All language subtitles for murphy_brown_s01e08_and_so_he_goes

Baby, baby, sweet baby

Listen up, people.

This is fair warning.

Nobody starts with me today.

Probably carrying about 75 highly
contagious and ugly viruses, and any one

them could have your name on it. Is this
yours?

Excuse me.

Nice trip, Murph.

Don't they ever have bloody coups in
countries with four -star hotels and

boys by the pool?

Yeah, someplace where the bellhops don't
wear helmets.

It's awesome.

Both of you.

I loved every minute of my time in the
field.

Not that I don't love the anchor desk.

And the feel of an Armani suit.

God, the man knows how to make clothes.

But one day I may fish out my old
reporter's hat and race you to the next

Miles, I'm back.

Thanks for the assignment.

I'm billing the show.

A yak ate my glove.

You guys hear about Jack Cowan? No.
What'd the sleazeball do now?

He died.

The day is looking up after all.

What did she say? What did she say?

Geez, Murphy.

So you guys didn't get along, but we're
talking about the best columnist in D

.C. He had the grid of this city under
his fingernails.

Disgusting image, Frank. And it fits
him.

Dirty, loud, fat, mean, dead.

Miles, how did it happen?

His heart.

According to this, he was pretty old.

He was my age.

He was one of the last of the great
characters, prowling around town in that

Rambler with the Goldwater bumper
sticker.

He used to jot down his notes on the
back of a bar napkin with those stubby

little pencils he stole from miniature
golf courses.

What a nut. What are you guys talking
about?

Jack Cowan was a rodent, the human
equivalent of biting tinfoil. He thought

cigar was something you brushed your
teeth with.

Murph, Jack's gone. I think it's time
you let go of the rivalry.

Let go?

Remember the day I checked into Betty
Ford? He sent me a good luck bottle of

guts.

Colin was a bit of a heel sometimes.

Yeah, remember what he did with your
Kissinger interview?

What?

It would be rude not to finish the
story, Murph. Murphy landed an exclusive

Kissinger. Colin found out about it,
intercepted Kissinger at the airport,

took him to the Miss Teen USA pageant in
Philly.

You couldn't find him for three days.

Great stuff.

Great stuff.

And he was always having her car towed.
How many times did he do it, Murphy?

Half a dozen?

Sixteen. But I got him back.

I bribed the steam bath attendant to
take his picture, and then I sent it out

his Christmas card.

Think of it, that was the last shot
between us.

Game, set, match.

Hi, I'm Tanya, your new secretary at
Dentist. Left you your messages.

There's something you should know,
Murphy.

GYN appointment, Tuesday at 10. Thanks.

There's more.

And even though it may upset you, I'm
asking you not to react in a way that

could injure me.

Miles, I just spent a week negotiating
for bunk space with a hundred

who wanted to smell my hair.

It's not a problem.

Jack Cowan wants you to do his eulogy.

This better be a joke, Miles.

No joke. It's all over the wire. It was
his last request.

Murphy, I want you to hear me out.

Okay.

So, you and Callan hated each other.

Can we look at the big picture here?

Your image could use a boost, Murphy,
after you skewer Doris Day in that

interview.

Why don't you show people that Murphy
Brown can rise above it all and do his

eulogy without any... I'll do it.

What?

See, I've got it all figured out.

Jack knew that if I didn't do his
eulogy, I'd look petty and small.

And if I did do it, I'd have to say all
these wonderful things about him. He

thinks he's got me, but he's wrong.

I'd be very honored to give his eulogy
my way.

We started in the news business the same
year, you know, Cowan and I.

They say death is just a part of life.

What a crock.

I wonder what unfinished dreams died
with Jack.

We all have our one of these days list.

One of these days I'll start writing
that book.

I'll go back out in the field, do a
little reporting.

I'll return to that lake and this time
I'll water ski.

Morning, guys.

Jim, what's with the hat?

Oh, it's my old reporter's hat.

Just felt like wearing it today.

Look at you two. Why does everybody get
so depressed about death?

I don't know, Frank.

Maybe it has something to do with
spending eternity trapped in a box deep

earth. while your flesh drops off and
deteriorates into nothingness.

That's your problem, Miles. You think
about it too much. You gotta stare your

fears down like I do.

Every day on my way to work, I
deliberately walk across Third Street

lights. Start your day by beating death.
It's exhilarating, Miles.

Today, a car missed me by this much.

I know. It was my car, Frank.

I turn the corner, you're standing there
like an idiot.

Don't do that anymore.

It's weird.

talk to you about the funeral.

What about it?

I just want you to know if I act a
little strange, it's because this is

embarrassing.

I've never been to a funeral before.

Never? Well, nobody I know ever died.

Except great -grandma Walker.

I was six.

Cousin Dewey said we'd all have to kiss
her, so I ran away to Jimmy Suedlow's

garage.

And I let him look up my dress.

It was this dress that made me do it,
Miles.

To this day, I associate sex with death.

Have you ever felt like you were the
last sane person on earth?

All the time.

People want to move it. What am I
supposed to do, fly out of here?

What are you, statues?

Gee, I wish I had nothing better to do
than sit around and stare at someone

who's having a really bad day.

So, Murph.

How about that Dan Quayle, huh?

You're not going to believe this.

Jack Cowan got me again.

Last night, I'm home putting the
finishing touches on his eulogy. It was

flowing. It was inspired.

I was able to rhyme egocentrical with
bad left ventricle.

So what's the problem?

This woman named Irma Bentley called.

She heard I was writing Jack's eulogy,
and she wanted me to know that this

wonderful man paid for her costly
medical treatments.

I had just written a line calling Jack a
bloated termite in the rafters of

journalism, and this woman tells me
Cowan actually helped her in her time of

need. Well, looks like he had his good
side.

Then, I'm looking through Cowan's
military record, and guess what?

The guy had a purple heart.

I didn't know he had a purple heart. Did
you know he had a purple heart? The

jerk has a purple heart. Korea, 1952.

Wow, would you look at this?

Cowan let it charge right into an enemy
installation.

All these years, the guy had this whole
other side, and I missed it. My

instincts were out to lunch.

What kind of journalist is that making?
Come on, Murph. We all make mistakes.

I know that. I admit installing avocado
green appliances in 1978 wasn't my best

idea. But this is different. This is my
profession.

I'll be in my office writing.

How long do you think she's been in
there?

Well, I got in at six this morning. She
was still working.

I think she pulled an all -nighter.

Am I the only one who has a hard time
talking to him in that hat?

You know, I really admire Murphy.

She's so brave to get up there and
deliver a speech in the same room as a

person.

Yes.

A dead person.

Exposed to the world.

There for all to see.

The life finished, even if the goals and
dreams lie unfulfilled.

Will somebody make him take off that
hat?

This is what I hate about funerals.
Everybody always acts so maudlin.

You know what they should do when people
die?

Their friends should take them up in an
airplane, turn on some good jazz, and

drop them out in a parachute over the
ocean the way they came into the world.

Naked.

That's what I want you to do when I go,
Miles.

Why wait till you're dead, Frank?

Oh.

Hi. So, how's it going, Murph?

Okay. Still a little rough.

Needs to be retyped. Spelling check.

Margins are a little off.

You want to read some of it? See how it
flies?

Well, okay.

We'll go easy.

This is my first all -nighter without
booze or cigarettes.

Who was Jack Cowan?

certainly not an easy person to know or
to love.

But wasn't it Byron who said, it is the
shallow man who wears his greatness on

his sleeve and the great man who wears
it within?

Is it too much? No, go on, I like it.

Jack could be called the oyster of
journalism, rough -hewn, clenched. Yet

made an effort to get past the shell,
they would be rewarded by a pearl of

kindness and generosity.

Well, you get the idea.

Murphy, that's beautiful.

And I'm not lying like I did last week
when I said you look good in those

glasses.

Murphy, I'm telling you right now, when
my time comes, I want you to give my

eulogy. Thanks, Jim.

You think you'll still be wearing that
hat?

It's possible.

Murphy, I'm really glad you came around.

I'm proud of you.

Nice job.

So, this is what happens when people
turn 40, huh?

They mellow a little bit?

I guess when it comes right down to it,
Jack and I had a special relationship.

You remember when he had my car towed to
the Florida Keys?

That was great.

I'm so clear on this now, Frank. It was
Jack's way of showing affection.

I just wish I'd realized it earlier.

Oh,

Miss Brown?

Yes?

We spoke the other night.

I'm Irma Bentley.

Oh, right.

Thank you very much for coming. I just
wanted to get a little bit more

information for the eulogy.

Why don't we go into my office? Get off
your feet.

All right.

Can I get you anything, Irma?

No, no, really, I'm fine.

So, tell me, how did you meet Jack?

I worked tables down at Tiny Tim's on
Westbridge.

He was a regular.

You were a virtual stranger and he paid
all your hospital bills?

Yeah. He even found me a terrific
plastic surgeon for my operation.

You can't even see the scars.

He does a lot of the gals at Tyler's,
you know.

Does?

Well, yeah.

Without a little extra leverage, it's
tough to pull in the really big tip.

Wait a minute.

We're not talking life or death.

Are you saying Jack paid for you to have
implants?

Why, sure, it's no big deal.

Couple of days in the hospital and
suddenly, ooh, you're pulling down 25K a

year.

You know, you really need an edge in the
cocktail waitress business.

Jack knew that.

And you're sure that's how Jack Cowan
got his purple heart?

Yeah. Okay.

A wound is a wound. What else could you
do?

Thank you, Colonel Nichols.

Are you ready for this, Eldon? Are you
ready?

Yeah, I'm ready.

Jack Cowan didn't lead a charge. His own
platoon was chasing him. His own men

were trying to kill him. Can you believe
that? No, I can't believe that. He was

cheating in poker. When he saw he'd
stumble into enemy territory, he was

the butt trying to double back.

I made a fool of myself. I said nice
things about him in a newsroom full of

people. He made me question my instinct.

The man is dead, but he reached back...
from the grave and he got me.

Well, let me tell you something. It's
not over till the fat lady sings.

Geez, what were you like when you were
boozing?

We gotta go through all the trash. I've
gotta find my first eulogy.

Help me, Eldon!

Forget it. I'm not touching no old
cotton balls.

I've got 12 hours till the funeral.
We'll piece together as much as we can

I'll have to remember the rest.

What is this?

As appealing as a ball of phlegm.

Yes! We're on our way!

Murphy!

Murphy, where have you been? I was
starting to worry. Finishing touches,

Good writing is in the rewriting.

Nice size crowd.

That's more popular dead than alive.

Oh. Oh, no, Murphy.

What is that coffin? An extra large?

God, the man was fat.

Instead of pallbearers, they'll be
taking him out on a forklift. Ha! I

use that.

Murphy, I know you've got a lot on your
mind, but I need a big favor.

Will you come with me to look at Jack?

Corby, I don't want to look at Jack. Oh!

I know how you feel, Murphy, but we have
to look. We can't hide from the

unpleasant our whole lives.

Come on.

We'll help each other to get through
this. Corky, I don't feel like looking

him. People are talking.

Now, come on. We'll make it fast.

Okay, this is it.

I'm going to look now.

Here I go.

One.

This is me looking at a dead man.

I'm still looking.

He's got food on his tie!

Everyone take a seat, please.

Murphy,

this is the last thing I'm going to say
to you. Jack Cowan's mother is here.

His mother. What?

She flew in from Minneapolis.

Look right there.

She's 86 and a half.

Miles, the Ayatollah had a mother.

Murphy, I can't believe you could cut a
man apart in front of his own mother.

Ladies and gentlemen, friends and
relatives, we are here to mark the

passing of Jack Cowan, who departed this
world Monday, to...

Deliver his eulogy, Murphy Brown.

Today we gather to reflect on the life
of Jack Cowan.

What can you say about... What can you
say about Jack Cowan?

He was a man.

He was a big man.

He weighed about 240, 245.

Here's the thing.

I'm going to level with you.

I walked in here today determined to
give a pretty tough eulogy, but now I

myself sitting on the fence.

And no one's more surprised at this than
I am.

So I'll put this to the floor.

If there is one person here who has had
one positive encounter with Jack Cowan,

I won't read this.

Now, come on.

There are a lot of people here.

Surely Mrs.

Cowan...

For starters, it was a 38 -hour labor.

Preach.

He had a head like a basketball.

Thank you, Mrs. Kelly.

Okay, then.

What can you say about a man who locked
a sheep in Shirley Chisholm's hotel

room?

That was Jack Cowan. A man who stole
chafing dishes off room service carts

then gave them as wedding presents.

Hey, we got one of those.

A man who drew zeros on dollar bills and
told Girl Scouts they were ten.

A man whose idea of grocery shopping was
to help an old lady with her bags and

then outrun her.

Let me close with this thought.

They say when a man departs this world
that he leaves his mark on each one of

us. That is true of Jack Cowan.

For I'm sure there's not a person in
this room who does not have Jack's

footprints all over his back.

Thank you.

And now... to conclude our service, I
would like to read a letter that Jack

wrote shortly before his death to be
opened at this time.

Well, Murphy, now that you've said
goodbye to me, I'd like to say goodbye

you.

And that won't be easy because I'm going
to miss you, kid.

What?

Some of my warmest moments were spent
sitting around a bar with you, trading

stories and sharing long laughs.

That's not mine. We never sat around a
bar. We never laughed.

Our relationship was something very
special to me.

It made me a better journalist and a
better person, and I'm just sorry I

told you that.

The man hated me. He tried to stab me
once with a shrimp fork.

In life, one rarely finds someone who is
both a good sport and a good match.

You were such a match, Murphy.

You took no guff, swallowed no pride,
and never backed down.

Here's to you, my best friend in the
whole world.

Let me just add a little something to
what I said

earlier. And that concludes our service.
Thank you all very much for coming.

Boy, Jack and I really used to kid. You
know, he'd love when I'd pretend to be

mad at him. He was like an oyster, rough
-hewn, clenched, yet a pearl of

kindness and generosity.

You know, if you hurry, you can still
trip his mother.

I'm glad you're not doing my eulogy,
Murphy.

Thank goodness you'll be dying long
before me.

Don't feel bad, Murph. It's not like
every newspaper covered this. I didn't

anyone here from the Daily Planet.

You can just get wheeled out of here and
it's all over. Well, let me tell you

something. It's not over yet, Jack.

Murphy, it's time to face facts.

It is over.

I can't seem to let go of this, can I,
Jim?

Well, maybe it's because you'll miss
him.

Miss him?

Miss the rotten stunts he used to pull
on me?

Like telling the Afghan ambassador if he
came to my house with oranges and a

garter belt, I'd bear his children?

No, I refuse to admit all this.

But you will.

Accept it, Murphy.

Death sucks.

All we can do is honor those who go
before us by keeping their memory alive

hope someone does the same for us.

Are you going to be all right?

Yeah. Thanks Jim.

I think I'd like a moment alone.

Miss Brown?

Yes.

Is that your white car parked out front?

Yes, it is.

I think they're towing it away.