This post will be brief, and not really about Buffy, or television. Not because I didn’t love Season Three, because I did, but really, Season Three is very much like Season Two, and there’s not too much more to say.

Strangely, the mysteries of the universe are not being revealed the way I thought they’d be when I started this experiment. Maybe if I had attempted to read all 10,000 pages of Remembrance of Things Past, I’d on the verge of some sort of spiritual breakthough. But 56 episodes of Buffy just makes me want to watch more Buffy, and speak only of Buffy, and compare all other forms of entertainment to Buffy and find them all wanting. It’s a sort of enlightenment, I guess — but it’s empty; it feeds on itself, collapsing into a black hole of only Buffy, where the extent of my critical and analytic judgment is reduced to comments such as “Look, it’s a new opening credts sequence!” and “That prom dress makes her look all lopsided.”

By the by, when did the world decide to start calling Remembrance of Things Past “In Search of Lost Time”? Where was I? Not that I’m going to read it. But I’d like to know, just in case I’m on Jeopardy and they say something about eating madelines and I buzz in and say the wrong damn title. Once, my mom and I accidentally went to a three-hour-long movie adaptation of that book in French. Well, we didn’t go to the movie accidentally, but we were totally unprepared when it was AWFUL and ENDLESS and nonsensical and furniture would occasionally move around all on its own while an orchestra played and a midget cried. Hey, don’t you hate movies? Yeah, being entertained totally blows. I know, let’s make a movie about PROUST. And then critics will like it and they will fool poor suburban mothers and daughters to sit through it. We are geniuses. Marry me.

Up next: Season Four. This is the season I have seen the most of before starting the experiment, so I will have to power through. Also, Riley = blandsville, so there’s that to not look forward to. But at least he isn’t 10,000 pages of Proust.