When I set out to write this "best of" list, it was going to be 20 moments. Then 15. In the end, I went with 10, though I could have easily done ten more. But it occurred to me that I'm not trying to pin down the best moments in the all too short life span of "Freaks and Geeks." Instead, what I tried to do was just show the people that have maybe never watched the show what made it so great.  It's long since dead, but that doesn't mean it's not still worth everyone's time.  So, please, spare me the "you forgot ___" e-mails, I know what I forgot.  This list isn't really a list at all, but a reflection on something that ended before it had a chance to get stale and force us not to like it anymore.  I wish it were still around, but really, I'm just happy to have it at all.

Okay, sentimentality aside, "Freaks and Geeks" was an NBC "dramedy" (barf) set in a 1980 Michigan suburb. Though it was fawned over by all the critics at the time, it aired for one season, and then for another year or so in syndication.  The show bascially explores the idea that it sucks to be a teenager sometimes, and uses a late '70's soundtrack as it's gimmick.  "Freaks and Geeks" followed the Weir kids, Sam and Lindsay, as they tried to survive the best years of their life. Sam and his friends Bill and Neal were the "geeks," and Lindsay had just adopted a new set of friends (Daniel, Ken, Nick, and Kim), the "freaks."  That's pretty much what you need to know to read my post and understand what the hell I'm talking about.  

I hope.

Mathlete.

About halfway through the season Lindsay, reformed geek and wannabe freak, finally realized that her friends, even if they didn't mean to, were generally completely selfish buttholes who used her for her money, house and, finally, her parents' car. Which she proceeds to wreck. After getting little sympathy from her friends despite them having caused her to get yelled at by her parents for the sixth or seventh consecutive episode, Lindsay snaps. Her experiment in high school caste reorganization has failed, and she wants to go back to her old life, as the biggest prettiest fish in a pond full of straight-laced math nerds. All season long, Lindsay's former glory as head of the "Mathletes" as been referenced. Now she's finally ready to rejoin. After some backstage politicking, she manages to get a spot in the second chair, and then proceeds to cream her opponent in competition.
   
One of the major weaknesses with Lindsay as the main character was the fact that, as a girl who has shed her entire identity in an attempt to "find herself," she's really just a lump of clay. There's nothing that defines her, she's used as a foil for the more interesting characters. Getting canceled after one season didn't help, because I'm sure in the later seasons we would come to know more clearly what Lindsay was "about." What makes this episode work is that we finally get a glimpse of what Lindsay is/was about. She's cutthroat, arrogant, competitive, all the things your average smart girl tends to be. And it's nice, for once, to feel like the show is centered on a tangible character and not a shadow trying to find it's character.
   
The highlight of the episode comes when Lindsay, having soundly defeated the other mathlete, turns to find that her friends, the freaks, have all come to cheer their geeky friend on. Not only that, but they brought a replacement piece to fix the part of her dad's car she smashed. It's a little banged up, and they probably stole it, but the fact that the losers she hangs out with even made the gesture shows that, even if Lindsay has lost all that makes her Lindsay, she's made the others a little better just by being around.

"Hello, Steve Austin?"

Martin Starr had a tough sell in the character of Bill Haverchuck. Whereas the other two "geeks" (Sam and Neal) aren't all that geeky (just too small and too smart, respectively), Bill . . . well, he just is. He's gangly and gap toothed, he has bad hair and glasses that you usually only find in Lion's Club donations boxes. At the same time, he's the character that we, as children of the '80's and adults of "I Love the '80's," can most connect to. He's constantly talking about Dallas, or Magnum P.I. or any number of other things that make the "Old+LOL" generation appreciate Bill for being the go-to reference guy.
   
But, sometimes, he just makes it so hard for us to get behind him. One of these times is when Bill, 14 years old, geeks of geeks, doesn't see the inherent faux pas on dressing up for trick-or-treat like Jamie Sommers, The Bionic Woman.

As if seeing Bill, the world's most awkward pubescent, sporting a fluffy blonde wig and a fierce pair of falsies weren't enough, he then proceeds to warm himself up by getting into character in front of a full length mirror. He recites some dialogue, does the over-the-shoulder look, freeze, and accompanying doo-doo-doo-doo punch sounds, and yes, even takes a phone call from Ted Dibiase Steve Austin, the Six Million Dollar Man.

Thank god for Bill, and his unwillingness to accept that he is, in fact, the Miller High Life of geeks.

"Gracias."

As the title of this piece suggests, I have a bit of a crush on Seth Rogen. I can't help it. Every line of dialogue he spoke in the run of this show (as well as on "Undeclared") was just complete gold. I love him, I want to hang out in his basement and listen to him recite Wordsworth, because I think it would be funny.

Anyway, Rogen's Ken was undeniably my favorite character, but in trying to pick a moment that highlights him, I realized how difficult it is to illustrate the greatness of line delivery. Ken was never really in on any action, he was (with the exception of one episode) mostly a background character, the guy who sat behind the other characters and said something sarcastic every once in a while. So I picked this quick little exchange with a bouncer at a club the freaks are trying to get into, but keep in mind that, without having seen the episode, I won't be able to relay even 1% of the greatness that is Ken.

So the group wants to go see a band, but they realize that to get in, they'll have to have fake IDs. So they turn to Jason Schwartzman who, after taking their money, comes to them with drivers licenses that are not only all Canadian, but all appear to have been stolen from Canada's Hispanic and/or Chinese population. Everyone demands their money back except Ken, who believes that "Jesus H. Garcia" might just work for him.

Fast forward to the club. Two bouncers (that we never see again) get the scene off to a good start by casually discussing how funny "Diff'rent Strokes" is. Ken hands over Senor Garcia's ID, and he and the bouncer exchange the following:

    Bouncer: Where's your mustache, JESUS?
    Ken: It's Hay-ZOOS, and I shaved it.
    Bouncer: You looked better with it. Go ahead.
    Ken: Gracias.

The stupid hat only adds to the funny, but it's the "gracias." that really seals it, because he says it with all the same conviction with which he would say, "Hey Emily, I read your post online, let's run away to Fiji together."




















*ahem*

Joel Hodgson

I chose Joel not for any particular moment, but rather as an opportunity to high light Judd Apatow's gift for the guest star. In the course of just one season, he managed to fit in the first (some would say superior) host of MST3K, as well as Jason Schwartzman (with a bothersome amount of chest hair), Ben Stiller (with a bothersome '90's hair do), and Kevin Corrigan (with . . . normal hair. But any chance to yell out, "Hey! It's the Ugly Guy!" is a good chance.)

Joel's character appeared three times in the course of the show. First, he made a blink-and-you'll-miss-him debut as Schwartzman's boss in a mall store that looks suspiciously like a Gadzooks that's had all the squishy teen girls in "Mrs. Kutcher" baby tees removed. He makes a quick remark about "Parisian Night Suits" and then he's gone.

The second time we see him, Sam (eager to impress creepy milk fed young Republican Cindy Sanders) heads into the Fashionably Questionable Male and encounters Joel, sans Pec Fur McGee. In an awesome bit of tight continuity, he manages to talk Sam into buying one of the aforementioned Parisian Night Suits, which Sam describes as what his grandfather wears because he's "too lazy to put on pants."

The final appearance of Joel finds him the rockin' DJ of an ailing bowling alley discotheque which, unbeknownst to him, is being shut down within the week in favor of "Foxy Boxing." It is unclear whether this is a step down from the retail hell of the Disco Stu Emporium, or a life long dream fulfilled. He exchanges words with Ken, mostly along the lines of, "YOU are the one who is the ball licker!" then he boogeys out to that disco tune in all of our hearts, never to be seen again. But not before introducing us to. . .

The "Magical" Disco stylings of Eugene

It's hard to say why this moment works, or even how it wound up on the show. Maybe because it is the season finale. Maybe because they knew the show was getting canceled. Maybe because, according to Apatow, he was enjoying the effects of a vicodin addiction at this point. Regardless, what we have here is a man, who quite resembles Marge Simpson's prom date, entering a dance contest and accentuating his skills with magic tricks that you learn from a cereal box. Though, to be fair, the kind you buy the box of cereal for specifically.

Poor Nick. Poor sweet, lovable, stoner Nick. All he wanted in life was Lindsay and his giant drum set. When he couldn't have either, he did what any man would do: He abandoned everything he knew for some slick silk shirts and the ABBA-loving girl that had had a crush on him since the sixth grade. Then, when he finally finds something he's good at, his hopes of disco glory are crushed. Nick's pathetic, "they didn't say you were allowed to use magic!" is perfect, 'cause really, what DO you say when Artie Ziff is coughing up playing cards in front of you?

A Good Kid.

Sam, the tiniest of the geeks, was a character we could all relate to. Despite being only 13 when he got the role, John Francis Daly was always pitch perfect as that kid who doesn't really deserve the nerdy reputation he has (I mean, he likes "Star Wars" and "The Jerk." Was that really all that nerdy in 1980?) who constantly wishes to be something better than he is. Bill was just a caricature, and Neal was a guy who knew more than everyone else, and wasn't sure what to do with himself. But Sam was more or less just a normal kid. The only normal kid on the show, more so than even Lindsay. So it was easier to root for him, and when he expressed emotions, you empathized with him more sharply than if they'd been experienced by Overly Sarcastic Guy or Smelly Fat Kid.

In "The Garage Door," Sam is in the unfortunate position of telling Neal that his father (who is adored by his son and all of his friends) is cheating on his wife. Sam runs into Neal's father in a department store, where he finds him with another woman. In a thin attempt to hide what he's doing, he tells Sam that he's there to buy Neal an Atari (which both boys had expressed an interest in to their parents), so he'd best keep things a secret. Sam, conflicted about what he should do, asks Lindsay if she thinks their father is capable of cheating. Then they both realize that Mr. Weir (Joe Flaherty) is a form SCTV cast member, and about as desirable to women as toe fungus, and everyone has a hearty laugh.

Eventually, Sam has to tell Neal what he saw. Neal thinks its ridiculous (because who wouldn't, if put in that position?), but then reconsiders when he finds a random garage door opener in his father's car. In a wonderful bit of 14 year-old logic, Neal figures he'll bring his friends and they ride their bikes around until they find a garage door that works with mystery opener. Eventually Sam and Bill tire, and leave Neal to search alone. Sadly, he finds his door, and in one second, Neal manages to show up 1,325 emotions all at once.

At the same time, Sam arrives home to find his parents waiting, looking stern because he's stayed out late without calling again. Instead, they step back to reveal that they've bought him the Atari that he wanted, not out of guilt like Neal's father, but just because he's "a really good kid." Sam bursts into tears, and so do I, because sometimes all we need out of life is for our parents not to disappoint us.

When I'm with you. . . I'm smilin'.

Nick, though an immensely likable character (see the other musically related moment below), generally only had two states: crazy-eyed stoner, and dead-eyed stoner. The exception to this rule was when he was with Lindsay. Around her, he seemed kind of normal, if a little dimwitted. They made a pretty cute couple for about . . . one episode. Then it became painfully clear to Lindsay, and everyone watching at home, that he just liked her considerably more than she liked him. Then things got hard to watch.

The apex of "lets watch Nick drive his girlfriend away by being too nice to her" came when Lindsay, who has spent the entire episode worrying that Nick is in the mood for a little sexual healing, heads over to his basement to "spend time together." Instead, Nick hits her with the only thing possibly less romantic than awkward grab ass on a pull out sofa: He hits her with Styx.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love Styx. And correct comic placement of a Styx song can equal some real comedy (for example, in the pilot, when the geeks are walking off to fight their bully while "Renegade" plays). "Lady," however, is just always painful. I mean, "you're my lady of the morning?" How so, Dennis DeYoung? What makes one a "lady of the morning?" I'm well aware what makes a "lady of the night?" If you operate in the morning, must you serve breakfast in bed before delivering some sloppy oral? If that's the case, then my lady of the morning is one Aunt Jemima. And I can say that, 'cause my best friend is a delicious waffle.

Lincoln Suks

Sometimes the character of Daniel was hard to enjoy, because the actor playing him always seemed like he really wanted to be some "Rebel Without a Cause" type for a new generation, when the sad reality was that he was playing a guy who was, really, just dumb and poor. As the season wore on, however, he got a little easier to take.

James Franco (better known to the readers of this website, I'm sure, as Harry Osborn) had a rather strange role to play on this show. At the start, Lindsay had a very obvious crush on him, and it seemed he would be the sexy aloof guy that the protagonist lusts after, eventually wins over, and then dumps in favor of the nice guy. It's the "Felicity" style of plot development, that we've seen 84 billion times. But then after the third or fourth episode, it became clear that Lindsay's feelings for Daniel had waned, as she and Nick were now having awkward "maybe we like each other" time. As such, Franco was left without much to do as a character. Their solution to this was to slowly move him away from the "attractive greaser" role and more into the "strange, but moderately funny idiot" role. Its sort of strange to think that if the show had lasted more than a season he might have devolved into Mark Healey.

In this episode, McKinley high (that would be the setting of the show, since I have yet to mention it) is preparing for a big basketball game against Lincoln. The freaks, naturally, are nonplused. That is until Ken, Daniel, and Kim (Daniel's girlfriend, object of my boyfriend's affections) get some crap randomly thrown on them by a bunch of jocks from the rival high. So in a real "hot rod Lincoln" moment, the three jump into Daniel's trans-am and chase after them. When they stumble upon the jock's car, they do the obvious thing, and spray paint a poorly thought out insult onto the side. When they get caught, and realize that they're 3 against about 8, there's nothing for them to do but sadly put up their dukes
and take a beating.

What's great, though, is that getting the shit kicked out of them manages to imbibe the apathetic threesome with the school spirit that was previously lacking. So it's hilarious when they show up at the game, covered in scrapes and bruises, and proceed to get as excited as one possibly can for a regional championship high school basketball game. And Franco is by far the best sell. He does chants, he heckles, he basically turns into your drunk uncle at those embarrassing little league games you tried to block out when you got to junior high and started listening to garbage and wearing jncos.

Jesus is Just All Right.

Despite my love of all things Ken, my list wound up a little Nick heavy. And I think it's because, whereas Ken just has a line delivery that makes everything he says memorable, but nothing he does exceptionally standout, Nick always seems to find himself in the funny moments. Add to that the fact that his moment served to illustrate that he really was just nice to a fault, and you have one of the best moments in what is probably my favorite episode.

Meet Millie. Millie is that girl. The completely unrepentant nerd who, despite having the social standing of a carrot, is involved in EVERY activity and is therefore known by everyone. At the episode's start we're shown an assembly in which Millie (as well as two of the other excellent recurring characters) are the Sober Students, an improv troupe who act out why teenage drinking is bad. That in itself was probably deserving of a spot on the list, but . . . moving on. Later, at the kegger Lindsay has decided to throw to impress her new "freak" friends, Millie (who lives across the street) shows up and is naturally appalled. She is at every moment of this season two seconds from screaming at her formerly straight-laced friend Lindsay that she's throwing her life away. But because shes a kind and meek Christian, as well as a nice girl, she never actually does. Instead, she decides to stay at the party and casually toss into various conversations what a great time she's having, without the benefit of drugs or alcohol. Millie is truly high on life.

After growing tired of her half-assed attempts to be in with the out crowd, Millie stumbles across the Weir family piano. Then in an act motivated either by a sincere attempt to convert some sinners, or because it's the only "popular" song she knows how to play, Millie begins a rousing performance of "Jesus is Just Alright" by The Byrds. Everyone rightly looks horrified for about 10 seconds, then Nick, always the nice guy, takes it upon himself to jump, either to make Millie look better, or because he legitimately likes the song. The best part is when the camera cuts away from the two singing, and you hear Nick off camera unsuccessfully try to pull other people into the song, in hopes for a "Fame" moment.

Losing Maureen

Paul Feig was a geek. He was tormented in high school, the lowest rung on the ladder, and he hated it. When he grew up and found some moderate success in Hollywood, he created "Freaks and Geeks" to live out all of his hellish high school experiences on camera. This moment was one of the saddest.

In this episode, the geeks befriend a pretty new girl, and then fight desperately to keep her from meeting the other pretty and popular kids, because they know when she does she will leave them. It's a painfully accurate look at how it feels to be at the bottom of the social order, and wanting just once for one of the cool kids to see that you're more than where you sit in the lunchroom.

The heartbreaking climax comes at the episode's end when, despite all their efforts, Maureen still asks if the geeks would mind if she sat at a different table. The three look crestfallen, just briefly, and then resigned, because in their hearts they knew this is how things would end. Maureen tries to tell them it's not the end of the world, but they know it's time to say good-bye. Then Bill makes everyone cry by asking her to not, "believe everything they tell you about the kids at school. Because sometimes they don't take the time to get to know people."

The one nice follow up to this episode is that Maureen shows up a few more times throughout the season, and she's still nice.

I hope Paul Feig's Maureen was still nice to him.