Last night's episode of the Beverly Swillbillies descended back into the blackness of the first episode of the season, and I'm once again not exactly sure how to talk about it.

Guys! Guyyyyyssssss. Why did last night have to happen? I mean, was it interesting to watch Taylor frizzle away into a nothing more than a jumble of winely charged molecules? Yes, I suppose it was! In a vacuum, if I knew nothing of the outside world, it was interesting to watch Taylor — adrift in a snowbound mansion like a blonde and skeletal Jack Torrance — succumb to snow madness last night. But then when you do step back and consider the outside world, the real world, you remember that this whole freak out, Taylor's great and terrible descent into a Sarlaccian pit of anxiety and panic, is about a guy who later killed himself. Who did, in an enormous way, do the one thing that Taylor, at that moment, seemed scaredest of: he left her alone. And I know that that's not really what was scaring, maybe still is scaring, Taylor. I know that there's a whole other, more complicated ocean of feeling lying deep under that initial lonely little cave, but in the immediate, in terms of the episode, that's what she was concerned about and we were supposed to what, watch and wonder how it would all turn out? We know how it turns out. And maybe it'd be interesting to watch if we could find out the why, but we're not going to. It seems like we're just going to see Taylor drunkenly fret over this thing, not eating and shaking like a leaf, and then the season will end and of course they'll say "And then Russell killed himself" and it'll be that thud whump thunk all over again. Ugh. No thanks!

So as interesting as it is, I don't really want to talk about Taylor, because there's nothing funny there, and if there's nothing funny there's nothing worth writing about in a stupid recap on a website blog. We can talk about other things, though! While Kim is certainly not in good shape, she's at least partially functional, so we can talk about her. I mean, she was actually kind of great for part of this episode. When Taylor started having her freakout, Kim was open and kind and welcoming and admirably self-deprecating about all the fighting these two blonde wraiths did last year. I really liked that Kim! I would hang out with that Kim. Of course I would make sure we were hanging out somewhere far from any alcohol or pills, somewhere like the middle of a forest clearing or on top of Mount Hood, but that's a minor detail. The fact is that when she's lucid, which is admittedly not terribly often, Kim is kind of great. She's quicker and less vain than the other ladies, and she just seems like she's lived a little life. She's like a pair of jeans or shoes that are comfortably broken in.

Of course, though, things with her inevitably, eventually, return back to prickly. Last night Kim handled the Taylor freakout completely ably until all of a sudden she didn't. She eventually devolved — after some wine? some pills? hard to say — into doing bizarre jokes, repeated over and over again with that drunken determination that comes special after one too many glasses of something. I'm referring, obviously, to her little "I'm gonna be a magician!" routine, which mostly involved throwing napkins at Taylor, because obviously magicians are always throwing napkins at people, that's just what magicians do. A trade secret of the magicians' guild is that there can never be too much napkin throwing. Just let you in on a little inside baseball right there.

Yes, Kim has moments of clarity surrounded by everything else. She's an island in a swamp of her own making, calling dimly for help only occasionally, most of the time oblivious and unaware. But clearly aware at least enough to take pleasure in not being the biggest fuck-up in the room. Oh yes, I think she did secretly love Taylor for giving her that, that brief weekend moment when she wasn't the one everyone was giving the hairy eyeball to while backing slowly out of the room. Kim liked not being that person for a moment. Oh Kim. Poor Kim.

The other major plot point of the episode concerned the Maloof and her basketed-ball squadron, the Saccharine Mentos Kings. They are not a very good basketed-ball team, so the Maloofs want to move them down to Anaheim to at least make a buck or two off'a them. This is apparently enraging everyone in the Saccharine Mentos area, so the Maloofs are in danger! Danger most foul! From Sacramento Kings fans, known to be the worst sports-related gang in the US after that Indonesian badminton cult in Glendale. Just very dangerous. As it would happen, the Maloof wanted to travel up to Sack Crumb Bento to watch the last game of the season, possibly the last ever!, but just as she was about to leave, her husband Chim-Chim told her that it was too dangerous. "Cram it with walnuts, ugly" the Maloof said in response. After all, she had her security team(s) and would be just fine. She was going to stay in the hotel suite she always stays in, even though there had been threats that if a Maloof, any Maloof, from Maloof A to Maloof Z, showed up at that hotel, in that suite, they would be torn apart. The Maloof caves to no basketball fan, least of all fans of a team that went 24-58 last season. She's a brave old bitch, that Maloof!

So she headed off with dutiful Chim-Chim in tow and when they got to the private airport they dropped an exciting bomb on us: For some reason Kim was supposed to go too. A little Kim trip! Only, where was she? Where was Kim, everybody? The Maloof had no idea. And though she used her internal Maloofdar to try to locate her, it did not work. She was forced to use a conventional method and call Kim on the telephone. The phone rang. And rang. And rang again. Then there was a clatter, a clunk, kind of a splatter and a thunk, then a brief siren sound, then a moan, then a groan, then a twig snapping, then some glass breaking, then a shriek, a yip, a yell, and finally a "Huhhhllooo??" The Maloof said "Hi it's the Maloof." And Kim said "Whoooo?" "The Maloof!" This went on for a strangely long time, Kim not being able to figure out just who was talking to her through her waffle iron (she was very confused). Finally she realized who she was talking to and you could feel the pulse of dread that went through her. She was supposed to be meeting them at the airport!

"Omigodsosorry. My power went out. And I'm terrible, I was going to come, I'm terrible. I'm so sorry. It's just been a day. And you know I love that airport, I've always loved their planes there. I'm terrible. I'm sorry. I was thinking I can't pull my hair up all wet, because it's the Maloofs! I'm so sorry. I'm terrible. I'm terrible. I'm going to put on my shoes and I'm sorry, I'll see you soon."

I mean it was just tremendously terrible. She was so very, very drunk. The Maloof and Chim-Chim exchanged expressions as if to say "Uhhhhh...." And what they should have done, obviously, is just let Kim wander her drunken haze on her own and figure it out and sleep it off and all that. But instead they told her to still come to the airport, which sounds like the worst idea ever. I mean she could barely speak. I don't even know why you'd want to see her! For your own sake! Be selfish about it. No one wants to hang out around that. Oof. Just terrible. I mean, it's mesmerizing, but it's also deeply terrible. Have they ever had an honest-to-goodness drunk on this show before? I don't mean to make light of it, I mean not too much. Seriously, I think this is a first. And it's kinda scary!

Um, let's see. There was also some stuff with Camille talking about selling her sprawling multi-acre Malibu home, but she decided not to, for the kids, y'know. Which, fine, that's OK. She's entitled to that, I guess, given that she made a cool $50 million off her divorce. If I had a cool $50 million, even a hot $50 million, I probably wouldn't sell my Malibu fuck-ranch just yet either. Lucky her. Speaking of money and property, Giggy and Giggles or whoever those British people are want to buy the place next to their restaurant, Sur, so they can expand. Or rather the girl dog wants to but the boy dog is all "Ruff ruff, too expensive, tooooo expensive, for England!" That's just what he's like. So girl Giggy is mad about that but is also convinced that she'll eventually get her way and soon Sur will be even bigger and fabulouser than it already is.

I know, I know. There's more. Taylor stuff. The guys smoking cigars and talking about Russell. I know it's there. But I don't want to talk about it. Sorry. Hope that's OK.