black-ish

I'm going to therapy. I'll be back by dinner.

- All right, baby. Have a good session. - Thanks.

Dre: Bow and her therapy... Mom and I think it's hilarious.

I mean, no offense to the other crazy races,

but black people have gotten along just fine

without therapy.

And we're not the only ones.

That's why you'll never see this.

But am I happy?

I have so many words for "snow," but no word for "love."

What hole am I trying to fill with all this pillaging?

And I definitely don't need it

because I have my own ways of coping with stuff.

- Shut up! - Quiet!

What do you think about that, coach?! Huh?!

- Bah! - Aah!

You suck!

I'm surprised one of these kids

ain't came up here and kicked your ass.

The occasional angry outburst, that's just how I cope.

Who opened my Valpak?! Huh?!

It is against the law to open another man's Valpak!

Damn it. I am missing some coupons.

Hey! I didn't make it this far...

paying full price for carpet cleaning!

Get down here now! I'm starting a witch hunt!

Bow, get my bat.

- Dre... - Bow, I said,

"Get my bat"!

Okay, um...

I think you need therapy.

I...

I don't need therapy. I'm not mentally ill.

Ruby: That's right, baby boy.

- Not even close. - Mm-hmm.

You think I go to therapy because I'm mentally ill?

Yes, plus some other stuff.

What other stuff?

Your controlling nature.

The fact that your children don't need you anymore.

The constant fear that I'm going to leave you.

The ghosts of all your dead patients.

Ooh. Yeah, that's a good one.

Okay, you know what? Fine. Go ahead. Go ahead, Dre.

Do it your way...

Scream, scream, scream, yell, yell, yell,

heart attack, stroke.

Grieve, grieve, grieve, marry Rick Fox.

My way works for me

because I don't live in a touchy-feely world

with champagne problems.

Mm-hmm.

Dre, you don't think I have real problems?

You don't think I get mad?

Excuse me, Nurse Moonbeam.

Oh, it's actually Dr. Rainbow...

Uh, well, I mean, Johnson.

Whatever, hon. I'm married, okay?

- Now scooch over. - Papa's got Journey tickets.

Yeah, got to see if that Filipino kid's for real.

Oh.

Um...

And how in the hell does therapy help with that?

It helps a lot.

I should've said something, but I'm such a people pleaser,

which I know comes from my father's inability

to validate me... Oh, no.

From my inability to accept that my father

- doesn't see my need for validation. - Mm.

- Good. - Right?

Ahh. That was really good.

Okay, so, basically, what you're saying is,

you pay someone $200 an hour to sit there

and listen to you figure out your own problems?

Well, after the co-pay, it's actually $180.

- Oh. Okay. - Uh-huh. Uh-huh. See, see, see, see.

It wouldn't cost you anything

to shove that doctor's Journey tickets up his...

Okay, okay, okay. Thank you.

Thank you, Ruby, for the mental-health tip.

You're welcome, Rainbow. This is nice.

Wh...

See, look at that. Bow, we're fine.

- Okay. - All right.

No anger problems.

Sure, okay.

Damn it!

They take the carpet-cleaning coupon,

but they leave the Tony Roma's?!

This makes no sense!

Ooh! Oh, I swear my hand before God,

if I get my hand on that bat, it's on!

I'm coming up there for y'all right now!

Ooh! I'm gonna whoop some ass!

Mom just told Dad he needs therapy.

It's the beginning of the end.

Mid-pregnancy divorce?

Mom really painted herself in a corner with that one.

What a fool.

Guess the only thing left to do

is decide who we're gonna live with.

Well, Mom clearly has poor timing,

so strike one for her.

But Dad always hogs the big TV

and might drop dead at any moment.

Wow.

This is gonna be a photo finish to the bottom.

By the way...

Dad knows you opened his Valpak.

Remember, you have an eternal light that shines inside of you,

and you are on the verge of totally crushing it.

All right, Ase, Carol.

Let's... Let's touch souls again next week, okay?

All right.

What was that?

Oh, I'm a life coach.

That's not just something you say without an explanation.

Well, I teach people how to get in life's face.

To unlock their fullest potential

and become their perfect self.

And what makes you qualified to do this?

I have beautiful hair, I travel the world,

and I live in a house that I pay nothing for.

I could use some help.

- We all could. - So, what do you want to fix?

- Everything. - Uh-huh.

And what specifically? Specifically, all of it.

Great, got it. Zoey, what about you?

What do you want to fix?

Absolutely nothing.

Really? You got it all locked down at 17?

You know who else had it all locked down at 17?

Your mom.

When do we start?

- Like a three-legged girl. - Ooh, interesting.

Hey. Look here, guys.

Bow says I need therapy.

Do I look crazy?

Only when you're eating ribs. And lobster.

Sunflower seeds aren't great, either, boss.

Popcorn shrimp makes you look like Jeffrey Dahmer.

You are a very aggressive eater, Dre... a scattershot.

Sometimes it looks like you're gonna take

a piece out of your own hand.

Yeah, we're all worried about you.

I mean, every lunch, it's like,

- "Is this the day?" - Mm-hmm.

Besides, therapy's not just for crazies.

Hey, I go twice a week.

Paying someone to listen to your problems,

it's like a hooker for your feelings.

Uh, hint... so are hookers.

- Oh. - But I am a big believer in therapy, Dre.

It looks great at divorce proceedings,

like you actually cared enough to try.

You privileged bastards ever hear of a bath?

That's what you do when you grow up wondering

- where your next meal's coming from. - Mm-hmm.

You don't have time to worry about your feelings.

- Mnh-mnh. - No, it's food, clothing,

and not getting bit by street dogs.

Thank you. See, I knew that you would get it.

Oh, I wasn't talking about me.

I had a horse.

Yeah, but... but I-I still don't need therapy.

I just drink wine and visit Smokey.

Okay, she does not speak for me... or us.

All I know is that,

instead of complaining about our problems,

black people have turned 400 years of bottled-up, traumatic stress into gold.

Jazz, blues, music...

- Macaroni and cheese. - See?

I mean, besides, telling somebody your problems

sounds dangerously close to snitching.

- That's what I'm talking about. - Connor: Wait. Hold on a second.

Therapy has worked out all of my problems.

I go every single day, and I'm gonna keep on doing that

even when my court-ordered mandate expires.

Uh, that... that doesn't expire, sweetheart.

Yeah. Hey, listen, to be honest, Dre, as much as you guys complain

about how you've been mistreated by this country,

I'm surprised you don't live in therapy.

Especially since you guys, you know, sometimes have a...

A little bit of a problem with your anger.

What? Well, that's an insulting generalization, Josh.

- Oh, I didn't mean to... - What is he looking at?

Who?

What the you looking at?!

- Whoa. Whoa. - You!

- Whoa, whoa, whoa. - You!

Curtis. Today got to be the day, huh?

Today got to be the day I got to put my hands on somebody.

- Oh, no. - That's Santiago.

What? Ruby? What happened in here?

Oh, nothing.

You have the audacity to bring day-old Entenmann's

into my house?!

Are you insane?!

Does that seem like a normal way

to react to coffee cake, Dre?