Jeopardy Three Way

Now there are three words I'll bet you NEVER thought you would see in one sentence/thought/anything...but it happened in the episdoe that aired last Friday, 3/16 when all three contestants ended the game with $16,000. The previous day's champion, Scott Weiss, did go into the bonus round with, like a $5,000 dollar lead, though, so I'll bet he was on top.

Also, I love Jeopardy so much.

Boob Tubers Mob-A-Thon, April 8, 2007

We woke up this morning and got ourselves....AN IDEA. This doesn't happen often. In fact, it happens even less frequently than comments on this blog from people we don't know. Which is why we've decided to reach out to our fellow, more successful entertainment bloggers with our very first BLOG-A-THON!

We at the Boob Tubers are quaking with excitement over the upcoming return of HBO's great ethnic white hope, The Sopranos. This is a show that built a network and changed television forever. And by changed television we mean introduced more cursing, boobies, overly long dream sequences, and scenes of fat men eating manicotti than any other program before. So in honor of this revolutionary series' final nine episodes, we present to you... THE BOOB TUBERS MOB-A-THON!

On April 8th, the date that the final Sopranos season premieres, we want you to write about telegenic and filmic interpretations of organized crime. From The Godfather to The Departed, from The Sopranos to The Black Donnellys, give us your thoughts on Mafiasploitation. Don't limit yourself to the traditional Italian Mafia - we also enjoy Russians, Chinese, and Jewish mobs. Because they're so cute!

RULES:
Email boobtubers@gmail.com with your intentions.
Post your Mob-A-Thon entry by 9:00 PM, EST, on Sunday, April 8th.
We will post a list of all participating blogs as entries are published on the 8th.
Please don't break our kneecaps.

This message has been brought to you by kropserkel.com, the only known manufacturers of the bloody horse head pillow.

TV Gets Gypped, WWHBOD?

Howdy howdy howdy! It's been a while, as I've been wandering the countryside much in the style of a Gypsy. Which is such a coincidence, because the first half of my post today is about Gypsies, or rather, the recent spike in Gypsy representation on television.

Full disclosure: I have some Gypsy in me. My great-great grandmother was all about Bohemia back when it was an actual place rather than something from a Rent song.

OK, OK, time to make a disclaimer before the Gypsy population of West Bushwick or wherever decides to flood this blog with complaints. (Edited to add disclaimer: Nothing in this blog is serious, except for the fact that shows about Gypsies exist. Oh, also the paragraph about mythologizing.) It's just weird because I've noticed a lot more Gypsies on TV than there used to be. Oh, and they prefer to be called Roma (because they roam-a around a lot! hahahaha!)

First was on House, in which a young Gypsy boy falls mysteriously, yet predictably ill, and his relatives stupidly, yet predictably fight House on his treatment. The boy's family are funkily dressed, vaguely ethnic weirdos who seem to have missed the boat on modern medicine despite living in suburban New Jersey. The father chews on toothpicks like a shady used car salesman and they all hate the boy's honky girlfriend. In fact, they refer to all honkies by a word I forgot - let's say it's Groosalug - that probably means "The Less Swarthy Ones Who Shall Not Be Named."

Now, on FX's new series The Riches, Eddie Izzard plays the patriarch of a Gypsy family that moves into some dead people's mansion and pretends its theirs. First of all, who knew there were so many Gypsies in the United States? I thought they were all flirting with Juliette Binoche in quaint French towns. Second, wouldn't a sweet manse like that go on the market right away, outting the squatters before they could say "American Dream"? Third, are Gypsies the new Little People? That is, a widely mythologized and misunderstood group of people for us normals to become fascinated with? If so, feel free to feature me in your new series, "Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves," FOX Reality!




Another question on my mind lately is WWHBOD, that is, What Will HBO Do? In just a few months everyone's favorite curse-words-and-graphic-sex channel will be out of decent programs. They've axed Deadwood, Rome will end once Octavian becomes Emperor in two weeks, and The Sopranos - which has nose dived in quality anyway - will air its final nine episodes in May. After that, HBO doesn't have a leg to stand on, unless you consider Entourage a leg. (Which I don't. It's a trifle.) Deadwood's David Milch is currently developing a series called John from Cincinatti, which he describes as a "surf noir," and I describe as a "How? What? How?" I don't know, guys. Will the ol' Home Box Office get overpowered by Showtime or HBO Lite, as I like to call FX?

The Secret ...

Have you all heard of ...The Secret? In a nutshell, ...The Secret, made available to the public in book and DVD form, preaches that the power of positive thinking can get you anything you want in life, ANYTHING. In this day and age, that tenet alone can't sell books and DVDs, but guess who can...Oprah! Oprah is swearing by this way of life, which kind of makes you wonder what she could be positively thinking for...the ability for billion dollar bills to come straight out of her ass into her platinum toilet bowl, instead of her "working" for them?

Anyway, if you actually watch ...The Secret DVD, you will notice that it has the same production value of my VHS taped eleventh grade project on The Great Depression, except my cinematography might have been a little better. The fine presentation of ...The Secret is all thanks to the work of the folks at Prime Time Productions, whose company biography I will now share with you:

Since mid 1994 Prime Time Productions has been a significant and consistently successful supplier of programming for the Seven, Nine and Ten Networks in Australia. The company to date has had several major series, the first the light entertainment family based - The World's Greatest Commercials and the second the reality/actuality based - Great Escapes. Prime Time has also branched out into the documentary field. The first program of this nature OZ Encounters - UFO's in Australia was screened on the Seven Network in November 1997. Learners a reality based docu-soap, fly-on-the-wall series aired on the Seven Network in 1999. Australia Behaving Badly, a candid camera style ethical dilemma series was made for the Ten Network. Romantic reality series Marry Me and the sequel Loves Me Loves Me Not were created for the Nine Network. Sensing Murder, a tele movie dedicated to solving unsolved murders in Australia screened initially on the Seven Network as a pilot episode, and on the Ten Network as a six part series of tele movies. Prime Time's latest production for the Nine Network is The Secret, an unprecedented worldwide event.

OH OH to be a fly on the wall during the meeting of the minds that led to the hiring of Prime Time Productions. In fact, that is EXACTLY what I want out of life. Let me positively think myself back in time and into the body of a fly...

Bzzzz....

Secret Guru 1: It is time...

Secret Guru 2: Time for what?

SG1: Why, to share our secret with the world!

SG2: YES! YES! It is getting lonely being the only ones who understand true happiness. Just yesterday, I positively thought for my love slave/100% accurate biological clone of Carmen Elektra to have crabs, just so I could know what it feels like to be normal again...

SG1: Precisely. I thought maybe I would just put a few shots of us being really, really happy up on youtube myself, but our secret would NEVER reach everyone that way. We can't compete with that cute little Asian girl singing. She's just TOO CUTE.

SG2: Come on, just yesterday we positively thought ourselves on top of a HUGE pile of Scrooge McDuck gold coins. We can get through this...

SG1: You're right...right now I'm...thinking...hard...that Spielberg will call...that Eastwood will e-mail...that Scorcese will ring the doorbell with a box of cannolis and an open heart...

SG2: And I am...postiviely...thinking...that we can book Prime Time Productions for the gig...

SG1:Wait! THE Prime Time Productions?! The ones behind World's Greatest Commercials!? Like they would even consider working with us!

SG2: Well I think the tone they captured in Oz Encounters- UFOs in Australia is really what we're going for here.

SG1: I'm sold! Let's get our thinking caps on!

And now, your moment of zen. And by zen I mean bullshit. Confirm or deny: this clip features Wilmer Valderama and a Genie!?!WTF?!

The Today Show, Awareness Tubers, and Vagina, 3/9/07

Don't know if you've heard about this story, but earlier this week three juniors at John Jay High school in Cross River, New York were suspended for saying 'vagina' during an open mic night. The girls were performing a piece from Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues, and had been told ahead of time by the school's principal to take the line about their boxes out.

As a result the girl's were suspended, and appeared this morning on The Today Show with some sort of school official and Eve Ensler herself. Their suspension is under consideration by the superintendent, especially in light of the fact that there were students using actual "curse words," if you will, and faced no punishment.

I'm going to go ahead and say that these girls shouldn't be suspended; they should be expelled. Not because Vagina is an inappropriate word. I totally went into my take back the night, college mode re: this issue and agree with Ensler's assessment that we shouldn't be forced to be ashamed of our bearded clams by an opressive male hegemony.

I think these girls should get the boot because they are...horrible, HORRIBLE actresses/public speakers. Today, sitting across from Meredith on the couch, their big break came. They were asked to deliver the controversial line. In unison, they sounded like my second grade Catholic school class reciting times tables. They could have gotten a walk on role on The Hills out of this if they managed to muster up some sort of talent. Now all they'll get is Smith's dream of what a college entrance essay should be.

I hope this helps others see exactly twat the real issue here is.

The Big O, 3/6/07

You may accuse me of myself being gay for Oprah, as this will be my second consecutive blog about her, but I just have to get this off of my 36D chest.


Oprah is a homophobe with a capital phobe.


I am currently watching today's installment of daytime syndication's gem, and home girl hates the gays! Her guests are men and women who realized they were gay after already being in heterosexual marriages. She just asked a lesbian woman if she could tell who else is gay. And earlier, she was talking to a woman who was bi-sexual before coming out as a lesbian. Oprah then shared that her very gay hairdresser claims the only way he could have sex with a woman is if the face of a man were attached to the headboard. I think she could have just saved us all the second of our lives it took to listen to that sentence by instead spitting on the woman's face.


Seriously, Opes, I hope that the leadership academy is don't ask, don't tell...

Thou Shalt Not Have False Idols

I hate American Idol. It's glorified karaoke. It's an overbloated juggernaut that crushes everything in its path. It pre-empts House and sends Lost scampering for a later time slot like a little bitch. It produces mediocre pop stars who don't write or compose any of their own material. It has, directly or indirectly, produced such inane phrases as "Soul Patrol" and songs like "Jesus, Take the Wheel." It prolongs the slow, painful deaths of the careers of inebriated wash-ups like Paula Abdul.

This article predicts that Lost will die after its fourth season, and the swan dive of its ratings are due in no small part to Idol. Lost ain't what it used to be, but it's still better than watching a limey make fun of autistic people who think they can sing.

To illustrate my hatred, I am going to give Sawyer-like nicknames to current Idol contestants:

Antonella Barba: Meadow Soprano
Sundance Head: The Other Farley Brother

I don't have any others because I don't watch the show and I don't know who the contestants are. But I hate them.

Jeanette's Case of the Mondays, 2/26/07

Yo, honestly, being sick at work is a VIRTUAL INSANITY (to steal the phrase from my favorite Idol conestant, Blake Lewis, currently doing an excellent cover). That is why now that it is after hours, with me functioning on LA time and everyone else in this building home, snuggling, I am in PAJAMA PANTS! (To be said in the same fashion as Tyra Banks screaming PANTY PARTY loud enough that it can be heard over the sound of voices in her head.)

One more American Idol thought for the night...Doesn't Simon remind you of that kid in your second grade class that, for some reason, thought he ran the show, even though the best comeback he ever had was something like, "A DUH?"

Now on to Heroes, or as Alanna and I call it, Multi-tasking-oes, since we have determined that the show deserves about 70% of our actual attention, leaving plenty of time to surf the net (Alanna) or trim toenails (me).

Last night, getting a good, long look at Matthew John Armstrong playing Ted Sprague aka Radioactive Man, it was easier to almost confirm the rumors; Armstrong is one of the notorious Geico cavemen. Question is, will Tim Kring allow him to self explode in time to reprise the role in the ABC pilot to be based on the ad campaign? Here's hoping, because that sounds like RATINGS GOLD!

After Heroes, it was time for a daily dose of "I'm better than everyone, even Nelson Mandella" as we tuned in for Oprahs Building a Dream: The Oprah Winfrey Leadership Academy. I have recently grown disheartened with the old gal, particularly because of her somewhat, holier than thou attitude during her road trip across America. This wasn't really remedied as I watched her walk across a stage in front of several hundred needy girls wearing RIDICULOUSLY ORNATE AND TALL ESPADRILLES. Nor was I won over in the way that Oprah has managed to recently be down on American students in the press when justifying her school's location in South Africa. Nor did it help when Oprah brought us back to the sight of her childhood home, where her grandmother attempted to teach her how to do laundry to prepare for the future, to which Oprah informed her grandmother that she'd never have to do that for herself. I mean, sure I was tearing up at the tales of young girls living in shacks in South Africa plagued with poverty and violence, but that dindn't stop me from picturing like...a target on the back of Oprah's stylish yet casual velour sweatsuit.

NOW IT IS TIME TO NOT WATCH ARE YOU SMARTER THAN A FIFTH GRADER!

Oops... you know the rest

Because Britney Spears' recent history seems like something out of a cheesy TV movie, I got to thinking who would play who in an actual TV movie about her life. Truthfully, I have sympathy for the girl: she's clearly in the midst of a mental breakdown, which is no surprise considering the way she's hounded. At the same time, no one held a gun to her head and made her writhe around on stage wearing little more than a snake and setting women's lib back fifty years. She wanted the fame, and she got it.

So I have no qualms casting a terrible Lifetime biopic about her, using out to pasture TV actors. Without further ado, the cast from Snakes on a Dame: The Britney Spears Story.

Britney's mama: Cynthia Ettinger. Cynthia was last seen playing an amoral carnie stripper on Carnivale, and a buxom drama queen obsessed with Brian Cox(!) on Deadwood. She's voluptuous, bottle-blond, and has proven adept at playing wayyyy over-the-top women who want to pretend they're not middle-aged. She'd be perfect for the ultimate trashy stage mom.

Jason Alexander: The actual Jason Alexander, of course, should play Britney's childhood friend and first husband, just because I thought that's who she married when I first heard the news, and the mental image was hilarious!

Kevin Federline: David Faustino. He's certainly established his sleaziness, and I think his own aborted career is a nice parallel to K-Fed's (Faustino's latest movie: something called RoboDoc.)

Paris Hilton: Britney's former BFF would be marvelous as interpreted by Ripsi, the girl who was too bad for reality show The Bad Girls Club. If you get Oxygen, check out the episode where Ripsi gets wasted and attacks like, everyone. Trust me, it's so much funnier than it sounds.

The lady herself: I'd cast Clare Kramer as Brit. There's not much of a resemblance, but any Buffy fan remembers the havoc Clare wrought during the show's fifth season with her terrible, terrible performance. Britney and Clare are both bad at playing crazy (even if Britney is legitimately insane), and Clare could do justice to Britney's ridiculous, melodramatic life.

OK commenters. Who would you cast? I still need a Jamie-Lynn, here.

Anna Nicole Smith Still Dead

So it's only been about three hours since we lost her, but already the academic observation has been made numerous times that Anna Nicole is the Marilyn Monroe of our generation. I want to do my part and take a load off of Elton John as he prepares for the tribute he is to perform at the state funeral, so you heard it here first: Anna Nicole's very own alternate lyrics to CANDLE IN THE WIND...

Goodbye Anna Nicole
Though I never knew you at all
You had the grace to wear hot pink spandex
Even when you were the size of a mall
You wrote the book on golddigging
And the encyclopedia on train wreck TV
You were pretty much the only billionaire
That nobody else wanted to be

And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a fart lit on fire
Never knowing where to draw the line
With the rat faced lawyer you hired
And I would have liked to tell you
If only Britney had made sure you'd known
That farts fueled by taco bell
Burn longer than with methadone

ANNA NICOLE SMITH - DEAD

Former Playmate / Trim Spa Spokeswoman / Train Wreck Anna Nicole Smith has died after collapsing in her hotel room, report various scavenging media outlets.

What's more, news of this is already up on Wikipedia. Moments ago the article included a statement that Smith's boyfriend / possible baby-daddy Howard Stern had murdered her, but that appears to have been taken down.

Gawker, with its infinite resources as a blogging juggernaut, has a record of the graffiti'ed Wiki article.

Potential zingers over this news item abound, but let's take a moment to remember what awesome television The Anna Nicole Show was. That show was like a weekly dose of pure, uncut Schadenfreude.

Does anyone ever feel like the world is so weird that we must live on some alternate version of Earth, rather than actual Earth?

Time Warner Blows, which has nothing to do with the blupdate below.

Sorry it's been so long guys. I was kidnapped by Cisco Adler's ball's a few weeks ago, and believe you/me, it was not pretty. Good news is after a few rounds with those punching bags, my typing fingers are in excellent form.

First off, I know I am like, a week tardy with this comment, but last Thursday's episode of Thirty Rock single handedly revived the half hour comedy. I LOLed, as the kids are saying, each of the three times I watched it. At the very least, please go here and make your way to the two minute recap of 2/1's episode. AAAAHHHHHHHH! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! It feels so good to laugh.

Continuing with the peacock flow, let it be known that I love my paychecks. However, Starting next month, Studio 60... will give up it's Monday, post Heroes time slot to The Black Donnellys while 30 Rock will go on a vacay for Andy Barker: PI. Okay, okay fine let's try to build audiences for these fledgling shows (the former of which is actually quite good) but I'll miss my Monday fix of Sorkin walk n' talks and my Thursday thrills with Kenneth, the baby faced page.

Moving on to the topic that is inevitable these days for anyone except the Amish and kidnapped people being kept in confined quarters (Not Sean Hornebeck kidnapped. I hear he got to play video games all day. LUCKY!)...American Idol.

The other day I got in an elevator on my way home and saw a former co worker. We both marveled at how lucky we were to be leaving at a reasonable hour. We quipped as to what we could do with our spare time.

Former Co-Worker: We can watch American Idol now.
Me: YEAH!...I mean, wait. Were we joking? Because I will now actually go home and watch American Idol...
FCW: Oh no, I wasn't joking.
Me: FEW!

Point is, Idol fans, or Idolators if you will (HAHA), don't be ashamed. Sure, especially at this point in the season, the episodes have about as much point as 1 week of rehab for calling a co-star a faggot*. Sure, we're idiots for thinking that every moment down to each of Paula's weird, fingers-spread-apart palm claps isn't staged. But don't let other's tell you you're inferior for liking this crap. Instead, tell them to focus their energy on Alanna and telling her that she is inferior for liking Lost, which makes its triumphant return tonight.

Join me next time, when I give you my super, duper, Fall 2008 Preview.

*That's about as much coverage as you'll find here for America's favorite skinny lady/homophobic estrogen fest.

Puppies!!

You may have noticed by now that none of the Boob Tubers are sports fans. We heard that there is some kind of big game going on today, or something, and we'd like to offer a warmer, fuzzier alternative to watching big men slam into each other in an orgiastic display of brawn.

Tune in to Animal Planet, stat, for the annual Puppy Bowl! It has already begun, but you can get your fill of frolicking critters and butt sniffing all afternoon. Because animals love you unconditionally, but football players only call you sexist names.

Sunday / Monday night lights

Wowee wow wow, as Borat would say, it's like the execs at Fox are reading this blog! This is why I'd like to use this space to thank Rupert Murdoch for casting Paul McCrane as Jack's brother on 24. Rupes must know from a previous entry that I love the formerly red Afro'ed PMC from his work on ER, and he thusly cast him as Jack's evil twin. Never mind that they resemble each other in the way that I resemble Dennis Rodman. I trust that PMC will add some much-needed snark to an otherwise humorless show, full of nuclear expolosions in LA (who needed that place, anyway?) and Jack crying!?!

Moving over to the ol' Home Box Office, I've been enjoying this second and final season of Rome muchly. The first two episodes have blown all of the last season out of the water in terms of quality and entertainment value. With Caesar murdered, everyone is going batshit crazy. A kind of proto-Mafia is warring in the city (one captain is killed by being put in a bag full of SNAKES and then drowned.) Mark Antony is trying to keep the young, effete, but highly intelligent Octavian from his inheritance as Caesar's adopted son, and Cleopatra is swooping in majestically with lots of eyeliner on to make Mark Antony's f*ckbuddy, Atia, go insane with jealousy. Best line from Atia to Cleo? "Die screaming, you pig-spawned trollop." I'm waiting for the opportunity to use that turn of phrase myself.

Rome is no Deadwood, but it's appealing in many ways, one of which being that I can actually understand all the political machinations taking place. Thank God for HBO teaching me about such varied historical periods as ancient Rome and the Old West, because I certainly napped through every high school history class I ever took. And when learning about the troubled years before the formation of the Triumvirate involves seeing Mark Antony's c*ck repeatedly, count me in. Because he's hot, in an aging British guy sort of way.

24 Mad Libs

Hello readers! I've developed an interactive game around a sample of dialogue from the thrilling premiere of the sixth season of 24.* Surely you all remember Mad Libs, the wacky word game your parents threw at you when you were annoying them on long car rides. Well, I've discovered that this childhood activity perfectly aligns with 24's dialogue. See below for the word blanks, and some suggestions from me on how to fill them in!


SCENE: Jack is in pursuit of a terrorist who is driving on a freeway with a nuclear weapon in his trunk. Accompanying him on this mission is a former bad guy looking to atone. Jack is on his cell, Blackberry, GPS, walkie-talkie, and carrier pigeon with the folks back at CTU.

JACK: Chloe!

CHLOE: Hello, lover.

JACK: THERE'S NO TIME FOR THAT! I'm pursuing a (terrorist group) agent and I need your help.

CHLOE: OK, I'm setting up the (tracking device) now. How did you find him?

JACK: I'm working with (foreign name).

CHLOE: You're working with (foreign name)?!? But he's a known (unsavory career title)!

JACK: Well, he's trying to make amends.

CHLOE: But he's killed hundreds of people!

JACK: Chloe, you have to trust me on this one. If you don't, (dire situation) could happen!

CHLOE: OK lov- I mean Jack. I trust you.


SUGGESTIONS:
(terrorist group)
a) Al-Qaeda
b) ETA
c) Chechen Rebels
d) Williamsburg residents

(tracking device)
a) satellite navigation
b) beeping thing
c) TomTom
d) locator spell

(foreign name)
a) Hassad
b) Ammad
c) Riyad
d) Joe

(unsavory career title)
a) assassin
b) adult film star
c) back-up singer
d) editorial assistant

(dire situation)
a) nuclear war
b) the Apocalypse
c) global warming
d) a Kiss reunion tour

Post your 24 Mad Libs in the comments!


*with thanks to Idolator's Hold Steady Mad Libs

Jeanette's Rootin' Tootin' Roundup- Week of 1/8/07

Bindi Irwin was on Ellen Today. Usually, seeing children/the thought of having offspring of my own causes my loins to shift in agitation and speak to me in a voice similar to Audrey 2's, saying, "NOOO JEANETTE! WE WANT NONE OF THAT!" But that Bindi is so cute. She apologized to Ellen for potentially eating too many SlimJims in the green room, AND she came out carrying a lizard. AWWW. No one rocks the straight across the forehead bangs as well as brave, little Bindi.

In 1961, John Howard Griffin published Black Like Me, his account of his travels through southern, segregated states disguised as an African American man. Needless to say, it wasn't pretty. On January 8th, 2007, Lifetime aired their original movie To Be Fat Like Me, Kaley Cuoco's account of her experience taking summer school in a neighboring high school disguised as a fat chick. Now, I'm far from skin and bones (but, for the record, by no means do I even come close to the suited up Cuoco). I just give that information as proof that I'm not doubting the struggle of an obese person, particularly a teen. HOWEVER, are we meant to believe that the fat person finds burning crosses on their lawn? The fat person makes 65 cents to every skinny person's dollar? The fat person is forced to sit in the back of the bus? (Well, okay maybe sometimes for balance, but only on windy roads.) Getting picked last for gym softball sucks, but getting lynched sucks more. Good job, Lifetime. Between this and your newest tour de force Gay, Straight or Taken?, you're showing us your real sensitive side.

And finally, ever since LangliebGate, we have found it important to take a stance on vital issues. That's why I want to let blogland know that we are PRO RO in the O'Donnell/Trump feud. Donald, you are a public figure. Rosie made a valid point (that you were using a naive girl to promote yourself) and made a comment about your hair. Who hasn't made a Trump hair joke? He has made scathing comments and misquotes in return. Not cool.

Also, I wish I had the numbers to back me up on this, but despite some of his businesses going bankrupt, I am fairly certain that the Donald has more money than Ro. What does he do for charity? Give subway hero's $10,000 checks because it is a guarantee that the press is watching. What does Ro do for charity? TONS, blogland, TONS. Weigh in here, unless you are Kaley Cuoco in a fat suit. That is TO MUCH JUNK for us to handle. HA see what I did there? It's all about bringin' it back.

Cranky Doc-Off

This announcement for the next episode of Scrubs inspired me to write a comparative blog:

Thursday, SCRUBS 9PM NBC: The new episode, "My House," pays homage to Hugh Laurie's acclaimed doctor drama "House." Dr. Cox (John C. McGinley) is the medical sleuth here, trying to figure out the causes of a man's strange skin pigmentation, a young woman's heart failure and a colleague's anger issues...

I only recently started watching Scrubs because I find Zach "Voice of His Generation" Braff too irritating to stomach, even in half-hour increments. But Scrubs is part of NBC's rock block of comedy, so I tend to tune in because what else am I going to do before The Office comes on? Read??

So with the news of this cranky doc crossover, I've been thinking about TV's affection for doctors, especially doctors who are irredeemable assholes. My first encounter with a Curmudgeon, M.D. was ER's Dr. Romano, a bald little troll who was Chief of Staff and also hilariously evil. Why do we like these guys? Maybe it's because they say what we wish we had the nerve to, or maybe it's because the idea of such a nasty doctor is amusingly incongruent - they're supposed to be caring for people, not berating them. Yet I'm no stranger to wildly inappropriate comments from medics. My dermatologist, for instance, once informed my mother that he was glad to have lost weight, because it "made [his] schmeckel look bigger."

Riiight. So which doctor is the most accomplished at verbal gymnastics, the cream of the belligerent crop? Each has their own strengths and weaknesses. Dr. Romano had the best one-liners on a show that was once, believe it or not, quite strong, but he was wussified by his crush on Dr. Corday, the Brit lady best known for pronouncing tumor "too-mah." Also, he lost an arm to a helicoptor and then was killed by a different chopper falling on him one season later. Man, ER disintegrated into nonsense quickly. Dr. Cox is appropriately over-the-top on the absurdity that is Scrubs, and I'm amazed at his ability to deliver rants that must read as incomprehensible in written scripts, but he also has too many "Awwwwwwww" sitcom moments. And Dr. House, despite his myriad appeals, sometimes steps over the line from snark into cruelty and makes the viewer uncomfortable.

So who's your pick? Comment away. I leave you with some choice quotes from each doctor to help you with this difficult decision.

ROMANO:
"I'm beginning to think that "ER" stands for 'everyone's retarded.'"

COX:
JD: Dr. Cox, can I ask you something?
Dr. Cox: I'd say you're about a B-cup, Susan.

HOUSE:
Cuddy: I need you to wear your lab coat.
House: I need two days of outrageous sex with someone obscenely younger than you. Like half your age.

Best of the Boob Tubers

My favorite moments from our storied past six months:

*When Walnuts attacks.

*Manohla Dargis is insane, loves Reno 911.

*A pre-scandal David Langlieb weighs in on which Sex and the City gal John Bolton is.

*A hottie round-up that for once isn't filled with blond film actresses.

*Boy, that Lonelygirl15 craze sure burned out quickly.

*We're still waiting for the Polack mob to come after us. What's wrong, you guys are too dense to find us?

*Jeanette tries to have sex with Christmas...

*...and gets some face time with foreigners instead.

And that was our teletastic year. Standby for our favorite TV moments of 06, likely not to be published until 07 because of intoxication, laziness.

The only one who could ever reach me...

Survivor Cook Islands 12/16/06- A Yul-Tide Celebration!

A few months back, Alanna and I were watching Sexy Beast. The first fifteen minutes of this film are glorious; Gary and his friend, whose character name escapes me, both retired mobsters, live in the Spanish country side, which really looks like heaven on earth. Their awkward tan lines and growing waist lines don't matter at all. That's how happy they are. One night, they go out to dinner with their wives and decide on the calamari before Gary's friend tells him they've been recruited for one last job by Don, the godfather of their crew. What ensues is an emotional mindfuck. For the next two hours, I wondered why the film couldn't have ended in the restaurant, with Gary proclaiming his love for calamari. "I love calamari," he could have said approvingly, leaning his chair back with his heels, patting his gut with one hand and rubbing his disproportionately hot wife's knee with the other. That would have been my kind of movie*.

If you're still with me here, last night the thirteenth season of Survivor ended with a real "I Love Calamari" sputter. First things first, my main man Yul won the million dollars. Hip Hip HorAsian! Secondly, he did so after leading his Aitu Four to the final four. Once there, they all sat around camp, singing folk songs while Becky and Sundra braided each others' 39 days of leg hair growth. Okay not really, but they might as well have...that's how much of a love fest it was. Becky would rather have been true to the foursome than take Yul up on his offer to use the immunity idol to guarantee herself a spot in the final three (that's right, this season THREE people were considered for the million). And the four of them very fairly voted to a tie at the final tribal council, so a tie breaker would determine whether or not Becky or Sundra was in the final three. It was about as melodious as one of those Brady Bunch episodes where the kids suddenly learned they can sing, only to find daisies floating all around them while they danced in bellbottoms.

It was great. You may hear the naysayers arguing that they missed out on the Susan-calling-Richard-Hatch-A-Rat moment, or the Johnny-Fair-Play-feigning-his-grandmother's-death plot twist. They are wrong. How nice to see four people honestly and intelligently make it as far as possible in the game. I bet each and every one of them loves Calamri. And so do I, Aitu final four, so do I.

Also, last night Sekou, the first Survivor voted out this season, graced the audience with an original song he had written about the show. Honestly, it sounded like music accompanied by a string of drawn out farts, which happened to sound a little bit like the word survivor.

*This is actually a very good movie.