Punch her hard. Please.
After two seasons of the series, it has become painfully obvious that the aforementioned Kimmy (Elie Kemper, trying as hard as she can to get punched in the face) is a puppet finger for Tina Fey, the very talented co-creator of the show.
Season 1 got us acquainted with its unlikely, high on sugar, Ritalin-needing child heroine and her posse, gay cliché Titus (Pinot Noir, Myanmar, caviar), surrogate mother Lilian (Carol Kane) and frenemy Jacqueline (Jane Krakowski, who else, who proves that the only thing that you do not lose with your marriage is your wardrobe). It was a series of desultory vignettes self-explained by their title punctuation (Kimmy Opens a Sardine Can! Kimmy Brushes Her Teeth! Martine Fait des Gateaux !) with the kind of effervercent gags Miss Fey, her co-author and their crew can write while being drunk, asleep, or high (pick two). Occasionally brilliant bullshit, but bullshit nonetheless.
Season 2 apparently being a surprise for all involved, there is more of the same, to less effect. The same characters having no arc but the one their puppet master denies them, they firmly inhabit their respective cardboard persona, ratiocinating about lost loves even though they found new ones, with a shocking absence of sex considering most gags hinge on it. Heaven forbids a self-declared unlucky in love, promiscuous gay man is ever glimpsed doing the dirty when he can pout, roll his eyes and wear ridiculous caftans!
Miss Fey takes a firm grip on the show. Her bipolar, alcoholic shrink character is, sadly for the ensemble piece the series wishes to be, the center of attention. Good thing is we have a real character at last. Bad thing is she steals the show she’s writing, making it a bit of a vanity piece. But God this woman has impeccable comic timing. Write for yourself, lady.