All language subtitles for Californication S06E05 [1080p] [x265] [pseudo]

Previously on Californication:

I have a wonderful idea.

I give you one of daddy's long,
slow tongue baths.

Hey, I want you to meet Gabriel.

You were getting sucked off
by your sponsor.

The penis is not only
a disgusting appendage...

it is also a deadly weapon.

What the fuck do you think
you're doing?

He was my best friend,
a childhood mate.

I'm sorry I was such a bitch.

God, I'm so sorry
I fucked your husband.

Do you know that fucker?

This fucker is supposed
to be in rehab right now.

- Did you sign Robbie Mac?
- Yeah, I wasn't sure if it was gonna stick.

Well, it stuck all right.
It's on Deadline.

He's no 'mo.

No, he's pretending.
He wanted to sign the Mac Attack.

There's a party in your mouth tonight,
and I'm coming.

I can't!

I'm not exactly sure how I feel about you
in general. You know, you did fire me.

- Should we assume the deal is off?
- Fuck you.

I'm going off to write something.

- You'll write something?
- I don't know what it is.

- Really? Interesting.
- Prepare to be John Woo'd.

Hey, woman. Where you going?

I have a meeting.

You want to grab some coffee?

- Well, I have a meeting.
- Well, can't you be late?

- I have a meeting.
- I don't understand.

Okay, so some people,
they have to work for a living.

- When I works, I works hard.
- Well, get to it, then.

Well, I need a muse, you know.
Where you going?

I can drive you,
and we can talk on the way.

Atticus Fetch's house.
I think you've been there.

- I have. It's all a bit blurry, though.
- I can imagine.

Hey, Why'd you blow him off?

Because I didn't want to write a fucking
Broadway musical, Karen.

The guy seems like a nutter,
and I think he might threaten my sobriety.

Says the guy with whiskey on his breath.

That was a creative lubricant,
and it's not working so well.

No, so don't do... I got to go.

So you're refusing to be my muse?
Oh, sweetie.

I'm gonna remember this when you
need something from me, all right?

- When I need something from you? Yeah.
- Should that day arrive.

I don't like you working.

You're kind of curt and brusque and,
you know, you're always on the go.

Ken. Jesus.

I didn't even see you there.
You scared the shit out of me.

Sorry, Charlie. Didn't want to scare you,
never want to scare you.

I appreciate that.

- What's going on this morning?
- Not too much.

Just another day of living the dream.

- How was the party last night?
- Well...

Guys in black leather...

smell of moist ass hair,
what's not to like?

Ken, I think I feel your penis
in the small of my back.

Think of it as a loaded gun
pointed at your head.

Do I have to?

Are you gay, Charlie?

No. No, I'm not.

And I'm sorry I lied, Ken.

But I'm a good agent.

Get up.

You're a mid-level hack, Runkle.
Check Deadline.

I don't care that you lied.

I don't care that you're not gay.

I wouldn't fuck you if I was dying
and your batch was a magic potion.

I care that you lost this agency
a major piece of business.

How'd it go, buddy boy?

I'm sitting in the dark
in my underwear, Hank.

And I'm day drinking.

Got it.

What's next for us, buddy boy?

What are your thoughts...

on a good old-fashioned
murder-suicide pact?

No, not yet.
Let's save that shit for a rainier day.

Like it's not pouring right now?

I'm a fucking failure, Hank.

I'm unemployed, divorced.

- I'm a shitty father.
- No, you're not.

Really, Hank?
You think I'm a good father?

Not especially, but you're not shitty.

You are sometimes,
but we're all shitty sometimes.

"Cat's in the Cradle" and whatnot.

Do you have any idea how
expensive this place is, Hank?

The rent is insane.

- Why are you living beyond your means?
- It's the only way I know how.

My ex-wife went off and married
a big-time movie producer.

So I went out
and rented a Malibu pussy pad.

God, if these walls could talk.

They'd tell you to put your clothes
back on, you depraved simian.

Depraved or not, I'm living
paycheck to paycheck, Hank.

And there are no more paychecks!

What am I gonna do?

I've got an idea.

It's not a particularly good one.
I'm sure I'm gonna suffer as a result.

But it's something that could benefit
the both of us, you mostly, though.

Do I have to be gay again?

- But you passed, Hank.
- Yes, I know.

- But I was not a well woman at the time.
- Not only did you pass...

- ...you puked all over his piano.
- Yes.

And his cocaine.
No, it is uncool, dude.

Yes, but we've made up since.
You know, we've broken bread.

We've shared women and cocaine.

- I think he likes me again.
- Come on, Stu. Help us out here.

Look, fellas, as a producer,
there's only so much I can do.

The talent is driving the train
on this one.

But I will put in a call.

- Thank you.
- In the meantime...

- ...there's something you got to do for me.
- Anything.

You have got to convince Marcy
to sit down with me.

I have got to plead my case.

My business is going
to shit without her.

I can't do that, Stu.

She won't listen to me.

Smurf y tits, it's Hankness.

Yeah, you got to do me a favor.

You got to sit down with Stu.

I know he's a lying, cheating scumbag.
But he misses you something fierce.

Yeah, he misses that sweet
little blue pussy...

and that tight little raisin
of a cornhole.

All you got to do is sit down with him.
He won't munch your box, I promise.

- Scout's honor.
- He won't munch your box.

No, I won't.
It's just she tastes so fucking good.

- If you say so.
- Hold on a second.

- I never was the pussy-eater you were.
- You should have thought about it.

Compensate for your shitty hang time
and your serious lack of inches.

- Jesus, fuck you, Stu.
- Sorry, just keeping it real.

Will you shut the fuck up,
both of you?

Yeah? So you'll do it?

Oh, she'll do it.

Later, female ejaculator.

Fuck you.

Now, when you say "fuck you,"
what do you mean exactly?

I mean just that, fuck you.
And fuck him.

That arrogant motherfucker
was face-to-face...

with rock royalty
and he fucking blew it.

- I really thought we mended fences.
- We did. We have.

I like you. I'm a fan. But I can't collaborate
with you if you're not a fan of mine.

- Why not?
- Because it's not natural.

If I work with you, there will
always be this voice in my head:

"He's not a fan.
He thinks you suck. Maybe you do suck."

- Who wants to live like that?
- "What are you? Tone deaf?"

- Like that? What?
- Hank.

You are a fan, aren't you?

Yeah. Yeah, you know what?
I did what you asked me to do.

You said listen to your early stuff.

- That's what I did. I did, yeah.
- Really?

- Which record?
- Which record?

- Which record?
- Which record?

It was so good. It was...

Go Fetch.

- You don't sound very sure of yourself.
- No. I mean, that was... You know what?

That was really solid shit right there.
I really, really enjoyed it.

- What was your favorite song?
- What song did I like best?

On Go Fetch,
what was your favorite song?

It's like children.
How do you choose a favorite song?

But if I had to choose,
like if you put a gun to my head...

"Step and Fetch it."

Really?

That's my favorite too. Yeah, I wrote that
in 15 minutes on the shitter.

It's responsible
for one of my least favorite hemorrhoids.

That's a good story.

"I'm fucking crazy."

Look, I'm in the middle
of an epic shit storm right now.

I fired my manager last week
because he's useless...

and I think he's stealing from me.
They all steal.

Mostly because he was just
a useless fucking glad-hander.

And I'm all out of cocaine,
and my dealer's not answering my calls.

And I just miss
my magic songwriting powder.

God, it makes me want to take a dump
just thinking about it.

- Charlie?
- Yes?

- You're a useless fucking glad-hander.
- Yes, yes, I am.

Might you be in the market
for new representation, Atticus?

Dude, you're a Hollywood agent,
a wanker in a suit.

What the fuck would you know
about managing rock bands?

Hey, hey, don't judge
the wanker by the suit.

This dude, however bald and pasty,
is rock 'n' roll as they come...

- ...and loves to pound the pussy.
- This is true.

- I love to pound the pussy.
- He does.

Look...

if you can get me
some Peruvian flake...

I'll maybe, possibly think
about throwing you in the mix.

One thing of Bolivian flake, done.

Peruvian! Peruvian flake,
you fucking moron!

Any country you want.

- One more thing.
- Anything.

I need you to find me...

the 1945 Martin D-28 acoustic guitar
that belonged to the childhood friend...

I buried a few weeks ago.

I'm recording this tribute song for him,
and I have to have that fucking guitar.

It was so beautiful.

Talk about a gorgeous sound.

It was like listening to Jesus ejaculate
into the mouth of the angel Gabriel.

Great. Excellent.

You tell us where,
and we will get it for you.

If I knew where,
why the fuck would I need you?!

Hey.

- Hey, yourself, young lady.
- We're looking for Faith.

Then you've come to the right place.
Come on in.

Hank Moody.

You don't seem that surprised
to see me.

Well, I suppose I conjured you.

How do you like the book so far?
Thank you for buying the hardcover.

So far, so good.

You got it right, the rock world.
Few writers do.

Settle down, Runks. You never seen
a pair of breasteses before?

- I wasn't looking at the...
- No offense. They're lovely.

None taken. I know they are.

- Good for you.
- She knows.

Yeah, she knows.

- How's your sobriety treating you, Hank?
- About as good as yours, I see.

- Well, what can I do you for?
- Well, I need a guitar.

You know what? I think I saw a
Guitar Center just down the road a piece.

- Can't miss it.
- And some cocaine.

- Not just any guitar.
- Not just any cocaine.

Peruvian flakes.

It belonged to your D.R.S.B.,
your dead rock star boyfriend. Coining it.

- It's an old acoustic.
- A Martinelli.

A Martin, jackass.

I know it well.
He used to leave it here all the time.

Said he loved the idea of his favorite
guitar spending time with his favorite girl.

- That is sweet.
- So it's here?

- The guitar is here?
- No, not anymore.

He got in deep with this drug dealer, so he
gave it to him to pay off money he owed.

- Oh, shit. Bummer.
- Doesn't have to be.

I suppose I could take
you guys over there.

- Do a little one-stop shopping.
- That would be most groovy of you.

Do you think that this guy might have
some cocaine as well?

He's retarded, isn't he?

You're Hank Moody.

Hank Moody I am be.
How'd you know that?

What, you don't think I can read?

Could you be any more
fucking condescending?

You think just because I sell narcotics,
I don't know how to crack a fucking book?

My shit just got more expensive,
motherfucker.

Wait, I say "motherfucker"
just like that. That's my thing.

Well, you're not the only one,
motherfucker.

- Motherfucker. Motherfucker.
- Motherfucker.

Sir, we need 1 pound
of your best Peruvian blend.

- We will be on our way.
- "Flake," jackass.

A pound?
You seriously want a pound?

Yes, yes.
How much is that gonna run me?

- Thirty-five.
- Hundy? That's a bit expensive.

We have to make a stop
at the money machine.

Grand. Thirty-five grand.

We're also gonna need Tony's guitar.

- Why?
- Atticus Fetch.

- He's desperate to record with it.
- Fuck that pompous dinosaur.

Hey, that's exactly what I said,
to his face.

My man.

So you want a guitar that is
currently in my possession...

and some of my precious narcotics.

The question is:

What are you prepared to do for me?

Look...

I think we both know that guitar
doesn't really belong to you.

Tony gave it to you to pay off his tab,
but it really belongs to the world.

It should be out there making music,
not hidden in some dark lair.

And who knows? That guitar could be
the thing that gets Atticus back...

to making some
beautiful fucking music again.

You make a convincing case, Faith.

Always fancied myself
a patron of the arts.

I got into dealing so I could be closer
to my favorite musicians.

But...

I don't know.
Also, Shari will give you a blow job...

- ...that could cure cancer.
- What?

Why do you always do this to me?

You said so yourself,
you need the practice.

This pleases me.

Usually I get head from ugly strippers
in exchange for drugs.

But that's not gonna get it done, folks.

If you want,
you can throw a shot into his mouth too.

Up until recently, he was a homo.

- Big, big, big homo.
- Look, look...

I tried to suck a man's dick.

I couldn't do that shit.
I'm too straight for that shit, okay?

Is there anything else
I can do for you?

I like that suit.

You like this suit?

I know just where you
can get this suit. They got all sizes.

I can point you in the right direction.

Take it off.

- Thank you so much for seeing me.
- Go in the living room.

I'll be right with you.

Oh, hello.

I'm Stu, Marcy's estranged hubby.

Ophelia.

Pleasure to meet you, Ophelia.

I understand
you betrayed Marcy's trust.

That's true. I did, most certainly did.

I understand you put your dirty cock
in some young woman's mouth, twice.

I'm sorry. Who are you exactly?

And now you're trying to get back
in her good graces?

It's true. I am.

I'll do anything.

And you think the sweater
and the wine will do it?

No, no, no. Of course not.

But it is a 1964 Georges de Latour.

I just hope it's not too jammy.

- What on earth is that thing?
- It's a cock cage.

Oh I my'

What is a cock cage?

It is a male chastity device,
available on my website.

It traps your cock
in a flaccid state, Stu...

which is very nice and cozy.

But if you get aroused,
if you surrender to your baser instincts...

it can make things very unpleasant
for little big man down there.

Oh, dear.

- Are you suggesting I wear that thing?
- I'm not suggesting anything.

- You said you wanted to make it up to me.
- Don't you think you should wear that?

He's right. It does sound like Jesus
coming in someone's mouth.

- You would know.
- Well done, gents.

Now, where's my fucking cocaine?

- That's it? That's what you got me?
- That's all we could afford, Atticus.

Mr. Fetch, sir.

This piddly amount of cocaine
will last me all of about 12 minutes...

you stupid, useless,
bent motherfucker!

Never get a suit to do a man's job!

"A suit"? You call me a suit?

I gave up my suit for you, literally.

Don't you fucking dare.

You're right. She's right.
You're absolutely right.

This is a magnificent piece
of rock 'n' roll history...

and it must be treated accordingly.

And by the way, your defiance...

gave me a thunderous erection.

Look in the case.
Check the compartment.

He always kept drugs in there.

Here you go, rock-star asshole.

This calls for a celebration.

Well done, gents.
It'll be an honor to work with both of you.

See you bright and early tomorrow...

afternoon.

Okay, so we're gonna go
to dinner now.

- Can I come?
- No, you filthy animal.

Marcy, maybe you should leave
the TV on for him.

- Good idea.
- Yeah. Yeah.

Yeah.

Oh, no. Not girl-on-girl porn.

- Marcy.
- What?

Don't forget to kiss
your hubby good night.

You're right. Of course.

- How rude of me.
- No, baby. No.

No.

The wine and the weed...

has made this
big-time rock manager sleepy.

And sloppy.
If you're gonna hang outwith rock stars...

you better learn how
to handle your dope, buddy boy.

That's dope advice.

- You can crash here. Shari, can you...?
- I'm not sucking his dick.

I wasn't asking you to.

I meant,
can you show him the guest room?

Okay, sure.

- Can I see your boobies again?
- No.

- Just one?
- Okay.

In answer to your question from earlier,
yes, he is retarded.

- But he means well.
- He's funny.

But you two are
especially cute together.

- Thanks for your help today.
- No.

You were great the other day
at the funeral.

I'm happy I get to repay the favor.

I like your writing, Hank.

Yeah, go on.
I like where this is going.

Don't stop yourself. I will say nothing.

Well, you were...

irritating in rehab, but...

You've got that thing
that I keep an eye out for.

- What thing?
- The thing that's hard to describe.

That flash, spark.

You know,
some would call that genius.

Some might, but I won't.

I think "genius" is the single
most overused word of our lifetimes.

Word.

But I will say that you're clearly doing...

exactly what you were put
on this planet to do.

You are making use of your gift,
and that is attractive.

It's just... Let me get this straight.
You met me, and you found me irritating.

- Thoroughly.
- And then you read my work...

and you found me less irritating,
even attractive.

- Something like that.
- God, that is like every writer's dream.

And that never happens, ever.

No, once it did happen, once before.

I could really do something with you.

You're obviously very talented,
but you haven't nailed it yet.

Classic underachiever.
That's what my folks always said.

It's pretty exciting, really.

- What is?
- Because I could be the hammer.

Gulp.

The only question left is:
Do you want to be great, Hank?

Because that's how I make
my mark on the world...

by helping you
make your mark on the world.

Good night.

No, no, no. Don't you want to help me
make my mark over here?

I didn't say this would be easy.