There's no percentage in quibbling with other critics. Besides, what could be more pointless than debating someone else's tastes?

Yet this one passage in Maureen Ryan's exhaustive analysis of "Downton Abbey's" second season made me laugh -- not because I agreed or disagreed with it, but because the underlying point was addressed quite cleverly during Sunday night's Writers Guild Awards ceremony. In her assessment of "Downton," Ryan wrote:

The problem is, like another refugee from the world of film, Frank Darabont, [Julian] Fellowes doesn't know how to knit together believable incidents and compelling character development and form that into a consistently interesting season of television. I know, it's weird to compare a costume drama with a zombie horrorfest, but both "Downton" and "The Walking Dead" stumbled in their second seasons.

Ryan acknowledges it seems strange to compare the two. It reminded me of a warning I used to give film critics when I was editing the entertainment section in college, urging them not to veer out of their lanes in order to make a point about an unrelated topic nagging at them.

But both series have one thing in common, beyond her criticism: When something flames this brightly, the backlash and "Where did it go wrong?" lamentation is virtually inevitable.

That's why I found it so hilarious Sunday when "Modern Family" co-creator Steve Levitan said -- after the show collected two more awards to add to an already packed trophy case -- he was worried about all the success engendering hostility.

The response conceived by the writing staff, perfectly choreographed, was for each member to get up and say something intended to earn him or her sympathy. It won't work, of course -- as soon as the series runs a couple of weak episodes, somebody will pounce all over it -- but I can't help but admire both the realization the pendulum will eventually swing in the other direction, and the futile effort to preempt what is obviously such a natural impulse.

Of course, this also brings to mind a fundamental difference between film and TV critics. Both get to be the first to discover something terrific and share the news with readers. But because TV programs keep going and going, only the latter can also be the first to announce that what was terrific suddenly isn't so great anymore.

Seen that way, all admired shows are, in a way, living on borrowed time -- their own version of "The Walking Dead." Unless, of course, they have the good sense to vacate the premises -- be it a mansion, suburban neighborhood or farm surrounded by zombies -- before they risk overstaying their welcome.

Remember the Weather Channel, that thing you grudgingly turn to when you want to make sure a tornado isn't going to run through your neighborhood? Turns out that isn't a terrific business model if the goal is to keep people watching longer and tuning in regularly.

So the channel has joined the crush of reality-TV-airing basic cable networks, while trying to keep an element of, er, the elements in each of its shows.

Toward that end -- and on the heels of "Coast Guard Alaska" -- comes "Lifeguard!," a half-hour series that tracks lifeguards patrolling the Southern California coastline. The show premieres with back-to-back episodes on Feb. 23.

To its credit, the series -- produced by LMNO Prods. -- eschews the usual stereotypes and beach bunnies (I kept figuring Sam Elliott, or maybe Parker Stevenson, would turn up), focusing pretty squarely on the kind of daring and occasionally silly rescues lifeguards have to perform. So there's a race to save a kid buried under sand, a guy who dives into a cove and badly injures his leg, a woman swept off the rocks by a wave while trying to snap pictures.

It's all pretty familiar stuff -- documented as much from the paramedic genre as anything else, except some of the rescuers get to wear shorts.

Speaking of waves, "Lifeguards!" is merely the leading edge of the channel's original-programming swells, with three more new programs -- "Ice Pilots" (March 5), "Braving the Elements" (April 17) and "Hurricane Hunters" (July) -- due over the next few months.

Presumably, you'll also still be able to find some weather on the Weather channel, which is sort of reassuring -- if a little more hit-miss, in the same way History and Cartoon Network are no longer content to be shackled by their names.

When it comes to cable pursuit of hits and younger demos, that's just the way the winds are blowing.

I really admire what a group calling itself Faithful America is doing: Calling on MSNBC to stop booking Tony Perkins, a representative of the anti-gay Family Research Council, as a guest.

But pardon the expression, they haven't got a prayer.

Led by Rev. V. Gene Robinson, who delivered the invocation at President Obama's inaugural ceremonies and is the first openly gay bishop in the Anglican Communion, the group has a compelling argument: Why should a group known for its incendiary rhetoric be chosen, repeatedly, to represent a Christian viewpoint?

The answer, obviously, is because flame-throwers make for good TV, and cable thrives on conflict, not sobriety.

"We'd like other Christian voices to be consulted, not those affiliated with a hate group," Robinson said in a statement, referring to the FRC being labeled as such by the Southern Poverty Law Center.

The point isn't whether Perkins deserves a forum, only that in inviting him on so frequently on such matters, MSNBC is fostering an impression he speaks for more of the Christian community than he really does. But when the mandate for producers is "Get me a pro and get me con," a guy like Perkins keeps popping up again and again.

At any rate, the group's very shrewdly assembled video -- which shows some of Perkins' frequent appearances on MSNBC -- is below. Further evidence that in cable, it's the provocative wheels that get the air time.

Credit DirecTV and what it has dubbed The Audience Network with continuing to make shrewd acquisitions to bolster its original-programming profile, the latest being a provocative Australian drama, "The Slap."

Adapted from a novel by Christos Tsiolkas, the series focuses on a singular event -- an adult slapping a child, who isn't his, at a party -- and traces its impact on an extended group of family and friends. Yet while the perspective changes in each episode -- centering on a different character, almost anthology style -- their stories keep overlapping.

Among the more recognizable members of the cast are Jonathan LaPaglia and Sophie Okonedo (featured in the premiere) as a married couple and Melissa George (pictured) as the mother of the kid. Once you get past some of the cultural idioms -- didn't know the pharmacy is "the chemist" Down Under -- the situations are highly relatable, and the storytelling is realistic, tough and spare.

Having watched two episodes, I found the second less compelling than the first, which focuses on the LaPaglia character and his flirtation with a teenage girl. Even so, it's an extraordinarily ambitious concept that has found a ready audience elsewhere and should connect with a discriminating one here as well.

In addition to "The Slap," which premieres Feb. 15, Audience will launch a British conspiracy thriller, "The Shadow Line," starring Chiwetel Ejiofor, on Feb. 19. These programs build on the satcaster's earlier deals for "Friday Night Lights" and "Damages," which have helped put it on the programming map. (For the record, I'm a DirecTV subscriber.)

With close to 20 million subscribers, Audience approximates the reach of pretty much every pay network except HBO, and has approached its acquisitions accordingly, seeking to fortify its bond with customers.

By that measure, "The Slap" is unlikely to be a huge hit, but for those who get drawn in, I suspec the show just might leave a mark.

Wow, Piers Morgan was upset that the Grammys weren't carried live on the West Coast.

Imagine how well the telecast -- the most-watched edition in 28 years, with nearly 40 million viewers -- would have done if CBS had made the CNN host happy.

There's a tendency to get a little carried away with terms like the "social media elite," which New York Times media reporter Brian Stelter referenced in a post about the supposed backlash against the network for not airing the show live across the country. Stelter proceeded to quote random Twitter users venting about the situation, a tactic which has replaced going out to the Sherman Oaks Galleria and finding someone to complain about, well, pretty much anything. With enough time, you can find at least one guy who'll argue Bigfoot is here and being hidden from us by the government, and it's equally valid in the bigger scheme of things.

Now, I don't doubt for a second some people were ticked off about the Grammys being delayed, although frankly, it's hard to think of an award show where the actual winners mean less, with Grammy presentations having been all but eliminated from the telecast. With the emphasis on the performances, people have less reason to worry about tuning in late knowing in advance whether Adele was honored.

The bottom line is you can go on Twitter and find people who will support just about any premise you want to advance. Journalistically speaking, it's lazy, and not particularly representative. And based on the ratings for the telecast -- inflated, obviously, by factors like Whitney Houston's death -- it meant even less once the Nielsens rolled in.

So if I were scoring the outcome at home, I'd have to call this one traditional network, 1; social media elite, 0.

For the record, I'm reluctant to start regularly paying attention to original web content for all kinds of reasons, not the least among them that it threatens to dramatically add to my work load.

Nevertheless, I decided to take the plunge and sample "Battleground," a new half-hour series (22
minutes, actually, sans ads) premiering Feb. 14 on Hulu.

"Battleground" sort of looks like a TV show, employing what's become a pretty tired device -- it's really a documentary about a political campaign! -- to obscure its low-key production values. Yet the content and premise, while not bad, simply aren't enough to get me to sit in front of a computer and watch.

The show deals with a senate race in Wisconsin, as covered from the perspective of several people working for an underdog candidate. Writer/director J.D. Walsh has a good ear for political jargon, and the cast is (with a few exceptions) fine. But the limited scope of the production works against it, since all the big events are discussed, not shown. Moreover, there are a fair number of direct-to-camera confessionals meant to reflect the documentary format but which simply feel like "The Office Lite."

Promotionally speaking, the political angle has some appeal, and introducing the show in an election year has a certain logic. That said, nothing here is going to make anyone forget Aaron Sorkin. Like a lot of these web series, it has the feel of a master's thesis -- promising, but rough around the edges. It basically feels like the kind of thing that would end up on Sundance Channel or IFC.

The bottom line is the bar ought to be pretty high for original online fare, and "Battleground" -- based on the first two episodes -- doesn't clear it.

So there. I reviewed a web show. Don't expect it to become a habit ... yet, anyway.

For me, "The Apprentice" jumped the shark when its celebrity edition became a regular part of the franchise instead of just a garnish, and Donald Trump jumped it when his addiction to fame prompted him to tease presidential aspirations -- and evoke the ugly specter of birtherism regarding President Obama -- when it was pretty clear he was just posturing.

Still, the return of "Celebrity Apprentice" on Feb. 19 is not without its guilty pleasures, thanks mostly to the casting of several very funny people, as well as some characters so silly the show could easily be retitled "Shit Celebrities and Near-Celebrities Say." That said, the two-hour editions take everything that was best about the series and pump them up interminably, until those trips to the boardroom begin to feel more like a prison sentence than a form of entertainment.

Trump hasn't helped the show, frankly, by turning his children -- who add absolutely nothing to the proceedings -- into his boardroom sidekicks, but with the mogul's marital history, I can appreciate his desire to use NBC to help plan for their future. At least a guy known in part for his hair is looking out for his heirs.

At any rate, "Celebrity Apprentice" takes a backseat to nobody -- including the bottom-feeding aspects of "Dancing With the Stars" -- in dredging up celebs just wacky or crazy enough to yield drama. And it's hard to top singer Aubrey O'Day throwing off a line like, "Out of all the women on this team, I have the most Twitter followers."

What's better this time around is having the likes of Penn Jillette and Adam Carolla to laugh along at the festivities, skewering the show's inanities even as they participate in them. One can only hope they hang around for awhile, lest we be left with "American Idol" runner-up Clay Aiken fretting about not winning on another reality show.

As for Trump, his swaggering ego remains in full swing. At one point, for no particular reason, he paused to talk about how people love him on the street, and how of all the people there, he's "the biggest star in the room by far." Gee, all that's missing is a magic mirror and some poisoned apples for Snow White.

Trump did keep his recent political bloviating in check during a preview of the opener, either recognizing (or perhaps reminded by NBC and the producers) there's a time and place for everything. Besides, what would he have to talk about on "Fox and Friends" if he exhausted his best stuff here? (And incidentally, a Trump endorsement didn't do much for Mitt Romney in Colorado, Missouri and Minnesota.)

With boardroom silliness dragging on nearly 30 actual minutes, "Celebrity Apprentice" ultimately feels like a show for people with too much time on their hands. Yet given its solid performance in the past and the huge hole NBC has to fill after "Sunday Night Football," it's also among the least of the network's problems.

Even so, by the 10th or 12th time Trump asked, "Who would you fire?," I was ready to fire him -- and say goodbye to "Celebrity Apprentice."

Oh, and in case Trump decides to come after me, let me state unequivocally not only was I born in the U.S., I can prove it.

For the most part, I don't spend much time on either the Smithsonian or National Geographic Channels, both of which approximate niches already occupied by larger, better-known basic cable competitors.

Still, this seemed like as good a time as any to drop in on offerings from each of them -- one sober, the other silly.

Smithsonian has made "MLK: The Assassination Tapes," premiering Feb. 12, a centerpiece of its programming for Black History Month, and the hour-long special is a firstrate effort. Using local and national news footage -- some of which hasn't been seen since Martin Luther King Jr. was killed in 1968 -- writer/producer/director Tom Jennings and producer/co-editorRon Frank have put together a taut tick-tock of King's final days, his murder, its immediate aftermath, and the subsequent manhunt for the guy convicted of shooting him, James Earl Ray.

Frankly, it's the sort of spare yet compelling historical documentary TV could use more of, especially with History increasingly bowing out of the history business. (If Smithsonian followed History's model, they'd change the channel's name to Smith and start focusing on ice fishing, or trucking, or whatever.)

On the flip side, NatGeo goes for a lighter approach with "Party Like" -- a series that, with apologies to Marie Antoinette, tries to have its cake and eat it too. In this case, the show revels in the debauchery of the past by examining the lavish parties of the day, from partying like the Queen of France or a Roman emperor to, in the episode I watched, "The Rich and Famous" of the Gilded Age, and an astonishingly expensive 1890s bash at the Waldorf in New York.

Recreated using actors, the show seeks to provide insight via modern commentators -- including historians and, oddly, a present-day party planner. It's all goofy and harmless enough, but also hard to see the point. Moreover, the emphasis on freewheeling spending amid the current economy risks sounding a bit tone deaf, in a show that lurches closer to Bravo territory than most NatGeo fare.

Then again, NatGeo is clearly seeking to be a little more fun and provocative, as evidenced by another series premiering later this month, "American Weed," about "cannabis entrepreneurs, medicinal users and anti-dispensary crusaders" in Colorado. This should not be mistaken for Discovery's "Weed Wars," though -- like a lot in the highly derivative world of reality TV -- easily could be, especially if you're stoned.

Think of it as TV for those who use "party" as a verb and know where to find a green cross in their neighborhoods. So party on, dudes -- and while you're at it, pass the chips.

With only a couple of weeks remaining in "Downton Abbey's" second season on PBS, a few lessons ought to be gleaned from the wave of publicity surrounding the "Masterpiece" production, including the first TV Guide cover in more than 30 years.

To be clear, the show isn't being showered in praise and heaped with media attention because the U.S. press has suddenly become enamored with British period dramas where the only Yank in the cast is Elizabeth McGovern. Nor is it because PBS has suddenly become so much better at marketing itself.

No, "Downton" has become a sensation the old-fashioned way: Based on word of mouth -- people telling friends they have to watch it -- and, yes, glowing reviews dating back to its maiden run a little over a year ago, which have helped make people wonder what the fuss is all about.

In short, PBS is being rewarded for putting on something that is really, really damn good -- so good as to overcome whatever provincial limitations many Americans place on their entertainment diets.

The reason I point this out is because while the acclaim raining down on the program (or programme) became something of a running joke during the TV Critics Assn. tour (see CBS Entertainment Prez Nina Tassler comparing it to "Rob"), "Downton's" performance -- including its Emmy win last year over a highly deserving HBO miniseries, "Mildred Pierce" -- puts the lie to the popular assumption in network circles the quality label is automatically, to borrow an old phrase, "boxoffice [or in this case, ratings] poison."

"Downton" is simply so compelling -- and I've seen all 10-plus hours of the current eight-part run, which, after a subpar penultimate episode, rallies at the finish -- as to have trumped the obvious impediments mitigating against it becoming a ratings and media darling.

In fact, we've seen this pattern played out on other relatively little-seen channels, such as "Torchwood: Children of Earth" on BBC America. It's just particularly surprising to watch it happen in the usually sleepy confines of PBS.

For those who tend to despair about U.S. culture, there ought to be something wonderfully reassuring about all this. Or as Maggie Smith's Dowager Countess might say, "What is it about you little people that you're so easily led to watch this thing called ... television?"

Given how deeply in bed ESPN is with the NFL, it's always somewhat surprising to see the network take a solid stand, journalistically speaking, on an issue that makes the league uncomfortable.

So it's notable, on Super Bowl Sunday yet, that ESPN's "Outside the Lines" will feature a piece about several hundred former players -- among them such high-profile stars as Jim McMahon and Tony Dorsett -- suing the NFL for negligence in regard to its policy toward concussions.

ESPN catches a lot of grief from me over its excesses -- flagrantly on display this week with the network's salivating coverage of college football's "signing day" -- but it does take some balls, as it were, to air a piece that features this quote from Mike McGlamry, the plaintiffs' attorney in the case: "Tobacco companies for years downplayed or tried to shoot down any research that showed a causal link between smoking and cancer. And very similarly with the NFL, it essentially spent most of its time trying to downplay the independent research out there that showed the causal link between head injuries in football and long-term cognitive issues."

Other outlets, especially in print, have become increasingly aggressive in reporting on football concussions, and CNN recently aired a solid documentary from Dr. Sanjay Gupta, titled "Big Hits, Broken Dreams," looking at the dangers from the perspective of high-school players.

Given the billions at stake -- many of them courtesy of TV deals, the foremost involving ESPN -- it's hard to imagine anything derailing the NFL gravy train. But credit ESPN for giving the issue attention, on a day when football will be on the whole world's radar.

"Outside the Lines" airs at 6 a.m. PT. (Full disclosure: I'm a part-time contributor to Foxsports.com.)

Just curious: Under what circumstances, if any, would HBO not have ordered a second season of "Luck," the tony new drama starring Dustin Hoffman and featuring producer-director Michael Mann and writer/showrunner David Milch?

HBO announced a second season on Tuesday, despite what can only be considered rather tepid opening ratings for such a high-profile project. But in a sense, the fix was already in, and critics played a substantial part in the process.

Before "Luck" made its debut, I kept hearing vague "Do you get it? 'Cause I don't" reactions from people in the industry. And for the most part, I didn't, calling the show "at best a photo finish as to whether it's worth the effort."

Fortunately for HBO, much of the critical community had its back, as evidenced by the mostly favorable reviews, with some reservations, notched on Metacritic.com. But what I characterized as an "Emperor's new clothes" phenomenon was summed up better by Emily Nussbaum in The New Yorker, who in the midst of her own mostly negative review conceded:

I take no pleasure as I type these words. To the contrary, I feel the ghastly critical chill of admitting that I was bored by such obvious prestige television, created by people whose work I admire. Milch was behind “NYPD Blue” and “Deadwood”; as a risk-taker in a world of easy bets, he’s venerated for good reason. The series gleams with HBO handsomeness. It stars Dustin Hoffman and Nick Nolte (and Dennis Farina and Joan Allen: the cast is so impressive that I giggled when Alan Rosenberg showed up). And yet I couldn’t help feeling that I was missing something.

Give HBO credit. They're extremely good at declaring victory. But that can't erase what I suspect will become clear to more viewers as the season drags on: For all its thoroughbred talent, "Luck" is kind of a  plodder.

People are generally kind of smitten with Simon Cowell -- good-looking, imperious, British, rich -- so they don't like stating the obvious about him if it's negative.

But the shakeup on "The X Factor" makes clear what was pretty much apparent from the start: The former "American Idol" judge gave America a new series that was, in fact, little more than "American Idol 2.0," and it was greeted with polite applause, but mostly a collective yawn.

Yes, the series performed modestly well through the fall. But having it around might have helped take some of the steam out of "Idol" since its return. And the boneheaded move of reuniting Cowell with Paula Abdul -- which was treated as a coup at the time -- merely gave the whole enterprise an extra-stale smell once viewers got an actually whiff of it.

Cowell boasted before the show went on (he is, after all, a showman) about how great-looking the cast was. But gorgeous as she is, Nicole Scherzinger came off as a tall-a Paula, and host Steve Jones an even more vanilla, unseasoned Seacrest.

Adding new members will offer the chance to generate interest and speculation for the show's return, which has proven to be effective for the genre in the past.

With the benefit of hindsight, though, "X Factor" appears to have been a miscalculation on multiple levels. Which only goes to show that no matter how beautiful the talent is, if the concept is hollow, you're just putting lipstick on a pig.

Investigation Discovery is big on serial killers, but finding new wrinkles for its true-crime programming can become a bit of a challenge. After all, TV probably has more shows devoted to these prolific criminals than have ever been documented in reality.

Enter “Dark Minds,” a cold-case show whose mild twist is at least enough to capture the imagination: It’s very own Hannibal Lecter, helping crime author M. William Phelps and criminal profiler John Kelly examine unsolved killings.

Only we never see the killer, known only as “13,” whose insights are provided via altered phone conversations so muffled that they have to use subtitles. It’s a gimmick, naturally, but shrewd strictly in terms – as so many of these programs do – of providing a theatrical reference through which viewers can process what they’re seeing. (Just to make the link explicit, ID refers to the show as “a real-life ‘Silence of the Lambs,’” only without the part where he eats his captors.)

Otherwise, the eight-part series is more of the same old, same old, opening with a look back into the Valley killer, who claimed seven female victims a couple of decades ago. Phelps dutifully looks up the one surviving victim, finds an anonymous source and talks to current law enforcement, who have to pretend they're really interested in this long-dormant mystery.

As has become status quo with such fare, there’s also a lot of creepy music and dramatic recreations – all part of an exploitative formula that achieves what TV movies once did, only in half the time, for less money.

Think of it as TV’s equivalent of popcorn fare – or perhaps in this case, a cheesy side dish to be consumed with fava beans and a nice Chianti.

“Dark Minds” premieres Jan. 25 on Investigation Discovery. Geoff Fitzpatrick and John Luscombe are the exec producers.

The Hollywood Radio and Television Society hosted its "hitmaker" luncheon on Thursday, moderated by Peter Tolan, who always succeeds in making the discussion more about him than the panelists.

So here was the one notable crumb to come out of the discussion: Comedy writers tend to prefer dramas, and drama producers like comedy.

Asked to name their favorite current shows, the participants came up with these choices:

Graham Yost ("Justified"): "Archer"

Glen Mazzara (The Walking Dead"): "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"

Michael Patrick King ("2 Broke Girls"): "American Horror Story"

Liz Meriwether ("New Girl"): "Homeland"

Dave Finkel ("New Girl"): "Homeland," "Game of Thrones," "The Walking Dead"

Brett Baer ("New Girl"): "Homeland" and (just to be contrary) "Top Chef"

If you didn't make the lunch, that's everything you need to know, without the parking hassles. You're welcome.

One night does not a season make. But as I've stated before, the real unknown regarding "The X Factor" will be what effect having another competition show on in the fall has on the winter-spring run of "American Idol."

Fox has understandably downplayed the idea that one show might cannibalize audience from the other. But the 25% drop in preliminary ratings for "Idol's" return certainly raise the issue. And while Fox can say part of the problem is a proliferation of such shows across the dial, only Fox is responsible for "X Factor," which looks more like "Idol" than any of the others.

Obviously, the producers of "Idol" recognized this threat, which explains the legal wrangling over the program's launch in the U.S.

Of course, even with a significant decline "Idol" remains a juggernaut. But nothing stays airborne forever. And if "X Factor" hastens "Idol's" descent back to the ratings orbit of mere mortals, Fox might wind up regretting the day it agreed to "X Factor" after resisting the temptation to do two editions of "Idol" a season.

As they famously said in "Wall Street," "Greed is good." But it can also have unintended consequences. And while we'll never know exactly what the impact of "X Factor" was on "Idol," by May, there ought to be enough evidence for a pretty good accounting of what Fox gained -- and lost -- in the bargain.

In this job, I feel compelled to try pretty much everything once. So I take no pride in saying that after about 10 minutes, I decided to take a pass on reviewing "Bering Sea Gold," the new Discovery Channel series premiering on Jan. 27.

It's not that the show isn't well done, necessarily, or won't do well in the ratings. In fact, my guess is -- based on how similar programs have fared -- it probably will.

It's just that I can't imagine having anything particularly profound or enlightening to say about it, other than if "Deadliest Catch" had a baby with "Gold Rush Alaska," it would look exactly like this.

"Gold makes the world go 'round. But gold doesn't come easy," a colorful old bird says at the outset.

I hear ya, brother, And sometimes, just sittin' on the couch can be its own kind of trial. In this case, I flunked.

Just because a TV show is produced by the sponsor -- a throwback to the early days of television, albeit one that's becoming increasingly common -- doesn't automatically mean that it has to be dreck.

Call it an unhappy coincidence.

"Bud United Presents: The Big Time" is warm and inoffensive, and less a reality-competition show than an impersonation of one. That's despite the participation of @radical.media and Evan Weinstein, a producer on "The Amazing Race," to shepherd the series.

The idea is to wed social media with the competition format, only in a kind of speed-dating setting. So each week, a trio of contestants vie for a prize -- in the premiere, singing at a major concert showcase -- thinning the not-quite herd until one gets rewarded with his or her moment of glory.

Other challenges include things like racing professional race-car drivers and pitching for a pro baseball team -- not that you really have enough time to get to know, much less care about, the participants. If the weekly goals have one thing in common, my bet is they're all ideal venues for serving up a frosty cold one.

ABC has committed to air the seven episodes on Saturday afternoons beginning Jan. 21, a bit of scheduling that doesn't augur boffo ratings, though that appears to be beyond the point. (In addition to ABC, FremantleMedia is distributing the program across the globe.)

Then again, "The Big Time" does perform a kind of public service for those who think turning sponsors loose as programmers is a grand idea -- proving that you can lead a Clydesdale to water, but you can't make him drink.

If you haven't seen this, it's worth watching if only to see Stephen Colbert riding a giant eagle that takes a huge dump on all the Republican candidates.

All the fun of being high at the office, without the HR problems.

There might have never been a greater swing in quality in a matter of minutes -- from low to high -- than what happened on NBC Monday night.

First, the network aired a hidden-camera show titled "Betty White's Off Their Rockers," a completely inane prank format that featured senior citizens engaged in rapid-fire gags, most of them centered around either sex jokes or riding motorized scooters. White, gamely, provided wraparounds where she ogled hunky young guys.

Somewhere, Mae West was rolling over in her grave.

When that ended, NBC segued to another senior citizen, Ted Koppel, who provided a terrific report on the newsmag "Rock Center" about the influence of money on politics, and the growing use of Super-PACs to funnel money into campaigns.

The highlight of the long-ish report was Koppel's interview with Stephen Colbert, who deftly detailed -- in pretty hilarious fashion -- the bizarre logic that informs the rules surrounding political contributions.

Betty White has become a kind of media mascot, the one old person who it's cool for the entertainment industry to showcase. That said, it's hard to imagine what she hoped to gain -- other than a check -- by lending her name to an exercise as banal as the one NBC aired following her 90-minute tribute. Compared to this, "Hot in Cleveland" looked like "Downton Abbey."

Koppel, meanwhile, continues to demonstrate broadcast news is desperately in need of his brand of reporting and analysis. It's only too bad "Rock Center" -- an uneven show that has struggled to gain any traction -- is where he's plying his trade.

The advertising imperative to reach younger demos has often resulted in seniors being invisible. So on its face, affording White and her companions a showcase might outwardly appear to be progress.

The only blow struck on behalf of older folks, however, was by Koppel. As for "Off Their Rockers," that's a pretty fair description of the thought behind the latest black eye TV has inflicted on the gray-power set.

The Golden Globes are over. Seriously, they just ended a few minutes ago. Or maybe it just felt that way.

Yet after reviewing the show and going out a bit afterward, I have some morning-after observations:

- Nobody should really worry about the Golden Globes as a bellwether for the Oscars. But if people didn't, then they'd have no reason to worry about the Golden Globes at all.

- Trying to determine why the Hollywood Foreign Press Assn. voted for somebody is completely pointless. Unless the winner is European.

- I mentioned this in the review, but in terms of TV, anyway, the group really did seem to go out of its way to pick the least-watched program with the highest-profile star at virtually every turn. Think about that when you're putting together your Globe plans for next season.

- That first bartender really didn't care whether I was able to drive home Sunday or not.

- Percentage-wise, NBC has a better chance of converting Globes viewers into "Smash" samplers than Super Bowl viewers. Unless they feature nudity in their Super Bowl promos.

- Win or lose, HBO still throws the best party.

- Ricky Gervais said at the outset that he was barred from using expletives. Then he used one toward the end of the show. As I Tweeted last night, I wonder if that wasn't a bit of frustration with sensing how lamely the show proceeded after his monologue.

- After walking past Jason Momoa -- co-star of "Game of Thrones" and the recent "Conan the Barbarian" -- I briefly wondered which closet is currently the home of my weights. Then I thought better of it.

- Having all those parties in the same venue is a terrible idea. Anyone up for renting out Spago next year and getting the hell out of the BevHilton?

- I take a small amount of perverse pleasure in knowing Nikki Finke had to sit through that show too.

Two top-notch, under-appreciated cable dramas make their return on Jan. 17, in an unfortunate head-to-head pairing that -- if there's any justice in TV land -- ought to have DVRs working overtime.

TNT's "Southland" effortlessly picks up where it left off, including the fallout from Officer John Cooper (the terrific Michael Cudlitz) finally confronting his addiction to painkillers, and his pairing with a new partner, played by Lucy Liu. While that casting initially sounded like a stunt, the character proves intriguing and believable, thanks to the fine writing and deft mix of action, comedy and drama.

More than anything, the series continues to remind me of the movie "The New Centurions," and author Joseph Wambaugh's humanizing take on those who wear the badge. In that regard, there's also a terrific subplot throwing the idealistic young cop played by Ben McKenzie into conflict with a crusty veteran (Lou Diamond Phillips) whose cavalier attitude is essentially to let the animals kill each other.

"Southland" has been a marginal player ratings-wise, perhaps, but it's the best drama on TNT, and really hasn't received the attention it deserves critically speaking. Perhaps that's because the setting seems far more predictable and familiar than the show really is. In that respect, it's the ultimate triumph of execution over premise.

As for "Justified," the series -- already distinguished by Timothy Olyphant's considerable charisma as the tough, contemporary U.S. marshal in the wilds of Kentucky -- returns with a terrific new assortment of bad guys, filling the void left by last year's Emmy winner Margo Martindale.

The heavies include Neal McDonough, Mykelti Williamson and a guest shot by Pruitt Taylor Vince, and they're all scary badasses in their own way. And even if the end game remains a little sketchy four episodes in, the show has such a rich, textured feel, it's fine to just sit back and let the action unfold -- savoring the individual moments. A perfect example in this batch of episodes is a three-way faceoff that manages to be both tense and extremely funny all at once.

Both series represent a sort of next-evolution of the cop drama, with "Justified" rightly characterized as a kind of modern-day western that highlights the potential viability of that genre (much more so, incidentally, than AMC's "Hell on Wheels," an actual period piece).

Any way you slice it, having these two programs return directly opposite each other is a reminder of how much good stuff there currently is on TV -- and why the broadcast nets, aside from their own development shortcomings, have had trouble establishing toeholds at 10 p.m.

Bill Moyers returns to public television beginning this Friday in a new program, "Moyers & Company," which bears all the hallmarks of his earlier work for PBS.

Except the show actually won't be on PBS, but rather is being offered to stations via American Public Television. (You can find station and scheduling info here.)

Moyers’ show is thoughtful, sober and provocative. He tackles issues in rare and welcome depth, including an interview with two political scientists -- Jacob S. Hacker and Paul Pierson, who authored the book “Winner-Take-All Politics" -- that takes up most of the hour.

What it is not -- and makes absolutely no pretense of being -- is balanced, thus opening up public TV stations, yet again, to charges of liberal bias, and probably explains why PBS isn't involved.

So be it.

There’s no doubt Moyers is a liberal, and it’s pretty clear where his heart –- bleeding, if you happen to disagree with him –- lies. His guests speak of a political system that has produced "a winner-take-all economy," with "astonishing" gains for the richest of the rich.

The Bush tax cuts, says Pierson, were "written like a subprime mortgage," further exacerbating a rift not so much between haves and have-nots as "have-it-alls vs. the rest of Americans."

The last quarter of the show is devoted to the Occupy Wall Street movement, with a clearly sympathetic view toward its politics.

"Inequality matters," Moyers says in his closing comments, promising to pursue the issue further in the next two broadcasts, including an interview with former Reagan economic guru David Stockman.

Public broadcasting is always going to be a ripe target for conservatives, who have sought to slash funding in recent years. Part of that has to do with a longstanding perception it represents a mouthpiece for the left, though there’s also a self-serving element in outlets like Fox News Channel railing against PBS and NPR, which provides the perfect foil (Government spending! Prius-driving wheat-germ eaters!) on multiple levels.

Personally, I'd welcome a dozen more shows of every political stripe -- liberal, conservative, whatever -- if the hosts followed Moyers' template, pressing their case without name-calling, raising their voices or fabricating arguments. Even if you reject every word he says, it’s a valuable articulation of a certain point of view. As Moyers says on his website, "Our aim is dialogue, not diatribe."

In short, it’s nice to have him back.

Journalists at the TV Critics Assn. tour were indignant that CBS didn't originally schedule an executive session with them. Then the network relented, albeit at 8:30 a.m.

Since I won't be there this morning (8:30 in Pasadena? As Cee Lo Green would say ....), I'm happy to provide reporters a pre-cap of what CBS Entertainment Prez Nina Tassler will say.

"Stick to our knitting."

"If it ain't broke don't fix it."

"It's a high-class problem to have."

"No, I don't think we have too many procedurals."

"I don't have the foggiest idea what I would do if I was at NBC."

"I am standing up."

After all, CBS is No. 1 and has practically no new midseason shows. It really is a nice problem to have. But what is there exactly to say?

So there. Now everybody can sleep in.

ABC News Prez Ben Sherwood rejects traditional "hard" and "soft" news labels, and if I was in his shoes addressing a bunch of reporters, I'd probably do the exact same thing.

Speaking at the TV Critics Assn. on Monday, Sherwood bristled (even though he insisted he wasn't) at suggestions ABC and a signature program like "Nightline" -- which used its primetime showcase to air specials about strange occurrences, titled "Beyond Belief" -- had gotten more lifestyle-ish in pursuit of viewers.

According to Sherwood, "Nightline" offers "a healthy mix of the news that people need," citing "The relevance of the news in real people's lives" as his criteria for what qualifies as "news," as opposed to hard vs. soft. After the session, he told me there's a need to "broaden the definition of what a news organization does," referring to ABC News as a provider of "non-fiction content," which does widen the umbrella. Heck, "Celebrity Rehab With Dr. Drew" fits that rough description, though Sherwood talked up the network's rigid standards.

Frankly, I'm not clear how paranormal activity qualifies as "relevant" unless you've been haunted by a ghost, but it's certainly relevant to trying to attract an audience. And perhaps that's what bugs me about his response. Why can't news execs just admit there's an audience for "softer" news, and that purists aren't being realistic about the clicks-and-ratings parameters of today's digital world, which have given even staid old newspapers an incentive to pander in order to chase traffic -- especially among younger demos -- on the web.

Not surprisingly, though, Sherwood touted a number of ABC News coups during the last year -- things like the Arab Spring and Brian Ross' investigative reports -- and shockingly, none of them had to do with Casey Anthony or Beyonce's baby.

I don't fault ABC for going where the eyeballs are. But insisting the network hasn't fluffed up (or down) its content toward that end is hard -- or to hear Sherwood tell it, since there's apparently no distinction, soft -- to swallow.

Scott Pelley, Bob Schieffer and a whole host of venerable CBS correspondents turned up on the debut of the new "CBS This Morning," which certainly didn't reinvent the wheel in terms of morning shows, unless you (literally) count the awkward round-table set.

That left hosts Charlie Rose, Gayle King and Erica Hill to distinguish the program, and in the premiere, anyway, they were competent at best.

Bottom line: If I was over at "Today" and "Good Morning America," I wouldn't exactly be quaking in my boots, especially given the glacial nature of change in daytime (and especially morning) television.

CBS has talked a lot about bringing its strong journalistic credentials to bear on the morning show, and all the taped pieces -- including one recapping a Pelley "60 Minutes" piece and another on the Bowl Championship Series -- were fine. It was the studio banter and chat, which will ultimately define the show for better or worse, where "This Morning" fell sort of flat.

Rose, for example, opened with what should be his signature: An interview with GOP presidential contender Newt Gingrich. But it was all platitudes, very little substance, and very, very short. Rose isn't exactly known for hardball questions, but at least a couple near the strike zone would have helped.

It's also puzzling that all three hosts participated in the interview with a CBS star, Julianna Margulies, which felt like way too many cooks in the kitchen.

Other than that, it was a lot of stuff you could find on any other morning program. A tell-all book about the Obamas. Beyonce's baby. Empty chit-chat with Melissa Etheridge, who had nothing to promote, so she just riffed on headlines with King and Hill. Local weather and traffic slipped in. King trying to be warm and engaging, having established her personal brand as "Oprah without the billions."

As for the closing story -- a sweet little profile of Dick Van Dyke -- there was only one glaring omission: A reference to the age of his bride to be, who is obviously decades younger.

"I feel it's like the first day of school, and I hope we all get good grades," King said as they signed off.

How does a Gentleman's "C" sound?

As a fan of westerns, I was actually pretty excited about the new season of PBS' "American Experience" -- a look at the old west, including two new documentaries: "Billy the Kid" and "Custer's Last Stand" on Jan. 10 and 17, respectively.

The results, however, are mixed. At nearly two hours, the Custer special -- directed by Stephen Ives -- is a little bloated; and the one-hour "Billy the Kid," from director John Maggio, contains some intriguing tidbits but didn't really hold my interest.

That was a surprise, given how many movies I've seen featuring both characters, and especially the disparate takes on Gen. George Armstrong Custer, who has been depicted as everything from an inspirational hero (see "They Died With Their Boots On") to (in "Little Big Man") a complete loon.

Perhaps the most intriguing element -- even more so than all the talk about military strategy -- involves how Custer's wife, who adored him, "almost single-handedly turned the Battle of the Little Bighorn into one of the most iconic events in American history and mythologized Custer's role -- turning it into a tale of heroic sacrifice with only the most noble of motives," as the release puts it.

Even so, it's a bit of a slog to get to that postscript near the doc's end.

Given the shortage of top-notch history on TV -- especially with the History channel pawning its credibility and doing less and less to merit its name -- there's no pleasure in voting thumbs down on "American Experience." But this is one of those situations where my advice would be to skip the documentary, and go re-watch one of the movies. Boots optional.

Given where they stand politically, my guess is Keith Olbermann and Glenn Beck would both hate being compared to each other, but the parallels are hard to ignore: Guys with big egos and loyal followings who shrunk their platforms -- and thus the reach of their voices -- by being unable to get along with the cable news network that employed them.

Still, following Olbermann's present dispute with his new home, Current TV, just from a distance, it's hard not to see the host -- his reputation for being difficult notwithstanding -- as being on the right side, as it were, in this instance.

Simply put, Current was nowhere when it hired Olbermann and asked him, in essence, to put the channel on the map. And even if the ratings have lagged well behind what he used to deliver on MSNBC, he's done that, making the otherwise cut-rate-looking network at least part of the conversation.

The tradeoff, clearly, was giving Olbermann control. After his difficulties at MSNBC, he was giving up the resources of NBC News in exchange for a place where he would be allowed to call the shots. That was pretty obvious from what he said at the time, and given where Current was, not an unreasonable position as long as it was delineated going into the deal.

He's also right, watching "Countdown With Keith Olbermann," that the channel hasn't fulfilled its part of the bargain by building a news operation around him. There are frequently technical glitches and snafus that perhaps ought to have been expected but nevertheless must be frustrating and embarrassing, both to Olbermann and his guests.

Admittedly, Olbermann can be his own worst enemy, and I'd extend that to the way he's handled this situation, including his Twitter war with the New York Times' Brian Stelter: To accuse Stelter of "threatening" him to do an interview sounds overblown. If Stelter had information and Olbermann disputed it, he didn't have the credibility to do that without going on the record. That said, when a source tells a reporter something is inaccurate, you had better have the facts pretty well nailed if you're going to ignore their denials and proceed with publishing it.

Still, if Olbermann can't address what's happening for legal reasons, then he should clam up about it -- including Twitter -- until he or his representatives can. Since his contract prevents him from talking, there's little to be gained in tap-dancing around the issue.

But that doesn't mean he isn't right, from what I've seen, in his reported beefs with Current.

James Carville kept saying, over and over again on CNN, that Iowa doesn't matter, that Ron Paul will not be the Republican nominee, and Mitt Romney will be, even if a lot of GOP primary voters don't like him.

I think he's probably right. So why did we -- and especially the cable-news networks -- spend hours and hours on this again, other than for the sheer sport of it?

For the past hour I've been flipping among Fox News Channel, CNN and MSNBC, and I feel confident in saying it really doesn't mean a damn thing which way a "very close race" in Iowa -- separated by something like 18 votes -- ultimately goes, in terms of the bigger picture. For starters, it's pretty clear anybody who "wins" will do so with only about a quarter of the vote, and that's just in the GOP column.

Mostly, the whole evening gave networks a chance to do a dress rehearsal for future coverage. All the silly technology -- with the even sillier Erin Burnett manning it -- on CNN. The "kids" sitting around kibbitzing after midnight Eastern time on MSNBC. William Kristol showing off how pompous he can sound on Fox News.

In the time I've been writing this, the margin has shrunk to four votes. Frankly, the BCS polls are better managed than this.

In fact, if Iowa is any indication, I predict Romney will play LSU for the Republican nomination, and/or national championship. And Alabama and Rick Santorum will be shit out of luck.

UPDATE, 11:33 p.m. PT: As Howard Cosell would say, "It's over! Down goes Santorum! Down goes Santorum! By a mere margin of eight votes!"

For God's sake, someone send Wolf Blitzer to bed.

Carville: "Folks, this has been one weird race so far. ... Two bad football teams playing can be a pretty good game."

And you ain't seen nothing yet.

Sometimes, I can't help but feel a little bit sorry for Alan Colmes. I mean, what's it like to be the house punching bag on Fox News?

First, Colmes spent years partnered with Sean Hannity, who dominated the show and defined the discussion. Then they dropped him -- and just went with "Hannity" -- without missing a beat.

Now, as a Fox contributor, he turns up on the channel whenever they need a token liberal to plug into the conversation. But he's usually outnumbered and sometimes outmatched, which probably explains why he went a little overboard in his personal criticism of GOP candidate Rick Santorum, and wound up having to subsequently apologize.

Obviously, TV helps promote Colmes' radio show, but it's hard to envision much of the Fox News audience gravitating to his program, isn't it? On a strict cost-benefit analysis, it's hard to imagine the pay off is worth the cost of driving to the studio.

So I have to ask: Is all the abuse really worth it just to keep your face (occasionally) on cable TV, or is Alan Colmes' middle name "pinata?"

Let's give the New York Times the benefit of the doubt. Holiday weekend, slow news day, whatever.

But in addition to a profile of TLC's head of publicity -- an occupation that should generally be heard but not pushed into the spotlight -- the paper's media section featured a questionable piece on PBS trying to compete with premium channels, tethered to the upcoming second-season premiere of the scintillating period melodrama "Downton Abbey."

This is, in fact, a classic case of misreading something after the fact, then allowing execs to conflate an unexpected windfall into a "strategy."

PBS and "Masterpiece" didn't set out to justify public broadcasting's existence by ordering "Downton Abbey." They simply happened to stumble onto a terrific, compelling program (or programme, if you prefer) that connected with viewers. Now, they are doing what they should do -- trying to capitalize on its success by reminding people public television carries certain fare that doesn't often flourish in the commercial space.

In other words, PBS is like pretty much everyone else in TV: A surprise success dictates strategy, not the other way around. Still, let's not get carried away: The prospect of public television replicating that success and delivering another showcase with this kind of impact is a complete crapshoot.

“That wasn’t just chance, but an effort to reach a wider audience and really think about how we can make the case to them to continue their support,” PBS Prez-CEO Paula Kerger told the Times. Ah, I see: Now you're really trying.

Look, feel free to bask in "Downton Abbey's" glow. But that's a lot closer to spin -- the kind you get from publicists, and that reporters ought to be skeptical about -- than truth.