I watched the premier episode of Swingtown last night.

My first though is, wow, i wish this was on cable. I want to see these good looking people a lot more naked than they are. Because it's a hot show full of hot people, taking about and having a lot of sex.

My second thought was, wow, this is CBS? It's hard to believe a show in which couples swing, in which teenagers talk about having sex, in which people pass joints, snort coke, and gobble qualuudes, is on CBS. FX, sure; Bravo, sure. But CBS?

The thing, though, that makes Swingtown interesting on first viewing, isn't that it's sexy, or even that it brings swing/poly lifestyles into the mainstream view; it's that the level of era detail is astonishing. It's not just the 1976 cars and the fashions; it's not just the colors of the kitchen appliances. It's not just the hair. It's the camera work; it's the lighting. It's the products on people's shelves. The grocery store, down to the last detail (the kinds of shelves, the meat counter, the decor, the color palate of the products on the shelves) all looked exactly the way they looked when I was fourteen years old. And the show, visually, looks like the shows I watched in those days. A lot of the scenes, when paused, looked like magazine adds from the era; I kept picturing the ads in playboy from the early seventies. I was wondering what visual tricks they used to get it to look so seventies; era cameras and lenses? Or just clever post-processing of video? It was hard for me to even pay attention to who was doing what to whom, and I had to keep running back to study minor details like product labels; it was so damned accurate, it almost freaked me out.

But how's the show?

I'm not sure, actually.

The cast is great; Grant Show (best known for Melrose Place) has found his look and era; he's so completely right in his seventies shag hair and mustache, I'd tell him to never play a modern character again. Lana Parrilla as his wife is sexy and edgy; you want to fuck her a lot, but you never know what she's thinking. Molly Parker (Alma Garret on Deadwood, though I couldn't place that until I looked her up on IMDB) is fabulous (and hot as a readhead), though she has a habit of mumbling so badly I had trouble hearing what she was saying.

But the first three quarters of the episode seemed like an introduction of a list of stock characters; "hip swingers couple", "hot stewardess", "uptight neighbor", "cokehead neighbor", "hip young teacher", "dangerous lolita with crush on teacher". It's well executed, looks great, and has an amazing sound-track, all period correct (though this is the one area where it's not accurate, the people are all too white-middle-class to be listening to music that's this hip). But the characters seemed all sketch and no depth.

That changes in the last fifteen minutes of the show. We get a party scene that looks like a playboy fantasy, with disco-dancing hotties in farrah curls, polyester, chest hair, coke, joints, and quaaludes. And suddenly the major characters and their lifestyles crash into each other, swingers seduce straight-but-cusrious new neighbors, coke-head mom joins orgy in the 'playroom' basement with coke dealer and pile of sweaty babes. Uptight old-neighbor gets a glimpse of 'the lifestyle' and freaks right the fuck out, while her husband sighs and visibly wishes. And all of this while "Dream Weaver" plays with gradual increase of volume. The editing is great, and teh storytelling suddenly kicks into gear, with very little dialog.

I can't see how this show can work as a series; it should be a mini-series, and it should be on cable. It's hard to take characters in a life-style like this and not use silly devices to drive the plot beyond a natural arc. And network teevee,I fear, won't tolerate a show about happy alternative lifestyles, so we will have to get some expose of what swinging does to people and how they all wind up unhappy (after covert affairs between people who are in theory swinging openly). I want to see it say, yeah, they're all bed-hopping, but that's just the background, and it's *ok*.

Still, it's interesting to see something so overtly alternative on network teevee. It's cool to see drug use back in the public eye in a realistic way, and one hopes this opens a dialog about relationship openness for a lot of people who may think about it, but be afraid to raise the issue. And to me, if it does that, it's a good thing, all entertainment aside. Because I think our culture has a lot of absurd baggage built up over the idea of monogamy, and anything that gets people to step back and question it is a positive thing.

As to the show; you bet it's programmed into my tivo. If it stays anywhere near as good as the last fifteen minutes of the premier, it's a keeper.

Last year, sometime early in the hockey season, some sales droid gave my boss four club-level tickets to a sharks game. The closer you get to the ice, the better hockey is, so of course I said yes.

While we were there, the arena jumbotrons showing promos for the upcoming dancing with the stars *live* tour. The three guys I was sitting with, of course, sneered at the idea. Who would want to go to that?, by boss asked, with genuine incredulity. And I have to say, i kind of agreed.

It's not that I couldn't imagine being interested in competitive dance; it's sexy, athletic, in a sense it's artistic. But, you know, there's just something that sounded incredibly cheesy about it.

A few months ago, while looking for Torchwood on BBC America, I caught a few minutes of a re-run first season DWTS. I was pulled in, predictably, by drop-dead-sexy women like Edyta Śliwińska and Cheryl Burke. And I was drawn in when I realized Jerry Rice, the best wide receiver ever to play football, was one of the celebrities. But dammit if I didn't keep watching because it was good.

I'm a big figure skating fan; and this had just enough of that same appeal (technical skills, artistry, athletics, and sex appeal) that I was drawn in. I managed to get past the cheese, and with each week got a little more involved.

I admit it; I cared who won. I cared because because of my monstrous crush on ms Burke, and I cared because her partner really deserved to win.

I kind of figured, though, that I was done with it after that one re-run season. The whole thing is just too damned cheesy, too silly, and I keep swearing not to ever get hooked up in another reality show.

Only, the current season was just starting.

I told myself it was just to see Cheryl Burke. I told myself it was just to root for my man Penn Jillette. Only poor Penn and his battlestar-feet went home the first night. But you know, Kristi Yamaguchi was one of the stars in question, so I kind of wondered how a figure skater would do.

Yeah, I was hooked. And really, it wasn't just because I'd kill a man just to lick the sweat off of Cheryl Burke's back. I was hooked because I actually like the show.

There I said it. I confess. I like it. And I'm bummed it's almost over.

*sigh*.

If I ever watch american fucking idol, someone shoot me, ok?

I just, finally got around to watching the second season of Rome (at least the first episode of it).

I'd forgotten how brilliant this show is. Five, maybe ten minutes in, I was right back there, and by the end, I was Titus fuckin' Pullo, savage, bloody, unbeaten, enemies at my feet.

This show makes me want to snarl and roar and swing a sword.

God dammit, where's my slave girl, my wine skin, my blood-spattered tunic. I'm ready. Get me a goddamned time machine. This man isn't just a character like I want to write; in my head, he's the character I am. To steal a quote from an entirely different place, I had the rotten luck of being born in the wrong century.

I should have been a roman. I should have lived in a time when you were invited to an orgy, not a cocktail party. Where you wake up and send for a slave girl ("Go get that German slut from the kitchens, will you?", as Atia says), where you can solve a problem by spilling blood. Fuck therapy, let's try killing.

That world makes sense to me. Far, far more than does this one.

I can't wait to delve further into this season; though as with Sopranos and Deadwood, I think I've resisted the watching because I don't want it to end. Such things need, emotionally if not dramatically, to run off into the horizon. I do not want them finite, even if they're better for ending before we're ready.

Pullo can't die. Ever. The curtain may fall on him, but he must remain, bloodied, but unbroken. Rome may fall, emperors may die by the knife or the sword, but Pullo needs to stand at the end. He's just that kind of character.

I keep meaning to post something about my favorite show on network teevee - Supernatural - and not getting around to it (and even posting this has taken me several hours due to the relentless interrupts and (not-the-fun-kind- of) distractions).

Luckily, someone else did it for me, saving me the effort.

Chelsea Girl says:

"Supernatural, unlike Angel and Buffy, is specifically concerned with family connections and origins. While Angel gestures at his long-dead family, his anger at his repressive father and his guilt over his murdering them, and while Buffy evolves from adolescent at war with her mother, while she retains the pain of her father’s abandonment, and while she grows into being a mother to her sister, the two brothers in Supernatural never leave the burden of their family. In fact, who they are in relationship to each other and to the rest of the world underlies the show every single moment. You never forget that they are brothers or that the demon they seek changed their family forever."

"In many ways, then Supernatural’s metaphor is one of family origins and secrets—of those things from which you were supposed to be protected in the dark—and of which you, piteously small in your narrow bed, always knew were out there lurking and waiting to spring to light."

Darling, sweet Chelsea Girl does way better justice to this show than I can. If you've managed to miss Supernatural so far, or if you've only watched an episode or two and written it off as a Buffy knock-off, it's time to go back and give it a try. Rent it from Netflix, or better, buy it, because it's a show worth owning. The episodes are good for many re-watchings. Season two is due for a fall release (too long, too long!).

Supernatural's just been renewed for a third season, and I can't be happier about that. It's the kind of show you just get hooked on; great looking characters, great music (the best seventies rock), the coolest car on teevee (a black '67 impala); a buffy-style mythos about those who stand between us and the evil thinigs that lurk unseen. It's one of those shows that gets better the deeper you get into it, and it didn't have the dreaded sophomore slump you see in some shows after great first seasons (*cough*veronica mars*cough*).

I'm saving the season ender on my tivo. I don't want it to be over quite yet.

Veronica Mars season two is getting released on DVD monday the 21st.

At last. I was still watching season one when season two started and wasn't able to catch up, so I've seen not an episode of it. On the other hand I've watched season one through at least twice, and some eps I've seen three or four times.

At last. Season two. Come to daddy, Veronica!

I hate to use the phrase jump the shark. It was clever when someone coined it but it's one of those things you hear all the damned time. People will say it every time a show has an off episode, or because they've decided it's not cool to watch that show anymore, or because something changed in the show. They seem to miss the concept that it's not just a slight change; jump the shark means a show gone utterly, disastrously wrong.

Yet, that term applies to season three of 24.

First let me say - Jack is still fucking Jack. Jack is the man, and it doesn't matter how bad the show gets, he's still Jack. Jack Bauer wasn't addicted to heroin, as they say; heroin was addicted to Jack Bauer (and I must give props to my sweet-as-sugar ChelseaGirl for getting me to watch this show; she gets every bit of the credit).

But after watching two spectacular, addicting, irresistible roller-coaster seasons of this show back to back (and almost without sleep, that's how bad it is watching this show, you just can't put it down), I hit a wall at season three.

I could go on and on with this - the list of things that went wrong is amazing. Every single episode had something that started my eyes rolling, and this is a show that generally makes little things like logical inconsistencies irrelevant.

But - my god. It starts right from the first episode; a pointless partner for Jack, his teenage daughter somehow become, not just a staff member at CTU, but a high-level computer expert. A baby out of nowhere. President Palmer, the two-legged Muphasa, suddenly a weak and indecisive leader. A love interest who turns up in one episode to die in the next. An entire sub-plot (mexican drug-lords) which boils up and then evaporates pointlessly long before mid-season. A killing that makes no sense whatsoever, just because it means we get to see jack suffer a little more. Tony, the guy who almost turns Jack in for breaking the rules in seasons one and two, suddenly become mister fuck-the-rules-it's-my-wife in season three.

By the end of the second episode, it had become clear something was horribly wrong. When the baby showed up, it seemed it'd dug deep. And yet it slides, and slides, and slides, digging deeper into the ground with each episode, to the point where you think it can't get worse and it does.

I went from the point where I could not wait for netflix and had to rent at my local blockbuster, to the point where I kept saying god, how can we still have three more disks to go before it's over?

This, my friends; this is the shark. Watch as we jump over it.

And so I finished it, and I can say, it did get better, pulling out shards and slivers of the old 24 with the last two episodes, and finishing with possibly Jack's most gut-wrenching moment ever.

And I fear. Can season four go lower? God, it can, can't it?

There's a bright spot; season five, which I watched in real time and which hooked me, is truly great teevee. I can't say if it's as good as thefirst two, or better. Yet it stands out as a brilliant season of teevee. So I know it's not a loss after season three. Yet, I wish for season four to start with a bobby-ewing-in-the-shower. Please.

Warn me, someone. Is season four as bad? Dare I put it my netflix queue?

If you're as hooked on Rock Star as I am, you should follow Big Dave Navarro's blog, 6767. He's got some commentary going that's dead on about the issues with this season (though i think he's still holding back a bit, you can tell by his body language that he's frustrated with things, i think much more than he says).

I keep meaning to post a summary on this show, both what I'm likin' and my frustrations, but as usual, I can't seen to line up the time and the inspiration together, they're on opposite ends of the wheel. It's been like that now for a good couple months, time and inspiration chasing each other around the tree. If they get faster maybe they'll turn into butter.

Once again the fetching Miss Syl has pointed me to something that I can't live without.

I've said before - i loved rockstar: inxs.

But so far, I'm not loving rockstar: prefabSuperGroup.

I loved rs:insx because - well, because of the guys in inxs. Gary Beers, the various and sundry Farriss brothers, the odd but talented Kirk Pengilly. This was a big deal to them, finding a singer. And not just a singer, a singer who had to fill some big fucking shoes without replacing the original guy.

That produced a sense of drama. There was a sad story beneath it all.

And then there were the singers; right from the start there was a deep pool of talent. JD, Mig, Marty, Sweet Susie McNeil; Jordis and Ty and Deanna. Ok, sure, there were some who were over thier heads, but there was a lot of talent, I mean al lot. Any of those people could have won, if not this, than something.

And I look at this installment, and see... Nothing.

Now, we have to take away the band factor. It makes a difference, but you can't make another rs:inxs. But it's the talent that troubles me. There's one person who's wowed me, Dilana Robichaux. She's awesome. And after her there's - a pool of mediocrity. Jill Gioia's adorable, but average, Storm Large looked great in week one but ordinary in week two. Patrice Pike was boring the first go-round, though much better in week two. Lukas Rossi, who needs to lay off the foundation, has real talent and might be a dark horse.

The rest - range from forgetably mediocre to absolutely awful. I'm wondering how most of these people even got to the final, when some of 'em can't seem to even carry a tune.

I'm wondering why the talent pool for this edition is smaller. That's not how this should work.

I imagine I'll keep watching. The house band simply smokes, i like Dave Navarro (though he's getting a little too adorable for his own good), and the less Brooke Burke wears, the better I like her. And I want to hear Dilana sing more.

But it ain't what I hoped. Where's the fuckin' talent, people?

I can't help it. I'm already hooked.

Rock Star: Supernova

I watched the first one - and cared - because it was INXS and they had a back-story. A tragic, sordid death, a band trying to come back from oblivion.

But I kept watching it because it was just good. Better than it got credit for. It was well done, the house band was amazing, the performances, most of them, were good. Some of them were amazing. And the guy who won, JD Fortune, was exactly the right guy for the job.

But I figured, they can't do it again. Not without INXS, who made it work. Not the band, but the people. They gave it soul.

But now, I'm watching the new one. With a pre-fab heavy metal supergroup called 'Supernova'; Tommy Lee of The Crüe, Jason Newsted from Metalica, and Gilby Clarke from GnR.

And I'm thinking, wow, there went the soul.

And yet, I'm already hooked, after one episode. Even though only three or four of the performers were worth a damn; even though very little was really even memorable. I'm still hooked.

I can't help it. And you know, I admit it, I've got a weak spot for Tommy Lee. maybe it's just cause he looks like my buddy Lex, but something just makes me like the guy.

Anyone wanna make some bets on who's makin' it down to the final? Right now my picks are Dilana, Storm and the simply adorable Jill. And yeah, I'm bettin' they go with a girl. But only if she'll do triple penetration.

One thing.

I want to be Jack Bauer.

He gets to kill people. He gets to steal cars and point guns atg people and when he says Do it! NOW! people do it.

When he says he'll kill you, he fuckin' means it. When he says I'm not going to shoot you, he doesn't mean he won't, just that he's not planning to, yet.

Jack is the fucking man.

I'm watching the first season of 24 on DVD. One of the very best things about netflix; these gems that I missed the first time, like season one of Amazing Race, or Veronica Mars, The Mole, Deadwood.

I didn't catch on to the glory that is 24 until this past season; day 5. And oh, god, why didn't I know about this before?

I'm halfway through; kidnappings, incredibly hot terrorist babes, Jack's daughter tied up and duct taped. Jack in handcuffs, escaping. Double-crosses and betrayals and stolen identities. Airplanes exploding, hot airplane bathroom sex. Some really great villains. Threats of rape and murder.

And that's only nine hours in.

Yeah. I wanna be Jack Bauer. And I'm glad I've got three more seasons to watch, even if they're not this good.

Ok, my geek is showing.

This is where my fetish for knives crosses my geekery.

I've been looking for months for where I can get Jayne Cobb's Bowie Knife from Firefly.

I've wanted a big-ass bowie knife for years. I've got balisongs, switchblades, straight-razors, tactical folders, bayonets, daggers, throwing knives, a million kitchen knives, machetes, pukko knives, buck folders and buck hunting knives, swiss army knives, opinel folders, gerber folders.

But I don't have a bowie knife, and I've wanted one forever.

So I just ran across something on a browncoat site identified that BFK (Big Fuckin' Knife) Jayne carries. And of course, I want one.

The Rough Rider Patrick Henry Liberty Bowie Knife:

Of course, it can't be that easy. It's out of production. The only company I can find that has them for sale is taking back-orders, but can't tell me an ETA. On the other hand, I know a guy (who is an order of magnitude higher in geekdom than I) who makes an exact replica of Jayne's sheath. Which means that, if I can ever find the goddamned knife, I also can get the sheath I want.

Ok, now, who's giggling at the word 'sheath'?

I know. I know. Geeky. I can't help it. I have weapon lust. I must have that knife.

While we're on south park, there's a newer character generator I hadn't seen.

So, you know, south park elvis.

I'm sure you've heard about the shit-canned southpark episode where they take on those fuckin' freaks Tom Cruise and John Travolta and the Co$.

The episode can be found here at Contemporary Insanity. rm format only, no quicktime, alas.

And props again to Brandon for the logo. I just sized it, he did the work.

You woke up this morning
Got yourself a gun,
Mama always said you'd be
The Chosen One.

You woke up this morning
All the love has gone,
Your Papa never told you
About right and wrong.

All is well with the world.

The Sopranos is back.

You know, not that many people watched Rock Star INXS, and there seems to be a negative critical buzz around it. But anyone who watched and wasn't caught up simply missed the point.

Sure, it's teevee, it's a game show of sorts, so it's a little silly and very contrived. It has to be in order to make something like this work. But the core of it is that this guys who called themselves INXS lost a lead singer in a weird and tragic way, but they're not done yet. They're not done being a band. They're not done making music or performing.

Lots of bands have faced this - Van Halen, Queen, Judas Priest, oh hell, dozens. And almost always they wind up with some celebrity who doesn't really fit.

Ok. It smacks of sellout. But how are you going to find your right guy, and get your audience to accept him, and get them to care?

I watched the show expecting to hate it, hating the idea. And yet it caught me up - party because INXS themselves are such likable guys. I got to care about them and their search as much as about the contestants in this game show. I wanted them to find the guy who'd give them back their identity as a band.

I saw INXS tonight in Oakland, and once again, it's clear they've found the guy they were looking for. I honestly can't say that they were any better with ol' Michael Hutchence. The guy they found, against all odds, is as perfect for the role as anyone could possibly be.

JD's a superior frontman, one of those guys who's made to be on stage. He's got the look, they style, the sound, the charisma. He's got the voice, and sounds incredibly good singing the band's old hits. He sounds as good to my ear as Hutchence ever did, and is as dynamic a performer.

The thing that makes it work though, more than anything else, is seeing how dammed happy these guys look. Not just JD, who's about as lucky a guy as you're gonna find, but the rest of the band, who not only found a singer and jump-started a career, but who are back to being a band again. You can tell how much it means to these guys.

It was a good show. I've never been a giant INXS fan, so these songs don't have a huge emotional resonance for me. But having watched the re-birth of this band in that curiously voyeuristic way, I have come to care and root for them the way you do for a friend's band. It's that sort of pride when you see them do well, that absurd personalizing of something.

All I can say it, they put on a good show anyway, but if you watched Rock Star INXS, go see 'em live.

My deadringer classic ring just shipped, or so they tell me. So I should have it soon. I'm not sure HOW SOON since it's coming all the way from New Zealand (Carried by hobbits, I should think), but soon.

In other news, after many, many people told me I should, I finally went and watched 24. And - how'd you put it, Chelse? It's like crack in teevee form, or something like that. And so it is. I just watched the two hour opening episode of this here current season, and wow, does this start off with a bang or what?

I don't even know if it's good. But I know I crave more. More. MORE.

I fear a monster has been created.

Stop me before I add all four seasons to my netflix queue.

I had an oddly hot dream last night, after not being able to get to sleep until very, very late.

It has to have been inspired by an episode of Project Runway (and I'll have to put off talking about that show for a bit because of the promise I made myself not to talk about any more reality teevee).

I was dressing a woman up in lacy, pretty, elegant lingerie. She was a tall, stunning brunette with a perfect figure, and I was choosing things for her to put on while she modeled them for me; garter belts, bra and panty sets, bustier sorta things. Garters and more garters, and some other things that might have been nighties and might have been very suggestive evening clothes, I'm not sure.

The clothes are kind of a blur to me now, I just recall fancy, very lacy things in a number of colors, maroon, pink, black, jade green.

What I recall, though, is the feeling of dressing this woman up almost like a living barbie doll; the subtle dominant/submissive feeling it had, her doing what I told her, putting on what I chose for her and modeling it for me while I sat watching, directing her to pose for me, to show herself off for me.

I woke up with the image in my head, watching her put on a lacy, fussy garter belt at my direction. It's been with me all day, that image.

I wanna be Titus Pullo.

(Warning, there are minor spoilers toward the end of this, after the cut)

If you're watching Rome you know what I'm talkin' about. If you're not watching Rome, well, we're down to the last episode, so wait for the DVD to come out; which should hit when next season rolls around. Or wait for HBO to start a re-show.

Rome is a fantastic show; it takes a few episodes to get going and knowing your roman history helps a little since they don't always explain the relationships and historical significance of everything. But once the show gets going, it's fucking brilliant, well written, well acted, incredibly well cast.

But I've said all that before.

The thing I want to talk about, though, is Titus Pullo.

Serenity premiers tonight.

Greggg has the advantage over most of the rest of us; he's already seen it.

For the rest of us - god, high hopes, fears, and I know whatever I see, I'll be left waiting for more. Joss, you better be hard at work on Serenity II already.

You know, I just don't get the whole Alias thing.

Or maybe it's the Jennifer Garner thing that escapes me, and that's what the whole Alias thing is about.

But you know, I look at Garner, and all I can think is, 'eh'. Maybe a dose of 'whatever'. And you know, no one, anywhere, likes women more than I do. So when I look at woman and think eh, it means I'm really not very interested.

She's just so average. Oh, she's talented, sure; she's got a gift for accents and voices and languages, and she's certainly physical. but I look at her face and I feel like I'm looking at a Mannequin. She's made of plastic, utterly empty and soul-less.

So maybe that's all there is to Alias. Because well, you know, I want to like it; same people as make Lost, so I'm on their side. But Alias seems to be nothing but empty spy-movie cliche with no style whatsoever. The plots are convoluted to the point of incomprehensiblity, and while the whole everyone's double-crossing everyone else thing is entertaining, the bottom line is that I don't care. Anyone in the series can die at any time and I just shrug. None of them are well enough characterized to engage me.

And then there's the fact that they keep wanting to go supernatural. Which just makes me roll my eyes. What works so well on lost, here just plays like writers who are out of ideas and turn to the fantastic out of desperation. They borrow from Neal Stephenson, they borrow from - hell, I can't even remember where last season's ender was borrowed from, some secret-society, orb-of-infinite-doom nonsense.

I just don't fuckin' get it.

Why, you might ask, am I watching it?

Honestly, I'm not. Sometimes it's just on, and you just don't feel like getting off the couch. And I'll admit, I tried, last season, because people I know like it. Sitting on a couch full of giggly girls, you know, you find a reason not to leave even when the show isn't good. So I tried.

But - eh. Just eh.

So, first impressions on TAR, family style (Amazing Race 8), before my medication takes effect.

The family concept worked better than expected. I liked it.

Most of the families are likable. I liked seeing some kids in this game, and damn, ain't Carissa Gaghan adorable?

My favorite team so far are the Aiellos -- good guys, funny and likable. They won me when they started to joke about spooning.

Most of the others I'm still forming an opinion on, but my favorite tasty treat is Brittney Rogers, who clearly needs to be licked all over, and I gotta say, I wanna see all three Linz Brothers pull a train on little sister Megan.

And then there are the villians. Every TAR has to have a couple. This time it's the jesus freak Weaver clan, who are just going to have to be bent over, spanked and corn-holed if they say 'lord' or 'jesus' one more time; and then there are the Paolos, who would be ok if someone fucking gagged them all. Just make them stop talking. Make. Them. Stop.

As usual, the first episode was hard to track with so many teams. It always hits speed around the third. But so far it looks like they're keeping the standard up. This is the definitive reality teevee show as far as I'm concerned, it deserves all the awards it wins. And I'm glad I don't have to see Rob and Amber on this one, they brought TAR7 down. If they do any more celebrity TARs, it needs to be an all-celeb edition to keep it fair.

Mmm. Medication. Me like medication.

I gotta say, I watched the whole season, and each and every time INXS sent the person home who should have gone home. Not once did they falter in any way.

I was saying that to myself when I watched the finale - they've been right every time.

(I'm gonna put the rest of this after the cut in case anyone hasn't watched the show yet...)

Honestly. Why do I care?

It's one half hour until the west coast showing of the rock star inxs finale, and I'm climbin' the fucking walls.

Ok, I know I could go look up the result on the net. But I don't wanna spoil it, right? I just want it to fucking start already!

I don't think a reality teevee show has ever gotten me this wound (again, aside from when Lex got down to the final three, but you know, he's a personal friend). But it feels like that sitting here wishing for JD to win when I know the choice is already made.

I'm thinking, tequila or ice cream? tequila or ice cream? I mean, I gotta do something.

What exactly is the latin for I came, I saw, I watched some great teevee?

So we've talked a little bit about reality teevee (c'mon, people, pick JD already), and we'll get back to that shortly with new incarnations of Survivor and Amazing Race going down.

But let's talk about something a little bit artier, shall we?

Well, not arty in a bad way. There's all sorts of tasty nudity, see.

Let's us talk a bit about the glory that is Rome.

Now, you expect great things when you say hbo and series together. Look at the track record; the Sopranos, Six Feet Under, Deadwood, the Wire, Sex and the City, Carnivale, Curb Your Enthusiasm. I mean, you see a thread there, right?

So it's not like it's news that Rome is really really good.

But it took a little warming up to. Like Deadwood, it's dense, complicated, filled with characters, and at times deeply difficult to track. I feel like I should be taking notes when I watch this show, and the first episode, only the fact that I've studied ancient Rome a bit kept me from getting lost. I think wasn't 'til the third episode that I really decided that a) it was really good, and b) that I really liked it.

There's so much to like. I mean, let's start with the obvious, there's nudity (obligatory homer moment - Mmmmm. Nuuuuuudity...) I mean, lots of it. Yummy, tasty nudity. Beautiful girls riding on men kind of nudity (just about my favorite thing, the girl on top). Beautiful slave girl nudity. Nursing mother's nipples nudity. Roman brothel brutal-hair-pulling-fucking-from-behind nudity.

Did I mention nudity? We just need some more slave girls, is all, to make it complete.

Then let's talk about the technical stuff. The set is simply enormous, and looks incredibly authentic to my eye. The costuming, set decoration, the art design, it's all spectacular and complex and rich and gives the feeling of real, living roman cities.

The cast - mostly british performers who look vaguely familiar but whom I can't place, to a one they're superior actors, with many standouts.

And then there's the writing. I don't care how good your sets are, your cast are, your ideas, plots, special effects. Your show begins and ends with the writers and the writers make or break it. This show is incredibly well written. Oh, I can't say it's deadwood; deadwood makes frontier poets of rough, villainous cowboys, while not compromising their being cowboys. But Rome feels like something distilled down from shakespeare and robert graves, as imagined by modern writers with a modern way of telling a story. So there's a classic complexity to the dialog, without it being rendered impossibly dense.

Everything from bawdy conversations between soldiers to roman senatorial debate has a natural, real sound, while not falling into the trap of having romans talk and act line someone on the west wing.

I must say though, my favorite character is Titus Pullo, a roman soldier who winds up somehow in the midst of all the political upheaval. The HBO character page describes him thus:

A ferocious lover of life, possessing the courage and loyalty of a warrior, but the morality of a pirate. A man of huge appetites and wild passions. Impulsive, unreflective, optimistic, conceited, generous, and brutal.

I of course, identify with him heavily, when he says things like "Women scream my name by night from here to..." I like to think he's the me I would have been had I lived in 52 bc. Particularly the morality of a pirate bit.

If you're not watching this yet, they should be doing one of the catch-up weekends, check the schedule on hbo.com. It's really worth slogging through the first couple shows, even if they seem difficult.

And you know, there's the nudity.

Ok, I've avoided writing about this because, well, writing about teevee seemed so fucking trivial lately.

But sometimes a man just has to take a stand.

INXS? Guys? I'm fuckin' talkin' to you. Listen up.

C'mon. Come closer.

Closer.

I'm gonna get real close and whisper this in your ears.

Ready?

I swear, I've watched Survivor since it started, and the last few seasons of Amazing Race. And aside from when my brutha-man Lex was on Survivor, I have never, ever been this involved in a reality teevee show. I'm glued to the set when the show is on. I watch the episodes twice. I've watched this group of people go from raw, undeveloped talent to, the last few, truly great performers. They're growing right in front of our eyes. Every one of the last four were good enough for the gig, good enough that I'd pay to watch them, and it's gotten to be emotional, I care about them as people.

Last nights show, when Sweet Susie McNeil went home, I watched Dave Navarro well up when she was announced. It's not just me, and it's not just the performers, the guys hosting the show are emotionally involved.

But at some point it comes down to, simply, who's right for the job. And from the very first night, one guy has been way, way ahead of the rest. JD Fortune is the lead singer for INXS, and you know it just looking at him.

Guys. Gary, Andrew, John, Tim, Kirk. Listen to me. Forget Mig. Forget Marty, no matter how great he is at singing Nirvana and Radiohead. JD's the guy, and you know it.

Next week is the finale. I'm afraid to look. Tell me when it's over.

Fuck.

Sucked in again.

I'm hooked hard on Rockstar INXS. I'm looking forward to the tuesday show all week.

Some of these people are good. The house band is awesome. INXS and Dave Navarro make a great panel; no fucked up American Idol crap.

I wanted not to like it. Not like I really cared a lot about INXS, but they were a major band at one time and I liked 'em. But it seemed like ultimate sellout. And it is a sellout, absolutely. But...

But damn. Good teevee.

On the other hand, I'm over BlowOut. Really. I'll never watch it again. Promise.

Rock Star is just hitting the point where it's getting really interesting; almost all the weak performers are gone, and it's getting to the point where they're going to have to start choosing the weaker of three good people, instead of the obvious loser. That's going to get harder each week.

Personally, I'm rooting for JD, but Marty is a close second. And you know, I hate that I care.

Ok. Last week I bulldozed through the entire season of Firefly all in a marathon viewing session.

I've re-watched a couple episodes since with the director's commentary on.

So here's my summary.

God, I love Joss.

"If they take the ship, they'll rape us to death, eat our flesh and sew our skins into their clothing and if we're very very lucky, they'll do it in that order."

"We're not gonna die. We can't die, Bendis. You know why? Because we are so very pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us die."

The above quotes are all from the first episode of Firefly; the one that was meant to be first anyway, which is not the one that aired first. Fuck me if I know why, but I'm sure that's been talked to death.

[made with ecto]

I make ze little confession.

I've fallen for another reality show.

Yes, it's true. I cannot help it. I fought. I resisted. But in the end, I fell. I'm hooked on Blow Out.

I can't figure out why. I should hate this show. It's full of the vapid rich-n-famous crap I can't take at all. It's set it beverly hills and west hollywood. I hated it on sight when I saw the promos last year.

Yet, the other night, I found myself in the middle of an episode (summary of which ep), first interested, then starting to care.

That's the slippery slope of reality teevee; when you start to care. Get out before that and you might be ok, but once you start to care about the 'characters', you're sucked into the mire.

I dunno. Maybe it's that I've known so many hairdressers. Now, I shave my head, so I have not needed a haircut or a hair product in most of a decade. But there was a time when I was hairstyle kid; big hair and fashion-cuts and colors. Spiky or flat-topped or layered. I got my hair cut regularly and knew all about the lives and loves and drama in several local salons. To this day, the guy who used to cut my hair, Frankie (Who really should have a web page), is still a friend.

Maybe that's why I like this show. Or maybe it's just fuckin' Jonathan. The man's a natural for teevee; tall, masculine, handsome as hell; brilliant cutter and stylist, great voice, great cowboy style. He's dynamic and charismatic. You can see, instantly, why he's a huge success in the biz, and why someone said "put that man on TV!" The whole thing has the classic feel; the boss, the captain, the chief, who will do whatever it takes to win, but also cares about his crew, his gang, his troop. It could be a gang drama, a western; it's an archetype that, in fiction, in drama, spans genres. This show has that feel, the fearless leader, strong and tough, but tender and insecure inside. Corny and over-the-top? Yes, but I can't turn it off.

It makes surprisingly compelling teevee. I knew I was hooked when I went looking for it in my TiVo to see if I had any episodes. And I knew I was in trouble when I started to wonder if I could get the first season on DVD. Stop me, please.

Sigh. This is the last one. Promise. No more reality teevee.

[made with ecto]

A geek interlude. Because I can always talk about THAT.

So I just converted my two TiVos to wireless, using a couple of D-link DWL-122 USB wireless adapters.

Which actually turned out to be more of a pain than I expected, the TiVo setup interface is a little lame. But I got it working, which is cool. I get to remove phone lines from another thing in my world; one step closer to going VoIP.

I was expecting to be able to use the TiVo To Go feature to download stuff and burn it to DVD; but the fuckers don't have Mac support.

Assholes. I like the product. I really, REALLY don't like the company.

Still, this lets me xfer shows between the two machines so I can store movies on the less-used machine, and it means I don't get the odd-hours effect of having my TiVo try to make a call on my phone when I'm on the line.

All in all, an improvement. And TiVo will get my nastygram about lack of Mac support tomorrow.

[update]

I talked to TiVo and evidently they're tracking requests for this, but they don't have a release date. If you're a mac user and a TiVo owner, do me a favor and call TiVo and request OSX support for TiVo To Go (877-367-8486).

[made with ecto]

You know, if you're not watching Penn & Teller's BULLSHIT!, you need to be.

This is both some of the best entertainment, and some of the best information on teevee.

Not every episode is brilliant. Sometimes they work a little hard to convince us that something is crap, particularly in the more recent episodes. But damn, some of these, like the one I watched tonight about Talkingt to the Dead, are simply fantastic, skewering things that simply scream out to be skewered.

Set your TiVos. But save up a few, I always want to watch two or three in a row. One bullshit isn't enough.

Pardon my typos. There was a bottle of Toasted Head involved. I love you though. Really.

I admit it. I've got a crush.

This is the sort of thing I do when I'm hung over and way short on sleep on a sunday afternoon. I turn on random things on teevee. This is where I hope for a baseball game, or if it's the right season, a hockey game. But if I get skunked on all that, and I really just can't get up off the fucking couch, I'll wander aimlessly around the dial (aside - who actually remembers when teevees had dials and we had to get up to change channels?).

Usually this leaves me with a cooking show, or a documentary. Sometimes even a re-run of American Gladiators, but we'll talk about that crush later.

Sunday, though, I stopped on a little thing called Xtreme4x4.

Now, I drive a jeep. But there's really nothing 'Xtreme' about it. I don't do a lot of actual off-roading (I try, you know, but who has time). I don't have it heavily customized. Who can afford it, and when most of it's miles are road miles, what's the point? But saturday I was out shopping for some nice new tires, and my head was all full of four wheelin', so when I landed on Xtreme4x4 on Spike TV, my thumb rested on the remote control.

Now, I think this would have held my interest for five, ten minutes. Maybe a whole episode, but maybe not.

Only...

Jessi Combs..

Jessi Combs.

Now, these pictures all suck. The stupid bastards who did the web site think we want pictures of trucks. We don't care about trucks. We care about Jessi. She's way, way cuter than that when she's moving.

She welds. She uses power tools. She customizes trucks. She has tattoos.

I Want Her.

Some goddamn point a man's due to stop argueing with hisself and feeling twice the goddamn fool he knows he is 'cause he can't be something he tries to be every goddamn day without once getting to dinnertime and fucking it up. I don't want to fight it anymore, understand me Charlie? - and I don't want you pissing in my ear about it. Can't you let me go to hell the way I want to?

--Wild Bill Hickok, Deadwood season one, episode four

That there is an example of why Deadwood is so fucking good. Doxy told me, but it still took me a year to start watching it. The script, the characters, the cast; it's just an exceptional piece of work. I'm most of the way through season one on DVD now, and season two is on my TiVo waiting for me to catch up.

But that quote there, that's what I wanted to post. Some days, that's exactly how I feel. Can't you let me go to hell the way I want to?