June 2007 Archives

“Good Morning America’s” movie critic Joel Siegel has died, and ABC bids him adieu with a particularly fond obituary:

“Joyful Critic Joel Siegel, Gone at 63
“A Good Life Lived With Humor and Insight

“Surrounded by family and friends, ABC's beaming and insightful movie critic Joel Siegel has died in New York, after a long and remarkably courageous struggle with cancer, at the age of 63.

“Both colleagues and fans delighted in his unique way of blending cheerful good humor and piercing critical acumen in reviews that made them instantly clear to anyone. You knew exactly what he thought - often with the bonus of a good laugh.

“His battle with colon cancer was borne with such astonishing courage and humor that he almost tricked his colleagues around the office into forgetting his struggle.”

Your Mayor imagines his own obit will read somewhat differently:

Surrounded by a shredded collection of “According to Jim” DVDs, impotent regime puppet-master The Mayor of Television has died, after a long and remarkably incompetent struggle with life.

Those who accidentally came across his unique way of blending faulty thinking and obfuscating verbiage never knew quite what to make of his issuances, so generally just backed away quietly and sheepishly.

Observers noted that The Mayor lived every day as if it were his last – whimpering and waiting to die.

We’ve written in the past about Farfour, the delightful Hamas-TV kids-show Mickey Mouse doppelganger who schools children in the art of terrorism and anti-Semitism. So it is with deep regret that we must report the death of Farfour, at the hands of an actor portraying an Israeli who beat the rat to death in order to get his land (rodents are allowed to be landowners in Gaza?).

I cannot believe that I am not making this one up. Kid’s TV is hardcore in the Middle East. Here, we get “Baby Genius Mozart and Sleepytime Friends.” There, cuddly, hate-spewing mice get brutal smackdowns. Though, as commenters at Wonkette.com noted, “Way better than the Sopranos series finale” … “at least Hamas believes in closure.”

And it gets worse: The show’s youthful presenter Sara declared, “Farfour was martyred while defending his land,” adding that the perps were “the killers of children.”

So that’s the end of that show. Al Aksa-TV didn’t specify what series would replace it, but I’ll bet it’s not long before they’re hearing a pitch for something called “SpongeMohammed SquarePogrom.”

Your Mayor’s grandfather was a big fan of the TV rasslers, a gene he fortunately did not pass on to me, so I was essentially oblivious to the sad story of WWE’s Chris Benoit killing his family and himself.

But now the saga has turned from tragic to creepy. First, WWE paid heartfelt tribute to the killer with a three-hour special Monday on the USA Network (subscription required):

“WWE Chairman Vince McMahon issued a non-apology last night for his organization's three-hour tribute to pro wrestler Chris Benoit that aired Monday night on the USA Network. USA itself had no comment on having telecast a three-hour tribute to a man who, according to authorities, over the weekend bound and strangled his wife, suffocated his 7-year-old son and placed Bibles next to their bodies before hanging himself with a weight-machine pulley several hours and possibly as long as a day later.”

Honoring such a person betrays a certain lack of tact, to put it mildly, but then, it is the WWE we’re talking about. Coming soon: CNBC’s tearful farewell to Ken Lay (oh, wait, they already have that show – it’s called “American Greed”).

Eventually, WWE erased all tributes and comments concerning Benoit from its official website and later removed news articles about the deaths, and his profile was also scrubbed from the roster of WWE performers.

Now, it’s being reported that Wikipedia had information on Benoit’s wife’s murder half a day before the police even found the body:

An address by Your Mayor on the floor of the Senate, on Thursday, June 28, 2007:

Mr. President, I rise today to offer observations on ABC’s recent, inexplicable renewal of the sitcom “According to Jim.” In my judgment, offering Jim Belushi further comedic employment has lost contact with our vital national security interests. Our continuing absorption with Mr. Belushi is limiting our diplomatic assertiveness amongst the great People of Television and elsewhere in the world to present material that can actually be considered “amusing.” The prospects that the current “comedic surge” strategy will succeed in the way originally envisioned by ABC Entertainment President Stephen McPherson are very limited within the short period framed by our own domestic comic debate. And the strident, polarized nature of that debate increases the risk that TV’s involvement with Mr. Belushi will end in a poorly planned strategy for reinvigorating the genre of the situation comedy that undercuts our vital interests in American viewership. Unless we recalibrate our strategy regarding “According to Jim” to fit our domestic comedic conditions and the broader needs of U.S. national security, we risk entertainment policy failures that could greatly diminish our influence in the region and the world.

The current debate on “According to Jim” has not been conducive to a thoughtful revision of our TV-sitcom policy. Our debate is being driven by faulty, ratings-fueled calculations and understandable fatigue with bad news – including deaths and injuries to Americans who have been faithful to this program since its inception in the year 2000. We have been debating and voting on whether to fund American showrunners controlling Mr. Belushi’s wacky antics and whether to place conditions on such funding. We have contemplated in great detail whether ABC’s success in achieving certain comic benchmarks regarding Mr. Belushi’s ostensibly amusing pratfalls should determine whether advertiser-supported funding is approved or whether a programming-oriented withdrawal should commence.

I would observe that none of this debate addresses our vital interests any more than they are addressed by an unquestioned devotion to an ill-defined strategy of “staying the course” where ABC is concerned, whether the network needs returning comedies to bolster the chances of success for new alleged sitcoms such as “Cavemen” and “Carpoolers.”

Commentators frequently suggest that ABC has no good options when it comes to programming sitcoms. That may be true from a certain perspective. But I believe that we do have viable options that could strengthen our position regarding primetime comedy programming that can reduce the prospect of further reality-TV-based terrorism and other calamities.

But seizing these opportunities will require Mr. McPherson to downsize Mr. Belushi’s presence on the primetime schedule and place much more emphasis on diplomatic options that increase the number of sitcoms that include actual jokes in their episodes. Thank you, and God bless the People of Television.

Jon Cryer and Kyra Sedgwick will bring their best no-honest-we’re-really-happy-to-be-standing-up-here-at-5:40-in-the-frickin’-morning smiles as they stand alongside Academy of Television Arts and Sciences CEO Dick Askin at ATAS’ North Hollywood HQ on July 19 and announce a handful of Emmy nominees.

Now, I’m not an expert on the rules of decorum here, but aren’t the celebrities who show up for this alleged event supposed to be grateful past winners rather than hopefuls trying to charm the voters? Cryer and Sedgwick were nominees last year, but didn’t win. (Sedgwick does have a Golden Globe.)

At this point, it should be pretty safe to guess at least one nominee in both the Best Actress/Drama and Best Supporting Actor/Comedy categories. After all, ATAS wouldn’t be so cruel as to force these poor guys to get up and get dressed all nice-like at such an ungodly hour if they weren’t going to throw them a bone, would they? Because if they would do that, it’d be pretty funny but I can think of people who deserve such nasty treatment more than Cryer and Sedgwick.

However, given the crazed behavior of late, there’s apparently a new accessory that’s even more sought-after than an Emmy: Should Cryer and Sedgwick be spurned nominations, at least they’ll take solace in the iPhone in their Emmy Nominations Ceremony Gift Bag.

As fate would have it, I spoke with Kenneth Johnson today mere minutes after posting the previous blog entry on Jack McGee’s p!ssiness over his character getting killed off on “Rescue Me.” Johnson, you may recall, was on the business end of one of the most shocking and grisly deaths of a regular character in TV history: On “The Shield,” his character Lem got iced when his colleague and pal Shane (Walton Goggins) dropped a live grenade in his car to prevent Lem from going to the authorities with information about the rampant corruption in the Barn.

Perhaps it’s because Johnson’s already landed a new job (we were discussing his upcoming series, TNT’s “Saving Grace,” starring Holly Hunter), or perhaps it’s because he just understands how TV works better than most people, but Johnson was positively sanguine in discussing his ouster from “The Shield.”

“I found out three months prior and wasn’t supposed to find out but heard about it through someone who knew someone. So I called in to the production office and said, ‘Is there something I should know?’ And they said, ‘Oh, no, no, no. If anything was going to happen, we’d tell you.’ Five minutes later, I get a call back: ‘They’re gonna kill you.’

Last night on “Rescue Me” (SPOILER ALERT), Jerry Reilly (Jack McGee), after losing his job in the firehouse because of his recent heart attack, blew his brains out.

(Guess I should’ve given you more warning. Sorry.)

Anyway, McGee is none too happy about it.

"My own true feeling is, I think the wrong character killed himself," he tells Matt Seitz (a friend of Your Mayor’s), who provides a sympathetic ear in exchange for a story at TelevisionWithoutPity.com. McGee thinks Denis Leary’s character, Tommy Gavin – or perhaps Leary himself – should’ve broken out the Quietus®.

Seitz says that McGee says that Leary “cultivates a public image as a bold, blunt, hands-on actor-writer-producer who loves collaboration, but is actually an insecure, controlling person who hogs the spotlight.” “I'm actually happy to be away from 'The Brilliant Bully,'" McGee concludes.

Leary’s collaborator, Peter Tolan, told Seitz that Jerry’s death had "very little to do with Jack McGee and everything to do with the fact that ‘Rescue Me’ is a dark show," yet went on to complain a little about McGee anyway.

I find it shocking to think that a guy who is so brilliant at playing an @sshole might actually be one in real life. And I find it equally flabbergasting that an actor might be bitter about getting written out of a show and lash out at his former employers. That never … oh, yeah, right; Isaiah Washington (herewith, the latest on his continuing self-immolation).

“Reno 911’s” Thomas Lennon and Ben Garant have created a series of spots featuring boorish wealthy white men – who collectively go by the moniker “The Man” – imploring young people not to vote (this one's the best of the lot). It’s actually part of “Declare Yourself,” an initiative developed by Norman Lear to encourage young people to register to vote.

But, wait … they just said not to vote. Lennon and Garant have a lot of faith in 18-year-olds’ senses of irony. Because how many of them do you think might say, “Cool – rich dudes actually like me.” And what about the teens who would vote the same way The Man would? Shouldn’t they set up a counter-site for them?

Given Paris Hilton’s mainly short, frequently unrevealing-despite-sounding-revealing and seemingly pre-planned responses to his questions (“Don’t serve the time; let the time serve you”), Larry King worked pretty hard Wednesday evening, revisiting previously discussed topics and cajoling her with occasional praise in hopes of getting a response that might come across as more heartfelt.

It didn’t work, really – at a certain point, Paris started sounding like a tape loop, reiterating that life in jail was “terrifying” yet helped her reflect and “figure out who I am” and “I’ve definitely matured and grown a lot from this experience” and “Everyone makes mistakes” and how she’s going to focus on what’s important in life, issues, Zzzz.

King (who booted Michael Moore from tonight’s broadcast – he’s been dispatched to discuss the crucial issue of American health-care system on Friday, when viewership will be a lot lower) had a couple of nice moments – after Paris blathered on about reading the Bible in jail, going so far as to insist, “I’ve always been religious. … I’ve always had a sense of spirituality, but even moreso now” (so that explains the cooter flashes to the paparazzi), he asked her what her favorite Bible verse was; she couldn’t summon up a single one. When he tossed her a softball, asking what she didn’t like about herself, Paris, who’s ostensibly trying to posit herself as older and wiser and less frivolous now (when King used the word “frivolously,” Paris asked, “What do you mean by that?”), whom everyone would’ve reasonably expected to go to the playing-the-dumb-girl card, instead demurred, offering only, “Whenever I get nervous or shy, my voice gets a little high.”

But King might’ve vaulted this lurid, pop-culture curiosity into something truly memorable had he pressed her more on the socio-economic underpinnings of the wild Schadenfreude surrounding her fate. He could’ve asked something about the public’s attitude toward celebrity justice and if she understood why there was such an antipathy toward her pampered and privileged demeanor, particularly after he cited a CNN online poll which found that 63 percent of respondents agreed with the way the justice system treated her. (Paris didn’t bite on that one at all; she even set her face in an unresponsive mode.) He might’ve also attempted to contrast her description of her time spent in jail as “terrifying,” followed up by her observation that some of her fellow inmates really don’t have anywhere else to go when released from jail (making it sort of not all that terrifying from their perspectives).

Of course, King had asked her what she made of the nation’s obsession with her early on, and her reply was a wan, “I have no idea. I’m just living my life.” So maybe King figured (realized?) that she was too myopic to have a take on anyone less fabulous than her.

Or perhaps the handsomely paid King is himself also sort of out of touch with the rest of the planet and it didn’t occur to him to ask her to compare/contrast the vast economic disparities that create this sort of bitterness. Because, let’s face it, the tax dollars L.A. County spent on punishing Paris could’ve been expended on a whole lot more fruitful things (have you tried driving on Silver Lake or Echo Park streets lately? – don’t), but the best the city can do is make its citizens feel nominally better that justice in fact kinda sorta works the same way for rich and poor alike.

Also, hearing Paris’ economic, anthropological and sociological theories would’ve been funnier and more surreal than anything Thomas Pynchon could’ve cooked up.

* ADDENDUM: It just occurred to me - Paris couldn't bring a Bible into jail with her, but unopened fan mail was OK? If so, then the fan mail must've had to have been opened in advance, and therefore it's no surprise it was all positive, since someone weeded all the other stuff out.

Anyway, a Gallup poll taken minutes after the interview found that 98% of Americans declared themselves well sated by coverage of celebutard behavior, and were ready to now focus their attentions on important social issues. (Well, we can dream, can't we?)

The entire, unexpurgated story, after the jump:

More Republicans are beginning to dissent from the White House’s policy on Iraq. Vice President Cheney can’t decide whether he’s part of the Executive branch of government, the Legislative branch, a newly formed fourth branch or if, in fact, he is the government. Alberto Gonzalez is somehow still Attorney General, even though everyone save one particular resident at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue believes him to be a dissembling, ridiculous, chthonic and malingering canker on the Department of Justice.

So what will CBS’s Hannah Storm be talking to President Bush about tomorrow on “The Early Show?” Per CBS’s press release, “the importance of girls in sports, Title IX and the childhood obesity epidemic.” It also notes, “President Bush launched his White House Tee Ball Initiative in 2001 in recognition of the role baseball has played in American history, and its importance as a tool for fostering teamwork among America's youth.”

So it’s come to this: The President won’t speak to anyone unless he’s assured that the questions aren’t just slow-pitch softball lobs, but actually placed on a Tee Ball tee for him to belt out of the park. Meanwhile, Tony Snow and Dana Perino earn their combat pay every day they slink into the White House Press Office and get pelted with increasingly hostile questions.

And CBS News? Considers the President the nation’s primary expert on “the importance of girls in sports, Title IX and the childhood obesity epidemic.” I guess we should just be grateful she's not querying him on his thoughts on Paris Hilton.

There’s excrement, and now there’s new, improved, Meta-Excrement®, crap that discusses just how crappy it is. Exhibit A: MSNBC anchor Mika Brzezinski went nuclear on the ridiculous Paris Hilton coverage early this morning, trying to set fire to her script, then sticking it through a nearby shredder.

“I’m about to snap,” she declared, while being egged on by Joe Scarborough, who took a copy of the script she had torn in pieces and inhaled deeply from it.

Hotel heiress Ms. Hilton, whose inheritance is estimated to be between $30-$50 million, has appeared on a reality show, in an online sex tape and as a bit player in low-budget horror films. When released from jail early Tuesday morning, cable news networks broadcast it live and her SUV was chased by scores of rabid paparazzi, all getting the same blurry, unrevealing images. Can anyone explain how that first sentence dovetails into the second?

Management has refused to spring me from my duties watching Hilton dissemble to a Mr. Larry King this evening. CNN’s Los Angeles studios are on Sunset Blvd., near Amoeba Records, where Paul McCartney will be performing a free concert this evening. Between Paris’ camera-wielding stalkers and Paul’s fans, one can only imagine gridlock this evening at Sunset and Cahuenga on a Biblical scale.

“Shaq’s Big Challenge,” ABC’s latest reality dud featuring Shaquille O’Neal running a fat farm for kids, tanked as badly as the Heat did against the Chicago Bulls in the playoffs. 4.4 million undiscerning viewers tuned in.

Shaq, at least, didn’t humiliate himself like Mark Burnett and Steven Spielberg did with the latest installment of “On the Lot,” which drew a pittance of 1.29 million viewers. While E! might be delighted to lure that many viewers, Fox executives must be breaking out the Quietus®.

Anyway, why can’t the creators of these lame summer reality shows at least try to come up with a decent title for their dreck? The titles are pandering and treat audiences like children: “Shaq’s Big Challenge,” “So You Think You Can Dance,” “Don’t Forget the Lyrics” (upcoming on Fox), “America’s Got Talent,” “The Next Best Thing,” “Fast Cars and Superstars,” “Age of Love” and, of course, “National Bingo Night.” It’s as if the shows’ producers, while desultorily pitching their ideas, thought they'd save some time and make the programs’ concept its title, as well.

Another day, another End-is-Nigh study on the status of Television:

“The American Life Survey, conducted in early May, found that 38 percent of U.S. adults say they enjoy primetime less this year than in previous years. Thirty-six percent reported no change, while 26 percent said they were enjoying it more. Perhaps more telling, 48 percent said that watching primetime this year was less important compared with past years, compared with 32 percent who reported no change and 19 percent who said it was more important.”

The culprit? You guessed it: DVRs and programming available on the Internets. Knowing you can watch something anytime you want kinda drains it of all its joy.

Rich Luker, who worked on the study, says, “There is no time-fueled excitement associated with watching video. Watching primetime TV used to be a complete experience. Now it's no different than a book on my shelf, a board game in the closet, and the local park. All are options of wonderful fun things to do with no sense of urgency to get at doing them.”

My dog might take issue with the notion that there’s no sense of urgency in getting to the local park, and Luker has clearly failed to take into account Boggle sitting in that theoretical closet. Nonetheless, the argument makes sense, and begs the question:

What should the networks be focusing on creating – shows you’ll be compelled to TiVo (“The Sopranos,” “House,” etc.; that is, shows you seek out to view with consumer loyalty) or more impulse buys, disposable products that you wouldn’t set aside for a rainy day but will watch if you want to watch something mind-numbing at any particular moment (“Deal or No Deal,” “So You Think You Can Dance”)?

Thoughts?

There’s a subtle theme running through these items. See if you can guess what it is.

1) “The Omen” is set to spring from fiction to fact, as CNN Headline News harpie Nancy Grace has announced she’s pregnant. Worse, with twins.

She also revealed that she’s married, as well. Her husband’s name: David Linch. No, not that David Lynch, though that’d be wholly appropriate, wouldn’t it?

*

2) This guy says that contrary to reports that “The View’s” viewership is steady after Rosie O’Donnell’s departure, they’re actually down, about 400,000 sets of eyeballs. The implication being, now that the circus has left town, viewers have moved on.

Not necessarily. Viewing tends to drop during the summer in general. Ask Brian Williams (though don’t ask Charles Gibson).

*

Now that Paris Hilton is free to kill again (what? She didn’t commit murder? Then what was all that hubbub about?), GSN has a new online game, focusing on her new life as a penitent member of society. Actually, it’s pretty much like their old Paris game, instead that she’s stamping out T-shirts rather than license plates. Well, they can't all be gems.

And I may need that Quietus® sooner than I expected: Management has ordered that I watch Larry King and Paris Hilton try to form a coherent thought between them tomorrow evening on CNN.

We’ve already examined the fall season’s most winning trend: Nerds with paranormal powers presented blithely. Let us now examine trend No. 2: Transvestite whores.

Two new ABC series, “Dirty Sexy Money” and “Big Shots,” offer such as a plot point in their pilots. “Dirty Sexy Money” stars “Six Feet Under’s” Peter Krause as the reticent family attorney for a moneyed dynasty of spoiled boors – think the Hiltons, if you’re focusing on the brat angle, or the Kennedys, if you’re considering the political angle.

One of said dynasty’s young boobs, played by Daniel Baldwin, has political aspirations (forced upon him more than anything) but is an unrepentant partier and finds himself entangled with a sweet young thing who’s young enough but hardly sweet yet just might qualify in the “thing” category, as it appears she in fact has one.

Meanwhile, in “Big Shots,” Dylan McDermott stars as Duncan, one of four fairly successful yet fully emasculated men living in tremulous fear of the women in their lives (his compatriots are played by comedian Christopher Titus, former “Alias” co-star Michael Vartan and erstwhile Aaron Sorkin repertory player Josh Malina). Duncan’s a cosmetics CEO who is still sort of hot for his ex-wife, has a contentious relationship with his teen daughter, and whose entire career could be trampled if the media learns of his tryst with a road-stop trannie.

Hence: ABC believes it’s found the lynchpin to mainstream success, via a conduit that’d quease out both astringently heterosexual males and heterosexual women sweet on Dylan McDermott – a wide swatch of humanity, I’m led to believe. Said subplot has no doubt been explored on “Boston Legal” (and likely every other David E. Kelley series), and “Desperate Housewives,” if it hasn’t already, is no doubt itching to explore a similar angle. (It would’ve, moreover, been a natural for “Grey’s Anatomy” to contrive an organic storyline-related reason to kick Isaiah Washington’s character out the door.)

Here’s wagering the creators of ABC’s “Cavemen” sitcom are kicking themselves for not cooking up this narrative stratagem, as it would’ve allowed them to save that golden comic nugget, the breakdancing caveman, for episode two before they could’ve waved the white flag of aesthetic surrender.

We interrupt this TV blog for a late-breaking story: Paul McCartney will be performing a free concert Wednesday at 7:30 p.m. at Amoeba Records at Sunset and Cahuenga.

Last time I saw McCartney live, floor tickets were going for a cool $500 per. At Amoeba, they’re pretty much all gonna be floor tickets.

Of course, getting in isn’t gonna be easy: You’ll have to get a wrist band beginning at 12:30 p.m. Wednesday, and who knows how long you’ll have to wait in line to even manage one of those? Still, it’s a whole lot cheaper than half a grand.

And here’s what a nice guy Your Mayor is: You can try to circumnavigate the wristband process by hooking up to the link above and writing eloquently about your favorite McCartney song – five articulate fans will get wristbands without having to wait in line. So, basically, I’m offering you, the great unwashed masses who don’t receive Amoeba mass mailings, the chance to beat me out for a ticket.

Much has been made of John Stamos’ slurred, borderline-incoherent interview with an Australian journalist. My concern, however, is with the journalist conducting the interview and his clearly unhealthy obsession with “Full House” and the Olsen twins.

Referring to the series as “amazing,” our intrepid reporter asks Stamos of “Full House,” “When you look back on it, do you look back on it with fond memories?” Huh? Last I checked, “Full House” was no one’s idea of a good show, just one dumb and pandering enough to last the requisite period of time to be syndicated into all eternity.

Stamos will recover from whatever’s bedeviling him during this interview and live to have more lucid days. His inquisitor, however, has forever outed himself as a moron, and a potentially unsavory one, at that. One shudders to hear his thoughts on other series in the Stamos canon just as “Thieves” or “Jake in Progress.”

The semi-annual TV Press Tour – the Gitmo of entertainment journalism – is fast approaching, prompting Your Mayor to order an industrial-strength package of Quietus® from the British government. Nonetheless, it’s a good time to take a look at the at the upcoming TV season, and today, we’ll take a rare look at the bright side of the equation.

I’ve seen most yet not all of the new shows, and can declare that three of my favorites are, essentially, the same show. NBC’s “Chuck,” ABC’s “Pushing Daisies” and The CW’s “Reaper” (yes, The CW has no longer declared itself an entertainment-free zone) all share the following narrative traits:

* The nebbishy protagonist boasts a paranormal power. “Pushing Daisies”’ hero is a reclusive pie chef who, with a touch of his hand, can bring the dead back to life. Another touch, alas, returns the deceased back to their stiff state. He’s recruited by a private investigator to touch corpses, ask them who killed them, then dispatch again once the information is secure. “Chuck” and “Reaper” hew quite closely to one another’s sensibilities, so much so that, as luck would have it, they’re even on at the same time (9 p.m. Tuesdays – awkward). The heroes of both of these shows are underachieving slackers who work in big-barn stores (Best Buy doppelganger Buy More in “Chuck’s” case, Home Depot wanna-be The Work Bench in “Reaper’s”). Through a thoroughly convincing chain of events, Chuck gets the entire CIA database downloaded into his brain and is recruited by said Agency to prevent sundry disasters. In an utterly believable turn of coincidence, “Reaper’s” Sam learns on his 21st birthday that his parents had sold his soul to the devil before he was even born, and the devil has come to collect: Sam must capture souls who have escaped from hell and return them (to the DMV, as it turns out).

* The nebbishy protagonist has an unrequited love interest. With “Reaper,” it’s a co-worker with whom he’s reluctant to share his secret. With “Chuck,” it’s his new CIA handler. “Pushing Daisies” has the most inspired variation on the trope: It’s the Pie Man’s childhood sweetheart, whom he revives when she is murdered on a cruise but is loathe to return to the great beyond. She’s sweet on him, too. But – and this is a big but – he can never touch her again, for reasons that should be apparent if you read the previous paragraph.

* Unlike similarly themed series (“The X Files,” “Heroes” and NBC’s new shows “Bionic Woman” and “Journeyman”), these programs recognize the essential goofiness of their premises and wallow gleefully in them. They’re easily funnier than most of the new sitcoms I’ve watched. “Chuck” and “Reaper” have an agreeable nerdy-hipster edge (Ray Wise has a perfectly oily charisma as the devil in “Reaper,” but it’s a character the writers can let get out of hand – if he shows up in a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts, it’s over), while “Pushing Daisies” has a lilting, grim-fairy-tale vibe reminiscent of the Tim Burton film “Big Fish.”

Paradoxically, even though they’re all the same show, they’re also all pretty original. We can only hope that that word – “original” – isn’t the kiss of death it usually serves as in network television.

Yes, it’s summer, but ABC averaged a staggeringly humiliating 2.99 million viewers on Sunday evening – and that’s with a repeat of “Desperate Housewives” lifting the average, ever so slightly: It had 3.19 million viewers. Which means the hit show was seen by 1/100th of the country. The network averaged its lowest rating in history this week in the advertiser-fave 18-49 demographic.

Fox managed to do even worse last night, thanks to its burning off episodes of “The Loop.”

And NBC, in a Friday-afternoon news dump worthy of the government, quietly removed “Friday Night Lights” from its Sunday night schedule. Now that Kevin Reilly and his “Well, if we’re going to be mired in fourth place, let’s at least hold our heads high and not embarrass ourselves with lousy shows” strategy has been jettisoned, look for “Friday Night Lights” to get a quick hook next fall. After all, they’ve got to put those “Law & Order” repeats somewhere.

There has been a lot of hand-wringing of late regarding the future of HBO, which recently demanded the resignation of Chris Albrecht, replacing him with capable company men but perhaps no one quite as able to green-light the next hit provocation, and just bid adieu to its biggest cash machine, “The Sopranos.”

Just curious: Any HBO patrons out there considering canceling their subscription? More questions will follow the requisite idiot analysis.

Recently, HBO added “John from Cincinnati” and “Flight of the Conchords” to their arsenal, but as much as I liked those shows, they exist in far too rarefied an air to serve as the network’s Next Big Thing. Reviews were wildly divided on “John,” perhaps since it’s anyone’s guess what’s really on its mind and where it’s eventually going. Critics, ultimately, are just like most of us: They appreciate a clue as to what’s going on with a show and don’t like to feel dumb. Certainly, almost all TV series and movies give you a pretty good idea where they’re going – Tony Soprano suffers from angst and his violent streak is a good skill set to have in his line of business. Denis Leary has a tart tongue, a self-destructive streak and brass balls. Bruce Willis will blow up the world in order to save it. Jim Belushi’s lumpen stupidity has a cuddly appeal to his hot wife.

By contrast, “John from Cincinnati” is the show for which the acronym WTF? was created. Guys hover above the surface of the planet for no apparent reason; the dead become living anew; an idiot savant may possess the answers we all seek. So how do the characters respond to all this? By skateboarding on a half-pipe. “John” assiduously avoids the visceral immediacy creator David Milch’s last profane masterpiece, “Deadwood,” managed with ease.

And “Flight of the Conchords,” funny as it is, will only be appreciated by a tiny segment of the population jazzed by deader-than-deadpan humor. HBO has recently rolled the dice on a number of series and, if not snake-eyes, hasn’t hit seven on the Zeitgeist meter, either. “Entourage” and “Curb Your Enthusiasm” are more media sensations than mainstream ones. “Rome” was expensive and lurid but hardly a hit. “Big Love” intrigues without fully addicting. “Lucky Louie” was something Albrecht must’ve OK’d while on a bender.

Meantime, Showtime has finally gotten its act together and put together a coterie of programs that, while not consistently great, at least palatably challenges HBO’s putative headlock on water-cooler programming. FX continues to prove that basic cable can be at least as provocative as pay-cable. And TNT, USA and Sci Fi Channel all offer programming that’s as audience-pleasing as that offered by the ostensibly bigger broadcast networks.

So, back to our questionnaire (feel free to answer as many, or as few, of these questions as you like, or, even, answer questions that you feel went egregiously unposed – I hack away dozens of spam comments touting links to dubious Viagra websites on a daily basis (honestly – it’s amazing I get anything else accomplished) so that you can be assured that your thoughts are prominently displayed within the walls of this intellectually rickety yet proud blog):

* Again, have you considered canceling HBO? Or, in fact, have you trimmed your cable or satellite bill? And, if so, why?

* What’re your thoughts on HBO’s newest shows? Do they reach the same levels of satisfaction as its former hits “Sopranos” and “Sex and the City?”

* If you feel HBO has jumped the shark, when was the moment you think it happened?

* What was your take on the “Sopranos” finale? Did people who took the alternate view p!ss you off? Why?

* Which cable network offers your favorite original programming?

* Do you like TV that challenges or reinforces your thoughts on life, etc.? And which networks do you think do both?

* What TV show in general do you utterly hate? And utterly love?

* If you had the chance to gun down someone in an empty parking garage that had no reliable security system, who would it be (other than, say, a certain highly-placed and –regarded politician serving the Good People of Television), and why?

* Do you find online questionnaires idiotic? If so, why? Do you hate me because I’ve posed one? If so, how can I win back your affections? I’ll do it; I mean it.

What if you thought you knew everything there was to know about a pretty sordid story, more than you wanted to, in fact, and yet what you in fact knew was just scratching the surface of an even uglier story?

No, I’m not talking about Dick Cheney’s sinister scheme to create a shadow government that’ll eat our own for lunch. I’m talking about alleged behind-the-scenes hijinx in the ongoing saga that is the “Grey’s Anatomy”/Isaiah Washington melee.

Washington contacted blogger Keith Boykin, once the highest-ranking openly gay member of the Clinton White House, to uncork yet another variation on the story, and, as they say, it’s just so crazy it just might work. The real villain, per Washington, is slur victim T.R. Knight, who was playing sundry cast members off one another in an ingenious scheme to get them both kicked off the show:

“T.R. Knight was very tactical in trying to remove me from the show because he knows that I know, and I was gagged, that he has been working on a conspiracy to get Patrick Dempsey and myself off the show for the last year and a half. … The only reason I used his name, T.R., in the argument was because he had led me to believe that Patrick Dempsey was so abusive and so horrible to people in a two and a half -hour conversation on the plane. For two and a half hours, this boy talked my ear off … about how horrible Patrick Dempsey is and how he needs to be removed from the show. And in my argument, the irony of it is that Patrick happened to show some behavior that was very in line with what T.R. was telling me on the plane and I challenged T.R. to deny it or say this isn't true. … (T)o this day, when I went back to the set Patrick Dempsey and T.R. still have a rift and are still not on speaking terms. They do not talk to each other ... I know Patrick Dempsey has supported me by stating that if there is anyone that needs to be fired it is T.R. Knight because he has created such a negative environment on that set ….

“The producers are not happy about it, and quite frankly, they all think that something has gone awfully awry with the stability of T.R. Knight. And I can freely say this now because I am no longer a Disney employee and I am no longer gagged. But everyone there, including the producers, all the way up to Touchstone, are very disappointed in the behavior of T.R. Knight.”

Either Washington is even more breathtakingly crazy than anyone gave him credit for or it’s amazing that anything gets done on the set of that show. But as entertainingly labyrinthine as Washington’s account is, note that Knight got a raise while he got a pink slip. And does anyone believe T.R. Knight would've had the clout to get McDreamy kicked off the show? (Ah, but perhaps that's part of his genius: Getting Washington to believe he was targeting Dempsey...)

Just when you were completely sick of this story, Washington steps up his game and makes you kind of interested in hearing what his next excuse will be.

Thanks to Greg Hernandez’ own Daily News blog for the tip. (Which means, basically, I stole it from him.)

"I just realized that the media used me to make fun of and be mean about. Frankly, I'm sick of it," Paris Hilton seethed to Ryan Seacrest, who didn't pony up so much as a dime for the chance to chat.

Just realized?

* UPDATE: No NBC interview. Apparently, that Seacrest interview underscored how little they were paying so much for.

No small amount of controversy has attended the announcement that NBC will nab the first post-jail interview with Paris Hilton, having reportedly forked over $1 million for the honor. This may be the worst journalistic investment since Your Mayor sprang for $25 to talk to Jonathan Silverman, star of NBC’s hot new impending hit and subsequent spectacular failure “The Single Guy.”

First off – it’s considered bad form (which is to say, spectacularly unethical and unprofessional) for a respected news organization to pay for interviews. (But, then, hey, this is the “Today” show; it’s not like it’s “The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer” (which only offered $37.50).)

(An NBC publicist insisted that the news division had, in fact, not offered Paris any cash for such an interview, but then, it was a publicist saying that, so draw your own conclusions.) (Then again, said publicist limited the conversation to NBC News, so she’s obviously glossing over the fact that the cash may have come from another corporate arm of NBC-GE-Universal-Kmart.) (At least ABC was being honest when it admitted it had offered the Hilton clan $100K for an interview – and, remember, Hilton family friend Barbara Walters got the “scoop” that Paris had found God – or, at least, a publicist’s new way to spin this whole mess – while in lock-up after a mere 72 hours.)

Secondly, NBC’s paying a cool mill to talk to Paris Hilton, fer chrissakes, and she’s got – what? – maybe 3,000 words in her vocabulary, tops? Which averages out to $333.33 per word. (She may have some sort of talent, but speaking isn’t one of them. NBC should’ve parlayed that cash outlay into another online video.) If NBC wanted to get some bang for their buck, they should’ve checked out Christopher Hitchens, who is just as much a loon but at least is witty and articulate and provocative and has a far better vocabulary and could probably be had for the nominal price of an open bar in “Today’s” green room. Then again, any of the contributors to the sundry LOL memes could provide more penetrating insight into our culture than Ms. Hilton.

Third: Another condition that NBC had to agree to was to arrange for an interviewer who heretofore had not mocked Paris – the best they could come up with was “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire” host Meredith Vieira. You’d think that if a condition for interviewing Paris was that the journalist had never made a disparaging remark about her, they could’ve scored the scoop for about $87.99, given that just about everyone on the planet, including refugees in Darfur, have dissed P in the past year. Moreover, Vieira’s interview will inevitably be repurposed ad nauseum on MSNBC, where those folks pretty much consider Paris a fish in a barrel (“Countdown’s” Keith Olbermann recently examined her plight on his particularly astringent hard-news feature, “Puppet Theatre”). Hence, Vieira’s putative sensitivity will be inevitably be filtered through the snarky cynicism – which is to say, objectivity – of a dozen more NBC journalists.

Finally, even given all these other considerations, the notion that NBC gave money to an already obscenely wealthy person that pretty much everyone else on the globe hates (this isn’t a fully scientific finding – a recent trek through Mongolia courtesy Google Earth found some banners waved by remote villagers that might have been pro-Paris, or, at least, just respected the architecture of the Arc de Triomphe) could still hurt the network’s reputation. Particularly since those million Washingtons could’ve gone to a charity championed by Bono, but instead are going to an insanely pampered heiress’s STD medications.

Hence: Well played, Jeff Zucker. Almost as brilliant as renewing “Good Morning, Miami” for a second season.

NBC’s Ben Silverman era continues: “The Office” will be transformed into a series of computer games that may, eventually, be incorporated into storylines on the show.

“We looked at the broad demographic that 'The Office' attracts and see this as a TV property that's growing in popularity. We believe this is a property we can build a franchise around with multiple games across multiple devices for many years to come,” said the CEO of the gaming company, which is named, appropriately enough, MumboJumbo.

Since the show is all about soul-crushing ennui and the celebration of mediocrity in the workplace, one expects these games to pack the same sort of punch as “Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.” Instead of trying to hide that Spider Solitaire game on your computer screen from your boss in real life, you’ll be able to vividly simulate the practice in “The Office: Fake Spread Sheet.” Making desultory sales phone calls to clients you know aren’t interested in your product becomes a life-or-death ordeal when an unknown digit on your phone is wired to explode – or, at least, not work very well – in “The Office: Trapped in the Phone Mail Tree.” Feigning interest in tedious staff meetings has never been as thrilling as in “The Office: Stay Awake.”

In “The Office: Dwight Schrute’s Big Day Out,” players with any sort of gaming skills will automatically lose.

The mere notion that someone is so famous or fascinating that they merit their own camera crew to follow them about in their everyday lives to cobble together some sort of grandiose home movie is, of course, hubris. But that doesn’t stop Paula Abdul, in her upcoming Bravo reality show “Hey Paula,” from gushing that fans “first see me as Paula the celebrity, but they soon realize I’m just an everyday girl.”

Soon, we’re witnessing what Abdul believes to be an everyday girl: Draping million-dollar necklaces on her Chihuahuas and, later, in the back of a limo, wearing a $15K Valentino gown and berating her two personal assistants for not packing the clothes she wanted for a redeye flight, apparently because she didn’t tell them what to pack because she was too busy mugging for her TV cameras.

“Hey Paula” looks to appeal to fans and haters alike – she inserts just enough crazy Paula into the proceedings to ameliorate all the warm-fuzzy/faux-wacky/self-aggrandizing nonsense. Or, perhaps, it’s simply impossible to scour all traces of crazy Paula from the show. Anyway, those who enjoy her blisteringly precise portrayals of a deeply troubled diva on “American Idol” should be sated here.

In addition to her beleaguered, unschooled-in-the-art-of-packing-for-Paula toadies, we meet Daniel, “my best friend and stylist – he not only makes me look good, but he makes me laugh.” Cut immediately to Daniel, not delivering a witty, erudite bon mot, but emitting a guttural grunt as Paula brays delightedly. Daniel reveals, “It takes me four hours to get her ready for the red carpet,” as if discussing some reclamation project. We’re also introduced to her publicist Jeff who, in a scene more literal than metaphorical, is shown carrying Abdul up some steps.

Drama here is wrung from the fact that her collaborators on a movie about the Bratz dolls don’t seem to pay her enough respect – “I know this movie, I know these girls and I know this project,” she declares impassionedly about a film based on toys (we imagine Michael Bay said something similar about “Transformers”). There’s also a trip to the QVC studios that could be potentially disastrous (“This doesn’t reflect my vision,” she grouses about the finish on some jewelry) but instead is an utter triumph: An elderly woman phones in, blathering on about how miserable her life is and how everyone she knows has died or something but suddenly, it’s all OK because she has managed in her channel-surfing to land upon the reassuringly iconic image of professional life force Paula Abdul peddling some gewgaws on a late-night shopping channel.

Conspiracy theorists, unite!

Who needs “The View” or Elisabeth Hasselbeck or the slightest modicum of professionalism or even common sense when you’ve got “Jahero,” Rosie O’Donnell’s shockingly pedestrian online blabfest in which she gathers sundry pals and, using Apple’s Photo Booth to a self-aggrandizing extent that Your Mayor is grateful he hasn’t been able to master, sits and chatters mindlessly for as long as you have the intestinal fortitude to withstand.

The New York Times is being generous when it raved of Rosie’s performances: “Her hair seemed sticky, her T-shirt looked slept in, and her double-wide face was washed out to abstraction by the glare of amateur lighting. … (in videos) which seem to be nothing but the ramblings of an old comic who won’t be funny unless she’s being paid…”

Herewith, the most recent of her “performances,” in which she blithely accepted mindless kudos from fans and blathered on with a couple of pals about … well, something. I couldn’t be bothered to watch long enough to absorb anything of substance. (Of course, even die-hard fans might not be able to watch until anything of substance comes along.)

No wonder Bob Barker’s rethinking the whole Rosie’d-be-the-perfect-host-of-“The-Price-Is-Right”-thing.

Say what you will about Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan, at least they’re not openly endorsing promulgating self-promoting drivel in such an infantile manner. (Later today, we’ll deconstruct another self-promoter who fails to understand the thin line between self-love and self-loathing – or, at least, the thin line between propagating adulation and outright mocking – yes, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the stage, Paula Abdul).

More than ever before, celebrity for the sake of celebrity is more fixed upon the ends than upon the means – even a Presidential candidate is willing to posit herself as a mobster to win some cool points. Rosie’s grubbily lo-fi, ostensibly honest obfuscations are just another way to transmit inauthentic authenticity in a medium in which conveying nerd-like-cool-addiction to fans is just another artful form of bullsh!t.

Finally, a good idea in the Land of Television: CNN will direct viewers to charities and relief efforts that are salient to some of the stories it presents. For example, during Hurricane Katrina, between shots of Anderson Cooper's smackdown of Mary Landrieu there would’ve also been information on how to donate to help those stranded.

All well and good, just as long as they don’t try to funnel money into Mike Gravel or Duncan Hunter’s campaigns.

*

Stop the presses: Elisabeth Hasselbeck and Rosie O’Donnell aren’t friends.

Hasselbeck broke the news to a no-doubt stricken “Access Hollywood” lackey: “Truthfully, I think a friend is someone who you have positive communications with, so I don't know if I would define us as friends right now." She added, “Even more truthfully, if a friend is someone you don’t hate with every fiber of your being, then I don’t know that I would define us as friends right now.” She added, “To further pursue this notion of truthfulness, if a friend is a person that the very thought of doesn’t induce waves of revulsion and nausea so violently wrenching that you’re immediately instinctively emptying the contents of your stomach onto that new pair of flirty pumps that you just bought, then I don’t know that I would define us as friends right now.” She was about to say something else, but the crack “Access Hollywood” journalist interjected, “OK, I think I’m beginning to understand.”

On O’Donnell’s blog, a fan asked her what she thought of Hasselbeck’s comments; Rosie, in a rare moment of restraint, declined comment.

*

A new blight has been thoughtfully created for the People of Television that’ll more than counteract any good the CNN item might’ve enacted: Judge Larry Seidlin, the buffoon who presided over the Anna Nicole Smith child-custody case, will develop one of those irritating syndicated afternoon judge-yells-at-bickering-idiot-litigants shows for CBS.

To see what CBS – and hapless viewers – are getting themselves into, click on the photo of Judge Larry provided here. Proposed title: “Judge Larry Explains It All – And Then Some – For You.”

There was a time when reality programming felt so fresh that even the worst entries in the genre (“Temptation Island,” anyone? “Boot Camp?”) got solid ratings. Now, as the networks load up on the fatty, non-nutritious stuff during the summer, the insurgency of broadcast-network reality-TV appears to be in its final throes, leaving the broadcast networks with the tiniest, most unhealthy ratings the world has seen. Even the Dutch have better ratings.

Of 11 new reality programs cluttering the summertime schedule, only three could be labeled successes, and then, only by depressed summer-ratings standards: NBC’s “America’s Got Talent” (from “American Idol’s” Simon Cowell) and Fox’s “So You Think You Can Dance” and its if-you-can’t-cook-you-deserve-the-verbal-dressdown-of-your-life show “Hell’s Kitchen.” Everything else: Not so much.

NBC's "Age of Love:" 6.95 million viewers (losing 5m off its "Deal or No Deal" lead-in). ABC’s “American Inventor:” 6.3m. ABC’s “The Next Best Thing:” 6.2m. (Really, a show about celebrity impersonators? Did ABC not notice how badly Rich Little bombed at the White House Correspondents Dinner this year?) CBS’s “Survivor”-served-up-as-leftovers “Pirate Master:” 5.4m. ABC’s wrenching-divorce-reimagined-as-entertainment “The Ex-Wives Club:” 4.1m. “National Bingo Night:” 3.5m. (Good numbers if the nation is Albania, perhaps.) Fox’s “On the Lot:” 2.8m. ABC’s “Fast Cars & Superstars:” down to 2.1m.

Those are approaching basic-cable numbers, folks. Or, in some cases, well beneath cable: Season three of “The Closer” debuted Monday before a record 8.8 million viewers.

(To be fair, ratings for original scripted programming – CBS’s “Creature Comforts,” ABC’s “Traveler,” Fox’s “The Loop” (it’s back – did you know?) and The CW’s “Hidden Palms” – are similarly abysmal, but that sort of the fault of the networks, who over the years have conditioned viewers to understand that any scripted show that airs original episodes during the summer has must-avoid written all over it.)

At this point, reruns are starting to look good. The networks have stopped repeating certain shows because they don’t do well in a second run. But certainly, even the weakest of those shows could at least manage ratings like those cited above, and at least they’ve already been paid for. Though reality-TV is cheap, it’s not as cheap as already-been-paid-for, and it’s hard to justify the bill for any of those exercises in futility.

If memory serves, back in the ’80s, networks would air their failed pilots during the summer. They were already paid for, why not? And viewers got a glimpse into how network minds thought – what they were willing to invest in, what they subsequently considered failures. If the networks are looking to burn off their summer schedule with original programming, why don’t they return to that practice? People more are obsessed than ever with the entertainment industry; the networks could even promote blocs of failed pilots as an opportunity to play Monday-morning quarterback (or, network executive) and second-guess the decisions not to pick up a certain program: “NBC Tuesday – is this crap, or are we idiots for not picking this up? A very special ‘Ft. Pit!’”

While you’re breathing at this very minute, there’s a hilariously futile effort afoot to try to save “Hidden Palms,” a show The CW had all but cancelled before it even aired its first promo, by mailing cocoanuts into CW offices. (I imagine a good two, maybe three cocoanuts have come pouring into the CW mailroom at this point.) Networks could encourage this sort of behavior with their Failed Pilot Theatre – c’mon, kids! Help save the fate of a show you’ve only seen one episode of! – with online polling, etc.

They could encourage this sort of behavior; they just wouldn’t have to pay any attention to it.

Slow news day.

That’s the only excuse for infotainment show “Extra’s” breathless Email today; its subject read: “‘EXTRA’ Item: John Travolta on rumors th…”

Well, you think, that could be interesting. Until, that is, the email is opened and the giant headline screams:

“JOHN TRAVOLTA ON RUMORS THAT HE IS NOCTURNAL”

“John Travolta … set the record straight about reports he stays up all night – living a nocturnal life.”

Turns out he does. Well, good to know; that’s all cleared up. But there were “rumors” and “reports” about this?

Perhaps it’s a metaphor of some sort.

Otherwise, what have we got today? Rosie may or may not host “The Price is Right” (that'll be interesting only if she jettisons Bob Barker's "spay or neuter your pet" sign-off in favor of a spiel about rising up against the Bilderberg Group) and a minor scandal with a “Skating with Nitwits” celebrity no one can bring themselves to care about (or, in my case, remember her name).

Unfortunately, “Extra” is constantly sending me irrelevant tripe like this, usually involving someone you hear too much about or someone you don’t want to hear anything about (granted, there’s a fair amount of overlap there). It’s like they’re cyber-stalkers, popping up at random times with motives that aren’t exactly sinister but are disquieting nonetheless … they just want you to remember they’re around.

Swanson! It’s Kristy Swanson, isn’t it? She’s the Buffy no one remembers, right?

Aficionados of New Journalism, rejoice: TMZ has printed a particularly salacious excerpt it maintains to be from O.J. Simpson’s landmark epic “If I Did It.”

The only surprise is it took someone this long to post something like this. The other surprise is how lame it is. Oh, wait – that’s not a surprise at all.

A couple of quick excerpts:

“I've heard the theories: … That I did it. That I did it but I don't know I did it.”

That he did it but doesn’t know? Are there people that stupid in the world? At least he doesn’t float any other theories, like the drug-lord one that was popular briefly around the time of the trial. Or the one that Fox Mulder briefly pursued, that it was a chupacabra that slipped over the Mexican border (those damn porous borders!) and just as mysteriously vanished into the ether. Or any other theory, like, you know, it was any other person on the face of the planet except O.J.

O.J. then takes us to the scene of the crime, where he’s standing with an accomplice named “Charlie” and looking at Ron Goldman in a karate stance:

“Then something went horribly wrong, and I know what happened, but I can't tell you exactly how. I was still standing in Nicole's courtyard, of course, but for a few moments I couldn't remember how I'd gotten there, when I'd arrived, or even why I was there. … And now?

“Now I was standing in Nicole's courtyard, in the dark, listening to the loud, rhythmic, accelerated beating of my own heart. I put my left hand to my heart and my shirt felt strangely wet. I looked down at myself. For several moments, I couldn't get my mind around what I was seeing. The whole front of me was covered in blood, but it didn't compute. Is this really blood? I wondered. And whose blood is it? Is it mine? Am I hurt?”

Pretty impressive, even for a sociopath: You kill a couple of people and your first thought is, but what about me? How do I feel about all of this? Pretty incoherent, too: How many times does he have to remind us he's in Nicole's courtyard? And "the whole front of me" is an awkward construction that a careful ghostwriter might've taken an extra 30 seconds to smooth out.

Anyway, if you’re up for more, the link’s above. Just schedule some time for a good long shower for you and your soul.

One of the advantages for a newspaper with a limited news hole like the Daily News is its reporters don’t have to kill themselves to contrive TV-related stories to fill the vast swatches of newsprint available to the writers of the Paper of Record, the Old Grey Lady known as the New York Times. To wit:

Long story not saying a whole lot, just that HBO probably has some more changes ahead in the future, though it’s unclear as to what those changes may be. Never accuse the Times of not getting out in front of a story even before there’s a story.

The fact that there are a number of actresses over the age of 40 on television makes it a trend of some sort. Where was the Times with the Zeitgeist angle when a bunch of slovenly louts were married to cute sitcom wives?

Yet another take on “The Sopranos”’ conclusion, with lots of highfalutin references to literary works and the nature of not ending: “What is that dark screen but an image of the darkness that was there before you turned your TV on in the first place?” And what were the closing credits but the closing credits of a show you missed just as you turned on your TV in the second place? Fortunately, the story itself ends.

Dammit, you’re gonna watch TV on your cell phone whether you want to or not! Or, at least, someone’s gonna be making TV to watch on your cell phone whether you want it or not. Which produces quite a quandary: My local gas station recently installed video monitors at its pumps pumping propaganda for ABC and its affiliated cable concerns into my cerebral cortex while I fill my tank. So which will I watch: GasFu