007 // Video
[Kurt is looking a bit less colorful and flamboyant than usual today--in fact, he looks as though he hadn't slept well at all. Though his skin is paler than usual and his cheeks look a bit hollow, he's still as well-groomed and fastidiously dressed as ever. A deep breath before he begins.]
I want to tell you all about the bravest, strongest man I know.
[A slight pause.] My mother died when I was eight, but I still remember her. Little things. Her voice, how she smelled...how her skirts were always kind of dirty because she'd work around the garden in them. When she died, I thought everything was over. I didn't understand how there could be a world without her. But my dad showed me differently. He showed me that while things couldn't be all right, they could come close.
My dad is a true Midwesterner. He owns a tire shop, and his wardrobe consists primarily of flannel shirts and trucker hats. [He laughs.] He and I couldn't be more different. When he wanted to sit down and watch football I'd beg him to come and watch me do a one-man show wearing a pair of my mother's high heels. And you know what? He would. Even when I could tell he really didn't understand, he'd try to.
In early autumn last year...he got sick. He was in a coma for a week. I was more afraid than I'd ever been in my life. I learned then to--to never take him for granted. I wanted to show him how much I appreciated him on this Father's Day more than any other.
Now I know that if--when I get sent home, time will resume as it had before I left, but that doesn't matter right now. It's Father's Day here, and I'm not with him.
[Another, longer pause.] I don't believe in God. But this place showed me that there is such thing as magic, so-- If there's some kind of power somewhere that can carry transmissions over the space-time continuum or whatever, then I'm going to wish as hard as I can that this message crosses dimensions somehow.
The message is-- Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you.
I want to tell you all about the bravest, strongest man I know.
[A slight pause.] My mother died when I was eight, but I still remember her. Little things. Her voice, how she smelled...how her skirts were always kind of dirty because she'd work around the garden in them. When she died, I thought everything was over. I didn't understand how there could be a world without her. But my dad showed me differently. He showed me that while things couldn't be all right, they could come close.
My dad is a true Midwesterner. He owns a tire shop, and his wardrobe consists primarily of flannel shirts and trucker hats. [He laughs.] He and I couldn't be more different. When he wanted to sit down and watch football I'd beg him to come and watch me do a one-man show wearing a pair of my mother's high heels. And you know what? He would. Even when I could tell he really didn't understand, he'd try to.
In early autumn last year...he got sick. He was in a coma for a week. I was more afraid than I'd ever been in my life. I learned then to--to never take him for granted. I wanted to show him how much I appreciated him on this Father's Day more than any other.
Now I know that if--when I get sent home, time will resume as it had before I left, but that doesn't matter right now. It's Father's Day here, and I'm not with him.
[Another, longer pause.] I don't believe in God. But this place showed me that there is such thing as magic, so-- If there's some kind of power somewhere that can carry transmissions over the space-time continuum or whatever, then I'm going to wish as hard as I can that this message crosses dimensions somehow.
The message is-- Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you.