Houston News Blog

​Do you smell that? That potent mixture of stardust, flop sweat, and desperation? It's like burnt cinnamon and broken dreams. And it can mean only one thing: The final week of Dancing With the Stars.

The show's whole pointlessness was driven home in Tom Bergeron's opening narration, when he reminded viewers that "it doesn't matter how they scored" because it's the final showdown for the remaining three contestants. Then WHY KEEP SCORE AT ALL DUDES. The scores aren't cumulative and are factored into viewer votes and producer directives in ways I can't even fathom, so why do it? Whatevs. At least last night's competition ep was only 90 minutes long, or 17 when you fast-forward and just make up what happened. (Kidding!)

It was down to Donny Osmond, Kelly Osbourne, and Mya. Before the ep started, I picked Mya to win, though I'd like to see Kelly take it if only because nobody counted on her to get so far. Kelly got to kick things off, too, starting with a tango that was nice and wait a minute why is Denise Richards in the audience? Also, Kelly's brother, Jack, finally showed. Way to hop on the bandwagon at the end, dude. She got a 26.

Tom Cruise is not taking the news well...

​The sun's back out, I'm ready for turkey, and I can't believe I sold my DeLorean to Mr. T. This was the week in TV Land:

• So, Oprah resigned, but not really, or something. Just to make sure we all have time to prepare our families for the ritualistic murder-suicide pacts, Oprah Winfrey (why did I use her last name?) announced the other day that her current show will end its run at the end of its 25th season, when her contract is up, in September 2011. That's eight months after the launch of OWN: The Oprah Winfrey Network, a joint venture between Oprah and Discovery that will rebrand what's currently Discovery Health Channel and reach about 80 million homes. And on that new network, know this: Oprah will have a show. Guaranteed. No one would ever pass up legitimate power, let alone the ability to influence gullible housewives and the mentally handicapped with plugs of bad books and hours devoted to quack science spouted by former Playboy Playmates who have not received any credible medical training. Hell, Oprah's episode with Sarah Palin pulled in the host's highest ratings in two years. You don't walk away from the throne like that, even if it'd be better for us all if she did. Oh well. At least there's Ellen.

• Listen up, Lost fans: The upcoming sixth season -- the show's last -- debuts on February 2. The show will air on Tuesdays for its final run, which yes, is annoying to have to remember. But ABC's having better luck with their Wednesday comedy block than expected, thanks to Modern Family and others, and they don't wanna shake the Jenga tower. Plus Lost has a devoted audience that will happily follow the show to a new night for one last season. So mark your calendars, kids, and get ready.

Last night's The Office was great for one thing: Jim's complete pwnage of Ryan. I mean, it was an emotional teabagging. B.J. Novak is a hilarious writer and actor who's got a gift at making Ryan a complete douche, and it was great to see Jim get the better of him after weeks of Ryan's snotty whining. Oh yeah, plus Michael tanked the shareholders' meeting. But seriously though: Way to be, Jim. That was sweet.

The cold open was fun enough, with Dwight's insanely costumed ReCyclops tearing through the office and destroying everything. Jim explained how the character was born of a corporate instruction to be more environmentally friendly, but every year Dwight gets a little crazier, and now the character is wasteful and destructive and pretty much Dwight unfiltered. This week is Green Week for NBC Universal properties, so it was nice to see the Office crew take something that was foisted on them (green-themed plotting) and inverting it (the slovenly joys of wastefulness) just for the hell of it. It was like Greenzo!

​The Sopranos is the greatest television show of all time. I know that sentence right there will be enough to start plenty of discussion, tweets, and emails, both in support of and in disagreement with that statement.

It's funny, with sports expansion breeds mediocrity. The more teams that get added to the NFL, NBA, and Major League Baseball, the more watered-down the product becomes. Essentially, new homes are created to house the crappy quarterbacks, point guards, and soft tossing lefties that twenty years ago would have been in Canada, in the CBA, or playing Double A-ball in Durham.

With television, the exact opposite has happened. Depending on what cable or satellite package to which you subscribe, you probably have at least 100 channels (maybe double or triple that) available to you. The result from the explosion in sheer volume of TV channels has been more very good to great TV shows in more different genres than ever before. The lesson? You'll get more respect as a decent actor than you will as a shitty left-handed pus-throwing reliever. I guess.

I bring this up because in television nowadays, when you say a show is "the best ever," the competition has never been stiffer. When I make my contention about The Sopranos, the one show that my listeners try to "raise the ante" with is The Wire. I've watched both from beginning to end, and it's close. Very close. So close that I smell a future "Tale of the Tape".

But for purposes of this post, I bring up The Sopranos for two reasons: Rumors have begun to spring up (and let's face it, it was just a matter of time) about a Sopranos movie. I'm not sure yet how to feel about this, but with Sopranos creator David Chase, it's almost like it is for Rockets fans with GM Daryl Morey, where if he makes a deal Rocket fans assume it's a good deal. If Chase decides to make a movie, I trust him.

Have you looked at the football schedule for this weekend? It blows!! There is one college game matching up ranked teams and that's #25 Cal vs #17 Stanford. Plus, the Texans don't play until Monday night. In other words, it's a perfect time to take a trip down Memory Turnpike, take a seat at the Bada Bing, and pop in some old Sopranos DVD's.

So with that in mind, I am giving you my personal list of the 10 Greatest Episodes of The Sopranos, and more or less 10-12 hours of viewing that could serve as a Cliffs Notes way of going back and getting a feel for the series from beginning to end. In essence for those of you who don't have 86 spare hours to go back through six seasons of DVD's, I've whittled the greatest show ever into a weekend for you. So without further ado, here we go:

10. "IRREGULAR AROUND THE MARGINS" (Season 5, Episode 5)


This episode was in the middle of the season where Tony and Carmela were separated. Not like marriage was ever really an impediment for "T" to dip his cannoli in broads not named Carmela Soprano, but he in season 5...well, let's just say separation seemed to agree with Tony. However, it almost went sour in this episode where he gets into an accident with Adriana (who happens to be his psychotic nephew Christopher's fiancé) riding shotgun and the rumor mill goes into overdrive. The end result was Tony almost whacking Chrissy execution-style in the Meadowlands swamps in maybe the most tense scene in the history of the show that didn't end with someone's brains splattered on the floor.

Damn, can't a mob boss and a Jersey skank go buy some cocaine in Dover, NJ without everyone thinking he's getting a hummer?

Last night's Glee, "Ballad," was pretty strong, if a little too full of awkward-in-a-bad-way moments. The musical numbers were entertaining and plot-driven, the jokes were on, the narration was ramped back up to Election levels, and the ep's main hook -- all the glee kids are randomly paired up to sing ballads -- was a fun way to put together characters who might not normally hang out. Of course, there were some horribly awkward moments thrown in for good measure, and the ending shot for uplifting but wound up just cheesy, but what the hell, it was still some fun Glee.

Plus hey, the show was actually briefly broadcast without the sides chopped off! Thanks for the 20 seconds of care, Comcast! P.S. You guys actually suck!

So it turns out that sectionals will require all the choirs to perform ballads, which gives Will the perfect excuse to pair the kids up and have them sing to/with each other. (Probably my favorite idea was Puck and Mercedes together.) But Will unleashed the burgeoning stalker in Rachel when they partnered, initially for "Endless Love." His narration was great, too: "Crap, she looks crazy right now." Rachel developed a Crush crush like right away and even gave him a tie! "Endless Love" always reminds me of this old guy, Clyde, who frequented the same dive bars in L.A. that I did and who would always sing that song on karaoke night with whatever young girl he could convince to be his partner. I miss you dude!

Kelly Osbourne gives her best "suck it, you model bitch" pose.

​This is it. The ninth week of Dancing With the Stars has now come and gone. Only now do I understand the bittersweet joy of watching a baby grow up.

This week's pointless encore command performance was Mya's salsa, which had earned her a perfect 30 the night before. Len Goodman touted her "tooty fruity booty" in his intro, which was as physically repulsive as you'd imagine. There was also even more filler and teases than ever, as Tom would hint that a loser/winner would be revealed but then cut to a commercial. It's the American Idol formula. There was even a comp video where all the contestants talked about how awesome the other contestants were.

Case in point: A dance number from the upcoming movie musical Nine, which some people might think was featured on DWTS because of all the dancing and underwear and needing to kill time, but you and I know it's because Nine is from Miramax, a part of Disney, which owns ABC. Synergy: impress your friends!

Then it was time for a performance by Alicia Keys that was honestly kind of bland and made me wonder what happened to the girl who sang "Fallin.'"

But then holy shit, HOLY SHIT, there was a music video in which the four remaining contestants lip-synced "Under Pressure." Way to kill a great song. Apparently it's tough being a low-level celebrity who gets compensated for being on a reality show? The best moment was the toss back to the live action, when Tom Bergeron shrugged and looked around the room and said, "Apparently doesn't improve lip-syncing skills." Tom wins forever. Seriously, has there ever been a show where the host so clearly didn't give a shit what was happening?

​You guys! YOU GUYS! We're closer to the end of Dancing With the Stars than I'd thought! The grid at Futon Critic only had the show running through next week, the 24th. And then, like manna from sequined heaven, Tom Bergeron confirmed at the top of last night's competition ep that next week will indeed be the end of the season. Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.

We're down to four: Donny, Kelly, Joanna, and Mya. Let's skip right past the part where we breathlessly look back at the week before and just get right to the awkward dancing.

Donny got this partay started with a tango, which I think we'll all remember from True Lies. This one did not end with a rocking snowmobile chase, though, but with an awkward bitch-slapping by prissy judges. He messed up a few times and earned a 21, which can't be good for his standings. Joanna followed with a Viennese waltz set to a syrupy cover of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" that made me wish ill upon all the children of the world. But she got a 27. Weirdly, she might be able to go down to the wire on this.

Kelly Osbourne was next with the rumba, though the rehearsal footage tried to mine extra tears by talking about how her dog just died. NOT FAIR ABC. Plus she's all adorable and nice, and the only recognizable human among the contestants, and she did a great job. She got a 24, because the judges are grading on a tougher curve and I cannot believe I now understand this show.

Mya rounded out the first ... round ... with a waltz that was predictably solid and earned her a 28. This thing is pretty much hers to lose, though it'd be nice if Kelly took it for some reason.

Photo courtesy ABC

​I've been watching V: The Series, more out of nostalgic fondness for the original than any hope the remake would be worth a damn (and I prefer a long-haired Morena Baccarin anyway). Despite solid efforts by Elizabeth Mitchell (Agent Evans) and Alan Tudyk (whose recent string of bad-guy roles threatens to tarnish my fond memories of Steve the Pirate and Wash), the feeling I've come away with after two episodes is a resounding "meh." I'm sticking with it because I simply have to see how they're going to update the immortal guinea pig scene, and also because I want to know how far they're going to take this "liberal socialist aliens offering universal healthcare" plotline they've got going on.

I for one welcome our lizard overlords...but only if they lower my premiums.

So far the show appears to be on the right track. And by "on the right track" I mean "portraying extraterrestrials as remorseless villains out to enslave humanity." The creators of the original series understood the danger presented by movies like E.T. and TV shows like Star Trek, which depicted aliens we could befriend and explore the universe together in peace.

Fuck that. Our own history of colonialism, genocide, and slavery should make it patently obvious that any so-called "visitors" from beyond the solar system aren't going to be cute, meatloaf-headed muppets with glowing index fingers, but rather slavering, many-tentacled monstrosities from the Sodomy Nebula. You can laugh, but remember that the Pioneer (10 and 11) and Voyager (1 and 2) spacecraft are about to exit our solar system, and all four contain helpful schematics of the human body as well as a goddamned map of how to get to our planet. Thanks a pantload, NASA.

We'll always have Bring It On...

​I'm waiting for winter, I'm tired of Joseph Fiennes, and I can't stop raving about Wade Boggs' Carpet World. This was the week in TV Land:

• I've been a little remiss in advising you to watch Parks and Recreation, which is my bad, as I heard a kid say the other day when I yelled at him to get off my lawn. It's a funny, quick little show cut from The Office's cloth but able to stand on its own, and it's the most unsung component in NBC's rock-solid two-hour comedy block on Thursday nights.

• Dollhouse was cancelled! Man, if a bad sci-fi show can't survive, what hope is there for the rest of us? For reals though, I'm tired of people telling me this show was great if I could look past the leaden acting abilities of Eliza Dushku. Here's something to remember: If your lead can't act, you don't have a great show. THAT IS TRUTH. And I'm not bagging on creator Joss Whedon, either. I own every DVD of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, and Firefly. But this show was weak sauce out the gate. The problem was he never had a fire in his gut for this one. He took a lunch with Dushku one afternoon to talk over possible projects for her to do, then he just coughed up the idea from out of nowhere, and bam, it's on TV. More than that, on Fox, the net that's been bad luck for Whedon in the past. He needs to cook up a good idea again -- a legitimately good one -- and head to HBO, AMC, FX, or just figure out a reasonable online model. The show will finish its second/current/final season by filling out the 13-episode order. Look for the finale in January.

Last night's episode of The Office, "Murder," was a cute enough episode that won't rank among the series' greats but still had some solid moments and fun plotting. After a cold open featuring Dwight beating himself in a karate seminar that was a little too "hey look how wacky he is," the ep jumped to the main action: bankruptcy fears at Dunder Mifflin corporate have the office worried about being shut down. Dwight's deadpan offer of assistance -- "You can all have jobs at Schrute Farms as human scarecrows. It doesn't pay much, and you can't unionize." -- was great, but then it became about Jim's battle to keep Michael from going over the edge. There's been a fun change in the dynamic now that Jim's all official: Instead of being the one pushing Michael out of boredom, Jim is now often charged with reining him in out of deference to the rest of the office and an attempt to keep the peace.

To get everyone's mind off the money talk, Michael drags out one of those murder-mystery games for dinner parties that no one I know has ever actually played. The whole time, Andy's doing his best to flirt with Erin, though he winds up being cast as her brother in the game. (The look of bitter disappointment when he figures this out is killer.) The Southern accents they affect for their characters are brutal, though, and the scenes where they actually have to act out their parts are awkward and sad and way too accurate in re: the kind of stupid shit that happens at cubicle farms. Take it from one who knows.

Glee is on! Wait, Glee is on? I've forgotten what it's like for this show to actually air new episodes, what with all the baseball.

Last night's ep, "Wheels," opened up with Quinn all depressed at being off the Cheerios and having to pay baby bills. But she decided to shove all that work on Finn, which, way to be! Finn, presumably scared of letting her down, eats the shit sandwich she feeds him and feels terrible. In a nice series of transitions, the action shifts from Sue talking to the weird blogger kid and then to Will trying to wrangle cash for a bus rental from the principal. So that's Will's problem this week: Money! Again!

When Will tells the glee club they'll be performing "Defying Gravity" from Wicked, Mercedes complains about the whiteness of the act, saying, "What we need is my chocolate thunder." On one hand, way to stand up; on the other, ew. Let's refine our metaphors. The hang-up with the bus is Artie, whose wheelchair makes transportation a problem. He got his first solo right after, with a really cute montage set to a jazzy cover of "Dancing With Myself" as he wheeled around the school.

But holy Saved by the Bell, guys! Will got all motivatey and told the glee kids that to help them understand Artie's plight, they'd have to spend a few hours a day in a wheelchair over the next week. Sure enough, when they were in the chairs, people bumped into them! So there's that.

Goodbye, sweet douchebag. Fare thee well.

​It's the eighth week of Dancing With the Stars, and I think we all deserve a warm thanks for making it so far. Although really, most of you aren't watching the show and only read these blog posts with a sick fascination to see if I've actually snapped and killed anyone yet. And the few of you who do watch the show are crazier than I am.

The results show kicked off, as always, with a repeat command performance of a dance from the night before. This time it was Joanna's batshit "futuristic" paso doble complete with lights on her dress. And yet, because this is a strange and confusing world, Joanna was the first one declared safe, putting her in the final four. (There's a really bad Big Dance pun in there somewhere, but I don't wanna pull it out. Feel free to write your own, kids!)

First musical performance of the night: Michael Buble. Some women in the crowd started cheering right when he started singing, like they recognized the song, so maybe it was his hit or something. I had no idea. He's got a good voice, and definitely working his easy listening niche, but if he's not careful, he's gonna be the new old Rod Stewart.

Also safe for now: Mya, which come on, no shit. She's bound to go down the final two.

Then it was a HILARIOUS -- I wish there were bigger letters! -- segment called "DanceCenter," in which SportsCenter anchor Kenny Mayne, who appeared on DWTS' second season, did a parody of the ESPN show with Len Goodman and Jerry Rice. Think about how funny that sounds, now multiply it times an infinity of rainbows. Then KEEP GOING. The bit also used Stacy Keibler, also of the second season of DWTS, as a "field correspondent." One assumes it's because the type of dudes who watch Mayne on TV also tend to relax at the end of the day with an image of Keibler. You know who you are, Guy Who Lived Next To Me In The Dorm Freshman Year.

It's NOT Donny Osmond!

​Holy flurking schnit! It's week eight of Dancing With the Stars, which for those who don't know is when the rubber made of stardust meets the road made of awesome and the car of dreams speeds off into, um, Kickassville. I'm just kidding; the show's still incredibly boring! Fooled you!

There are only five couples left by now, but rather than make the episodes shorter, the producers have just doubled the dancing, making everyone perform two individual dances this week, one ballroom and one Latin where they "dance through the decades," per the breathless intro from Tom Bergeron and Lady Co-Host.

Before the dancing could even start, there were more taped "interviews." Then it was almost Mya's turn, but they had to kill half a minute with footage of her and her partner riding horses to relax. What the what? That's a bad sign of how much filler will be in the show from here on out. Mya's quick-step won over the judges with a 29, which wasn't surprising; she's the odds-on favorite to take the whole contest. I say give it to her now and let us all go home. Aaron Carter did a fox trot in what looked like a silk shirt and velvet pants and vest, but only got a 23. Joanna and her partner started in the audience (WHOA CRAZY) before skipping on down to the dance floor and spinning in bland circles for a couple minutes. Honestly, at this point in the contest, unless someone drops their partner or stabs an audience member, there's not a lot to distinguish the stars' performances. She got a 23, too.

Next up was Kelly Osbourne, who's still my personal favorite, with a fox trot that nabbed a 25. Donny Osmond's Viennese waltz freaking wowed the judges and got a 26. Lady once again jumped in to remind viewers to call or text or send anthrax letters with their votes.

The Yankees won, Doug Hoffman lost, and I'm thinking of joining a neighborhood dad garage band. This was the week in TV Land:

• 30 Rock continues to be the quickest comedy on the air and the spiritual descendant of Arrested Development. This week's episode was stuffed with more meta-jokes than ever, including Liz and Pete's multiple looks into the camera, Jack's dismissal of the Olympics as pointless just before plugging NBC's impending coverage, and the hilarious use of Cisco Systems taglines in running dialogue as way to both collect a check for product placement and mock the whole process at once. The jokes are solid, the stories are energetic, and it's always fun to watch again later in the weekend to soak up a second time. (Really, NBC's entire Thursday comedy block -- Community, Parks and Recreation, The Office, and 30 Rock -- is the only thing worth watching on the network in primetime.)

• Did you see V? The pilot episode covered way too much ground, going from alien invasion to the formation of a resistance in like 44 minutes of screen time, but still, it could be fun if they do it well. However, the reference to "universal health care" was just bad writing, and the only thing right-wing nutbags needed to wonder if the show's aliens were meant to be a stand-in for Obama. Spoiler: They're not! The working poor want health insurance, not miracle cures from alien civilizations. But good try, guys!

The Office has always been at its best when it mixes the eccentricities and occasional cruelties of its characters with a kind of sad humanity; basically, every character is constantly rediscovering just how much life can suck, then acting out about it, then dealing with it, then repeating the whole process. "Double Date" was a great example of that, and it combined the show's nimble humor and one-liners with an uncomfortably blunt end to the story of Michael dating Pam's mom, Helene (Linda Purl). In short, another solid episode for the season.

The cold open had Dwight bringing everyone bagels he'd gone to New York to get, childishly assuming that now everyone would "owe him" and that this groundswell of support would help him unseat Jim from the co-manager spot. This was also the springboard for the B story, which played Dwight and Andy off each other nicely as they attempted to out-help each other. (Andy's fierce defense of his manners -- "Do not test my politeness" -- was a standout line.) These characters have a great history together, what with the whole Angela thing, and seeing them in a battle of good wills (DO YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE) was entertaining.

Well, crap. FlashForward is still happening. Every week I think it'll be replaced by reruns of Sports Night while my TV starts printing $20 bills, but nothing doing. Last night's ep, "The Gift," was a big old fist to the face of crazy, mainly because it finally featured a main character question the falsifiability of the visions but did so in such a patently stupid way you have to wonder what's in store for the rest of the season. Oh yeah: Black Agent dies! So, spoiler alert, I guess.

The episode spends most of its time dealing with a website called Already Ghosts, because everyone knows that (a) spooky websites are totally the way to go if you want to make a great show, because hello Cry_Wolf was a game-changer, and also (b) if you want to start a super-secret underground society that the Feds can't trace, the Internet is the way to do it. Every time I saw the site's logo, I wanted someone to say, "Already Ghosts DOT COM," to heighten the impact. Ghosts, btw, are what the people who didn't have visions have taken to calling themselves, since they're already dead (they say).

Also, Token Black Agent gets to meet MI-6 Agent Fiona Banks (Alex Kingston), who he saw in his vision. We also find out that in his vision, Black Agent gets a phone call and admits to killing a woman! So, there's that.

Last night was the seventh elimination round of this season's Dancing With the Stars, and the second one to see two people go home. I guess at this point in the season the gimmick is starting to wear off? In which case, why not just have fewer contestants to start? Then again, when 16.4 million people still tune in to the competition eps like Monday's, maybe I don't know what America wants. Let's do this!

Tom Bergeron and Lady Co-Host wasted no time before introducing the dancers who did the team tango from the previous night to repeat their performance, which moment was when your trust TV blogger hit fast-forward. I'd already gazed upon the horrors of a sleeveless Donny Osmond grinding his blonde partner on Monday. No need to repeat it.

Revealed as safe for this round: Kelly Osbourne (GOOD). In the bottom three: Mark Dacascos, so he'd either get the boot or have to do the dance-off.

The first musical guest of the night was Colbie Caillat with "Fallin' For You." If you're wondering who she is, well, she's the daughter of the guy who produced Fleetwood Mac's Rumours, and people like that get record deals. She wasn't terrible or anything, but the song was something you'd hear in a trailer for a romantic comedy starring Matthew McConaughey.

Also safe: Donny. In the bottom three: Michael Irvin (GOOD). How has that guy made it this long?

A heated competition where anything's possible and the winners are usually juicing: That's right, folks, it's the seventh week of Dancing With the Stars. Let's do it!

This week saw another double-dance night -- one individual, one team -- to be followed by another double elimination. And I know I've said this for way too many weeks running, but this has to be the week Michael Irvin finally sucks so much he goes home. HAS TO BE. I have no idea how he's stuck around.

Even with all the dancing that needed to be done, the episode opened with the pros dancing just for the hell of it. Come on! At least save the shameless padding for the results show. The rules for the night: Each star would dance alone, then they'd all be split into two teams to compete for a team score, which would then be added to their individual scores and there's no way you're still reading this paragraph.

It's a beautiful weekend, the rain has stopped, and my Batman voice sounds like Cookie Monster. This was the week in TV Land:

• I take nothing but pleasure in the misfortune of the untalented, which is why it's my pleasure to pass along the news that ratings for Comedy Central's The Jeff Dunham Show dropped 55 percent in their second week. The show had set a ratings record for the network when it bowed the week before, the kind of debut that forces you to think about the morality of a chaotic universe and the sheer widespread stupidity of many Baby Boomer viewers. But the show dipped severely in its second week, and though some of that may have been because of the World Series, I'd like to think it's because the viewing audience decided the show wasn't funny at all. Here's hoping.

• Speaking of terrible things on Comedy Central: Has anyone else watched Secret Girlfriend? It airs Wednesday nights, but I can't advise you tune in. It's like POV porn without the onscreen sex, and the dialogue's on the same level. It's juvenile and boob-obsessed in the creepiest of ways, acting like the camera is "you" as you watch your buds cavort, go to strip clubs, and get blowjobs from your ex. I wish the show a speedy death.

• So! Did you watch the World Series?! I didn't think it would get better than the first game, but then there was the second, and the third! What about that one play? Man, baseball is the most exciting.

The Office usually has some fun nods to Halloween -- Pam as Chaplin/Hitler, Dwight and Creed as the Joker -- and last night's "Koi Pond" was no exception. The horrible haunted house the Dunder Mifflin employees set up for neighborhood kids in the warehouse was fantastic, from Michael's Dick in a Box to Darryl's unwillingness to figure out what anybody else's costume was. (Ryan's broody vampire won for best background detail, though. Between his erratic wardrobe and dialogue, they've made his character a fantastic grace note.) And does it get better than Michael pretending to hang himself in front of schoolchildren and then telling them that "suicide is never the answer"? I submit that it does not.

The main plot dealt with Jim and Michael's first sales call as a duo, and I can't stress enough how fresh the show feels by putting Jim in a management position and pairing him with Michael. It's a move that will generate tons of stories and new conflicts, especially in episodes last night's that find Jim butting heads with Michael but also pulling away from the rest of the employees. While on the call, Michael falls into a koi pond in an office lobby, returning to humiliation at the office that leads to a sensitivity training meeting where he decrees that nobody can be mocked any more. So of course the meeting backfires and leads to everyone being mocked for the thing they're most sensitive about, though Meredith stuns everyone else when she puts "sex with a terrorist" on the list of things she doesn't want used against her.

Like we've said before, at least this show has eye candy...

​Oh, FlashForward. Remember when you downgraded from boring suckitude into poppy camp action? It was just last week, but it feels so long ago. Last night, though, you were back to your old expository tricks, rattling off plots and coincidences like it was going out of style. Like I fear you soon might be. Even though ABC has picked up FlashForward for a full season, the producers said in September that to tell the story they want, they'll need three seasons. They won't be able to do that if they keep making episodes like last night's "Scary Monsters and Super Creeps," which was 90% repetitive filler and 10% mild relevance.

The episode opens with Dominic Monaghan seducing a chick on a train by describing the Schrodinger's cat paradox. Man, that line worked for me so many times when I was single. Part of the cold open was interrupted here in Houston by a storm warning from local news, but when FlashForward returned, I wasn't lost at all. That's what this show has become: something from which you can literally excise footage without losing meaning. Oh yeah, Charl -- sorry, Simon -- tells the girl that in his flashforward, he strangles and kills a guy. Then he sleeps with her.

Janis, still freshly shot, gets operated on by Olivia, though to save her life, Olivia winds up performing a procedure (a b-lynch; Google it at work!) that reduces Olivia's ability to have children. So, that's an oopsy. Just once, though, I want something to happen that proves/disproves the visions.

​Ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease:

The gossip apocalypse has arrived: Jon Gosselin and Nadya Suleman will be going on a date.

The Jon & Kate Plus 8 star has reportedly agreed to appear in a cheesy new reality show in which he'll date Octomom Nadya Suleman, former Cheaters producer Bobby Goldstein told In Touch Weekly.

"I heard that Nadya has an insatiable desire to spend time with Jon and to put their families together," Goldstein said. "And I had the idea that this could be a very entertaining fiasco."

Though reps for both parties deny that any show is in the works, Goldstein says he will produce the pilot, called Jon - Kate = Jon Octomom, with a former producer of The Jerry Springer Show.

Okay, so this sounds like about ten tons of bullshit, but if not...jesus jones. The mind boggles.

​If there's anything nerds like better than making anonymous douchebags of themselves on the Internet, it's arguing. From Kirk vs. Picard (Kirk), to The Enterprise vs. a star destroyer (star destroyer), to Tom Baker vs. David Tennant (Christopher Eccleston) -- the list of contentious topics is endless.

And a frequent subject of debate is the supposed status of Star Wars as the preeminent sci-fi franchise. Some have been quick to declare the revamped Battlestar Galactica as the heir apparent. And while the recently completed series was mostly impressive, with a new show (Caprica) on the way and a DVD movie (The Plan) coming out this week, I think a little more evidence is needed before reaching a final decision. To add some fuel to the fire, here are some reasons I believe BSG to be superior to Star Wars.

5. Nuclear Fission Exists in the BSG Universe
If the Empire had nukes, they wouldn't have had wait for the Death Star to clear the planet Yavin so it could bring its superlaser to bear on the rebel base, and Luke wouldn't have had time to blow it up. There also wouldn't have been any need to use the cool-looking but mind-bogglingly slow AT-ATs to attack the rebels on Hoth, allowing the bulk of the rebel fleet to escape. And it would've spared Dack an agonizing death.

His partner may or may not be the devil. Just look at those eyes!

​Last night's Dancing With the Stars results show kicked off in an even more insanely dramatic fashion than normal. The montage of clips from the competition ep featured fireball cuts and blood and heavy metal! It's like Stephen Colbert without the irony. It was all because this week saw the elimination of two of the "stars," as will next week. Bring on the filler!

Tom Bergeron and Lady Co-Host wasted no time talking about the dance-off that was moments away, but before they'd even gotten out like two sentences, they turned things over to the earnestly mediocre pop-country singer Taylor Swift, whose name sounds way too porny for me not to worry about her future. Why was she there? Good ol' vertical integration! She's up for entertainer of the year at the Country Music Association Awards, airing sometime soon (I didn't bother to note when) on, yes, ABC.

Blah blah, let's do some cutting. Safe for now: Joanna and Mark. Unrelated: Donny Osmond wore a green sequined jacket that threatened to melt my eyes.

The night's second network plug went to Eastwick, whose stars were assembled on the front row for a brief shout-out from Tom. I didn't even know Sara Rue was on that show, or that she was still alive. And there's poor old Rebecca Romijn Stamos Carlson O'Connell, still kicking as well. Good grief, does anyone even watch that show?

​Holy crap, you guys! It's week six of Dancing With the Stars! I thought I'd be dead by now. Tom Bergeron's trademark breathless intro made it sound like the celebrities on this show have been at war or something instead of just wearing sequined shirts and soaking up some free press, but he did bring good news: This week and next will see double eliminations. See? The good balances out the bad. Last night's dances were the waltz and the jitterbug, so, you know, there's also that. Plus it was also apparently dance marathon night? This is a ridiculous amount of crap to do in two hours. At this point in the season, they should just cut the competition eps to an hour.

Mya kicked things off with a jitterbug complete with randomly 1950s-ish costumes that made the number feel like something you'd see at Six Flags. Judge Len Goodman shut her down with, "The last refuge of the untalented is gimmicks and props." Sick burn! Mark also did a jitterbug, but the finer points were lost on me because his partner decided to dress like the French maid from Clue. Aaron Carter's suit was, I think, velvet, which made him look a little like Gay Skeletor, but his waltz went over really well with the judges.

Are the dances longer now because there are fewer contestants? THEY BETTER NOT BE.

​I think I finally get Criminal Minds.

At first I assumed the people who watched it with any regularity were just sick freaks. Because while at first glance it isn't a lot different from the other seven hundred crime procedurals on TV any given week, what sets the show apart from the likes of Cold Case or NCIS isn't the multicultural cast or ridiculously high-tech facilities that would be more at home on Microsoft's campus than a federal government installation, but the exceedingly morbid nature of the crimes the BAU ends up investigating.

Past episodes have featured heartwarming storylines like: a couple receives a DVD of their daughter getting raped and murdered...a cult abuses and kills children...and then the latest offering: a guy who kidnaps women, impregnates them, then murders them after they give birth (the dungeon holding the victims was more reminiscent of an old Scorpions video than the writers probably wanted), and -- as in every show -- the women's particular agonies were extensively and almost lovingly portrayed for the viewing audience.

I was all set to indignantly ask if this parade of the grotesque really counts as "entertainment," before realizing it was a wasted exercise. The show averages almost 15 million viewers a week and is one of CBS' highest-rated series. More importantly (and my feelings about the increasingly snuff-like nature of the program aside) I realized the show's creators have struck upon a novel way of capitalizing on two distinctly American personality traits.

Parks and Recreation, yet another reason to love NBC

​The weather is cool, Halloween is in the air, and I just redesigned the Pontiac Aztec. This is the week in TV Land:

• For being a weak network overall and the home to some truly awful medical dramas, NBC can bring the funny. This week it handed down full-season pickups for Parks and Recreation and Community, both solid shows that have been holding fairly steady in the ratings while also being, you know, entertaining. This week's Community wasn't the strongest episode of its brief run, but there were some wonderful moments (Jeff and Troy's banter about homophobia/racism), and it's got great scripts. Ditto Parks and Recreation. So yes, NBC still sucks the big one thanks to their unending loyalty to Jay Leno, but hey, funny shows! (Plus, let's cut NBC some slack. They cut a deal with DirecTV to keep Friday Nights Lights going, and that makes me happy. mmmmmmmmmriggins)

• Speaking of NBC comedy: This was the second week in a row that 30 Rock really nailed a sense a timeliness, from Jack's attempts not to look like a greedy corporate boss in need of a bailout to the Liz Lemon porn shot on the set of TGS that mirrored the real-life 30 Rock porn. Weirdly, 30 Rock didn't use the stars of the already-made porn (New Sensations' lamely titled 30 Rock: A XXX Parody) but went with their own. Dude! Way to miss out on a branding opportunity, guys.

• Okay, so I've had a lot going on, and I haven't seen Mad Men in like three weeks. Thing is, I don't feel like I'm missing it, you know? I think I was just watching it because it was there, not because I derived any kind of joy or worth from the experience.

I'm running out of ways to say just how great The Office still is, six seasons in. This week's episode, "The Lover" -- written by Lee Eisenberg and Gene Stupnitsky and directed by Eisenberg -- was a textbook example of how to make a great half-hour comedy feel fresh even while relying on characters that have been doing the same things for years now. Michael has had awkward relationships before, and Dwight has done quasi-Machiavellian things, and etc., but the episode was still a strong installment that could only happen now.

The cold open was great: To greet Pam and Jim on the return from their honeymoon in Puerto Rico, Michael came out in sunglasses as "Blind Guy McSqueezy," almost grabbing Pam's chest and entertaining only Dwight in the process. "It's a character I've been workshopping," Michael told the camera. "The women in my improv class absolutely hate him."

The payoff of the episode was that Michael's flirtations with Pam's mom at the wedding two weeks ago have indeed paid off. "I have recently taken a lover," he tells Jim, before dropping the bomb that it's Jim's mother-in-law. Jim is horrified, and his blurred expletive is one of the few times the show has done that. (Pam does it later.) Jim begs Michael not to tell Pam, but it comes out when Pam discovers Michael has a date and presses him for info, thinking it'll be fun gossip. He admits he's seeing the mother of a coworker, and the look of dawning comprehension on Pam's face is priceless, as is her screaming run out of the office. (Michael's reaction was cute, too: "That could have gone one of two ways, but I never expected her to get upset.")

​Lesbians kissing! Asians with rocket launchers! KARAOKE SHOOTOUTS!

In one week, FlashForward went from boring to bananas, unleashing a torrent of pulpy action and crazy plot twists that played like Alias on sleep deprivation. The show made minor headway with the mystery in Somalia that will (probably, hopefully) tie into the explanation of the blackout, but more importantly, it brought action and plot and grade-A cheese. The series will never be great, but with episodes like this week's, it could be entertaining.

This week's ep, "Gimme Some Truth," opened in D.C., with Mark, Demetri, and boss Stan Wedeck hopping into a car and discussing their testimony before Congress that day to get more funds for Project Mosaic. They're driving off with some other agent (I think?) who's not named, and everything's copacetic until they're T-boned by an SUV that starts ejecting Asians with high-powered weapons! Then the guys produce a rocket launcher and BLOW AWAY the Feds' car! This is the most action since the pilot, and it came out of nowhere. I digs.

This week's Glee was a solid, packed little episode about second choices and settling for what you think you want, and it also used its musical performances as opportunities to push the plot or reflect the emotions of the characters. Everything tied together: Emma and Ken want Will to mash up "Thong Song" and "I Could Have Danced All Night" (yep) and teach them to dance, but Will and Emma's time together just drives home the choices they've had to make. Ken, driven by jealousy, reschedules football practice to force his team to choose the game or the glee club. Puck decides to date Rachel, but she can't stand being with him because she just wants to be with Finn. Puck, however, still has feelings for Quinn, while Quinn begins to see Puck in a new light even though she's still on the arm of Finn. So there's a whole love rhombus happening in the midst of all these larger character orbits, and then you toss in some sing-alongs, and you've got yourself some good Glee.

(Sidebar: The first half of the episode aired correctly -- letterboxed for standard TVs --but the latter half had the sides cropped off. Email Fox 26 and complain! FOR ME.)

The episode's title is "Mash-Up," and writer Ian Brennan and director Elodie Keene really drove home the run-together nature of the relationships. Finn is on the outs with the football team for singing in what they dub "Homo Explosion," a gay slur that's probably stunningly close to the stupid shit high schoolers actually say. In the glee room, Will picks everyone up by challenging them to find a mash-up match for "Bust a Move," which he promptly begins singing. Granted, watching Matthew Morrison jump around to Young MC was the whitest thing a white guy has ever whited in his white whiteness of a white life. But it worked because Glee, at its heart, is a drunken night at a karaoke bar come to life, full of bad choices and wistful glances and the songs from yesterday that everyone knows. There has to be a certain self-aware kitsch value to the songs, no matter their narrative relevance, and when Glee hits that balance, like it did this week, it's excellent.

But seriously: Finn plays drums, Artie's on bass? Can everyone automatically play an instrument? This is like Zack Attack.