The majority of season 2 was spent avoiding getting my eyes poked out by Joan's missile-breasts. The humble remainder was for wondering about the show's momentum; either the show was stuck, or the characters were stuck, but something was stuck. At the end of the season, many of the characters try telling the truth and try acting selflessly, while others learn how to become more self-involved than ever before. But if the ad-agency is an extended metaphor for private-gains truth-twisting , then how does one truly transform if forced to show up for work everyday? One of the solutions offered is to take an impromptu vacation to California and have sex with nymphs. And so there's the reason why it's hard not to like this show, even though it's full of beautifully rotten Gatsbys that persuade you with their looks rather than with their hearts.
Koko: Dude. Grade? Are we not doing that anymore?
Slothrop: Oops. Sorry Koko. Season Two gets a B.
Koko: Three words: Frank O'Hara. Wait. . . are names words? Dammit. Anyway, I recall the second season being much calmer than the first, more mature. Less prone to melodrama and excess. Fewer tawdry affairs and self-conscious historical postures. Deeper, slower characters. I remember thinking that its static structure is its greatest strength. I'll write more after I watch it again; it's been a while. But I do believe you're wrong. Less is more, man (except when it's not), and season two has less of everything. A-
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