I love the new sitcom, Modern Family. ABC's great writing trumps 30 Rock by miles (of course, I may be the only person on the planet who isn't a fan of 30 Rock). The bonus to Modern Family is that it's followed by that hot mess, Cougartown, so I'm good and relaxed by then and can snooze on the couch after what I would dare to call television's best new comedy. Also? It still doesn't feature Jon Cryer.
Today's Combo Platter has three main ingredients:
Who knows, though, maybe you have watched them, and maybe you also enjoy them as fiercely as I do, but these are not the reality shows you'll find listed in the Twitter trending topics or on Facebook status updates, oh no, and I also don't think TMZ has ever gotten a crotch shot of one of these show's stars, but there's this: they're far more enjoyable than any episode of the The Hills. Even that one episode where Spencer was a douche.
When it first premiered a couple of years ago, I have little doubt that I wasn't alone in instantaneously writing off The Big Bang Theory. Two nerds do their awkward thing, hot neighbor moves in, one of them pines for her with aching, unrequited passion... hilarity does not ensue.
Surprise: as it turned out, it was funny.
A few weeks ago, I invited you to peruse the first episode of HBO's latest comedy Bored to Death. I watched it, as well, and I found it...okay. First episodes are always kind of awkward in their expository nature, so it often takes at least two episodes for me to determine whether or not I like a show.
Also, I realize that I tend to get a little fetishistic about HBO shows (I'm pretty sure I was the only person who like John from Cincinnati and am one of maybe a dozen people who laments the abrupt cancellation of Carnivale), but I'm telling you: Bored to Death is really good and I'm worried that not enough people are watching it.
The third season of Showtime's Californication premiered a few weeks ago and, not surprisingly, Hank Moody's antics have already made for many cringe-worthy moments. Karen is working at her dream job in New York, Hank landed himself a teaching gig at a university after pushing the original instructor right the hell off the wagon, Runkle is trying to get back into Marcy's good graces and the agency industry after his pr0n career and pr0n girlfriend failed miserably, and Becca is navigating the extremely choppy waters of adolescence made even more turbulent by her wacky parents.
According to the Associated Press, Jon Gosselin today issued a cease-and-desist order to TLC demanding that they stop filming the popular trainwreck of a show.
Wow, what a shocker. This guy is full of surprises, no? phhhbbbtt.
Details are hazy regarding the specfics of the court order, but TLC is halting production of the show "pending further conversations" between the network and the Gosselins. Frankly, I think someone should have a conversation with Jon Gosselin about how to not be a total dickhead. Howabout having THAT conversation, huh TLC? HUH? grumble.
In response to this development, Kate Gosselin issued a statement saying: "It appears that Jon's priority is Jon and his interests... My priority remains our children and their well being." Oooh, BUUUUURRRN.
I'll be recapping this season's episodes, sometime each Tuesday.
Last night's episode was the second of the season. What did we miss the first episode of the season? All the post-Constance kids returned from summers abroad and summers in bed and they're gearing up to start various different colleges and ventures. Let's begin!
Wanda Sykes is easily one of my most favorite people in general and she's definitely one of my favorite comedians of all time.
So I'm positively giddy that she has a new HBO stand-up special coming up: I'ma Be Me.
When does the hurting stop? Why have we not risen as one to stop this plague of madness? And today, as we cope with tragedy, we must ask: how many lives must be lost before Kevin James is stopped from ever making a movie again?
Granted, it's not quite as wrenching as the events that took place in Chicago last July, when a perfectly innocent Sparklecorn was torn apart and eaten by an angry mob like something out of Tennessee Williams, but nevertheless I think I speak for all of humanity when I say that when a Kevin James movie kills a giraffe... society as we know it has gone too far.
Now that True Blood and Weeds are over for the year and with Big Love and The United States of Tara still on hiatus, I'm starting to twitch a little at night when it's time to hunker down and watch a few shows. Sure, I still have Entourage and Mad Men for a few more weeks and Californication is returning this Sunday, but I feel like I need a little more cushioning from the boob tube. I was not terribly in love with Hung, so I'm cautiously excited about their latest comedy, Bored to Death.
It seems that Kurt and I both had the unfortunate experience of seeing Extract this past weekend. In fact, I spent much of the morning writing about all of the ways it sucked, only to look up and see that Kurt had beaten me to the punch. So, with that out of the way, I'll expand on the related rant that I included with my review.
OK. You wake up in the middle of the night in terrible pain. What's wrong? Well. You've got a rare form of intestinal cancer that spread to your liver.
What do you do?
Your doctors tell you the tumors are slow growing and you could have 10-15 years. Worst case scenario. 5 years.
What do you do?
I can tell you what I'd do. I'd get a bunch of root beer and licorice and feel sorry for myself. I'd manipulate my loved ones into pampering me by inspiring guilt via my excessive self-pity.
And then hopefully, with any luck, I'd remember the soul-inspiring story of Steve Mazan, get off my ass, and stake my claim in magic.
Can we be honest for a minute? The last couple of seasons of Entourage have... um... what's the word I'm looking for? Oh, right: suck. They've sucked. Hard. Everything that first caught our attention when the show premiered back in 2004 (crimony... was it really that long ago?) - the feeling you were getting a real insider's view of life in Hollywood, the gleeful, bromance-heavy sense of camaraderie between these four lifelong friends, the glimpses into the absurd, and the sense of real fun that suffused it all - had faded over the years into multiple seasons of heavy-handed plotting and waaaaaaaaay too much focus on the putative heroes of the show, Vince and E.
That's always been one of the great ironies of Entourage: the two protagonists are by far the most boring characters on the show. Vince, whose meteoric rise as a movie star is the engine that pushes everything else in the show forward, is virtually charisma-free — and the more time he spends onscreen, the more aware you become as a viewer that... uh... for an actor playing a great actor, he's not such a great actor. And E? He's intended to be the character we relate to: the normal dude, a little bit brighter than his friends, who hitches a ride up to the stratosphere with his buddy Vince and finds a place for himself in the sun in the process. Except, it turns out that we don't like E. Nobody likes E. He's not funny. He's not engaging. He's not terribly interesting. And the fact that the plot keeps driving him into the arms of ridiculously gorgeous women - one after another after another - seems increasingly more absurd and perverse with each passing season.
How did you sleep last night? I ask because I didn't — in large part because I spent most of it awake with a 4-year old who was apparently trying to turn herself inside-out. The good news is that while I was enjoying this extended dance remix tour of my daughter's digestive system, my thoughts wandered to the many and splendored ways that this particular facet of existence has been illuminated on film over the years. In some contexts, it has been treated as comedy. In others, it's an element of high drama or great horror. But no matter how it is presented, these scenes create a portrayal of humanity at its most vulnerable — and, in the process, may even teach us a little something about ourselves.
(cue: a very special episode music...)
• Team America
I can only presume that you're already familiar with Team America, the Academy Award-winning geopolitical documentary featuring hardcore puppet sex. Lovingly crafted by the sensitive minds behind South Park, Team America features an entire galaxy of stars (my personal favorite: Matt Damon), the Eiffel Tower getting blown to smithereens, and a scene in which our hero Gary - having descended into alcoholism - hits bottom and proceeds to engage in a bout of epic vomiting that must been seen to be believed. 56. Full. Seconds. Of. Puppet. Vomiting. So staggering is this mannequinamation expurgation of effluvia that its status as the ne plus ultra of onscreen hurling is challenged by only a single precedent...
I don't know exactly how long this gift from heaven has existed, but I didn't hear about it until last night. When the commercial first came on, I thought for sure that I had accidentally ingested LSD. Again.
Due to unanticipated technical difficulties today's Mad Men recap will actually be tomorrow's Mad Men recap. We apologize for any inconvenience or distress this delay may cause you, the Mad Men-loving public.
In the interim, please enjoy this humorous sketch comedy video featuring delicious Jon Hamm:
MAMAPOP IS SMART POP CULTURE ANALYSIS, COMMENTARY, MERCILESS FUN-MAKING AND OTHER SUNDRY AWESOME, DISHED UP DAILY BY PARENTS, FOR PARENTS, AND ANYONE ELSE WHO UNDERSTANDS THAT PLAYTIME IS BETTER WITH VODKA. PLEASE TO ENJOY. READ MORE...
