking)

My family's nuts.

- You're insane.

Harper, you have breast cancer, aggressive breast cancer.

That's debilitating enough, but you're also opting

for a double mastectomy.

Take a break.

- No, I need you to help me draft the constitution

and I need you to spearhead the flat tax section.

You can work with George on that.

- What's the final number?

- [Harper] 46.2%.

- [Lou] Margin of error?

- .2%.

- I can sell that.

(chuckles) What am I saying?

- [Harper] How soon can you meet with George?

- Harper,

after I remove your breasts.

- I've got four more years to get so much done.

Realistically, am I being realistic?

Lou?

- A year ago you were fairly adamant about not taking

the time off from work for a second surgery if you

needed a mastectomy, what happened?

That's coffee.

- The ice cube's water.

- I'll get you a hand towel.

- No.

(gentle music)

(chuckling)

- I'm very nervous.

- About what?

- It's kind of nice and kinda of weird that neither of us

have names that can be shortened into nicknames.

Have you told anyone about me?

About my mom?

- [Otto] No, but I really want to (chuckling).

- I knew I could trust you.

I've always said that the fastest way to spread gossip

is just swear your best friend to secrecy.

Okay.

You want to hear an epic story?

- Who wouldn't?

- You can't unhear it once I tell it.

And you're going to want to break up with me

once I tell you,

but it's a pretty epic story.

- [Harper] Nevada?

- In here, Mom.

- Why are you reading in here honey?

- The bulb in my room blew and I don't like reading

downstairs next to the scary TV.

When my sister was born, I would spy on my mother

while she watched her sleeping.

I've never seen that singular look of love

on anyone's face since.

So pure, so intense.

- [Otto] Were you jealous?

- Sure.

That's some smile, Mom.

- I'm going to Washington, honey.

Friday, I finally got a meeting with one of the supremes.

Ah, it's starting.

- That's amazing.

I love that smile, Mom, I thought you retired that smile

when Uncle Calvin died.

- Oh honey, when you love someone so much,

you should always be smiling like this.

I remember exactly when it was that I first started

loving Uncle Calvin so much that I couldn't stop

smiling like this.

I was 17.

I had a best girlfriend.

She was a rebel.

I idolized her.

Ah, she was a great dancer.

She knew how to buy the coolest clothes from the vintage

shops and she knew where they all were everywhere.

Like the people who know where all the best antique

stores are.

She got straight A's and she never did her homework.

She wouldn't wear a bra.

- Bet she wears one now.

- Oh shush up.

I owned my own car.

I bought it with my own money, too.

So, after graduation from high school,

she decided that we should drive to a music festival

in Austin, Texas together on holiday, just the two of us.

There was nothing she could suggest that I wouldn't do.

So we decided to drive through Salt Lake City

so we could see the great Salt Lake, and that's where

she met this guy, this Mormon guy.

She ditched me for him.

Well, defiantly I decided to drive on to Austin alone.

I got just outside of Grand Junction, Colorado

and my car overheated.

And I freaked out because I knew nothing about cars.

So without thinking I did a u-turn, drove back to

Grand Junction, checked into a Holiday Inn,

at noon I bought a six pack of beer with my phony ID.

I bought a six pack of beer, I brought it back to my room

and had a nervous breakdown.

I never cried so hard, so long in my life.

I fell completely apart.

And so I did the only thing I could do.

I called Grandma, but she wasn't home.

Only Calvin was home.

Remember, he lived in Argentina.

Worked for (speaking in foreign language).

You even wrote that story, fiction,

about him being a Nazi in exile.

He played along with his great niece.

Providing you with elaborate fake details.

And he had that adorable fake accent.

Anyway, he just arrived in New York,

and he made it to the phone just in time,

a split second before I was going to hang up

and slit my wrists.

While I couldn't stop crying, but I got my whole story out

and ended by telling him that I was

moving to Grand Junction for the rest of my life

because my car didn't work and I couldn't face

coming home a loser.

He talked me off the ledge and he told me to get a

good night's sleep.

So I ate a chocolate bar, and some cashews

and right around the time I got through with my second

beer the phone rang in Grand Junction.

I almost didn't answer it.

I didn't know a soul outside of Iris Glen.

It was a young priest from a local parish,

Calvin found him and asked if he would call me.

He said that I needed a pep talk from a third party

I could trust.

And that young priest knew his shit.

He gave faith to the faithless.

That was me, faithless.

It gave me all the courage I needed to drive home.

And that's the first time I fell in love with Uncle Calvin.

- Wanna break up?

I'm the middle daughter.

My big sister is going to win a Nobel Prize for

medicine some day,

and my baby sister, wow, she'll always be a super star.

And my father's dead to me.

- And to your mom.

- If you want me to stop I will.

- You're cheating on me.

How can I be jealous of your mother?

What kind of threat?

Never mind.

I'm in love with you.

- You'll still make love to me?

- Yes.

- It wasn't a question.

I love you so much.

There is something else.

My mother has breast cancer.

She's having a double mastectomy on Saturday,

and after that she's having breast reconstruction.

And then she's going to change the world.

- Immigration.

Oh, that shut you up, didn't it?

(laughing)

I'll get back to immigration later.

We're gonna raise taxes, or they're going through

the roof and we're also switching to a flat income tax,

and sales taxes will be raised.

But there's an upside.

Healthcare will be free.

(applause)

Now we don't have a four year school within our city

limits, but any child who wants an associate's degree

from IGCC will be admitted tuition free.

(applause)

And we'll create a scholarship fun for transfers

to four year schools.

Four months of paid maternity leave will be guaranteed.

And serious consideration will be given to some amount

of paternity leave, as well.

I want all drugs decriminalized,

legislated and heavily taxed.

Taxes raised from the legal sale of drugs will be

plowed into addiction therapy and mental health needs.

I have to determine how to handle the traffic

nightmare that will occur as a result.

(laughing)

But we'll figure it out.

(laughing)

Probably restrict the hours of vending drugs,

maybe the days, too.

The penalty for rape will be life in prison.

Without parole.

(applause)

There are six cemeteries and two golf courses

within our city limits.

They sit on some of our most fertile land

and reside on tracks of Iris Glen that could otherwise

be allocated for six thousand living, breathing

productive citizens, sorry sports fans.

But cemeteries and golf courses make no logical sense

to me, and I'm going to look into closing our local

post office and building a fourth hospital.

We desperately need a new hospital.

School pledges of allegiance will bite the dust.

As will swearing on a Bible in a court of law.

These are both fascist, controlling practices,

antithetical to free speech, and freedom of thought.

And freedom of religion and freedom from religion.

(applause)

Oh that's right, immigration.

Everyone is going to want to live here once all of this

and so much more is accomplished.

If you want to make Iris Glen your new home,

you'll have to deposit $400,000 into a local bank

and leave it there untouched for no less than five years.

We are not creating a welfare state.

(applause)

We don't want nor do we need federal assistance.

No federal roads or highways currently

run through Iris Glen.

I had a lot of time to look ahead in prison,

to consider the direction humanity is headed.

Global warming may not ebb, despite mankind's best efforts.

If left unchecked, the world's population will double

within 20 years.

Our food supply is drying up.

Our water supply is drying up.

And so is our energy.

Cyber terrorist will become endemic.

My friends,

Iris Glen is going to secede from the

United States of America.

(applause)

(knocking)

- Door's open.

Where were you?

You're late.

You said you'd be back by four.

- Stuff for Nova, and for your mom.

- Aw, you're cute.

- Mom's gonna love your eyeball's out for that.

What about bagels?

- Everything bagels, spinach, kale, coconut water,

banana, mango smoothies.

- I'm gonna love you for that.

(breathing heavy)

Going down on you makes me feel sad sometimes.

Your penis is so pretty but I can't see it

or watch it when I'm going down on you.

But I know how good it makes you feel.

- You can open your eyes.

- [Nevada] I'm myopic.

When I'm that close it's out of focus,

and it isn't beautiful anymore.

I love that you let me kiss you on the lips when

I'm doing this.

- [Otto] Are you kidding me?

Your lips taste like raspberry yogurt after

I cum in your mouth.

- That's disgusting.

(lips slurping)

(laughing)

I'm thinking of cutting my hair short.

- Why?

Jesus Christ, why?

Because you no longer feel it's necessary to look

attractive to men?

You just don't want to attract men at all anymore?

Because that's one sure way not to.

Because some married movie star did it for her husband.

Maybe your hairdresser suggested it.

Or maybe just because it's summer.

Old women cut their hair short.

Oops, there it goes.

There goes your sex appeal.

You've got a boyfriend now, it's time for a haircut.

What a cliche, you're daring me to say no don't cut it.

Is it a test?

A loyalty test?

Okay, no, don't cut it.

Ah.

- Are you done?

(breathing heavily)

- How old were you when you learned how to do this?

- One terrible day.

I was 20, and the guy said I did it so well

that he took me to a bar afterwards to celebrate

and they wouldn't serve me because I was under age.

So he dumped me out of embarrassment.

Such a piece of human garbage.

- I never feel like a grown up when I'm having sex.

I always feel like a little kid who's

getting away with something.

Like shoplifting.

(laughing)

- Thank you.

My last babysitter was the one who taught me how to

give blow jobs.

- You were sexually abused?

- My babysitter was a girl.

She brought her boyfriend over and had me watch.

Still think it's sexual abuse?

- Well, yes.

- And how's that working out for you?

(door slamming)

Sorry.

- For hitting me or for threatening to cut your hair?

- For leaving you like this.

Just change the sheets when you have a second.

- Why?

- I noticed the famous skid mark when I undressed you.

Maybe you farted, I don't know.

I love you.

- I want you to do me a favor.

I need you to speak to that lunatic across the street.

About a reporter, who's stalking me.

- That lunatic across the street probably hasn't

left his house since we moved in here.

- Exactly, it could scare the shit out of anyone.

You know what, forget it.

I don't need his pity either.

(door creaking)

(baby babbling)

- So you wanna break up?

- [Darlene] What?

- Nothing, that's what I asked Otto after I told him.

- [Darlene] Oh, so you're still seeing him?

- Yes.

- Okay.

- Darlene, at the library,

I went online and scoured the web.

Looking for a single instance of a positive

or enduring sexual relationship between a mother

and her daughter.

I couldn't find one.

Not a legitimate one,

not some porn fantasy, not a Greek tragedy,

and I looked for hours.

I actually fell asleep at the computer.

I woke up the next morning,

and the librarian just left me there sleeping.

Said he didn't want to wake me.

Made me coffee the next morning when he arrived.

- How guilty do you feel?

- I feel right.

- You don't feel ashamed of your mom?

A lot of people think she's a kook, you know?

- They do.

I'm afraid that she's ashamed of me.

- I think if you had told me what you were doing

when I was your age, I would have flipped out.

I would have stopped talking to you.

I would have turned you in.

Is it even against the law?

- No.

- [Darlene] I hate you for telling me.

- She's alone now.

I'm all she has left.

The first time it happened,

for the first time I completely understood

how my dad must have felt.

Wait, letting your imagination run away with you

can be a good thing.

It is a good thing, and the sex is great.

There, I said it, out loud.

And my mom's hot.

And she's a role model, and she's under so much pressure.

And she tries to help so many people.

And she's a survivor.

And one of her kids died in her arms, in her arms.

And if I can do anything to make her feel good,

physically or any other way, as her daughter

I have a responsibility to do that.

Thank you, Darlene.

(laughing)

Are you on drugs?

- Yes, and (mumbles) a huge handful of them.

They're in a cellophane pouch in my rectum.

- Oh, I don't believe you.

- Go ahead you can check for yourself.

(laughing)

- You know I will.

Mom, are you okay?

- I'm okay.

- Remember when I was a little girl?

Remember what you used to tell me when I got sick?

That getting sick is nature's way of making us stronger

and prettier and smarter.

You're already prettier.

Shh.

- [Dr. Ellis] Hello, Harper, sorry to keep you waiting.

- [Harper] No worries, Dr. Ellis.

I called to ask for a prescription for me.

For Valium, I'm out.

- [Dr. Ellis] No.

- [Harper] No, why?

- [Dr. Ellis] Harper, you've used hallucinogenic drugs

in the past five years and I don't live in Iris Glen.

I'll see you on Saturday, Harper.

(shower water splashing)

- Mom, stop staring at my tits you're embarrassing me.

- Oh, I'm embarrassing you?

Don't call them that.

- Oh is that a new law, too?

What's going on?

(hand slapping on skin)

- I gave you my tits!

I gave you my cunt!

I gave you my heart!

And now you're my ideal.

- Mom I know that you're--

- No you don't!

No you don't!

(shower water splashing)

- Why don't you just speak about it that's the only way you

know how to communicate with people any more.

(sobbing)

- We only have an 80 gallon hot water heater ya know.

- [Dr. Ellis] You were telling me about turbulence.

- Well, it was surreal.

Significant turbulence.

You know the kind when the pilot makes that

sudden scary stern announcement, flight attendants

take your seats.

An entire plane full of passengers all exhibiting

uncontrollable laughter.

A dog, a dog on the plane got sick.

Took a dump in the aisle.

The sight of which made a handful of passengers puke.

They had to turn the plane around.

Military jets were scrambled, I think because someone

shouted something out as a joke that was construed

as threatening, but that didn't for a moment

subdue the insane laughter.

That was the only time I thought I was crazy

to do what I'm doing, politically.

To try to change the world.

For the better.

I'm growing more accustomed to my new breasts.

I can touch them now without getting an inexplicably

sick feeling in my gut.

I've named them, my breasts.

(laughing)

Did I mention Nevada's dating a guy named Otto?

Otto.

Unbelievable.

- You really have a lot of pubic hair.

Do you ever shave it?

- Can't, it's one of the town's new regulations.

- Oh?

- I'm just fuckin' with you.

Does it bother you?

You want me to shave down there so you can fantasize

you're fucking a 10 year old girl?

- You're not gonna hit me again are you?

- I want to introduce you to my Grandma one of these days.

I'm gonna meet her at the archery range on Thursday.

I think she's lonely.

- She doesn't have a boyfriend?

- I wish.

She's single for life.

She did meet a guy on this dating site once,

he told her that he started crying at 60

and hadn't stopped since.

He was trying to impress her or something

with how sensitive he was or some such thing.

- Isn't Nevada Smith the name of a movie?

- A year.

It took you a full year to ask me that.

I knew you knowed that.

Yes, it is, but no, that's not it at all.

I was born on my mother's 35 birthday.

And Nevada is the 35th state.

She's patriotic like that.

- Your mom was only 22 when you were born.

- Man, I can't get anything past you.

Oh, good one.

- 'Kay, you watching?

Keep your eyes open.

Some of the archers around here rank amateurs.

- Keep your eyes open?

Is that a joke?

- You're so cute.

Here, like this.

Tight, tight.

I'm starting to worry about your old Grandma.

She's been going into the city regularly

and hopping on Chinatown buses headed for Atlantic City.

- Why are you doing that?

- I'll tell you, being a passenger on one of those

buses is more dangerous than one eye to archery.

A few months ago, I woke up, I couldn't sleep.

I watched Casablanca and I got all caught up

in the elicit gambling.

- Bogart turns you on, huh?

- I was more of a Claude Rains gal.

What are you reading these days?

- How do you know I have a book with me?

The Secret Life of a Lonely Doll.

And Robert Caro's second Johnson Biography.

I can't poop without taking a book in there with me.

I'm like a little boy being toilet trained.

Mom seldom leaves the house anymore.

- Seems like just yesterday we couldn't get her

out of the library.

You're worried about her, aren't you?

You know, honey,

when I was in high school 100 years ago,

my best male friend was a member of the varsity tennis team.

He was the friendliest guy in the world

and he had lofty, spunky dreams, too.

But the pressure took a toll.

He became an alcoholic.

He developed psorosis, his stomach became distended.

His hair turned white, it seemed like overnight.

He became a hermit.

It was his vanity, not his illness that singed his dreams.

- Did you ever tell mom about that?

- Did you ever tell your boyfriend that your

grandmother was famous?

- Why because your father was one of

Hitler's 100 bodyguards?

- Fame is fame.

Before Andy Warhol made everybody famous,

there was Adolf Hitler.

- I would never tell him that.

- You're afraid he would spook easily, huh?

Fear runs in your family, (mumbles).

I used to be afraid of being pierced by an arrow.

Your mother is still afraid of failure.

You can't stand the sight of blood.

Yet here I am, your mother's a local legend.

And every month you still menstruate.

Your father's fearless.

That's why he's a good doctor.

That's why he's a good man.

Even now.

- I told Otto.

- Otto?

- I know, but it grows on you.

I told him how you love archery

and how you lost your eye.

- Oh, I wish you hadn't done that.

- I'm sorry, Grandma.

Why?

- Listen, honey, okay.

When I, I was boy crazy when I was in the army.

I was particularly smitten with this one boy,

this one man.

He knew my whole story.

But he wouldn't go out with me.

Only with Jewises.

But I couldn't stop daydreaming about him, spying on him.

One day I was watching him across the barracks

from my window, I wasn't thinking.

My reflexes were dulled by my sexual desire.

The double hung window overhead,

suddenly dropped like a guillotine onto my head.

Instantly, I lost the sight in my eye.

That's why I'm blind in one eye.

- You lied to me Grandma.

- We each have one thing that's difficult

to own up to, right?

I was shipped home to Germany immediately,

my tail between my legs.

But it was because of my blindness that I met Grandpa.

- How did you meet Grandpa?

- He saved my life, he did.

I was rushing to the post office to mail a Dear John

letter to that same guy in Israel.

But because my peripheral vision was compromised,

and I hadn't quite adjusted to it yet,

I still can't believe it.

I ran directly into the path of a streetcar,

but the last second, a stranger shoved me out of the way.

He took me to a nearby doctor.

My arm was broken.

Afterwards he said I owed him.

When I asked him, you know what form of payment that would

take, he said my hand in marriage.

I figured he was right, I owed him, so I said yes.

How short-sighted was that?

- Was Grandpa handsome back then?

- Nah.

(laughing)

He didn't develop good looks until he turned 50.

- What a fucking story.

Why did you think it was short-sighted of you?

- Because there might have been someone better out there.

For me, someone better than Grandpa.

And I rushed into marriage just because I owed him my life.

- Grandma, shame on you.

I loved Grandpa.

I loved his candy store.

- He opened that candy store when I got pregnant

with your mother.

He thought a child would love its father that

much more if he owned a candy store.

Especially since he was so ugly and all,

and so undeserving of me.

Honey, buying love is a sin,

especially a child's love.

- Grandma, shut up right now.

You remember those promotional storybook-shaped

Life-Saver boxes that he used to give us at Christmas?

- Well, Bubbala, I'm fresh out of Life-Savers.

What's up?

I'm gonna die soon, I don't have time to waste.

- You've been using that line on me for over

10 years, it doesn't motivate me anymore.

Or scare me anymore.

Damn.

It's about me and mom.

Something's going on.

Mom stares at me, now.

Since the operation, specifically at my breasts.

I started walking around the house topless,

so it would be therapeutic for her,

but now I avoid her all together whenever possible.

I avoid both my parents.

And they're amazing people.

They're amazing parents.

It's, it's killing me.

- Weren't you always proud of your body?

Didn't she always look at your breasts?

- It was different before.

I was going through puberty then.

She's not objectifying me though.

I don't think.

I don't know what's going on, Grandma.

- What do you want me to say?

This is a catastrophe?

Losing an eye is a catastrophe.

My father always used to tell me,

don't worry so much, you'll live longer.

Old chestnut, but I think he was right.

- That guy at the barracks,

when you were ogling him,

were you looking through binoculars?

- Now wouldn't that have been ridiculous?

Nevada, I've been proud of my daughter every day

of her life, nothing's going to ever change that.

And I believe that what she's trying to do now is...

Okay, okay.

Let's go over there, to your house.

If she doesn't look at my breasts,

there's gonna be hell to pay.

(truck engine humming)

- Thank you for picking me up.

- You're welcome.

(birds chirping)

(clock ticking)

(zipper buzzing)

(clock ticking)

- Remember during our last session,

you told me that your mother didn't want to have

any more children after your sister died.

And that you decided then for the first time in your life

that you wanted to have children.

For your mother, to replace what she lost.

- So what now?

- Some people, all over the world, believe in idealism.

They have lofty goals.

Improbable ideals, they aspire to be good,

altruistic people.

- Gandhi, Mother Teresa.

- Two out of what, six, seven billion?

You have better odds playing the lottery.

For most people, they don't feel the need to set

impossible goals.

For them, shit happens.

It just happens.

- Mom anticipates calamity so well.

She just swats it away.

It's still a boat load of pressure though.

- Some people respond to pressure in extraordinary fashion.

- Ironically.

- Oh my.

You are so lovely.

(birds chirping)

- Birds.

- Beautiful birds.

They're lovely and simple to take care of.

- Simply lovely.

- Simply lovely.

I like that.

(birds chirping)

- The night Amy died, the four of us had dinner together.

The survivors.

I asked if we could go out for ice cream,

and my father asked why, and I reminded him

that the tooth fairy showed up right on time

after I lost my first tooth,

and that this was much more--

- Traumatic.

- And I said to my Mother,

don't let the tooth fairy put you to shame.

Or something like that.

- One of the first things they made me do,

after I was arrested, was surrender my passport.

My passport surrendered.

Sounds queer, doesn't it?

Your mother and I really did love each other.

There's a building in New York.

Skyscraper on Park Avenue, the MetLife Building.

It was once known as the Pan Am Building.

Pan Am was once the most famous international airline

around, it was even the airline of the future in 2001.

Did you ever see that movie?

- Was it in color?

Kidding.

- Airlines used to have their own stores, kiosks.

All over town, in every major town.

There was one on the ground floor of that building

on that skyscraper.

Their flagship store.

All of the sales people used to wear

flight attendant uniforms.

It was so romantic.

So grand.

The day I knew we were in love for certain,

your mother and I, was the day we received

our first passports.

What pride we felt being citizens of the world.

We practically sprinted to that airline ticket office

to buy tickets to Paris.

Our first overseas trip.

- Maybe you didn't love mom, maybe you just loved 2001

and Pan Am.

- Maybe yes, maybe no.

- The night Amy died I was at a friend's house,

on a play date.

And the phone rang and she answered the phone,

and listened,

and then my friend said she died.

For a few moments, I was shaking so hard

it felt like forever.

I thought that she was mom,

and it was all my little sister's fault that mom died.

And I was so relieved to find out that it wasn't mom.

But I loved Amy.

I loved my sister.

Hating yourself takes so much energy.

- [Doctor] What was prison like for you?

- What?

- Your father being in prison.

What was that experience like for you?

- Like nothing.

Like taking a shower.

Something you do every day without thinking about it

or remembering it later.

Wait, once one day,

I thought about when my parents went on a six week vacation.

I thought about how happy I would be

when my father came home.

I became more excited, almost giddy, every day leading

up to his return.

- [Doctor] Did you feel equally giddy about the prospect

of seeing him again?

- [Nevada] No.

- [Doctor] Why?

- Because I suppose this time I knew he'd be back.

I spent hours, days,

weeks of my life in slow motion bashing a tennis ball

against a wall.

I wanted to be the best at everything.

- Everybody does, honey.

- Yeah, but everybody settles.

My mom doesn't settle.

(laughing)

- [Judith] What's wrong with the name Otto?

- I love him, but really.

- [Judith] My first boyfriend at sleep away camp,

you probably don't remember this,

but his name was Buck.

Everyone made fun of him for his name,

but I told him that it sounded like a superhero

in a comic book.

So, he decided he'd actually write a superhero named Buck

at camp, and he made me a character in it.

I thought my heart was gonna pound right out of my chest.

- What was your character's name?

- Judith.

(laughing)

We made out, he was my first make out session.

And these older kids beat him up one day.

Not too bad, just cuts and scratches, bruised ego.

And I nursed him back to health.

We played doctor.

But you know, real doctor.

You have the best name.

I was always so jealous of your name.

- Judith,

Nevada and Amy.

- It's getting really cold here.

I went to this flea market last week,

you know what I bought?

This Boston Red Sox jacket.

- Oh, cool beans.

Dad once told me that everyone's life has at least

one good movie in it.

Not mine.

Good movie is one that you can identify with.

I don't think anybody can identify with mine.

And I can't figure out if that's a good thing

or bad thing.

- Hmm, making a movie about one's life is like

living in the past.

You've always lived in the present,

that's where your fun is.

- I like to live in the future.

It's so endlessly curious, and,

most people don't want to rush time.

Me, I can't wait.

Jude, you know what I realized?

- What, Nevada?

- Since you were born October 10th,

you were probably the product of a drug fueled,

drunken, New Year's Eve orgy.

- [Judith] Oh God.

- Do the math.

'Cause first borns are usually late,

and you were Mom's first.

And you were due either September 30th or October 1st.

So Mom was late.

And you know what else?

She probably held you in a couple of extra days.

So your birthday would be 10, 10.

So it would be easier for everyone

to remember your birthday.

That's how much Mom loved you before you were even born.

Jude, I'm sorry I forgot your birthday this year.

- You always forget my birthday (chuckles).

Is Mom losing her mind?

All the surgeries, the politics?

- Grandma made me watch this German movie.

It's called Even Dwarfs Started Small.

Mom's fine.

She's fine.

I am so tired, but I love talking to you.

- Me too.

I'll stay here till you fall asleep.

- The single most painful thing about this whole debacle,

I was stripped of my license whenever I was released

I was forbidden to practice dentistry ever again,

to take care of children.

I needed to conjure up something else to do with my hands.

My head.

You miss what's most familiar to you with your sense

of touch, more than sight and sound.

Since memory takes care of everything else.

But not touch.

Most days, most nights and the weather,

you don't care about the weather anymore.

It's remarkable, the attention, worry, life planning,

we're all guilty of it, in anticipation of certain

kinds of weather.

Weather should not dictate what we do on a quotidian basis.

It's a grotesque waste of life.

They wouldn't even let me practice dentistry in prison

because I'd been stripped of my license.

So I needed a plan.

I hadn't read all of the classic books when I was

in school, and had all the time in the world to read them.

What did I do with all that time?

Do we all take time for granted?

For a few days I began to think of prison

as a gift, rationalization number one.

So I read books a lot, and I worked out a lot.

But the books just fired up my imagination.

And the workouts kicked up pheromones

and all that did was ignite my testosterone.

Most powerful, most evil drug in the world, testosterone.

The idea of sex with a man was not an option,

so I became a chronic masturbater.

So I stopped reading books and I stopped going to the gym.

But, after a few months I thought I hadn't been

rehabilitated enough, or sufficiently punished,

and those feelings deprived me of sleep.

For four days straight I didn't sleep.

On the fifth day, I masturbated someone else.

More sleep deprivation.

Is that sex?

I don't think so.

I began making deals with God if I was the bottom

for just one other inmate, then maybe he, God,

would let me sleep again.

Rationalization number two.

I began finger fucking myself during masturbation

to get inured to the pain, to the prospect of pain,

but instead it felt great.

What the fuck?

I'm an old man now so no one needed me on the inside

or wanted me on the outside.

Everyone had their own distractions.

You know I didn't see much rape.

Instead, inmates would conduct these whacking off

contests to see who could ejaculate the farthest.

Prizes included cigarettes, free tattoos,

extra conjugal visits.

Yes, the guards liked to get in on the action.

Well, I don't smoke and the needles reminded me of Nevada

and her fear of blood, and extra conjugal visits,

well, that was the first six months.

Then they made me work, they made me take a job.

I was planning to retire before all of this happened.

But now, I'm not finished.

I feel incomplete.

I will never retire now.

But I needed a new trade.

My dentistry years were over, so I learned to repair

bikes in prison.

For six months or so, I worked exclusively with the

guards and the warden, they moved around the grounds

on bikes, and then I was granted permission, I

and half a dozen other inmates, to build a bike path.

A lane to requisition bikes for the inmates.

But I would have a new skill that would allow me

to get a job, that would allow me to continue to live

in Iris Glen after I was paroled.

Bikes.

I love kids.

Nevada,

I love you.

- I'm tired.

I'm going to bed.

- Me too.

- Yeah, I'm going to bed, too.

What was it that first attracted you to Harper?

- She was the most beautiful thing I ever saw.

Isn't that what first attracted you to Nevada?

- And was that also what Harper found attractive about you?

- Are you kidding me?

No, it was my ambition.

That was the biggest turn on for her, still is, I suppose.

It wasn't the money that went with the ambition,

it was something more intangible.

More sincere.

I was the youngest paid department store Santa

in recorded history.

One December, I cut school, rode my bike to the local

mall and I saw that Santa had called in sick.

So I tracked down this woman, this very pretty woman

who worked at the mall's HR department.

And I convinced her to let me stand in.

She was much older than I was.

But I made her look good.

- And the woman who hired you?

Older, probably all of 25?

Maybe she wanted to seduce you.

- No.

I never thought of that.

That's a possibility.

No, there was no sexual tension there.

I don't know.

Maybe I missed a wonderful opportunity.

- Probably not.

Good night, Richard.

Is Harper going to give up?

- Aside from the girls,

the happiest I've ever seen Harper was the day

she threw her hat into the ring at that movie theater.

She won't quit, ever.

- Good night, Richard.

My mother,

my mother was a school crossing guard.

Everybody loved her.

That's why I wasn't bullied.

(laughing)

She signed more senior yearbooks than even the

most popular kids.

Who else can say that about their mother?

- Why didn't she have more kids of her own?

- She thought that would be selfish.

Nevada, listen.

I need to ask you a question.

I wasn't available enough for my family

when my dad got sick.

I'm not going to let that happen with my mom.

She moved to Aberdeen, Scotland after my dad died.

My folks loved this movie with Burt Lancaster

about this quirky seaside Scottish town.

She always wanted to go there.

So she did.

But now there's a little bit of dementia.

You've always told me how tough you are.

I wanna move to Scotland to be near my mom.

And I want you to come with me.

- I'd like to meet your mom.

I don't know.

Scotland's awfully close to Ireland.

- One birthday I bought her streamers for her bike.

A bag of wooden clothes pins, decals,

a box of baseball cards.

That's how I decked out, that's how I pimped out

my own bike when I was a boy.

I couldn't imagine she'd have it any other way.

Oh, wooden clothes pins.

I even painted them her favorite color.

- Purple.

- Purple.

But it was her mom who helped her apply everything

to the bike, not me.

- Can I help?

- Sure, if you're mom says it's okay.

Is it okay?

- Mom?

- [Richard] What's your name?

- Ginny.

- Ginny, why don't you go pick out your favorite

color streamers from behind the counter and I'll

show you how to put 'em on your bike?

- Okay.

- What color were the streamers?

- Uh, white.

- You were a dentist.

She's very proud of you.

- I'm not so sure.

We're a family of very high expectations.

- [Harper] Mother, would you please get off of that thing?

- Where's Otto?

- Taking stock of his life.

He'll be right back.

You have a lot of work to do, Mom.

I'd only be a distraction.

It's only two more years.

Grandma's gonna take good care of you.

- Yeah, she'll probably shoot me with an arrow.

You're not coming back.

You're in love with Otto, Otto, what a stupid name.

And, you're going to fall in love with Ireland.

If your goal is to become a seductress when you're

a middle aged lady, you couldn't have a better teacher

than Ireland.

Once you're gone, Daddy has to go, too.

- Really?

- Yeah.

You wanna tell him?

I need a buffer.

He's not it anymore.

He'll be a distraction to the cause.

For the first time my girls will all be gone.

I'm so proud of all three of you.

Oh, I finally feel like that orphan we sometimes talk about.

The next time you come to visit,

you will have duel citizenship.

That is my personal private campaign pledge to you.

- Don't get yourself sick again, Mom.

- Don't go blind with all that stupid reading of yours.

- I'm gonna miss you, Grandma.

- You too, so much.

Take care of your eyes.

(applause) (cheering)

- My friends, Iris Glen is going to secede from the

United States of America!

(applause) (cheering)

I'm making it sound a lot easier than it will be.

And in six and a half years or so,

I hope my successor will grab the baton from me

and take the lead and work at it twice as hard

as I will to close the deal.

(applause) (cheering)

So let's put on a show!

(applause) (cheering)

Let's kick start something really dramatic,

something that gets rave reviews.

A hit show that spawns road companies

and goes global!

(applause)

Texas has a balanced budget,

we have a cash surplus.

(laughing)

Vermont has a flag, well ours will be prettier

and more enduring.

If I'm elected mayor in November,

I will have 2,190 days to get the ball rolling

and to find a worthy successor who will not only

make for a smooth transition,

but someone who will put our movement over the top.

(applause) (cheering)

These are not American ideals.

These are human ideals and I will not turn my back on them.

(applause) (cheering)

- Hi Jeff.

- Hi.

- [Man] God just 10 minutes inside that pussy.

(police sirens ringing)