(S02E04) - "If you come across something that don't make you miserable, enjoy it." - Chief Unser to Tara

Was I the only human being on the planet who was completely snowed by the BS claim that SAMCRO was headed out of town to do a charity blood drive for Charming? The thought of any shady dealings never crossed my mind for a second. I probably wouldn't even have any doubts if they devised a charity scheme that's more their speed like a "Ride Joust for Diabetes" or a "100-Yard Coke Line Snort for Macular Degeneration."

It's not a sign of my stupidity. Believe me, I've got much more convincing signs of that. For instance, I drive a Pontiac, a brand new Pontiac ... with a 30,000 mile warranty.

It's a sign that the characters are becoming more endearing and real and they play on your emotions more than if they were just flat images on a high definition television screen. They are flesh and blood and bone, and all the little synapses and thoughts that make them human beings are connecting. They have made the audience, or at least the audience that sits in my living room each week, part of their family.

(S02E02) - "Unraveling the matriarch will destabilize them. They're all little boys who need a strong mommy."

The thing I'm starting to love about this show is the way it switches gears on just about any incline. They are so swift and sudden that the law should go totally "nanny state" and require me to wear a helmet during each week's episode.

For example: in this week's chapter, we see the aftermath of Gemma's rape and the toll it takes on her as she tries to keep it from the club. Then the very next shot is of Tig, played by Kim Coates and some random fishnet whore slowly waking up with hangovers that could stun an elephant, together in a spent 69.

And I ain't talking about a broken down '69 Chevy.

(S02E01) - "I'm not going to swap one outlaw for another one."

How do you turn a group of gruff biker outlaws who deal potent drugs to street trash and hardcore hardware to ruthless killers into a likable group of huggable stud muffins?

That's easy. You make a group of radical white supremacists into their enemies. It's the old "lovable by association" tactic of TV writing. Is the audience not buying your childhood version of Darth Vader? Then throw in a wise-cracking alien that sounds like Pee Wee Herman with Down's Syndrome.

However, in the case of the second season of Sons of Anarchy, it's a pretty sweet power play for a show that already packed more punch than an Absinthe smoothie.

I haven't been here from the beginning, so I don't know the exact number of times actress and singer Katey Sagal has sat down to talk to someone from our humble site. But within the last year, someone Squadder has either called her up on the phone or bumped into her in person to chat her up about the return of Futurama or her more serious but equally kick-ass role on Sons of Anarchy.

I'm seriously thinking that we need to institute some kind of frequent visitor punch card that rewards stars with a free pizza, a round of drinks or half off a new muffler (not including labor) for their 10th interview.

Sagal was nice enough to talk to us yet again in anticipation of the new season of Sons of Anarachy that premieres this tonight at 10 p.m. Eastern/9 p.m. Central on FX. We talked about her character Gemma's place in SAMCRO and what she has to endure for the club, and why women are such big fans of the show.

Normally, TV press kits come with more useless junk than an IKEA furniture kit. They usually come with T-shirts that are too small for the average TV critic's billowy build, toys that can turn the brightest human beings into easily-amused cats, and other assorted paraphernalia.

FX's press kit for the forthcoming second season of Sons of Anarchy has none of these things. There are no bloody brass knuckle sets, fake handlebar mustaches or even a lousy T-shirt that reads "The bitch fell off" on the back, perfect for that upcoming christening or bar-mitzvah.

That doesn't mean it's bad. In fact, it's one of the most bitching press kits to ever grace my cold, ink-stained hands.