Yeah, I admit it: I'd never before even thought about watching those video clips of the 3-ton harpy screeching about how "God drew me into this show." So it was a little disappointing to realize that said breakdown wouldn't occur until next week. But I kept an open mind; this is like a lowbrow version of Morgan Spurlock's 30 Days, right? Except that placing an admittedly closed-minded religious fanatic from small-town Louisiana in the home of a New Agey astrology-following hypnotherapist in Massachusetts doesn't exactly sound like an experiment. We pretty much know what's going to happen. That doesn't mean it is any less fun to watch Marguerite Perrin (none of her new family seems to notice that she calls herself "Margaret") squirm and literally vomit from the un-Christianness of it all. I don't get how celebrating the solstice is ungodly if you're supposed to believe that God created the sun, but whatever. Meanwhile, the Perrin family is the very picture of hospitality toward Jeannie Flisher at first until they bring in Marguerite's Christian attack dogs, er, friends. Jeannie's attempt at hypnotizing Ashley was cheesy goodness, but I hope she manages to give poor younger daughter Brooke a boost of self-esteem before the gap-toothed Mac truck returns home. From the look of the promos, even the Perrins are frightened of Marguerite's possessed rage. Frankly, I'd find this all more entertaining if I didn't know there are many, many others of her ilk out there. The thought makes the spirit rise up in me.