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The Americans

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"Wow," said Alice. "You look wasted."

The White Rabbit rubbed his bloodshot eyes and let out a long sigh. "Just marathoned season 3 of the Americans. 10 hours. Blew me away."

"That's that series about the Russian spies, right? Living undercover as Americans in the US--in the Jurassic Era."

"Yes, in the 80's. The Cold War with the Evil Empire."

"Back then, too?" Alice said. "I guess history repeats itself."

The White Rabbit snorted.

"Here's your tea," said the Mad Hatter with a smile. "Have to say, I certainly did not expect one particular character to make it to next season."

"I didn't expect many characters to make it out alive, even the leads," nodded the White Rabbit. "Heckuva lot of nasty stuff going on. But, I guess they have to exaggerate for the entertainment value."

"Of course. That's why it's called fiction." A hint of sarcasm?

"I really felt sorry for their kids, especially their daughter," Alice admitted. "I mean learning that everything you grew up with was a lie, and that your parents weren't perfect people after all."

The Mad Hatter chuckled, "Ah, yes, the Teenage Experience."

"Oh, man." The White Rabbit slapped his forehead with a paw. "How could I have been so naà ve?"

"You still think your parents are angels?" Alice was incredulous. "Do you know how many half-siblings you have?"

A glare from the White Rabbit. "Only 435--no, 438. Like any other family. No, I'm talking about the whole point of this season. I'd thought the show runners had been trying to have us identify with Stan, the FBI agent. Truth, justice, and the American way and all. But, you know, we're not Stan, we're not the FBI, we're the DAUGHTER, Paige. Growing up thinking we're living in paradise, on the side of the angels. When our leaders are really anything but saintly--or honest about it."

"You trying to say WE'RE the Americans? I mean we're Americans, but I thought they meant the Russians were trying to be like us, the good guys."

"Yes, they are like us," the White Rabbit sighed, "And we are like them. And once we find out that's the case, what do we do? Do we run away?" He turned out his paws with a shrug. "Where can we run to nowadays anyway?"

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Jill Jackson is a practitioner of kindness and common sense. Unlike her cat, she prefers to think out of the box.

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