"Will & Grace" is recorded
in front of a live studio audience.
- Excuse me, do you think... - 45 "min-oohs."
- Minutes? - "Yus."
It's gonna be a while.
What are we doing?
Christmas used to be so magical and fun,
and... and now we're just getting attitude
from "No Table for Old Men."
- Let's go home. - No. Will, no.
If we don't maintain our Christmas Eve tradition,
then we'll be forced to spend more time with our family,
and that's just not what Christmas is about.
Sorry we're late.
Jackie and I were doing our gift exchange.
I got a faux fur!
Great coat. Uh, two... two things:
A, uh, it's 65 degrees out,
and B, you don't look foolish at all as the white Shaft.
- Can you dig it? - Mm-hmm.
It'll get colder.
It's gonna snow tonight.
Karen promised me a Christmas miracle,
and rich people don't lie.
I think we have very different interpretations
of the word "snow."
Ah...
A quick "oop-date," your table will be ready
in 51 "min-oohs."
That's more "min-oohs" than before.
That's "race-oost."
Okay. I'm not doing it.
Ugh, no, Will, it is Christmas.
I am done with Christmas.
And who feels like celebrating, anyway?
All the crap going on nowadays.
I don't understand you, Will.
This is the one time a year
fat people are supposed to be jolly.
It's not going to snow,
there's no such thing as miracles,
Christmas is for spoiled rich kids,
and... and... and Santa's just another old white perv
we once trusted.
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com
Oh! Thank God you're open.
Hi. Can I use your bathroom?
Hi, I'm Pete.
Welcome to the Immigrant Historical Society.
Can I interest you in a tour?
She just needs to tinkle, Hodor!
Uh, the bathroom's for customers only.
Okay, I'll buy this book, so that she can pee.
Not the first time I've said that sentence.
Okay, so he's buying a book, we're customers,
so your bathroom is...
Only for customers that take the tour.
I really should've clarified.
Oh, come on!
Fine, we'll take the tour.
The night's ruined anyway. Couldn't get much worse.
That's the spirit.
It's up there.
I'm just gonna say it.
I love museums!
Jackie, this is the Immigrant Historical Society.
It's just gonna be poor people's bodies
mounted and stuffed with newspaper.
Look at these pictures of old New York.
Can you imagine how great Christmas was back then?
You know, horse-drawn carriage rides
and carols sung by candlelight.
You'd walk down the street and say, "Merry Christmas, sir,"
and he'd say, "Same to you.
I like the shape of your mustache."
And I'd say, "I like yours too."
Wow, you didn't even have gay game 100 years ago.
I feel so much better.
I am never gonna complain about anything ever again.
Ready to take that tour?
Ugh, really? We're still gonna do this?
We're about to enter
the fully preserved tenement of an Irish immigrant,
the widow, Karolyn O'Sullivan.
Welcome to Christmas 1912.
- Where is she? - I think she's still asleep.
- I'm so hungry. - Where's Ma?
It's Christmas morning, and she's not out of bed yet.
I think she was drinking again last night.
I had the nicest dream.
I was rich, and none of you were here.
Merry Christmas, Mother.
All right, me children,
it's time for your Christmas presents.
Gather close.
If we were any closer,
we'd be our own aunts and uncles.
No one likes a funny girl, Mary!
Now, do you want your Christmas onion or not?
Then hold baby.
Why doesn't baby have a name, Ma?
You know she'll get a name if she survives the winter.
Don't want to get too attached.
All right, children, onions for all of ya.
Pour me a drink, Smitty.
One of you run downstairs and give an onion
to old man Flannery.
Old man Flannery's gone.
He was beaten to death with a pipe by an anti-Irish mob.
They found his rotted body in the East River.
Ah, Smitty...
Ya always know just what to say
to cheer your mother up.
Oh, me stars.
If that's the landlord come for the rent, we're done for.
Under the staircase you go.
Oh, if he sees ya,
he'll... he'll take you to work in his sweatshop.
Top of the Christmas mornin' to ya.
William Howard Taft, you are fabulous.
Why, thank you, kind sir, but who are ya,
and why are ya knocking on me door?
The name's John Patrick, and I'm a sailor
looking for a bed to rent between boats.
Oh...
You want to rent from me?
- It's a Christmas miracle! - I don't have any money...
Never mind.
But one thing I can offer is that no matter how bleak
and depressing life may be,
I'm always happy and gay.
You do seem... surprisingly gay.
I can't help it.
Everything about this city makes me gay,
especially all the beautiful girls I have intercourse with.
It's settled, then. You're staying.
Open the door.
It's your landlord, Mr. Van Billioms.
As in Billam Van Billioms?
He's one of the richest men in New York.
And one of the cruelest.
His heart is black as coal,
and no one knows why.
Oh. I've spilled on your coat.
Take it off, and I'll wash it for ya.
Mrs. O'Sullivan...
You are late with the rent.
You forced me to leave my wife on Christmas
to travel to this filthy godforsaken neighborhood
full of lazy scum,
and that has put me in a very bad mood,
a mood that has soured my day,
a mood that has... oh, hello.
I didn't see you there. Hi.
What, are you... are... are you Mr. O'Sullivan?
No, sir. He's me new boarder.
John Patrick McGee.
Ay, where are me manners? Let me put my coat back on.
No, no, no, no, no, leave... leave it off.
No need for modesty.
It's not the first time I've seen a man's naked arms.
I've... I've seen that the usual amount of times.
Seven.
And it is... it is hot as Hades in here.
I'm... I... I almost feel like taking off my own coat,
not that I would.
I never would.
It's a preposterous suggestion!
I won't have you make it!
You will have my money by sundown,
or I'll see you out in the streets.
Fanny!
Fanny?
Fanny! Where is my confounded wife?
I'm right here.
Why ya hocking me?
Oh, my God, where you been?
I've been looking all over for you.
I was downstairs, ringing the Christmas goose.
Don't you think you should do that in private?
It's a smart joke.
You didn't get it. Other people would get it.
No one likes a funny girl, Fanny.
What the devil are you eating?
Oh. It's these new cookies they invented.
They're two chocolate biscuits
with cream on the inside.
They're called "Oh-ray-ohs."
Billam, oh, my God,
"Oh-ray-ohs" are so good. Here, here, you gotta try one.
Absolutely not.
I just fit into this weskit.
It would take 20 minutes on the mechanical horse
to work off even one "Oh-ray-oh."
Fanny, why do we have a harp now?
You don't even play.
It's nice. It's very heaven-y.
I mean, come on, look around.
Have I ever been wrong about decorating?
In fact, I had an epiphany this morning.
What if I started a new business,
where I decorate the interiors of other people's homes?
I would call myself
an inside-of-homes decorator.
My wife, starting a business...
- Mm-hmm. - Never.
People would say, "Billam used to be the man of the house.
Now his Fanny runs it."
You've got to get such foolish ideas out of your head, Fanny.
A woman's place is to support her man,
- keep his home... - Share his bed?
Not necessarily. Every relationship's different.
Well, I don't have time for this.
I've got a family to evict.
Oh, Billam, no, you can't. It's Christmas...
and Hanukkah.
Fanny, you converted.
Please stop mentioning Hanukkah.
Hanukkah.
Like... "Happy holidays."
Enough!
My tenant broke her contract.
Though I can't help feeling for her strapping boarder,
no bed to call his own,
out in the cold,
holding himself for warmth...
With those toned and...
tattooed arms.
Stop polishing your stick. You've already rung your goose.
Right. I'm off.
Whoa!
Well, angels,
even after selling Smitty's wooden leg...
We're still $10 short of making rent.
Oh!
Someone's coming up the stairs.
Quick, quick, go hide.
Hurry, they're coming!
Who loves women, survived scurvy,
and has big news?
'Tis I!
I've discovered something incredible down at the docks.
- He found money. We're saved! - Now, it's not money.
Never mind.
Without money, I'll have to give my body
to that awful landlord, Billam.
Trust me, he wouldn't enjoy it.
And why not?
I may have delivered nine children,
but most of the heads were tiny.
No, Karolyn, he wouldn't enjoy it with any women.
That's what I discovered.
He's a sweeper of chimneys...
A snake charmer.
He only travels by tunnel.
What are you saying to me?
He's a mustache bumper.
He rubs the silverware without a cloth.
He plays the flute of the damned.
He's a homo.
Billam, wait.
I cannot let you put these poor people
out on the street on Christmas.
It's not fair.
The gentleman I acquired this property from
says the poor have only themselves to blame,
and I have yet to disagree with anything out of the mouth
of Mr. Frederick Trump.
Extra! Extra!
Oh, newsboy, I'll take a paper.
Well, well, well...
Billam Van Billioms.
Hello, Charlie. Never mind.
Oh, you know this very old paperboy?
Only as the occasional buyer of his newspapers.
So you're all alone on Christmas?
Sadly, yes.
It'll just be me and my newspaper sales associate,
Benji.
Ta-ta.
Maybe I should hire a newspaper sales associate.
But you're in the real estate business.
They're related. It's hard to explain.
This is why women shouldn't work.
Oh, what am I to do, John Patrick?
I've got no money,
and my body's useless to Billam.
But mine isn't.
I saw the way he was looking at me.
His eyes were removing my outer clothes and my underthings...
And doing swirlies all around me front bits.
He did all of that with his eyes?
And more.
He licked one finger and tended my rear garden...
With his eyes.
But to lay with another man?
Oh, it don't mean the same thing for a sailor.
When you spend your life at sea without women,
you learn to drop your line
over the other side of the railing.
- So you've... - I've had sex with men, yes!
But only on boats!
And it didn't make me feel gay,
just a wee bit queer.
Hmm.
It's him.
I've come for the rent, Mrs. O'Sullivan.
Oh, I love this place.
It's shabby, but it could be very chic.
I'd call it chic-y shab.
This is my wife. She came along for some reason.
You brought your wife? He brought his wife.
How is this going to work with her standing...
I'm working on it!
Nice to see you again. Mr. McGee, is it?
First name, John, I want to say.
Middle name, Patrick, or something.
I'm not good with names.
Is that a baby in there?
Billam, have mercy on this woman.
Her children are living in the closet.
What's wrong with living in the closet?
Closets can be nice, I...
not that I know a whole lot about closets.
Why are we still talking about them?
Enough of closets!
Mrs. O'Sullivan, I'll have my money
or see you evicted.
Before you evict me,
I'll see me honor defended.
What? How have I insulted your honor?
Why, you've stomped your foot
on an Irish woman's floor.
That's one of the worst things you can do in this culture,
isn't it, John Patrick?
I'd be less offended if you dropped your drawers
and did your dirty business on me boot.
You'll have to settle it out in the hall, like men.
Oh, this is ridiculous.
I am absolutely not gonna...
out in the hall it is.
Let's settle it out in the hall.
It's nice you have children.
We tried.
Well, I tried, but, you know,
men and their headaches...
Maybe it's what you're wearing.
1888 called. They'd like their drapes back.
You're funny. I like that in a woman.
Oh, you know, Alice Roosevelt
telegraphed something funny to me the other day,
and then I re-telegraphed it to a whole bunch of my friends.
I ate a rat last night for dinner.
Look, I know it's tough being an immigrant.
Irish, Italian, Jews.
No picnic being women, either...
Hmm.
But this country is built on
letting more people enjoy its great freedoms,
not keeping people down.
It may take longer than it should,
but we always get it right,
eventually.
Hmm.
Sorry, dear, the opium just kicked in.
I heard none of that.
Oh, my God!
Oh, my God, oh, my God!
What do you think's going on? It sounds like they're praying.
Ay, I'll bet someone's on his knees.
Ladies, I've changed my mind.
It's Christmas. I can't just throw you out into the street.
There'll be no rent collected today.
Saints preserve me. We're saved!
Oh, Billam,
- you've done a good thing. - Hmm.
The Christmas spirit really got inside you.
Hmm.
Right...
it was the Christmas spirit.
Since we'll be able to survive the winter now
because of ya, I'd like to name my baby daughter after you.
That's the kindest thing I've ever heard.
- What's your name, by the way? - Fanny.
Uh-huh, and what's your middle name?
Wow. What a story.
It's so specific.
I didn't know poverty could be so sad.
At least it all worked out, Kar.
Oh, no, that was just Christmas.
Karolyn eventually served four years in debtors' prison.
John Patrick died at sea.
Billam was convicted of sodomy and died penniless and alone.
Fanny was the first woman to vote in New York,
and the first woman killed for voting in New York.
You might want to end the tour before that part.
Could you imagine being gay back then?
Ugh, or a woman?
Or a hot sailor?
Or an immigrant?
I thought working harder for less
was their American dream.
Well, you know what, I'm done complaining
that things used to be better. They weren't.
I mean, they're not great now,
but we do have a lot to be thankful for.
And we should have faith that it will get better.
The arc of history is long,
but it always bends towards justice.
I'm guessing you dated a guy named Justice?
And we called my penis the Arc of History.
Yeah.
Oh, God, who used this antique toilet?
It's not connected to anything!
Go, go, go, go! Go, go, go, go, go, go!
Grace, how could you not know?
I knew.
When I went to pull on that chain and nothing happened,
I saw my whole life flash before my eyes.
Oh, my gosh, you guys, it's snowing!
You did it, Kar!
Ah, you bet I did, Jackie,
all for you.
Hey, it's midnight.
It's Christmas!
- Ah, Merry Christmas. - Merry Christmas, you guys.
- Aw, Merry Christmas. - You see?
This is what the holidays are all about.
Oh, I just remembered,
we have to be somewhere before she finishes.
So, so sorry.
She'll be done soon.
Hi.
I like your mustache.
I'm Will.
All right, let me try it again.
That accent, it's a bitch.
Rat. You ate a rat, right? Okay.
Quiet!
I'm... I'm stuffing my asshole.
Cut!
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com