Snarky Heroines: a symptom of an ancient delusion thought only a modern trend

 I've been eyeing the new Persuasion movie with both curiosity and dread, fearing it would be to Jane Austen what the new Star Wars trilogy is to the old cannon: complete and utter destruction, sadly even the worst of the old books (and there were some decidedly awful ones) was far better than any of the new movies.  I have nothing against spunky, snarky heroines per se, which now seems to be the requirement for any modern remake of an old classic.  Snarky heroines are not a new trend, as some might think, certainly Jane Austen herself employed them and the Bard seems undoubtedly fond of them, but my beef comes in making a classic character something other than what she is, a complete opposite to what the character is written to be.  I was unhappy with a snarky, sassy, selfish Elizabeth Bennet portrayed by Kiera Knightley, the character is witty, lively, and vibrant, but she isn't unkind, impolite, uncharitable, or rude, even when enduring the horrible advances of the odious Mr. Collins (who was rather more creepy than not in that particular variation).  Then there's the Fanny Price in one of the more recent Mansfield Park movies who is far more bold and intrepid than the simpering little mouse of Austen's imagining, but the actress does an excellent job making her kind, usually gentle, and only secretly possessed of a witty streak to rival Austen herself, of which only Edmund and the audience are aware.  Of the two, I rather like the portrayal of Fanny (minding one of the narrator of Northanger Abbey) but rather despise that of the unfortunate Miss Bennet.  I can believe Fanny secretly lively and witty far better than Elizabeth so openly rude to her mother.

But of all characters to make snarky, Anne Elliot should never be on that list!  You might as well make Jane Bennet snarky!  Why make a movie about a character that is nothing like the character you wish to portray?  Miss Crawford or the Merry Wives of Windsor would be far more worth your time.  Fanny refused to act in the play but you have no trouble thinking Anne Elliot would?  Fanny has all of Anne's morals but none of her spunk, however quiet and unseen by the rest of the world.  Fanny runs off weeping while Anne goes on placidly on the outside about her duty while wretched within.  Fanny couldn't be bullied into participating but Anne is going to yield without a thought?  Why not choose another story, if you want a snarky wino as the heroine rather than ruin one of the most complex and estimable characters of classic literature?  I have no problem with snarky Austen heroines, the recent Emma and Love and Friendship are superb examples, but Emma and Lady Susan are snarky characters, Anne Elliot is not therefore the snarky, intoxicated lead of the new Persuasion cannot be our dear Miss Anne.  Maybe Mrs. Clay got her desired promotion in society after all?  Or perhaps Mrs. Smith actually does have a role in the movie, just with the wrong name?

There are plenty of snarky characters in classic literature and even the Bible (hello Jonah and Job!), to say nothing of recent books or even an original script, to choose from.  Slapping an Austen title on a movie does not a classic make.  But all detractors of the movie are going to be called racist or something worse, because apparently in our woke world, you can only have one opinion about the flotsam and jetsam turned out by our media overlords for our very particular entertainment and delight, no matter how bad it is, if it has a diverse cast, you'd better love it or else.  Star Wars fans who don't like the new movies or spinoffs have already been thus accused, as have Lord of the Rings fanatics who think Amazon's new rendition looks doubtful, just wait Austen lovers, our turn too has come.  Which is rather ironic because this is exactly the sort of thing Austen, Tolkien, and Lucas (those great cultural geniuses) were writing against!  Austen's satire, Tolkien's beauty, and Lucas's sense of daring fun were all aimed against the institutionalized drudgery that holds creativity and human flourishing captive, shaping it into a hideous, unnatural thing, a mere means to an end wherein nobody is happy.  Now the media giants have got hold of our little rebellious flirtations and diversions and have remade them in their own image and we MUST like it or we are innately bad not their product, but the very reason we such things is that it is anything but cookie-cutter propaganda vomited from an entertainment charnel house, mass produced vitriol with a classic label.

We like such things because they are rebelling against the tyranny of the Empire, Mordor, and polite Society, whatever its guise in our current age; they are the little boy telling a stupefied world that the Emperor truly doesn't have any clothes, a voice crying in the wilderness 'make straight the paths of the Lord.'  We are strangely drawn to this wild-haired social outcast in his camel hair apron who dines upon locusts and honey and calls the religious leaders of the day such terrible things.  Are we going to accept this modern day phariseeism like the pablum it is, like good little children whom their parents expect to eat broccoli and kale without complaint, never more to touch a cookie?  Or will we ignore the media giants and their pet critics who cannot fathom that someone's opinion might be different from their own, that a work of art is not excellent just because it is woke or diverse or because some elite says it is?  Will we continue to fling the pablum back in our dread 'mother's' face and demand real food, quality entertainment, determined that art means something, as does reality itself, or will we go quietly into the cloudy and endless night of dull, tedious, insipid media, cowed by big media's name calling and imperious manners?  Will Amazon's billion dollar baby flop because they've strayed so far from Tolkien's vision that no one can recognize it and the would-be fans turn away in droves or will it succeed because they stayed true to the vision (no matter how terrifying the previews) and delighted a whole new generation or will it succeed because we accept it because we must (no matter how bad) for fear of being thought racist or worse?  Will we allow big media to remake our own souls in their image even as they have reimagined poor Anne's?  

Strange bedfellows upon the narrow way

 So what do Larry the Cucumber in Veggitales Sampson's Hairbrush, Indiana Jones from the Last Crusade, and Becky Sharpe from Vanity Fair, a nearly 200 year old, ten thousand page book, have in common (besides being works of imaginitive fiction)?  They are all rather misguided in their search for the meaning of life, yes I know it is commonly held to be 42, but that is also a work of fantastical imagination, but then so is our own reality so I guess that argument won't hold water, but as that is a completely separate blog post, let's stay on target and not go chasing down rabbit trails, no matter how charming!  I've recently been reading the latter while my husband thought the family should watch the classic Indie flick the other day, which triggered memories of the former, thus this mutant hybrid blog post was born, very much like my college English/history class that had us comparing the travails of Rosie the cow from Giants in the Earth to some other minor character in Hamlet or the Odyssey, as you can see, I am well worthy of a BS degree and capable of writing such delightful travesties of prose.

Larry is after Sampson's Hairbrush, thinking it will give the bearer amazing strength, Indie is after the Grail in theory to keep it out of evil hands but probably because it would be a huge archeological find to say nothing of the rumors of eternal life, and Miss Becky thinks pomp and circumstance are the very stuff of life.  All are deluded into thinking some specific thing or goal or achievement will make them happy, pretty much like the rest of us, none of them knowing how close is the Answer, we merely have to reach out and take hold of it.  It isn't the cup of Christ or the brush of Sampson or the adulation of the rich and powerful that give us meaning, hope, strength, and truly eternal life, it is the Author of this tale we call reality, not some cheap gimmick from within our own story.  Our own adventures, strength, luck, charms, and efforts will avail nothing and those who strive after it in their own way reap their own destruction and misery.  The moral of each tale is to grasp at the Thing itself, take the narrow gate and walk upon that scant but faithful trail by which a humble Pilgrim might bypass Vanity Fair and come to Glory Himself, nothing else will avail if you truly wish for peace, hope, comfort, and meaning.

A timely tale, because some things never change!

 I just finished reading Dicken's "A Tale of Two Cities."  I read it a decade or so ago and thought it an excellent book, and upon perusing it anew, must thoroughly agree with my previous self.  I know modern humanity thinks itself the epitome of virtue and wisdom, so much more enlightened than all that came before, but in reading a book over a hundred years old, I find that humanity hasn't changed at all, much as an even more ancient book proclaims that it won't.  Our tools and toys and notions and fads may change, but the human heart never does, save by divine intervention.  I've often wondered what the two cities are, much as many Tolkien fans wonder about the two towers.  The simple answer would be London and Paris, but this is not a simple book, instead I wonder if it is not the City of Man and the City of God.  While we do not have the social and cultural chaos that enlivened the French Revolution, we certainly have the moral chaos in our so-called enlightened modern lives, in both extreme right and left thinking, and like those bloody revolutionaries of Dicken's tale, very few seem to realize that one can indeed be a real, thinking human person without falling off either extreme end of the spectrum, for both place their hope in the City of Man, this broken, wretched world, and think that somehow their antics can make it a paradise, when in fact we're only going from one sort of deplorable to another, much as the Revolution was just as bad as the abuses of the monarchy and aristocracy it replaced.

What is the answer then?  It isn't more rampant individualism, more 'rights,' more 'woke,' it isn't in the courts or the president or any governmental body or in more of anything of the hash of a banquet we've been imbibing non-stop since at least the 1970s, rather it is the complete opposite.  Our only hope is in reason, virtue, truth, self control and discipline, humility and sacrifice, instead of making our own happiness the ultimate goal, and the goal of our government and culture and relationships, a goal we will never achieve thereby, rather we must seek the good, the right, the true, that which is the foundation of reality and the human soul, we must seek outside ourselves, look to the good of others, and be willing to serve rather than being served.  Instead we throw a cultural temper tantrum, uprooting the very reality we inhabit, denying and mutilating it to fit our transitory and theoretical needs and demanding everyone do likewise.  Like the naked emperor in the old tale, is there even one little peasant child who can boldly proclaim the truth to an entirely deceived world?  We can't overcome evil with more evil or selfishness, rather we can overcome it with good, with real love, and therein and only thereby, will we ever truly be happy.  Only by losing our lives can we find them, only in giving it up, can we gain the whole world! 

That which involves a duck and True Love

 We were at camp the other week, and got a first hand lesson in True Love and God's provision for the least of His creatures, but it wasn't a sparrow, rather it was a duckling.  One thing we love about camp is it is located near a huge lake in a forested part of the state, meaning we get a chance to see all sorts of birds we don't have at home.  Cavity nesting waterfowl are particularly common this time of year because there are all sorts of drowned out trees near a quiet marshy area.  My son is as geeky as me, loving to both photograph and watch wildlife, and we've spent many great hours doing just that in that particularly marsh.  So when he called me over, all excited to look at something, I was all curiosity at his discovery.  It was a duckling, crouched under the front tire of a parked van.  We were still in the main campground area, a good quarter mile from the nearest water and there wasn't another duck in sight, but there were dogs and kids and a cat all within easy view, to say nothing of the vehicle he had taken shelter under.

Usually the rule with wildlife, particularly young wildlife, is leave it where you found it because mom will be back shortly, but in this case, that wasn't going to happen.  Mom had obviously lost track of the little bugger, bad counters as ducks tend to be, and he was on his own, and he wasn't a boring old mallard either.  He was about half the size of a newly hatched mallard, had a pointy bill, and a crest, my guess was a hooded merganser, a cavity nester we had seen in previous years, but what were we supposed to do with the little fellow?  It was getting dark and chilly, he wasn't more than a day old, and he was completely lost and alone, he wouldn't survive the night.  It was too late in the day to call any federal or state wildlife agencies and get the name and number of a licensed wildlife rehabilitator and I wasn't about to just turn him loose in the marsh without someone to keep him warm and safe from predators.  We found a cardboard box and put a t-shirt in it, he snuggled down and went to sleep, once he was secure we went scouting in the marsh, while we saw a bufflehead and a common goldeneye with their broods, there was no sign of any mergansers.  I then checked in the camp office just to see if anyone knew any local wildlife rehabilitators and was referred to a certain pastor's wife and veterinarian who might know someone, the only problem was that was me!  I didn't bother giving the lady a call as I was pretty sure I was clueless.  We went to bed and wondered what to do with the silly little thing come morning!

All the books and movies and stories concerning such occurrences always imply that the kid should keep the orphan and have a cool pet, that wasn't an option in this case.  For one it is a violation of federal law.  And for another, a wild duckling, particularly a fish eating diving duck, just isn't going to be happy in captivity.  I already felt bad for the little guy, he was obviously frightened, confused, and unhappy, and while we were doing everything we could for him, it just wasn't enough.  I also felt bad that he might spend the rest of his life in a wildlife park or get eaten the minute they released him into the wild, never having learned anything about survival from his mother, but there didn't seem to be any other options.  We got up early and hiked out to the swamp again, hopeful we might find the mother or at least a few bugs for breakfast.  The interweb said baby hooded mergansers like live mealworms and duck tartar, though I believe the last was a typo and they meant duck starter, a grain mix formulated for young ducks, rather than gourmet raw duck!

We trekked out to the swamp, bug net in hand (I said we were geeks!).  We saw the bufflehead and the goldeneye again, there was a male gadwall and pair of blue winged teal, and then, on the far edge of a reedy inlet, we saw a female hooded merganser with eleven young ducklings, this was probably our girl!  No wonder she had lost track of one in their convoy from the nest hole to the water.  I ran back to our room to get the box while my son kept an eye on the brood.  He took off his sock and shoes, duckling in hand, and waded out through the rocks and weeds into the open water on the far side of the inlet from the hen.  The duckling was a new creature the minute he hit the water, his crest was up and he swam around peeping like the king of the lake, he was the scared, cringing pathetic little thing no longer.  We withdrew so as not to scare the female and hopefully allow the reunion to take place.  My son was really sad he couldn't keep the cute little guy, but beneath his tears, his great big heart was glowing with joy, knowing he had done what was best for his little friend.

And that's what True Love is: doing what is best for the beloved, no matter the cost to oneself.  Leaving the ninety and nine on the mountain to go in pursuit of the one lost sheep.  And when Jesus says that God is aware even of a sparrow's fall, He isn't kidding.  What are the chances that the one kid on the entire campground who can tell a loon from a cormorant happens upon the lost little guy and can help him find his way home?  Who would care about the fate of one duckling out of a dozen?  How much more is His love for each of us?  

Go and do likewise?

 Have you been feeling lately (the last fifty years mayhap?) that art, literature, media, culture, politics is all one?  You can't pick up a modern novel or watch a modern show or go to a movie or hop online or visit a modern art gallery without hearing the same message over and over and over, whatever the vogue message of the moment may be?  Yawn, we filter it out and stare dazedly at the blank wall, finding the random pattern of dust and fly specks somehow innovative and soothing by comparison.  Here's a short article on kids' books that points out that exact problem.  I've actually tossed out or donated books people have given us because they are so vapid, dull, and insulting to everyone's intelligence; many of the books my daughter brings home from preschool go unread in her backpack.  Who writes this stuff?  Kids aren't idiots, and then again, neither are the people raising them.  Even if you aren't a kids' book afficiando, you have probably noticed the dearth of even decent movies in the last two decades, nothing but bad remakes, poor prequels, and obscure superheroes; I didn't even watch the last Star Wars movie, and I was the kid that read ALL the books, had the original trilogy pretty much memorized, and owns several themed lego sets.  I know the originals aren't great, but compared to the new ones, they are phenomenal when it comes to acting, plot, and characters, the new ones are just CGI and nothing more.

Art and literature were made to celebrate beauty, expose evil, and expand the soul, not to be just another mouthpiece for the cultural vogue.  No wonder it is so easy for we moderns to forget we have souls!  Get outside, peruse old books and paintings, reawaken your sense of wonder and unplug your moral outrage for a wee bit!  Then maybe get inspired to write or paint or add something beautiful to the world to inspire others to do likewise!

Sanditon...the mini mini series?

 I was not impressed with the second season debut of Sanditon, and after watching the second episode, while I am more resigned to the series, it still doesn't spark of Jane Austen.  Rather than following one main character (and a colorful cast of secondary characters) and a major story arc, rather we follow about 27 minor characters, none of whom are who they were last season, and 42 minor subplots.  It is more a 'who's who' of Sanditon than a Jane Austen novel.  I'm glad our gay love story is taking off (totally Austen!), as no other romance is even in view.  I don't like Miss Lambe, in this day and age I suppose that makes me racist, but it has nothing to do with race and everything to do with personality, personally I don't care if she's human, martian, or a fairy, she's a spoiled, immature, sulky, pessimistic, strong willed, impudent, cynical and selfish little beast, sadly I like Lydia Bennet out of the 1995 BBC classic Pride and Prejudice far more, at least she wasn't mean and was a little bit of fun, vulgar though it be, and added energy and zest to the story, even if her strident whining and eternal 'poor mes' drove one to distraction.  And apparently it is 'raining men' as every eligible female has a bevy of beaus when everyone knows that in classic Austen style, 'more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner.'

We've already strayed into Jane Eyre, now we are adding a bit of Frances Burney (an author Austen was rather fond of and probably was a major inspiration to her own writing), as apparently Tom Parker is developing a gambling addiction and the somewhat intriguing Colonel is now encouraging it, ugh!  All the characters have no character, they have become mere caricatures of themselves, devolving into mere vices or habits rather than complex and deep individuals.  Poor Arthur (who I rather liked, along with his sister Diana, hypochondriacs though they be) is merely the token gay man, his burgeoning personality lost to stereotype.  I never liked the Hankins, as they've never been anything but stereotype: nice but bumbling people who are behind the times and in the way of progress and happiness to all comers, at least Mr. Collins was amusing if odious, they are only annoying with just enough heart that you can really dislike them but there's not enough there to attract or keep your interest, sort of like ecru walls and beige carpet: universally acceptable but nobody really likes it or even looks twice at it.

The former main character, Charlotte, is no longer audacious, outspoken, bold, caring, sweet, fun loving, tries to do the right thing even when she makes mistakes, she's just a bland, quiet little mouse that has decided life isn't worth living any longer and she's just going to exist through the next few seasons?  And then we have Clara reappearing, perhaps a nod to Sense and Sensibility, except the abandoned and pregnant mistress never shows up to add yet another unneeded subplot.  Edward is a less than stellar Wickham stand-in, he's so stiff and boring and tedious and dour and one dimensional, at least you sort of liked Wickham, even after he was absolutely disgraced, I join Mr. Bennet in rejoicing that he has found himself a son-in-law even more absurdly baffling than Mr. Collins!

Lady Denham pretty much carries the show, which is a pretty heavy load for the poor old girl.  Lord Byron (or whatever the artist's name is) parades around lauding France just to irk people, courting Miss Lambe's fortune and providing a love interest for Arthur?  Yeah, I don't get it either, at least in a good Austen novel if one was after someone's fortune, one didn't spend half one's time courting someone else, at least until Miss King's uncle whisked her off to Liverpool.  But apparently everyone is taking Elizabeth's courtship of Mr. Darcy and turning it into an object lesson: disdain his every word, insult him, and if he persists, marry him?  This seems to be the case for both Miss Lambe and Lady Babbington and is rather aggravating while Charlotte's sister is off making eyes at everybody and willing to fall in love with a rock if it would but ask her to dance and spout a little Cowper, Byron and Arthur have the deepest relationship of the whole bunch and I'm worried about Arthur getting hurt, what a strange show!

The sad reality is, I really don't like or care for any of the new versions of the characters.  The scenery and costumes are gorgeous, the music is great, but I really don't care if Miss Lambe flies off with Peter Pan or shacks up with Byron at this point, while the brooding Charlotte/Jane Eyre has yet to discover the mad wife in the attic, but maybe Rev. Hankins will ask her to marry him and go to India as a missionary and save us all the nuisance of both, and then Colonel what's his bucket will follow in vengeful pursuit?  That sounds like a far more interesting story than anything brewing at the moment.  This is more cheap regency romance with woke undertones than it is Jane Austen spin-off, and that's too bad, because it was starting off as a deep, thoughtful, colorful story and characters, now all I can do is listen to the music and take in the local color and wish the characters were equally as vibrant, instead of two dimension, faded cartoons of themselves.  But maybe it is a good cautionary moral tale for our age, wherein we pride ourselves on our extreme individualism only to let our tribe, race, gender, economic status, interests, politics, whatever define our character, rather than to be the unique individuals we are, we slip quietly and gently into the stereotypical box defined for us, we have no individuality save what mere statistics grants us.  Even the renegade Lord Byron is a stereotype.  Austen was a master of character, the writes of Sanditon, mere caricature.  

Jane Austen's Spiderman 3 II?

 I watched 'Sanditon' a year or two ago when it was live streaming on PBS online, more out of curiosity than for anything else.  Then when Jane Austen's unfinished novel became an unfinished mini-series, I thought it rather ironic and moved on with my life.  Then my husband left for a two week trip legally requiring me to binge watch Jane Austen or other movies based on classic novels: Jane Eyre, Little Women, Anne of Green Gables, all those shows he only watches when forced, but one of the kids is currently going through a 'has an anxiety attack the minute I go downstairs to watch anything' phase, I hope it's a phase, so much for that idea.  Being stuck upstairs with a computer, my choices were rather limited since we don't subscribe to any streaming services, but I happened by PBS's website just to see what might be interesting, perhaps Father Brown was still being produced?  Only to find that Sanditon had been renewed for two seasons and the premier was coming up and you could livestream the first season the whole week, binge watching it was!

The first season, upon second viewing, was actually pretty good, especially when I reviewed the source material they had to work with.  So I was rather looking forward to the new season, so much so that I threw a Jane Austen party in anticipation, it was only me and the kids and some stuff we had around the house, but it was fun and gave us something to do while daddy's gone.  And last night it premiered, and all I can say is I feel like I've been run over by a freight train composed of every classic novel ever written with a hearty dose of progressive agenda to make it even more painful.  Just a note to the BBC, people don't watch period dramas to get yet another taste of 'wokeism,' they like the stories, the characters, the settings and costumes and music, don't we get enough liberal approved worldview lectures from every other form of media every other minute of the day?  Do you have to ruin Jane Austen too?  I guess Amazon is doing the same thing with Tolkien so why should this surprise me?  This wasn't quite as bad as the transgender ball featured in an episode of the Netflix Anne of Green Gables remake but it is only the first episode.  Also, don't pull a Spiderman 3 and have 27 plot lines going on at once which might take 50 separate episodes to resolve or The Hobbit and make an epic out of a children's novel.

Basically, every character now has their own modern socially approved plot to pursue while also following a plot line stolen from other Austen works or classic novels.  There is no more cohesive story, no more character growth or interaction, the whole thing seems to be devolving into an infomercial for various modern causes and concerns: a modern sitcom in period clothing.  So here's the plot thus far along with the characters' alter egos from other classic movies/books, obviously there are spoilers ahead:

We start with a soap opera-esque murder of Mr. Sydney Parker in Antigua and slip briefly into Mansfield Park mode with a dash of Father Brown.  It was bad enough when he basically married for money last season and was going away forever, now you have to kill the guy too, definitely a soap opera!  Now we have Charlotte and her sister Allison going back to visit Sanditon, but instead of mourning her lost lover, Charlotte has decided to renounce marriage altogether and become a governess after about two days back in town, uh huh?  So Jane Eyre/Charlotte goes off to hang with Mr. Rochester and his trans-daughter and early feminist niece while Allison stays in town and somehow manages to be both a Lydia Bennett (a whole camp full of soldiers!) and a Charlotte Lucas (mercenary marriage here we come) and later even shows her Marianne side by having an accident only to rescued by a cute guy, but Elenor/Charlotte is off at Thornfield Hall hoping there aren't any mad wives lurking about.

Meanwhile, Miss Lambe is going all Amazing Grace and boycotting the sugar trade to oppose slavery, which at least is a realistic subplot for the era, but sadly I must agree with Lady Denham and wonder what good it will do for this jumped up fishing village to protest thus, sort of like modern activists thinking their social media posts actually do something productive!  Just go watch Amazing Grace instead, it is a far better movie and exploration of the subject.

Then we have Edward turned soldier who has brought his whole regiment to Sanditon for the summer, not telling them that his real name is Wickham and he doesn't have any money and wants to get revenge on the evil rich people that ruined his life.  While his stepsister is apparently doing a horrible job trying to make us all feel sorry for the plight of women at the time whose only value is as baby machines or maybe it's a nod to the 'infertility community' or something, but whatever it is supposed to be, it is dreadful.  Esther was an interesting character last season, warm hearted but wounded, manipulated and desperate but fierce and strong willed but suddenly she's all 'I want to give my husband a baby' even if she dies for it, deciding she has no value whatsoever without a child?  Maybe we're just wandering into the Soap Opera weeds again as apparently everybody needs a plot line.

Then we have Lady Denham complaining that she isn't invested enough in Sanditon when she couldn't be bothered to help out during last season's various disasters and set backs which makes no sense, not that anything does at the moment, but apparently if she's that concerned about it, why doesn't she just repay a little bit of that owed to Mrs. Campion?  They shipped off Mr. Stringer and Lord Babbington apparently, some of the best characters in the batch.  Tom Parker seems to be a minor character this season, another interesting character benched.  His other brother, who is so memorable I can't think of his name at the moment, is probably going to be the token gay character.  Lord Byron is also in town, guised as an eccentric and temperamental artist.  Dr. Fuchs is back but I don't know if it is a different actor or just a poor scene, but he is hardly the bold, polite, quirky little German dude of last season, he's bland as lukewarm tea and about as interesting as a chorus member in a greek tragedy.  The pedantic reverend now has a strident sister, apparently we need not one but two bumbling, backwards, retrogressive token christians.  Anybody else feel like this season is full of 'token' representatives instead of actual unique characters?  And there certainly isn't any unique or interesting plot going on.  I guess they'll get a black out on their progressive agenda bingo card but as far as making a good story, I'm afraid they should have left it at one season and leave the rest to our imaginations.  There's just too much going on, the characters are taking a backseat to agenda, and I'm starting to feel like the entire show is a Mr. Collins for the progressive movement's Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and we all know how much people like to hang out with him for any length of time: desperation makes people do funny things but anything short of that and they'll flee the room in droves!