All language subtitles for Dream On S02E03 AI.en

Okay, everybody.
Calm down, please.

There's two sides
to every story.

Now, Myra, you heard the people
from the Humane Society.

They're... they're calling it
cruelty to animals.

What do you have to say?

Well, if you ask me,
I think Coco likes it.

Sometimes
when we're in the middle of it,

I can almost see a smile

on his little scaly face.

I just can't put
the two of them together.

I can't understand
how it could be a match.

Nobody says we gotta understand,
so long as they do.

And we'll be right back

with people
who really love their pets.

Do you remember
when you started this show?

Huh?
It wasn't gonna be
like all the others.

You were gonna deal
with real issues,
with the arts and culture.

We do culture.
Really? When?

Tomorrow.
Oh! Oh.

"Porn stars read their poetry."
What?

Hey, I'll have you know
they've done
some very sensitive work.

Oh, really? I'm sure.

Eddie, Eddie,

you are so much better
than this.

Oh, come on, man,
give me a break.

It's sweeps month.

I gotta get the ratings.

It's my job.

Yeah, yeah.

I'm sorry to bother you,
Mr. Charles,

but I just wanted to tell you

how much I enjoyed the show.

It was informative

and yet somehow
strangely moving.

Like a lovesick buffalo.

I was wondering if I might have
your autograph?

"To Ginger, with love."

You're right.

I don't know
how I live with myself.

[indistinct chattering

Where you been?
What... I took a long lunch.

What the hell's going on?
Well, it's happened.

The company's been sold
to those Australian guys.

While I was at lunch?
The new management's
already moved in.

Dubin's gone. Klinger's gone.

Valerie Knox was thrown out

on her surgically
improved behind.

All this happened
while I was at lunch?

Editors are drinking,
secretaries are vomiting
in the ladies' room.

It's like an office party.

In Berlin, before the war.

What do you want me to do?
Panic?

Martin?
What?

Did you hear? Cindy got the ax.

No.
Uh-huh.

Word is, Crocodile Dundee's
calling us in

one at a time
to run down our projects.

If we don't have
anything good enough,

he's tossing our shrimp
on the barbie.

Oh, well... well,

I've got that World War II book
about the teenage girl.

I mean, that... that...
that's a great story.

What? The sensitive one?

Please! He wants best sellers.

What are we gonna do?
Commit suicide?

Linnea's in there with him now.

Ah! We're dead.
Martin, we're dead.

Well, let's not rush
to any conclusions.

Oh, come on! Cindy was good.

We're just a bunch of hacks!

Martin, I can't become
a waiter again!

I can't do that!
Let go of my shirt!

Get a grip on yourself!
It was horrible.

I go in there,

and before
I could even sit down,

he just says, "Okay, toots,
what do you got?"

So I told him
about the new Rubin novel

and about the bird book
and about the Lincoln biography.

And he just keeps saying,
"What else?
What else? What else?"

Finally, all I've got left
is the children's book.
So, I tell him the story.

You know, the one about
the family of bears
that goes on the adventure?

The bears book.
That's a good book.
Right, right, sure.

So, I guess...
I guess I panicked,

because I just started
babbling on and on,
and I told him the entire plot,

and then I started
making things up
that aren't even in the book!

Like something about an old man
who lives in a teacup!

Linnea.

What?
Stop it!

No. No. It's okay.

He fired me right on the spot.

Fuck me.

And I was wearing
my lucky hat too.

Martin Tupper's office, for now.

Maybe it won't be so bad.

Maybe they're just gonna
fire the girls.

Oh!

Nice.
Okay.

That was his office.

You have
an appointment tomorrow.

Four o'clock.
Oh, Christ.

I have to have a best seller
by four o'clock tomorrow?

You don't have to.

Wha... what? What's this?
Your r

I xeroxed it this morning
before the lines got too long.

Don't ever say
I never did anything for you.

Let the tournament begin.

Okay, Libby. Come on.

Give me your best shot.

Marty, the book is called

Lillian's Children Hate Her
for No Good Reason.

Uh-huh.

It's about this woman, Lillian,

whose children hate her.

For no good reason.

Exactly!

So, chapter one,

"Betsy Moves to El Salvador."

We are doomed, aren't we?

And that's when I go
into the John Hinckley

Lee Harvey Oswald connection.

The connection?

Fact,
Lee Harvey Oswald was killed

by a man named Jack Ruby.

Fact, John Hinckley's

third grade teacher's name

was Helen.

But everybody called her Ruby!

Stupid writer.

I see it
as a contemporary retelling

of Moby Dick.

It's just called Dick.

Ten to four!

The life you had is over.
Finished forever.

Listen, I wasn't gonna
bring this up,

but I've been working
on an idea for a book.

You?
Hey, I can type.

Now, I'm still working out
some of the details,

but it's about this guy, right?

And he goes to,
like, this place.

Maybe there's a girl.

And this thing happens,

and he's got to make a decision
about his life.

What? What's the decision?

I don't know!
I told you I didn't have
everything worked out!

Jesus!
I'm sorry.

Anyways, if you want it,
it's yours.

Thank you.

Come!

Is there a particular poem

that you'd like to share
with us today?

Well, I did bring
some things, um,

I can read for you.

That would be great.

"Porno Star" by Candy Melon.

"Nipples, nipples, nipples."

In a bathtub, on a hilltop.

Nipples, nipples, nipples.

People watching,
wanting, eating.

Nipples, penis, nipples.

Porno or no?

"You tell me."

Wow! Wow!

That's strong stuff.

Isn't she bloody marvelous?

So, Marty, sit.

Thank you.

I've been having a look
at some of the books

you've edited in your years
here at Whitestone.

You don't seem too concerned
with quality, do you?

Well, I, uh...

No, no. I like that.

Oh. Okay.

Now, if you're gonna work
for me, Marty,
and I'm not saying you are.

Oh, sure. Sure.
There are some things
you're gonna have to learn.

Like, for instance,

the difference
between books and literature.

You know what literature is,
don't you, Marty?

You've obviously given this
more thought than I have,

so why don't you tell me?

Literature is what
you didn't read in college.

Now, a book,

a book is something you can
take with you on the bus.

A book is something
you can leave on the bus

and not worry about it too much
because it's just a book.

Uh-huh.

Hate him.

You might say to me, "Gibby,

you're playing to the lowest
common denominator."

Well, not to your face.

Well, I'd say,
"Marty, you're wrong.

I'm playing lower."

Like to mash his face.

I wanna publish books
that everyone will read.

I wanna publish
the kind of books

that stupid people,
who can't even read,

will feel compelled to buy
for their slightly
less moronic friends

to read to them.

Well, you certainly
have a vision.

So, Marty.

What do you got for me?

Okay.

I've got kind of a crazy,

offbeat novel
about a female impersonator.

I'm not some wasted wench

with a creeping
tropical disease, darling.

Kinky. Any buggering in it?

Uh, well, it's...

it's about what happens
when he moves to a small cottage

in Vermont to... to take care
of his dying mother.

Right. Too depressing.

What else have you got?

Uh...

How about a circus story?

Oh, lurid goings-on
under the big top, eh?

Midgets making it
with tattooed ladies?
That sort of thing?

Well, actually, it's a...

it's a metaphor
for the human condition.

Right.

Hate metaphors.
Hate the human condition.

What else have you got?
I've got a fishing manual.

Take it easy! Take it easy!

Any buggering in it?

No.
No.

What else?

Something about a cat
named Pooky.

No!

What else, Marty? What else?

Where's the big-money book?

Where's the book
that's gonna get me hard?

Geez. Let me think.

You know... I'm... I'm...

I know I'm forgetting something,
I just...

I see.

Well...

Speak up!
Wait!

Why?

Why?

Well, because... because...

because I'm saving
the best for last!

Well, go ahead, Marty.
I'm one giant ear here.

How would you like a...

a...

Have you seen it?

Um, no. I don't think I have.

Uh, maybe you'd like
to tell us about one.

Candy Does Candy Lane.

A tell-all,
no-holds-barred autobiography

of Eddie Charles!

Marty, if I were
more secure in my sexuality,

I'd kiss you on the lips.

I never really understood
poetry until today.

It's like you've given me
this wonderful gift.

Oh!

Anyway,
I just wanted to tell you

how much the show meant to me.

Well, I'm glad
you came by again.

And remember,
anytime you wanna see the show,

just ask Carolyn for tickets.

Gosh, I will. Thanks.

You!
So, bud, you still have a job?

Looks that way.
Well, all right!

Let me get out of this makeup,
and we'll go out and celebrate.

Yeah. Yeah.

I caught
some of your show today.

Oh, God. Here it comes.

No. No.

No, no, no.

I really...

really liked it.

Oh, now we're beginning to show
our true colors, aren't we?

You're kidding.

No.

I thought it was...

Trash.

Probing.

And I think the porno footage...

informed the poetry.

I don't understand you.

Frankly, I...

I was impressed.

I don't understand
how you can live with yourself.

Well, thanks, bud.

Coming from you,
that means a lot.

Ah, you picked a dirty job.
Now do it.

So, listen, I have
this nutty idea for a book.

But if you don't wanna do it,
I understand completely,

and I'll never
bring it up again.

The Eddie Charles Story.

Yeah!

Nah.
Nah?

What "nah"? Come on, bud.

There are millions of people
out there who love you.

Nine million, three.
Right.

But... but they just know
Eddie Charles,

the incredible TV personality,
you know?

All they know is the guy
with the great looks
and the charisma,

but they don't know
Eddie Charles, the man.

That's true.

But...
But?

But? Wha... what?
What's the "but"?

Well, I figured...

I figured if I wrote a book,

it would be with one of those

bigger publishing houses.

Okay.

You can go that way.

But I should warn you,
just as a friend,

you could get lost
in the shuffle.

I mean, you know, Eddie Charles,
it's just another title,

just another piece of meat.

On the other hand,
if you do go with a smaller

boutique house, like Whitestone,

you'd be our big spring book,
not to mention the fact

that your best friend
of over 30 years

would be overseeing the project.

Okay.

You can let go of my dick now.
I'll do the book.

We... we need to open
with some compelling incident.

You know, some story
that'll really grab them.

Grab them.

Got it.

The day I graduated from NYU.

Remember how excited
my folks were?

First man in the family
to graduate from college.

Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

That was a big day.
Yeah.

Although,
I was thinking we could start

with something
like that great story about you

and the three Dutch girls
in the hot tub.

Wait?
You wanna open my book
with a foursome in a hot tub?

Easy. Easy.

It was just a thought.

I mean, come on, we're just
spit-balling ideas here.

All right. All right, all right.

How about the night
I won the Emmy?

Or how about
the party afterwards,

where you got drunk and sang
"Danke Schoen" on the buffet?

Or...

the time I interviewed
the Queen Mother?

Or how about the time

with the Dairy Queen girl
and the chocolate dip?

Martin, my mother
is gonna read this book.

Jesus! Is this how you see me?

What?

Hello.

Don't get up.

Just wanted
to meet the man himself.

Gibby Fiske, Eddie Charles.
Eddie Charles, Gibby Fiske.

A pleasure to meet you, Eddie.

I can't tell you how excited
I am about this book.
Great.

I especially love
that hot tub story
with the Dutch girls.

The hot tub story.

If that don't have them
coming in their hats,

I don't know what will.

Well, I'll let you
get back to it then.

Sorry to interrupt. Good day.

Is he one
colorful character, huh?

You know...

I could have expected this
from anyone but you.

Eddie, Eddie,
where are you going?

I got a show to do.

You're not gonna
let him get away, are you?

Eddie, think about it.

That's the book
that'll sell a million copies.

And it's the book
you promised your boss!

Is that so terrible?
Hey, you wanna keep it down?

Some people
are trying to work here.

You are such a hypocrite!

After all the shit
you give me about my show!

That's different.
Oh?

That's television.
This is... literature.

Literature?
I thought we weren't doing
literature anymore.

Don't you ever take a sick day?

Excuse me. It was in the memo.

Eddie, Eddie, come on.

I, uh... Good day.

There is no comparison
between what you do...

All right.
You want me to say it,
I'll say it.

I'm just as shallow
and cheap and smarmy as you are.

Oh, that makes me feel
much better.

Eddie, help me out here.
You've gotta do this book.

Easy.
You're groveling on my shirt.

My job is on the line.
Forget it!

What kind of a friend
are you anyway?

What kind of friend am I?

You're the one
who's using me, pal.

What? Using you?

I'm using you?
Yes.

And this from the man who stole

my eighth grade English notes.

Oh, I knew you would throw that
in my face someday.

Boy, you think you know somebody.
Let me tell you something.

I used to think you were
the best friend I ever had.

I am the best friend
you ever had!

Who lent you money
when you smashed your dad's car?

And you're also the one
who got me stoned,

so that I smashed it up
in the first place.

What a wonderful memory
you have.

And remember
when you went through

that picture window, huh?

Who held your hand
until the doctor came?

Yeah,
and for the rest of junior high,

everyone thought we were gay.

Can't you ever forget nothing?

No! Nothing! Never!

Al right. All right.

You wanna know
what kind of friend I am?

Yeah, I wanna know. Tell me.
You really wanna know?

Just tell me!

When you were 11 years old,
and you went to camp,

your dog, Tippy, died.

What?

You lie! You lie!

Tippy didn't die.

Yes, he did.

He was hit by a car
on Pinehurst Road.

And I made your mother drive
all over Westchester

until we found a dog
that looked exactly like Tippy.

And I spent all summer
training him,

so when you came home from camp,
you would never know.

That's what kind of friend I am.

That is the most horrible thing

I have ever heard
in my entire life.

Martin!
How could you not have told me?

All those years,
I was loving this...

this impostor dog.

Martin, wait, wait.

That was my best
best-friend story.

You're missing the point.

Oh, I got the point.

The point is that all this time,
this... this fake Tippy

was laughing at me
behind my back.

No wonder he lived to be 26.

Christ.

I feel like such a fool.

You know what?

I hope...

I hope you get canceled!

Maybe I ought to take that back.

Martin!

Deep inside,
don't you ever feel
you're wrong?

Fuck you.

Come on! Let's go!

Hey, Pepe! Come on!

Come on!

And I don't like you.

Yes, you do.
No.

The truth?

Hey.

Hey.

So, how was the show?

Nothing special.

Transvestite nuns.

Right.

Listen, I...

I've been kind of an asshole.

Nah, it's... it's okay, man.
You do what you have to.

Let's face it,
we're two nice guys

in really smarmy jobs.

Yeah, yeah.

I guess we are.

When they talk about
the dignity of labor,

they mean guys
like Eddie and me.

Look, about the stuff
I tried to put in the book.

Yeah?

I'm sorry if it sounded
like I think you're just some,

you know, womanizing sleaze.

Eddie,
I'm using your towel, okay?

Maybe I ought to take that back.

Oh, hi.

Jesus!
Excuse me.

I think
you're standing on my bra.

Thanks.

Oh, keep talking.
Just pretend I'm not here.

What... what were the...

The book.

Right, just... just
forget about it.

No, man.
I don't want you to get fired.

No, no, no.

No, no. I'll be okay.
No. Come on.

We'll figure out a way to do it.

Really?

What are friends for?

We'll be brothers.

You do books?

Yeah, I do books. I'm an editor.

I'm writing a book.

Oh, really?
Yeah.

It's called Starfucker.

In the last four years,

I've slept with 162 celebrities.

162?

And is she happy?

Yep.

And in my book, I talk about

my experience with each one.

Eddie's going into the chapter
about Black talk show hosts.

We're a whole chapter?

Uh, tell me more.

It's Ginger, right?

Right.

Well, I evaluate
each one numerically

in several different categories.

Performance, style, grooming...

Whoa! Wait a minute.
What about my book?
We'll get back to it.

Uh, tell me, Ginger,

this... this book
isn't under option yet?

Oh, no. I'm still typing.

Oh!

Thank you.

Hi.
Can you make it to Bob?

Bob?
Uh-huh.

From Ginger, with love.

Thanks.

Is this bloody marvelous?

Sure, the woman sleeps
with a battalion

and gets a six-figure advance.

It makes me proud
to be alive today.

Marty, you're a genius.

So, what else
you got for me, huh?

Uh...

Actually, I've been meaning
to talk to you about this.

I have this sensitive novel

about a teenage girl
coming of age
during World War II.

Oh, yeah?
Does she get raped
by German storm troopers, eh?

She entertain the boys back home
in imaginative ways?

Uh, nope.

It's just about
her spiritual growth as a woman.

Huh, sounds an awful lot
like literature to me.

Yeah. It definitely is.

But the way I see it,

for every one of these,

I should get to do one
that I wanna do.

I think there are a lot of
publishers around town

who would agree with me.

Oh, all right, all right.

I just hope there aren't
a lot of pages in it, eh?

What?

Will you look at this?

A seven!

She gave me a seven!

Mickey Rooney got a nine!

Can you imagine,
after all these years?