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Six Feet Like Whoa

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Sunday marked another excellent episode of HBO's Six Feet Under. While LAist has always had a supreme affection for the The Sopranos, SFU keeps getting better and better. The show succeeds in part because it illustrates Los Angeles in all its kaleidoscopic glory - ranging from Nate's short fling with a Westside divorcee ("I have to meet someone at the Grove!") to Federico's ill-advised philandering with an exotic dancer. Larry David's misadventures on Curb Your Enthusiasm might be more hilarious, but his show's brilliant satire stays firmly directed at the parallel universe of Hollywood. We hope to see the Fishers take a day trip to San Pedro in a future episode. Defamer keeps track of people keeping track of the show's sex acts here.

Additionally, one might imagine that Six Feet Under, proclaimed by their own website to be "The World's Premier Death Metal Band," is pretty teed off by all the billboards and buzz about the show. And maybe we've missed it, but does anyone know what neighborhood the Fisher home is supposed to be in? Los Feliz or something? First commenter to respond usefully wins the LAist No-Prize!