fictionbang.

claudia jean

claudia jean

certainly not winifred burkle

certainly not winifred burkle

in commemoration of my watching the five season run of joss whedon’s ‘angel’, followed by seven straight seasons of aaron sorkin’s ‘the west wing’.

everyone usually takes up the same pitch. for angel, people always seem to bogart your cordelias, faiths, et al., and for the west wing, bees usually buzz around donna moss or amy gardner or joey lucas. but that was always a-okay with me, ’cause that way i got to stand in back with illyria and claudia jean. it’s the coldness, the blunt authority of ascendancy in illyria. she’s a fallen goddess/demigoddess that holds the pitiful shortcomings of mortality in contempt. it’s pretty hot. she’s everything that fred is not. also she has wizard bright blue hair and eyes so she reaps mondo additional bonus points off the cosplay chart. and as for c.j? in short, it’s the sass. i fucking love claudia jean. tall, brilliant, uncompromising and with a heart of gold. but the sass. sweet mary magdalene, the sass. 

ps. i was told many a time by many a critic that following sorkin’s departure from the west wing writing staff at the culmination of series four, the us presidential television show crashes and burns. as someone who has now sat through every episode in chronological order back to back i can now officially counter that as fucking trash. i’ll admit sorkin arguably painted on the watermark, but with the exception of literally three to four episodes, two of which i strongly disliked on the grounds of (very much intended) stylistic diversions, the work in it’s totality is exceptional. for nigh on 154 episodes. an achievement that deserves a fucking hat tip at the very least.

cheers, wiki/wireimage/imdb.

 

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