Wall Street Journal Tests Head/Ass Compatibility

Like most women, I don’t really understand business. Quarterly projections, leveraged buyouts, bulls, bears – like Barbie said, “Math is hard!” That’s why I read The Wall Street Journal. I don’t really understand what it says, but it sounds smart. Plus, pretty pictures! One suggestion, though – less Ben Bernanke, more Daniel Craig.

Anyway, today I was just tickled to find my go-to business paper deigning to discuss my favorite topic. In a recent WSJ Business Technology Blog post (subscription required), Ben Worthen takes on television:

Television characters have never been known for their depth. Usually writers take a stereotype – the sloppy single guy, the dumb blond, the grouchy old guy – add a catchphrase and call it a day. It’s easy to dismiss these programs as lacking any societal benefit, but that’s not totally right. They’re a useful barometer of how society views certain character types.

Gee, Ben, what are you watching on TV? Wasn’t it awful when Yes, Dear got cancelled? At least you can console yourself with new episodes of According to Jim. Poor Courtney Thorne Smith – her husband is such a boor! Plus, CSI: Miami still has healthy ratings. So there’s still plenty of crap on television. You’ll have stuff to complain about forever, as long as you steer clear of anything worth watching.

I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on Ben. I mean, WSJ reporters have never been known for their depth. Usually they just take an unoriginal idea – television is low brow, anything commercially popular is intellectually inferior – throw in a quote from a hedge fund manager, and call it a day. It’s easy to dismiss these “journalists” as lacking any societal benefit, but that’s not totally right. They’re a useful barometer of how far one’s head can be shoved up one’s own ass.

Dirty Sexy Money: Is there any other kind?

I missed most of the Wednesday night premiere smorgasbord because hump day is margarita day in my book. This turned out to be a good thing, because I caught the last ten minutes of the Grey's Anatomy spinoff Private Practice when I got home, and I had to thank god I was drunk. That show should remain as private as possible. Like, maybe so private they don't make any recording of it.

Being drunk was also advantageous for a viewing of Dirty Sexy Money (far and away my favorite new-television-program-name). First of all, everyone on the show is drunk all the time, and there is nothing sadder than being the most sober person in a room. I was also drunk enough that I didn't care that no one on the show makes any sense, ever. I mean, that is just how drunk people are. Try to be tolerant people. Finally, the hot angry priest with the illegitimate kid was like a character I would make up if I were telling a story while completely blitzed. So I was watching the show, but it's like I was making it happen, you know?

Ok, confession. Sunday afternoon is also margarita day in my book. My book, by the way, is called Who Ordered These Frozen? Do I Look Like a Sorority Girl to You?

House: The Cheese Stands Alone

House was about the importance of community this week. Or rather, the importance of having a small cadre of sycophantic underlings around to keep you from killing people. Whatever, same difference. Dr. House learned that it's hard to treat patients without his team, particularly given his aversion to talking to patients or doing any actual medical work. It occurs to me watching this show that House is less a doctor than a medical consultant. Which is to say, House is better at thinking about the practice of medicine than actually practicing medicine. Like all consultants, this makes him useless in virtually any setting. I assume it also makes it hard for him to describe his job to strangers. All the consultants I know make their job sound like a cross between study hall and being a restaurant hostess. I know what you're thinking -- House would make a terrible restaurant hostess. Well, I want you to think about the last nice restaurant you went to. How friendly and helpful was the hostess? Exactly.

Next week House selects his new team, Survivor-style. I hope there's mud wrestling.

Vengeance Restored! Heroes Saves the Day

Which is not to say I enjoyed watching Heroes last night. I'm just proud to have posted four times in one day.

Listen, Heroes is probably a totally worthwhile show. I'm sure if I'd seen Season One, I'd have been thrilled with all the revelations from last night's episode. But I had never seen the show before, and I found myself unable to manufacture much of an interest in any of the 47 plots. Except maybe the cheerleader. She seems sort of cool and interesting. But really, this might as well be Journeyman -- I have no idea what is going on.

This is not a new television conundrum. All serialized dramas struggle with finding ways to reel in new viewers without having to constantly waste precious airtime with exposition. The issue becomes even trickier when the show has an elaborately layered mythology that even regular viewers have trouble tracking. The X-Files attempted to address this issue by sprinkling "stand alone" episodes throughout the season. These were episodes that followed the format of a Law & Order-style procedural. The idea was that stand-alones would allow new viewers to get to know the characters without all those confusing alien conspiracy theories. I don't know how well it worked, but I do know that the stand-alone episodes are among some of my favorites of the series (remember when Scully and Mulder went to Texas to investigate the vampire pizza guy, and the town sheriff was Luke Wilson? That was awesome.). It is at least a more artistic approach than the one adopted by Lost, which is to preface seasons with explanatory "episodes" that summarize the show's previous seasons.

I'm not making suggestions for Heroes. Like I said, it's probably a very good show. But I think I'm going to have to wait until the DVDs to find out.

Going Nowhere: Journeyman Cancellation Watch

Journeyman is about a guy who suddenly starts travelling back in time (but inexplicably, only in decade-long increments). After some brief confusion, he starts helping random people by averting their suicides and stuff. He becomes entangled with his former (but supposedly now dead) fiance. Then his (now magically not dead?) former fiance appears, as though she had never died, but exists in the present day and is also travelling through time. Oh, and our journey man also happens to be married in the present day, making his interactions with the many incarnations of his dead-but-not-dead-former-fiance rife with moral gray area.

If you made it through that paragraph and you still care about Journeyman, then I suggest you start crafting a strategy to save the show from cancellation now. I have no idea what the hell is going on here. And I'm not terribly motivated to find out. The stakes are low. This guy will probably have to deal with the whole not-dead-fiance thing eventually, and I'm sure his wife won't be terribly excited to hear that her husband may have found a cosmic loophole in his vows. But as far as I can tell, no one is worried about a rip in the space time continuum and there are no last minute escapes in Doc's Delorian. Also, the protagonist looks just enough like Daniel Craig to remind me of how much I like Daniel Craig, but not enough to make me watch this show. I just need to locate my copy of Casino Royale by next Monday.

Cancellation Watch: I give it six episodes. It's this year's Vanished.

Gossip Girl Overplucks Eyebrows

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Seth Cohen from The O.C. fucked Carrie Bradshaw of Sex and the City, and she proved to be remarkably fertile for a woman of her advanced age, and wound up giving birth to a love child that wasn't a baby at all, but rather a television show featuring pretty teenagers in great clothes frequenting trendy Manhattan bars and lamenting the fact that Peter Gallagher's eyebrows haven't made an appearance?

Well, except for the eyebrows (which I deem a serious oversight, Josh Schwartz), Gossip Girl is the answer to your mild curiosity. It's pretty, as is its cast. The girls all look like beautiful twenty-eight-year-olds, though none of them look quite as ancient and tired as Mischa Barton. The boys are mostly privileged assholes, except for "The Seth Cohen Character", who is apparently "The Josh Schwartz Character". None of the parents are interesting, mainly because, as I've already mentioned, none of them are Peter Gallagher's eyebrows. There is a love triangle or two, and something that passes for class conflict in a UES private school

GG is exactly what it sets out to be -- expensive television candy. It doesn't feed your soul, or even your stomach, but it tastes good and comes in a prettily wrapped package.

Vengeance... diminished: K-ville Cancellation Watch

I was all set to dive into the new TV season with a bunch of new posts on everything and anything happening between the hours of 8pm and 11pm EST. Then I watched the K-ville premiere last Tuesday, fell asleep, and subsequently could not think of anything interesting to say about it. It's about cops and robbers, I think. I honestly don't remember anything about the bad guys. A woman got shot, and the shooting was politically motivated maybe? Oh, who cares.

It's about race because it takes place in New Orleans post-Katrina and the two leads are a black guy and a white guy. And it's scored with heavy rap music. Except the show has nothing interesting to say about race, or poverty, or crime, or New Orleans... Basically, everything The Wire does well, K-ville does with merely mediocre competence. The highlight of the premiere was some ridiculous and climactic helicopter sequence. And that's only because at this point I realized this show had no point, and I could safely pass out.

Cancellation Watch: I'm going to give it until mid-season, even though it doesn't deserve it. But it's on Monday, and FOX won't have anything to replace it with. It's up against Heroes, but I actually think that might help it. Heroes is confusing for people who don't watch it regularly (see my upcoming post on watching Heroes for the first time). For those people, a conventional cop show masquerading as an cop show with a twist will be sufficiently distracting. This is why Law & Order lives on (albeit in a limping, sad little way) and NCIS is a top rated show.

The Turn On Returns... With a Vengance

Yeah, yeah, yeah.... I'm a bad blogger. I haven't written a post in so long it's not even worth discussing. But I'm back, and this time I mean it. To prove it, tonight's going to be a posting bonanza. We have the Emmys to cover (even though I didn't watch -- sorry, but that's just not very good TV), the first notable premiere of the season (K-ville, which starts in five minutes -- you'll be getting the rawest of first impressions), and finally, my general impressions of the season to come -- what I'll be turning on, what I'll be turning off. So stay tuned in.

The Late Show: Showing a Little Skin

Regis Philbin appeared on The Late Show tonight, and it reminded me why David Letterman is a national treasure. Regis was going on and on about Dave's socks, and Dave pulled his pants up over his knees in order to demonstrate. Why is that hilarious? I don't know, but it killed me, the sight of this 60-year-old man wearing a $3000 suit pulling his cuffs up over his old man knees. It has me smiling my way to sleep. I think it's because Dave's just a big kid, but in a generous way. Some adults are like children, but in a totally selfish way that makes you want to smack them upside the head. Dave's the kind of kid who just wants to make the grownups giggle by being a giant goofball. Can we order up some more people like that for the world?

Survivor: Kill the Lawyer!

It would be really awesome if, for once, a lawyer in the public eye didn't prove to people why they hate lawyers. Nice because, one of these days, I'm going to be a lawyer and I can only self-loathe so much before I can't get out of bed in the morning.

Nevertheless, Survivor's resident attorney ass, Alex, was wished a welcome goodbye this evening (that's right, I'm an alliterator -- deal with it). In his parting words, he went the classy route and insulted the remaining contestants for being naive. Yes, just keep telling yourself that they voted you off because they lack critical thinking skills. Fucking lawyer. I bet my LSAT score was higher than his.

Of course, Alex also told the viewing public to hold onto their dreams because you never know when they might come true. Provided, of course, your dream is to place seventh on a reality program that forced you to competitively tear meat from a swinging animal carcass with your hands tied behind your back. Maybe he meant to say "hold onto you Dreamz."

Zucker Up

Interesting article in Forbes about Jeff Zucker, CEO of NBC Universal. Like all stories about super high achieving people, it reminds me how I'm not one of those people (Zucker was producing the Today Show at 26; I'm 27 and... not producing the Today show). It's an entertaining portrait of a very competitive, ambitious guy who doesn't sound like a total douche. That role apparently belongs to Les Moonves (head of of CBS), who has some kind of childish vendetta against Zucker. There is something very annoying about wealthy, powerful old men acting like 4-year-olds. This annoyance can probably be traced to my experience with college frat boys.

The story focuses on the criticism Zucker endured as head of NBC television, the post he held for three and a half years prior to ascending to CEO in February. The main complaint was that Zucker failed to develop sitcoms during his three and a half year tenure. While the list of failures is wince-inducing (Emeril? Joey? Did he watch the pilots before giving these shows the thumbs up?), I think the allegation is a little trumped up. Sitcoms have been dwindling since the late 90s on every network. This was unfortunate for NBC long before Zucker nabbed the top job, since NBC's success during the 90s was built around sitcoms like Seinfeld and Friends. CBS overtook NBC by being the first to jump on two big trends: reality television (with Survivor) and the a flashier, high-tech version of the crime drama (with CSI, which has spawned not only two more versions, but influenced shows as varied as Without a Trace and House). Of course, that shift in preferences took place before Zucker even left the Today show, much less took over the entire television unit, so it's hard to pin NBC's recent problems on him.

The article also contains a few clues to NBC's 2007-2008 schedule, including canceling Law & Order (finally and thankfully) and maybe stretching The Office to one hour, which is both exciting and terrifying. No word yet on Friday Night Lights, but I have a feeling we'll know before May 14, when the networks unveil their schedules at the upfronts.

There's Some Stuff On TV I'd Like You To Look At

I know that some of you have lives. Jobs, families, drug habits -- they take up a lot of your precious time. Fortunately, I am unburdened by such prosaic matters, and can spend hour upon hour watching television. I have to admit, much of that television is bad. There was an unfortunate Dancing With the Stars incident a few weeks ago that I am too scarred to recount for you now. However, I have dug up a few gems that you might want to throw onto your Tivo. They are, in no particular order:

The Riches (Mondays on fX)
This is a show about a family of gypsy con artists who steal the identity of a wealthy family (named the Riches) in order to live in a big house and send their kids to private school and join a country club and invest in alpacas and all that jazz. On one level, this is a smart, incisive look at class in America. Our protagonists appreciate the many benefits of being Rich, but remain proud of their roots. They resent having to pretend to be something they're not. They are perpetually fearful of being found out. It's surprising how universal these themes are. Like The Sopranos, The Riches uses a very unusual family to tell very familiar stories.

And if that doesn't sell you, on top of all the heavy stuff floats a pretty amusing caper comedy. Eddie Izzard and Minnie Driver are perfectly cast as the kind of people who can sell even the most outrageous story. That's right. I called Eddie capable. Just the kind of guy you want to bring home to your parents.

How I Met Your Mother (Mondays on CBS)
It's about a group of friends living in New York during their late twenties. They have a local watering hole, live in preposterously large apartments, several of them are dating one other, and there's a snarky fellow who can always be counted on for a good one liner. It sounds like a retread, but this show falls into that small group of current sitcoms that is consistently funny and original. The humor is kookier and sharper than what you saw on Friends, but the show shares with its forerunner the same warmth and likability. Oh, and Doogie Howser is hilarious.

Friday Night Lights (uh, maybe never again on NBC)
Technically, the first and possibly only season of this show ended a few weeks ago. Despite the fact that everyone who watched FNL loves it, not very many people watched. But it is gooooood. It is not about football. Sure, there is football in it. Get over it. This show is actually about family, and not of the 7th Heaven variety. It's about good families making hard decisions, and bad families making bad decisions, and the families people make when their own families fail them. It's about high school, and all the potential that exists for people right on the brink of adulthood. But it's also about limitations, and how sometimes being smart or talented or hard-working isn't enough to lift people out of tough circumstances. It's about love struggling under the burden of reality. It's honest and heartbreaking and invigoration and challenging. Sometimes it's so real it takes my breath away. NBC will announce FNL's fate in a couple weeks. In the meantime, the entire first season is available free online. That way, you can watch it, love it, and be devastated when NBC doesn't renew it.

Jericho (Wednesdays on CBS)
When I first saw Jericho, I was astounded at the brownness of it all. It's about a small Kansas town dealing with the aftermath of a nuclear war. Kansas is brown. People in Kansas wear a lot of brown. They drive brown cars and live in brown houses. Nuclear winter -- also brown. But once my eyes adjusted to the monochrome color palette, there's a lot to like. There's Skeet Ulrich, looking vaguely like the Unabomber, but in a super hot way. There's Major Dad! More importantly, there's the whole interesting issue of what happens when people are suddenly cut off from the entire world except the part immediately surrounding them. According to Jericho, they engage in dramatic power struggles and apocalyptic sex. Which is pretty much what you would expect. At least, that's what I'm planning on doing when all the bees disappear.

Oh, and there's also this very cool character named Robert Hawkins who is either CIA or a terrorist, but a badass either way. So if the brownness of it all starts getting you down, just wait a few minutes and Hawkins will threaten to cut off some guy's balls and you'll be hooked again.

Tools Like Us

So making up for last night's transgressions with Jeff Probst (ew - not like that... well, actually, now that I think about it, I may harbor a bizarre attraction to Probst...wait, ew! Make it stop!), I sat down this morning to watch the new Office. Terrific, as usual.

I particularly loved the runner that had Jim and Dwight impersonating one another. On any other show, that gag would have ended with Dwight complaining about identity theft. Jim's the smart guy who's too good to work in the office, and Dwight's the tool Jim must tolerate. But on The Office no character is safe from mocking and ridicule. Although Dwight's portrayal of Jim (as office ladies man) wasn't exactly true to life, he nailed Jim's self-conscious smartass spit-takes to the documentary camera. It's nice to be reminded that everyone in the office is a little bit of a jerk, which is usually how it works in real life, too. We are none of us innocent.

I was also delighted to see the accounting staff highlighted, and under the tutelage of Kelly's customer service skills. It's always refreshing to spend some time with the super-talented actors back in the corner of the office.

So I've learned my lesson -- Office first, Survivor later. I promise. Really. Unless Survivor is really good. But only then.

Playing With Fools

Normally on Thursdays I watch The Office at 8:30, secure in the knowledge that Survivor will be available on Comcast On Demand within hours. And it's worth it. The Office is art, while Survivor is just reliably entertaining.

Tonight I couldn't help myself, though. This season of Survivor has taken an Office-style turn and become horribly addictive. Remember when Dwight, in an effort to spare himself from impending layoffs, tried to form an alliance with Jim? It's always funny to watch Jim mess around with Dwight's deluded self-seriousness. Well, the casting crew on Survivor scored a few Dwights and at least one Jim this season. Watching these fools stumble around the island discussing their "brilliant" plans to subvert the prevailing alliance is pure gold. It may not compare to the comedic genius of Michael pretending to commit suicide by jumping into a giant balloon castle in the parking lot, but it's pretty damn hilarious.

This chapter is drawing to a close, unfortunately, as all the Dwights are being swiftly voted off. It's one of Survivor's biggest downsides -- often the most interesting characters are booted well before the finale. My personal favorite this spring was Michelle, who was the adorable, brainy Pam to Earl's mastermind Jim. Now I must content myself with Michelle-lite, Stacy, who doesn't even rise to Karen-level coolness.

So you'll have to forgive me for missing tonight's Office. I know in the religion of television viewing, skipping the prevailing Best Show on TV is sacrilege. I promise not to let it happen again. Or to at least have the sense to lie about it to the rest of my alliance, like any self-respecting Survivor.

It's Karma, Carson

The real test of a professional interviewer is the interview of the nobody. Anyone can interview a somebody. Anyone can interview George Clooney, because Clooney will always come off as cool and interesting. Case in point: Oprah had Julia Roberts and Clooney interview one another last month and I was completely riveted even though Roberts spent the entire interview giggling and saying "So who are you dating? No really, who?"

More difficult is to interview, say, Eric Balfour. Balfour is on 24 (as Miles), but you probably don't know the actor's name. Unless you watch 24 religiously, you might recognize him as an actor but probably wouldn't be able to place him. Interviewing Eric Balfour is a trick, because your job as interviewer is to make me, who really could care less about Eric Balfour, care about Eric Balfour. How does one do this? Well, I'm no expert, but I think you might want to start by acting like you care about Eric Balfour. Because if I don't care, and you don't care, the only person who cares here is Eric Balfour. And who gives a shit what he thinks? It's not like he's George Clooney.

Now, I don't want to single anyone out here, but Carson Daly is a really terrible interviewer. Sure, he's on at 1:30 a.m. Sure, he's stuck interviewing people like Eric Balfour and the entire cast of Las Vegas (which, by the way, becomes a totally worthwhile show to watch right around 1:30 a.m.). But I have cable, people. There is an old episode of The X-Files on SciFi that I could be watching right now (and Scully is having a good hair episode -- no bangs!). So it's not too much to ask for Carson to at least feign an interest in the guy his underachieving staff booked for tonight's show.

Really, this shouldn't have been too hard. Balfour was telling this truly amusing story about these stonewashed Bel Biv Devoe overalls he owned back during his Kids Incoporated days. But Carson seemed vicariously ashamed of this story. He kept shushing Balfour and fretting about how the story might be embarassing. Apparently, having a sense of humor about one's early career is not a skill Carson is eager to learn.

The funny thing about Carson Daly is that he actually thinks Eric Balfour is beneath him. He can't bother to pay attention to Balfour's stories about martial arts and being on Kids' Incorporated because Daly's too busy thinking about how he's going to make a play for Conan's job in 2009.

Oh, Carson. The only reason you have a show in the wee hours is because we need something to distract you from trying to get on television at a time when anyone might watch. I know you're still bitter that Ryan Seacrest took over your schtick and then proceeded to conquer the world. All because he hosted a show you most certainly would have considered beneath you. And now look -- Ryan's hanging out with Gwen Stefani in prime time while you make small talk with Eric Balfour in the middle of the night. So I get your bitterness. But nothing is going to change unless you embrace the current situation. You're a nobody. You're more of a nobody than Eric Balfour. At least people actually watch his show. You, on the other hand, may be remembered primarily for being engaged to Tara Reid. This is, how shall I say... unfortunate.

But you could turn it all around by making your show the safe haven for Hollywood nobodies. Pull a Kathy Griffin, but without the red hair and the annoying cackle. Actually, work on your annoying cackle. It would play better than that cocky chuckle you're doing now. That's not working for you at all. The people don't like smug, Carson. Unless you're really, really rich and famous. And even then it might Tom Cruise on you. So accept the fact that you're basically washed up at the age of 34. Accept the fact that you're kind of a tool. Accept the fact that although you are a good golfer, nobody really cares that much.

Once you accept reality as it is, you might discover a sense of humor. Or a sense of empathy. Or a personality. Until then, I guess you'll just have to let yourself be outshined by Eric Balfour. Who, by the way, was also dumped by Jennifer Love Hewitt. Unlike with you, however, he didn't find out when her publicist leaked it to a radio station. Eric Balfour 1, Carson Daly 0.

ETA: I learned way more than I ever needed to know about both Carson Daly and Eric Balfour while writing this. I should have gone with my first instinct and written about Friday Night Lights.

Reality Check: Project Runway Update

The fourth season of Project Runway is actually happening. I must say I missed it this winter. New York fashion week was markedly less interesting without the suspense of finding out which PR contestants would show and who would win. I propose some kind of Battle of the Designing All Stars to make things more interesting. I would really like to see Michael Kors go all Orange-Tinted-Gorilla on those annoying little boys from Proenza Schouler. Their new Target commercial is getting on my nerves.

Fortunately, PR4 is on track to shoot in June, debuting in July with the finale occuring during the Spring 2008 shows next fall. You can find information about the casting for Season Four here.

I also found this New York Magazine article about Season Three winner Jeffrey Sebelia. It's interesting that none of the PR winners has made it big in the reality-show-winner sense of the word. Refreshing, actually. Unlike most reality shows, PR contestants compete against one another by performing an actual skill. Notably, the prize on PR isn't a million dollars or a new house or the opportunity to cheat on your spouse in a hot tub while a film crew looks on. Instead, winners receive the relatively modest sum of $100,000 to invest in their design business, a mentorship with a clothing purveyor (it used to be Banana Republic, now it's Macy's), and free publicity in Elle Magazine. In other words, winners get a little leg up in an extremely competitive business.

The article seems to indicate that PR winners aren't living up to their promise. Sebelia used his prize money to pay off business loans, Season One winner Jay McCarroll has sold some of his designs to Urban Outfitters, and Season Two winner Chloe Dao reinvested in her Houston business and opened a second boutique. Sure, maybe other reality show contestants have gone onto bigger and better things, like being convicted of tax fraud on their winnings. But I like the fact that none of the PR winners has cashed in on their television fame to marry NFL players and become shrill morning talk show hosts. They are passionate about fashion, which is why they did the show in the first place. And they've done what normal, non-fame-whorish people would do -- paid down loans, invested in their business, and developed relationships with retailers. It's like a parallel universe where being on a reality show doesn't automatically mean posing for Maxim. A parallel universe where a reality show bears an ironic resemblance to reality. Curious.

Remote Control Confessions

American Idol makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It's not witty or clever or unique or novel in any way. Yet, when I watch it I cannot help but feel that all is right with the world. Maybe I just need a come-down after Battlestar Galactica killed off my favorite character and alter-ego Kara Thrace (and more about that shit show later this week). Maybe everyone just needs a little dose of unadulterated optimism in her life. I don't know what it is, but I enjoy Idol. Even when the judges and contestants revere some very terrible pop stars (Mariah, Celine, Whitney). Even when the scripted banter between Ryan Seacrest and Simon Cowell amounts to the same you're-gay-no-you're-gay-no-you-are-so-very-very-gay exchange week after week. Even when Paula Abdul blathers on at length using only adjectives and conjuctions. Well, actually, especially then. I just like it.

This season, in particular, I find myself looking forward to the show. I think it might be the uncommon maturity of this group of wannabes (particularly now that Antonella Barba and the interminable Sundance have been purged). Like pretty much everyone, I'm a little bit in love with Melinda Doolittle. She's humble! She's cute! She has OCD! And she can really really sing! My one complaint is that she sings songs I don't really care about. I wish she'd update her songbook by about two decades (My Funny Valentine? This isn't America's Next Tony Bennett). Of course, last week the judges wondered whether Evanescence was too "edgy" for the viewing audience. So maybe Ms. Doolittle is playing it safe with the oldies. Whatever she sings, though, she has twice the conviction of most contestants, which is why she will probably win.

On the other end of the scale -- poor, poor Sanjaya. And Haley. Did they wander onto the soundstage by accident? On a show that traffics in the most middlebrow, non-threatening brand of pop music, these two still manage to deliver the excitement of half an Ambien and a glass of wine.

Speaking of Haley and Sanjaya, I love how Paula soft-pedals her harsh comments by first telling the contestants how cute they look. It's the kiss of death. Maybe that's because Paula's idea of cute looks like this. Weirdly, I couldn't find a photo of Paula wearing a tiara, even though she always wears a tiara. It's like the internet ate all the photos of Paula wearing a tiara. I hope the internet doesn't get sick. But just in case, don't count on email access for a while, ok?

Anyway, thanks for letting me share my secret shame with you. Even if I'm not really sufficiently ashamed. I'll probably write all about this season of Idol, boring you with updates on Simon's and Ryan's comparative gayness. This week's winner: Ryan for mistakenly admitting to his closetful of high heels. Oops! Of course, his reference to the closet didn't help matters any.

Tomorrow: An ode to Starbuck and miserably, humanly flawed television characters everywhere. And an Idol update, of course. I'm thinking Sanjaya is gone.

At a Loss (HAHAHAHAHA!)

The Winner, Fox's new half-hour sitcom airing Sunday nights, stars Rob Cordry (The Daily Show) as Glen Abbott, a 32-year-old late bloomer who wakes up one day in his childhood bedroom in his parents' house and decides its finally time for him to experience adolescence. It's 1994, so Abbott can't just get online to learn about fornication (as he calls it). The show is narrated by Glen's more successful future self, though it's unclear how Glen eventually succeeded, nor why he cares to tell us this story about his embarrassing past.

The Winner was created by Seth MacFarlane and Rick Blitt, and Fox is eager to bill it as a live-action version of The Family Guy. Even the website asks, "Is Glen Abott Stewie Griffin grown up?"

Hard to say. I have more pressing questions regarding The Winner. For starters, who are those people laughing too loudly and too hard at every single line of the show? Unfortunately, the laugh track is the most memorable thing about the show. You cannot watch an episode without wanting to reach into the screen and MAKE THE LAMBS STOP LAUGHING. Maniacally. At everything. For, like, twice as long as is merited, if it's even merited at all.

At first, I thought I must have just adapted to watching sitcoms without laugh tracks. And then I realized, no, this is just the worst laugh track ever. I can watch an episode of Friends in syndication without even noticing the canned laughs. But on The Winner, it's front and center, stepping on punch lines, distracting from sight gags, and chewing up the scenery.

Maybe the guy who laid in the laugh track hates Rob Cordry, actors generally, sitcoms, the English language, television, and me. It's also possible that the laughs are an intentional choice by MacFarlane and Blitt to mimic the cookie-cutter quality of the early 90s sitcom (the sets and costumes all have a bland, generic quality that starts to look purposeful once the references to Wings start rolling in). If this is the case, it doesn't work. It sounds more like the show received a poor response from the test audience, prompting Fox to punch it up in post production.

Even the few moderately funny lines fail to live up to the outsized guffaws forced into every spare second of dead air. When Abbott told a massage parlor hooker, "The movies are right -- you girls really do have hearts of gold!" I would have chuckled, but the laugh track stepped all over my line, too.

Laugh track aside, the real problem with The Winner is that Abbott just isn't a very sympathetic protagonist. Unlike Steve Carell's character in The 40-Year-Old Virgin, we don't understand how Abbott got to be 32 without learning even the basics about sex and relationships. He comes across as stubbornly obtuse (or maybe severely learning disabled), instead of just shy, awkward or embarrassed.

I don't mean to discredit Cordry as a comedic talent. He does his best with the material, but the script is too rigid and strange to give him much latitude. More importantly, there is no one for him to play with. He needs some savvy, observant, and slightly mean-spirited friends, relatives, or neighbors to tease and educate him and make him seem more like an actual person. Without them, he's about human as those lunatics on the laugh track.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

HA!

Long Live the Hoff

For a short period of time, I lived with these three guys. They seemed normal enough, but over time, certain "tendencies" emerged. Taken seperately, these habits didn't amount to much. When aggregated, however, a frightening pattern came to light.

First, there was the frequent intonation of the word "dude".

Next, I discovered they were all hideous gossips. Monday Night Football started to feel uncomfortably like hot topics on "The View".

But most damning of all, these guys loved -- and I mean L-O-V-E-D -- "CSI: Miami".

I can deal with a lot from a roommate. Drug dependencies, filth, a firm belief that empty liquor bottles are collectibles worthy of display. But bad taste in television? Everyone has their limits.

Listen, I enjoy gratuitous T&A and unnecessary explosions as much as the next person. Really. But doesn't the presence of David Caruso spoil whatever pleasure you might derive from all that cleavage? The hair, the sunglasses, the stilted mannerisms, the general dearth of any acting ability whatsoever? I'd rather watch "Baywatch" reruns. At least the Hoff embraced his cheesiness. You can tell Caruso thinks he's gunning for an Emmy every time he whips off his sunglasses to quip, "Drive by [dramatic pause] Miami style." Like he's just coined some brilliant little witticism. What does that even mean?

To save you from the trouble of actually having to watch "CSI: Miami", here's a little taste of what you're missing. This way, you can laugh at everyone's least favorite red-headed stepchild without actually having to watch him work. Enjoy.

BSG Gets "Good", And It's Awful

"Battlestar Galactica" was terrible last night. It was as though Aaron Sorkin decided to pen an extra pretentious episode of the West Wing, set on a spaceship in the distant future. Racism is bad! Let's all pat ourselves on the back for being such good liberals! Thank God(s) all the issues lined up nice and neat and no one actually had to think about anything!

Ordinarily BSG is so adept at reflecting contemporary socio-political issues. One reason is that the writers play around with parallels to modern politics, constantly undermining where viewers' sympathies are inclined to lie. In an article on Slate from last November, Adam Rogers described how this process worked in the BSG writers' room:

Then, the whole group [of writers] tries to figure out the Cylons' deeper motivations via a rapid-fire series of metaphors. The Cylons are Nazis, hell-bent on solving the Human Question. The Cylons are Jews, trying to defend Israel. The Cylons are U.S. troops in Iraq, caught off guard by an uprising.

Think about that. It raises a sensitive but incredibly informative question: What did the Nazi's have in common with modern day Israel? What do both entities share with U.S. troops in Iraq?

Does that make you uncomfortable? It should. It's also fascinating, and maybe the kind of question we should be asking ourselves more often. There are no good guys. History will judge all of us by what we do, not who we are. That's pretty powerful.

The wonderful thing about using fiction to understand reality is that you have the freedom to force your audience to confront its preconceived notions about the good/bad dichotomy. You can demonstrate that the good guys don't always act unselfishly, don't always do the right thing, and are often unsure of exactly what the right thing is.

You can also humanize the enemy, forcing the viewer to ask why this is the "enemy". This tactic is particularly sophisticated on BSG, where the enemy isn't human, but looks, feels, and acts human, right down to emotions like love and loyalty. Maybe this analogy is common place to longtime fans of science fiction, but I find it pretty novel.

So last night was disappointing in its predictability. Hopefully it was just a filler episode and an anomaly. Because unfortunately, there isn't another show on television right now that does what BSG does quite so well.

Meet My New Boyfriend

It's no "Lazy Sunday" or "Dick In a Box", but "AndyPoppingIntoFrame", the latest in Andy Samberg's series of digital short films for Saturday Night Live, was one of the few moments from last night's show that made me smile on the outside. I don't know what it means when SNL's best moments are the ones that are least "live", but I do know that Andy Samberg is my new secret boyfriend. Secret only in the sense that he doesn't know. But he will. Oh, he will.

Which means, for those of you keeping score at home, that I not only have a thing for bitter old men, but also goofy-looking guys living in a stunted adolescence. Frankly, this explains a lot about my personal life.

Happy Easter!

I know this isn't television related, but... what is going on in this photograph of Renee Zellweger, currently gracing the cover of Vogue? Why is she pooping a bunny? Why does she look so proud of it? She's all "Check out this really awesome bunny in my butt! I named him Peter Rabbit cause I'm in that Beatrix Potter biopic. This is like, an Ode to Beatrix, ya' know?" I mean, the bunny is cute, but IT'S COMING OUT OF HER ASS. Is anyone else concerned? Renee is lovely, but I'm not sure a demonstration of her bunny pooping abilities is going to win her another Oscar.

Self-Congratulations!

If you missed "The Colbert Report" last night, you have to watch Stephen's interview with Debra Dickerson. On any other show, the conversation would just be stupid. On Colbert, it's absurdist drama at its best.

It's about how Barack Obama isn't "black" in the sense that he is not a decendant of West African slaves, and therefore white liberals should stop congratulating themselves for supporting a black presidential candidate. And hey, maybe white people should stop being self-congratulatory. For instance, I gave some money to the Red Cross over the holidays, and I distinctly remember feeling pretty pleased with myself. On the other hand, I also gave money to charity, so I kind of saw it as a win-win. But Dickerson is right. In fact, I think we should actively avoid electing women or people of color to the presidency. Because white people might feel too good about it. It's better when we're all angry and self-loathing.

The Myth of Viewership

The New York Times published an article today about the mythologies of shows like "Lost" and "Heroes". The article doesn't say anything new, though it does hilariously refer to the shows' fanbases as "smart, socially awkward adults and all 12-year-old boys."

Yet the underlying premise of the article -- the cultural impact of this new breed of television shows and the people who follow them -- is interesting. I am curious to find out whether the trend continues, or viewers get tired of waiting several years for the big payoff. "Lost" has created an enormous and complex mystery over the last two and a half seasons, and it's unlikely that the conclusion of the series will be able satisfy expectations.

Unlike "24", which builds suspense over the course of one season, "Lost", and now "Heroes", unfold over the entire course of the series. It's a much more ambitious project, though both shows take short cuts by using mystical themes to develop intrigue. The danger of relying too heavily on mystical, supernatural, or religious themes to create suspense is that it offers an easy way out of the mystery. On "24", there is ultimately some actual person or persons behind the central terrorist plot. The culprits must have the means, motive, and opportunity to carry out the attacks, and the writers have to be creative in how these facts are revealed to the audience so as not to spoil the surprise. It's much too easy for the writers on "Lost" to blame everything on the all powerful yet unknowable island monster. It's also boring.

"Lost" has experienced significant growing pains as viewers have demanded that creators provide more answers instead of adding yet another layer of mystery. The ABC promotional department seems to be bribing viewers into watching: "This week, you'll finally find out what the fuck is going on! We promise!"

I should note that "Lost's" creator, J.J. Abrams, is not new to frustrating and confounding his viewers. As the creator of the spy thriller/family drama "Alias", Abrams created a bizarre and ultimately unsatisfying mystery involving a Renaissance-era Nostradamus and his wacky predictions. By the time Alias went off the air, viewership had dwindled to members of the Jennifer Garner Fan Club, and that's about it.

Already, ratings for "Lost" have fallen signifcantly since the first season.

Yet, I'm still tuning in tonight to see if the show can hook me the way it did in the first season. That's the real advantage of doing suspense on television -- you can make people watch even when they wish they didn't want to.

Catching Up

I haven't posted in a week. I would feel guilty about it, but I know no one reads this thing, so I'll skip that part and get on with my life.

Which means.... yes, it's 3:30 a.m. and I'm on Hour 10 of a House, Season 1, DVD marathon. Terrifying, I know, but I just got a big Netflix shipment and I can't sleep for some reason. Maybe it's all the Vicodin.

Anyway, here are the highlights from my Week in TV:

"24": I really enjoyed it when Jack knocked out his brother, for two reasons. First, he did it in one punch, because Bauer is a badass. And second, that guy's been asking for it ever since he got up in everyone's grill on "ER".

"Battlestar Galactica": I think I might be the only person who loves a good love quadrangle. Because I love the whole Lee-Dee-Kara-Sam dynamic. The baby-neck-snapping space robots and exploding supernovas are just a backdrop for fucked-up-people-in-love. But I know everyone else hates this whole story arc, so I'll shut up about it now.

"The Office": Right is left, up is down... Angela and Dwight are lovable and endearing, and Pam and Jim just kind of annoy me.

Best love scene of the year? Michael going to rescue Dwight from the generic-big-box-office-supply-store.

Best line of the episode (and seriously, this was a tough one)? Michael explaining that Andy is annoying because he has no self-awareness. Get it, Andy has no self-awareness. It's an astute observation.

Biggest yawn moment? Jim telling Karen that he still has feelings for Pam. I've always loved Jim and Pam, but I hate the angst. This isn't "Everwood", people. Nor is it "Battlestar Galactica", because I don't see Jamie Bamber walking around the office with his shirt off. So knock it off and funny it up.

Oh, and Oscar's back! If you forgot, he's been on a paid vacation since Michael outed him in the office and then tried to make out with him. Which brings me to another great moment this week: Angela letting Oscar know that she feels bad for being such a homophobic bitch. It's nice to think that even someone as uptight and intolerant as Angela can learn a little open-mindedness. All she needed was the love of a good man.

Dwight, antidote to hate. I would never have guessed.

"Grey's Anatomy": But apparently there's not enough Dwight to go around.

In case you missed it, here's the rundown on the Bigot of the Month Scandal:

• Isaiah Washington (Preston Burke) referred to gay castmate T.R. Knight (George O'Malley) as a f****t on the set back in October.
  
• "Grey's" and ABC sort of kept it quiet, but
  
• Knight came out publicly in the aftermath.
  
• Then Washington reignited the whole thing last week by using the Golden Globes as an opportunity to say he didn't call Knight a f****t (using the word in the process).
  
• Castmate Katherine Heigl (Izzy Stevens) responded by noting that Washington needs to maybe "just not speak in public."
  
• Knight went on "Ellen" last week and said that Washington did use the f-word.
  
• ABC publicly rebuked Washington,
  
• Who then publicly apologized for using the word he previously said he didn't use (and also privately fired his publicist).
  
• Rumors abound that Washington may be fired, or Knight might quit in protest.

Got that?

It's a sad story, and raises all kinds of serious questions about how much intolerance we can tolerate in the workplace. Obviously, if Washington is creating a hostile work environment (and word is that he is no pleasure to work with, even when he's not being a homophobe), he should be punished. And if that punishment takes the form of firing his ass, I wouldn't argue with it.

Personally, though, I wonder if there might be a best case scenario here, where Washington genuinely learns a little tolerance, and the rest of us exercise a little forgiveness. And don't freak out and tell me how I would never suggest such a thing if the slur had been racial and started with an "n". I'm not arguing that Washington's behavior wasn't bad. It was really bad. Unacceptable. The guy is clearly a jerk and I'm not defending him or what he did. You don't call people names, especially not the kind of names that are used right before a lynching a gang rape. Ever.

Instead, I'm suggesting that this situation might be handled so as to engender more tolerance, instead of merely condemning this awful behavior. This is a possible collective learning experience, not just a future episode of E! True Hollywood Story.

Let's say that lots of people are intolerant. They're uncomfortable with people who are different than what they are used to. Instead of keeping an open mind, they shut the different people out. It's obnoxious, and offensive, and it makes it harder on everyone else. And maybe a lot of this intolerance takes the form of hate. And it's hard to undo hate, maybe impossible.

But maybe some of it isn't hate. Maybe it's ignorance. Cowardice. Insecurity. Shame. Those aren't very likable traits, but they aren't hate. They are weaknesses. And the good thing about weakness is that it can be undone. You exercise, you get stronger. You learn, you get used to things, you stop blaming other people for your own problems, and you get along.

I'm not saying that Washington doesn't deserve to be fired. Or that Knight has some duty to forgive the guy. And maybe the only way Washington is going to learn is to be kicked out on his ass. But if there's some way that he can learn to be less of an asshole, and Knight can allow them both to put the past behind them, the whole thing might make me feel kind of hopeful about life and people and the project of humanity.

Which would be nice, given how Iraq continues to go down the toilet and people still die in Darfur and no one knows what to do about it all. Just a thought.

I know I'm being sappy and Utopian. I know none of that was pithy or amusing. You'll have to forgive me. It's 4 a.m. and I'm all hyped up on caffeine and Hugh Laurie.

"Grey's" was really good last week. George's dad died, and it was sad. Christina welcomed George to the dead dad club, and it was sad. Meredith is just like her dad, and it's just sad. Mark would be a terrible dad, which is too bad. Oh, and Alex and Addison totally made out. The end.

Babies Are Evil

They giggle. They smile for no apparent reason. They are filled with joy and wonder at the newness of the world. And they are harbingers of the apocolypse.

Babies. They look so innocent. That's how they suck you in. That's how they seduce you into betraying humanity. By being so fucking cute.

Ordinarily, TV shows use children as symbols of your run-of-the-mill innocence and hope. Or, in the case of many a sitcom, of shark jumpingness. Fortunately, the people over at Battlestar Galactica have the vision to recognize that there is more, ah, ambiguity in what babies represent. Sure, they're adorable. And they are the future... which is exactly the point. What do they have in store for us? What are they plotting under their soft skulls and downy hair?

Battlestar is filled with babies. Tiny bald ruiners of mankind. There's Hera, their leader -- half human, half machine, and all villain. Plus, you know she's pissed about her already receding hairline. Then there's Casey, the toddler the Cylons used to trick Starbuck into acting maternal (okay, actually that was very touching... but it's a fine line and I've got my eye on that kid). The Chief's and Callie's offspring hasn't yet caused upheaval, but I have no doubt that his dastardly ways will be revealed soon enough.

The point is, we should all thank goodness that Jack Bauer doesn't have to deal with baby terrorists. Even with the help of Chloe's baby tracking talents, Jack's stink eye is no match for some cooing little infant. Besides, he's gone all soft since he was released from the Chinese torture chamber. All it would take is one googly little shake of the rattle, and we're all as good as dead.

Luckily, Jack seems to be handling the usual array of Middle Eastern extremists with aplomb. I mean, if you overlook his waivering faith in his cause. I wonder if Jack's own experiences will give him pause the next time he has to rough someone up for information. If 24 is going to offer the audience something new and interesting this season, it's probably going to come in the form of a serious personal crisis for the show's hero.

24 has always thrived on keeping the audience guessing. But even unpredictability becomes predictable eventually. I haven't watched the show for a few seasons because the shine wore off after a couple go rounds. But if they can make the all-powerful Jack believably vulnerable, I might be hooked again. Send in the babies.


Golden Globes Update: Cheers to Grey's Anatomy, Alec Baldwin, and Hugh Laurie - all much deserved. And though I'm not a big Ugly Betty fan, America Ferrera deserves the win - she carries the show. Personally, I liked Mary-Louise Parker for Weeds, but she's an awards show standard and doesn't really need the encouragement. I'm far more upset that Jenna Fischer (The Office) was completely overlooked in the nominations. Are people ever going to get sick of the Desperate Housewives ladies?

Turkish Delight

Grey's Anatomy returned from hiatus last night with Part 1 of a two-part episode titled "Six Days". I was planning on discussing the episode today, but it feels premature because none of the story arcs have been resolved. We'll see if I have anything to say next week.

In the meantime, this was recently brought to my attention. It's a Turkish television program called Doktorlar, based on Grey's Anatomy. I don't speak Turkish because there is no reason, other than being from Turkey, to speak Turkish. But if you're familiar with the premiere episode of Grey's, I am sure you will quickly recognize the same sequence from the American version. To be honest, I don't know whether I find it hilarious or horrifying. The sequence where Izzy does rectal exams is a lot more... squishy in the Turkish version. The pace of the scene is very, very slow, so you really get to contemplate the fact that the dizzy blond is sticking her fingers up the guy's ass. Ew.

I still haven't watched last night's Office, but I'll post something this weekend when I get around to it. I am already looking forward to a television marathon for Monday's MLK holiday. Between the four hour, two-part season premier of 24 (Sunday and Monday, 8-10pm EST on Fox), and the Battlestar Galactica Season 3 marathon (Monday on the SciFi Channel, check your local listings), it looks like I'll be spending the day just as Martin Luther King Jr. would have intended - alone in my apartment communing with my television. Let freedom ring.

House on Fire

My New Years' resolution: actually post to this blog I started.

Oh, and watch more television. Naturally.

Luckily, a few of my favorites are back from hiatus this week, which means I can finally stop holding my breath as I wait for Netflix to bring me another installment of Battlestar Galactica.

First up: House. Last night, House apologized to Tritter for leaving a thermometer in his ass, checked himself into rehab, and apologized to Wilson for generally being an asshole. It was starting to look a little too much like a very special New Years episode of "Ed". I mean, recovery and kindness are great and all, but I watch this show specifically because no one ever learns a lesson, shares her true feelings, or reunites with his estranged father.

Well, actually, sometimes that stuff happens, but House always steps in to ridicule people for having feelings and caring about others. It isn't annoying because he's smarter and wittier than everyone else. Also: hotter. That's right, I have a thing for bitter old men. Come on, I can't be the only girl who feels flush whenever Andy Rooney complains about his junk mail, can I?

I needn't have worried that House was on the verge of starting a sappy love affair with Julie Bowen. He's still an addict, sneaking pills from one of the guards in rehab. Meanwhile, Cuddy perjured herself to keep him out of prison. Turns out, everybody lies. Who knew?

On a more analytic note, this episode was a great example of thematic storytelling that avoids being heavy-handed. The theme was new beginnings - for House, the House & Wilson friendship, and for our patient-of-the-week (he gets electroshock therapy to reboot his brain and erase his broken heart, Eternal Sunshine style). The storylines hang together, but the characters don't address the theme directly. You're never distracted from the actual stories by discussion of what they mean. Instead, you're trusted to figure that out for yourself, on your own terms. Remember the movie "Crash"? It was about race, if you didn't notice. Which would be shocking, because every single scene involved characters discussing their races and how race affected their relationships. It's lazy writing, it makes dialogue feel fake and stilted, and it weighs the script down with an annoying sense of Meaning. If I wanted to be told what to think and how to feel about a story, I'd just watch Studio 60.

Episode Grade: Solid. Too bad we have to wait three weeks for the next installment.

Coming up: Grey's Anatomy returns tomorrow. I'm growing weary of the enormous cast and incenstuous storylines, but the writing is so consistently ingenius that I remain devoted. Also, I just saw an ad for the new Sarah Silverman Program on Comedy Central, debuting February 1st. It looks to be a Seinfeldesque sitcom based on the life of a fictional Silverman, but with singing and dancing and, presumably, more poop jokes.