(S03E06) "L.A. is no place to raise a daughter...or a dad." - Hank to Karen

If I ever procreate and God curses me by turning said offspring into a female teenager, the last place I would raise her is Los Angeles. In fact, I would get as far away from that cesspool of pretentiousness and greed as possible; its literal polar opposite, in fact. That's right, I'd actually raise her in the Indian Ocean.

The idea had always been hidden in the back of my brain, but it was yanked into my consciousness by Becca and her snooty, drugged-up pal Chelsea. Both of them are really starting to piss me off. They are vapid, whiny and annoying. In other words, they are perfect Californians.

(S03E15) Let's get the short review out of the way: this was an amazing episode.

Here's a shocking thing that a lot of TV executives seem to not be able to understand: when you get really talented writers and allow them to work with really talented actors, good things will happen. You don't really need to over think the equation. The Office consistently manages to dazzle us with little more than well written scripts executed by great actors. You don't need mythology or gimmicks... just talent.

All right, the fawning is making even me sick. On to the episode...

Jim put himself on the line with Pam last year. That didn't work out; he transferred from Scranton. (Who knew that the Stamford office would also be full of loonies? But that only makes it more credible that either branch might be the one forced to close.)

Kudos to the writers for finding a way to put off the number one killer of sitcoms -- the hooking-up of long-unconsummated lovers. Jim appears to be the guy in the office who can't get through the tedium of a day without a little sexual tension. Who can blame him, when the other choices are pushing paper products or team-building exercises gone wild?