I hope you’ll forgive me for beating a dead horse here but it’s obvious that Linc bends over awkward to understand the interests of sisters who make a point of looking down their noses at the things he’s into. They’ve no interest in his coin collection, no great love of the sci-fi and comics he watches and are baffled by his fondness for chess while he works his ass off getting into their heads not only to get a bit of an edge but also because he’s curious about things and wants to help out if he can.
The reason that I mention this is that there are situations where his crippling fear of illness and deformity overtake him and his sense of right and wrong goes bye-bye. This tendency of mind is represented by the polar-opposite six year old identical twins Lana and Lola. The older girl by half an hour is a tomboy in overalls and an ever-present ball cap who’s not afraid to get her hands dirty. She combines a love of creepy-crawlies and minor home repair with an active antipathy to the princess/child pageant phenomenon that seems to have become something of a lotus pool for crazy, hypercompetitve freaks like pink-clad Lola. The freakshow running around being Little Miss Whole Milk has a mean streak ten miles wide and would gleefully turn Lincoln over to the Gestapo for watching a Hogan’s Heroes marathon on TV Land. Worst still, she exemplifies Lincoln’s fatal flaw: a dread of illness and physical deformities that turn off their consciences. The worst instance of this is when the CDC guessed wrong about the flu shot that year and he thought he was in a zombie flick come to life; he was about to run in terror and not stop until he was wondering why there was French on the cereal boxes when supposedly-brainless Leni dropped the dumb act and reminded him that sick people aren’t horror monsters.