Not to say I told you so (seriously, what kind of jerk would do that?), but I'm wondering if the New York Times has any regrets about rather prematurely stating "The X Factor" -- despite falling short of expectations -- was "a clear success."

As I stated in response to that piece, way back in December, the question of how well "X Factor" did was only half the story:

For years, Fox resisted airing "American Idol" twice a year, as ABC does with "Dancing With the Stars" and CBS does with "Survivor," because it didn't want to gamble on diluting TV's highest-rated program. So the big risk in "X Factor" wasn't just how well Simon Cowell's answer to "Idol" would do, but how much -- or whether -- the new show would cannibalize audience from his old one.

Certainly, other networks have drawn that conclusion, with NBC Entertainment Chief Bob Greenblatt justifying two editions of "The Voice" next season by noting "X Factor" was really just an "Idol" surrogate.

While there's no exact formula and other factors, like the glut of singing competitions, including "The Voice," no doubt played a part, it does seem Fox sacrificed on one end to achieve somewhat disappointing gains on the other.

This isn't intended to pick on the Times. Daily journalism -- and indeed punditry -- require drawing conclusions, and only later examining how well they turn out. (If we choose to acknowledge our failings at all.)

This is one case, however, where the questions were foreseeable but kind of got in the way of a good story. And don't we all hate it when that happens?

Animal Planet's "Mermaids: The Body Found" is complete BS, a full helping of salty poppycock dressed up as science. And I actually mean that in the most complimentary way.

Using CGI and reenactments, the two-hour production -- premiering May 27, capping off a themed "Monster Week," complete with beasts like "Finding Bigfoot" -- goes overboard trying to peddle an "aquatic ape" theory, suggesting an offshoot of early primates moved into the ocean and became something pretty close to mermaids. Except kind of scary, not the kind Disney turns into movies and theme park rides.

Convincing? Not in the slightest, especially the conspiracy theory about the secretive Navy cover-up.

Nevertheless, as constructed by production company Darlow Smithson it's so artfully done in terms of conventions of the genre -- and appears to take itself so seriously, down to the so-called "experts" and anonymous interview with a shrouded Deep-Sea Throat  -- it's hard not to be entertained.

In that regard, give Animal Planet credit for creatively expanding a brand that, inevitably, can't be puppies and horses all the time. (By that measure, it's a whole lot less objectionable than what History has done.)

Granted, I wince at the idea anybody might be taken in by this silliness, missing the disclaimer in the press release about this being "science fiction based on some real events and scientific theory." Further blurring the line between nonfiction and drama is always troubling, if increasingly commonplace.

But the charade only works if it seems remotely plausible, and while I sat down with zero expectations, I couldn't help watching the whole thing, and grudgingly admiring it.

Can't wait for the channel's next special on unicorns. Or maybe flying monkeys.

TV can be a cruel master.

In a perfect world, "Glee" would be over. We've followed these characters through high school. They won nationals (finally) last week, and spent Tuesday night dealing with graduation and contemplating what they'll do next.

OK, so there were plenty of clunky moments along the way. The emotion in these last few hours was nevertheless heartfelt, and brought the series to a kind of logical conclusion from its unlikely beginnings, when there were plenty of naysayers (yours truly among them) about this kind of enterprise succeeding.

But of course, that can't happen. The show's still a success (if a bit less of one) for Fox. And in terms of exiting on one's own terms, "Lost" remains far more the exception than the rule. Network series normally don't plan their demise to leave the stage artfully. Hits are so elusive networks and studios grab all the cash they can for as long as possible, and sort out the rest when the numbers no longer add up.

The final sequence on the season finale (spoiler alert if you haven't watched yet) dealt with the Rachel Berry character, played by Lea Michele, saying goodbye to her small town, unleashing those golden pipes and taking off for New York to pursue her dreams. (As an aside, "Smash" also should have ended with its season finale, which didn't completely redeem the show, but did at least provide an element of closure.)

"Glee" still has plenty of characters and will obviously take steps to continue its existing storylines and reload new ones.

Still, I have a sinking suspicion whatever comes next, when we look back at it people will say "Gee, 'Glee' would have been so much better if it had ended in May 2012."

In TV, the need to keep plodding ahead is where dreams have a way of running afoul of reality.

Investigation Discovery has stumbled onto a pretty savvy formula for helping its audience -- most of whom clearly learn pretty much everything they know from TV and movies, just like the rest of us -- process its shows: Explicityly or subconsciously connect its new series to popular movies.

First there was "Dark Minds," which had a "Silence of the Lambs" like hook to it; and "Deadly Sins," which brought to mind "Seven."

Now there's even a more overt connection with "Reel Crime/Real Story," a series (OK, a mere three-part one to start, beginning May 29) that takes popular movies and provides the actual fact-based material behind them.

The effort begins with an episode devoted to the 2003 movie "Monster," and serial killer Aileen Wuornos. Subsequent hours will focus on the underpinnings to "Selena" and "To Die For." On top of that, it's hosted by Erin Brockovich (pictured), whose life became the basis for the movie, um, damn, what was the title of that....

The episodes themselves (to be fair, I watched about one and a half just to get the flavor) are traditional true-crime stuff, so it's all about the packaging, which cleverly leverages these other properties. And given the number of sensational crimes that have been turned into movies, in success, one can see this concept running for a very long time.

If nothing else, it puts a new wrinkle on an old theme: Hey, don't bother reading the book before seeing the movie. Just watch the TV show version of it after the fact.

CBS drew an estimated 12.7 million viewers Sunday with its latest Jesse Stone movie, starring Tom Selleck, which on its face ought to be cause for cartwheels.

Drill a little deeper, though, and the movie's geriatric skew -- with adults over 50 accounting for the vast majority of its audience -- underscores the problem the major networks are wrestling with as their profiles keep getting older.

This was put into rather stark relief over the weekend, when a number of Los Angeles Times readers expressed their dismay over the cancellation of "Harry's Law," the NBC drama starring Kathy Bates. This makes sense, since about the only cohort approximating the age of "Harry's" viewers would be those who still read the print edition of the Los Angeles Times.

As my colleague Rick Kissell points out, "Jesse Stone: Benefit of the Doubt" drew a 1.2 rating among adults 18-49, and an 11.4 rating among those 50 and older. In other words, if you called mom on Sunday night, there was a pretty good chance she said, "I can't talk right now! I'm watching that nice young Tom Selleck!"

Yet because 18-49 and 25-54 are TV's currency of the realm, very little of that additional audience goes toward CBS' bottom line -- the same drawback that made NBC not-so-wild about Harry, even though the legal series qualified as its most-watched drama.

Networks are still grappling with issues surrounding DVR viewing, trying to get more credit for delayed replays of their shows. Frankly, though, nothing would be more helpful to a bunch of channels with a median age around 50 than convincing media buyers there was some value to be unlocked among those old enough to receive AARP magazine.

For now, though, the audience that tuned in to "Jesse Stone" might have watched with the sound cranked up really loud, but in media terms, they simply don't make much noise.

On the plus side, the five new dramas the CW unveiled at Thursday's upfront presentation all looked pretty good.

On the down side, if the netlet can't get some traction this season -- in what CW Prez Mark Pedowitz called "a transformative year" -- one has to wonder whether an army of vampires, superheroes and beasts will be able to save it.

Although the network has juggled its lineup, CW has again created little islands every night, where the two hours paired appear to fit well together. That includes the superhero character Green Arrow (reduced to "Arrow" in the show) preceding "Supernatural" on Wednesdays, a reboot of "Beauty and the Beast" following "The Vampire Diaries" and a new medical hour featuring Mamie Gummer (Meryl Streep's daughter), "Emily Owen M.D.," to follow "Hart of Dixie." Watching the clip, I kept thinking to myself "Ally McDoctor."

(A side note here: While I bow to no one in my admiration for "Beast's" Kristin Kreuk, she might be less convincing as a tough New York City cop than Rachel Bilson is as a doctor, which is really saying something.)

The macabre "Cult" and "Sex and the City" prequel "The Carrie Diaries" are slated for midseason, and again, they looked promising (particularly the former) and on-brand, although the connection between "Carrie" and its ostensible inspiration looked tenuous at best. Even the notion of moving "America's Next Top Model" to Fridays and freeing up some midweek real-estate for newer fare was probably overdue.

For all that, CW just doesn't seem to be making much noise, despite its claims to being the first "fully converged network," and that its streaming video deals with Hulu and Netflix are "a game-changer for us."

Actually, it looks like the fourth quarter for the CW. And unless one or two of these new series get hot and start racking up some points, it's going to be increasingly difficult giving the channel a spot in the starting lineup.

Grade: B

Clearly reveling in its stability, CBS will introduce just four new programs in the fall, and didn't even bother talking about midseason during its upfront presentation. And while the newcomers don't all look great, it's not hard to envision scenarios with all of them working.

As CBS Entertainment Prez Nina Tassler noted, that's because the network's existing hits allow it to selectively launch new programs behind established series, "a luxury the other guys simply don't have." Moreover, CBS possesses the kind of scheduling flow (one of the byproducts of its older audience skew) to gamble on making "2 Broke Girls" the centerpiece of its Monday lineup, moving "Two and a Half Men" to shore up the weak link in its Thursday block, where "The Big Bang Theory" has been a comedy island paired with "Shit My Network Orders." (RIP, "Rob.")

As reconstructed, CBS might lose a little steam on Monday but should be significantly stronger on Thursdays -- and make NBC, which once owned the night where reaching young adults is especially valuable because of movie ads, increasingly irrelevant. Moreover, all three new dramas exhibited considerable promise, with "Vegas" -- a period piece starring Dennis Quaid and Michael Chiklis -- potentially offering CBS the rare critical acclaim it's enjoyed with "The Good Wife," while tapping into the modern-day-western flavor of FX's "Justified."

Similarly, "Made in Jersey" feels like a clever mash-up of the central characters in "My Cousin Vinny" that's highly compatible with "Blue Bloods;" and "Elementary" -- a modern reworking of Sherlock Holmes -- is really just another version of "The Mentalist," the show it's replacing on Thursday, which should do just fine on Sunday nights.

If there was a flat note in the presentation, it appeared to be the sitcom "Partners," but even that looks like a reasonable fit with the Monday comedies, since "2 Broke Girls" still hasn't risen qualitatively to match the appeal of its two leads.

Mostly, CBS benefits from the chaotic moves being engineered by the other broadcast networks -- with the added bonus the Eye network gets next year's Super Bowl, along with the Grammys, to trumpet whatever midseason moves are necessary.

CBS CEO Leslie Moonves also sounded a welcome "We know where our bread's buttered" note in regard to new media, saying in a multi-screen environment, "the first screen" -- meaning television -- "must come first, and there's no second screen without it."

Oh, and as Columbo (most CBS viewers remember him) would say, one more thing: That opening number, mixing LL Cool J rapping with an opera singer? Totally hot.

Preliminary grade (subject to revision): A-

The Turner networks hit some technical glitches when they put on their big-boy pants and joined the major networks in last year's upfront week, which provided the basis for most of their opening shtick.

Once they got past the gags, though, the brass unveiled a pretty well-thought-out, orchestrated strategy for TNT and TBS, building out on their established profiles with new scripted series, an extremely logical relationship with "Funny or Die" and several reality shows that look pretty promising and, forgive the corporate-speak, on brand.

Admittedly, TNT has pursued a meat-and-potatoes approach, based on the theory dramas needn't be too demanding, which has worked pretty well for CBS. Still, the network has deftly expanded its profile with a genuine prestige acquisition in "Southland," expansion into sci-fi action with "Falling Skies" and the upcoming "Dallas" reboot, a show I've seen (a full review's to come in June) and which could be a real breakout show for the network this summer.

The network spoke of addressing "popcorn mindsets," which gives a pretty clear template for its aspirations. And TBS in particular has been lucky in the significant boost the channel has received from the popularity of "The Big Bang Theory" reruns, which ought to boost its efforts to launch new half-hours. (Acquiring "Cougar Town," another big-network castaway, is also a savvy move, given the channel's more modest expectations.)

Conan O'Brien even made an appearance, a nice reminder he's still one of the few guys capable of fronting a latenight show, even playing on a smaller stage. (By the way, even though his light-hearted jab at New York Times reporter Bill Carter fell flat, I can think of a lot of journalists who cover television who no doubt quite enjoyed it.)

People like to say TV isn't brain surgery. The Turner networks made that quite clear, but -- in a week where the major nets have thus far underwhelmed -- they also looked like channels that know how to operate on their niches.

Preliminary grade (subject to revision): B

Once upon a time, ABC was really desperate and lost. Then "Desperate Housewives" and "Lost" came along, and helped set the network on a road to recovery.

In TV, though, happy endings don't last forever, so Tuesday's upfront presentation needed to provide a glimpse of ABC's post-"Desperate" future, and the network probably made the shrewdest scheduling move of the fall by giving that key 9 p.m. Sunday slot to its rookie drama "Revenge."

The block of "Once Upon a Time" (a show whose weak season finale doesn't bode well for a long run), "Revenge" and the new macabre drama "666 Park Avenue" (pictured) -- which features "Lost" alum Terry O'Quinn as well as recent "housewife" Vanessa Williams -- seems poised to keep the lights on Sundays, at least in the short term. Moreover, "The Last Resort" -- about a wayward nuclear submarine captained by Andre Braugher -- looks as intriguing as anything I've seen so far this development season. Plus I really like the casting on "Nashville" (OK, I'm a sucker for Connie Britton), a soap that will replace "Revenge" Wednesdays.

There's the good news.

On the flip side, the network's new sitcoms -- and indeed, its overall half-hour strategy, which includes moving the unproven "Happy Endings" and "The B---- In Apartment No. 23" to Tuesdays -- appear highly questionable. In fact, as I watched the cut-down for "The Neighbors," an aliens-living-among-us concept that earned the plum time period after "Modern Family," all I could think was "'Cavemen' lives!" They should promote it as "From the network that brought you 'Work It' ... for a few weeks, anyway."

So ABC looks like a network with a touch of schizophrenia -- boasting slick dramas (even the lousy "Scandal" looks good), but in terms of comedy, a place where the sophistication and wit of "Modern Family," which ought to provide a signpost, has birthed a highly uneven batch of series.

ABC does get style points for a fast-moving presentation, and while Jimmy Kimmel wasn't at his best, the network still deserves some credit for allowing him, as always, to crap on ABC as well as its competitors. It's just that any of his jokes that worked only made the ABC sitcom previews look that much paler by comparison.

Preliminary grade (subject to revision): B-

So how was Howard Stern?

That was the only question anyone really cared about regarding the return of “America’s Got Talent,” with NBC having already braved sponsor pressure by the Parents Television Council over its decision to tap the radio personality as a judge.

Answer: Pretty darn good, if not enough to make a square concept much edgier.

To his credit, Stern both pretty well took over the show and blended in. Sure, he made the customary references to anatomy (referring to his own "small package"), but he’s smart enough to know the room – and be less shocking than simply bluntly outspoken. When a bad act mentioned his parents were dead, for example, Stern wryly shot back, "They died of embarrassment?"

For Stern, the decision to join "Talent" – having been a fan of the show’s silliness –- was nevertheless a shrewd move. In terms of cultural influence, the towering jock became a much punier commodity –- albeit an even more fabulously rich one – with his move from terrestrial to satellite radio, sacrificing a big chunk of his audience.

Being on a primetime TV show will inevitably remind a lot of those ex-listeners what they liked about Stern beyond the obvious and the crass – how quick and funny he can be, especially when interacting with people who seem slightly off.

Indeed, Stern quickly became a kind of ringmaster, presiding over the nuttiness in much the way he directs his morning zoo. And lo and behold, both the show and the public somehow survived his toxic presence. Heck, even Snapple was comfortable having an obnoxious sponsored "celebrity chat" segment smack dab in the middle of the program. (How Sharon Osbourne and Howie Mandel will feel about being so conspicuously eclipsed could be another matter, but for NBC -- if Stern spurs interest from unexpected quarters -- that will be a nice problem to have.)

"America's Got Talent" will always be a lightweight summer oddity -- in the year of "Hunger Games" and "The Avengers," there was even a dude with a crossbow -- and Stern will always antagonize much of the population while commanding insane loyalty from a concentrated fan base.

Still, like a lot of comedy talent, he can tailor his material to a specific venue and be back on the radio ogling women and discussing bodily functions without detracting from this gig, or vice versa. The bottom line -- and after all, that's what this is about -- is both parties have been helped by Stern's addition to the series.

In this case, I guess you can say good things come in small packages.

After sitting through Fox's upfront presentation on Monday afternoon, I might owe an apology to NBC.

Let's set aside the shows for a second and discuss style points, and enough bad choices to fill a week of "Dr. Phil" episodes.

Fox built its entire day around "American Idol," having Ryan Seacrest awkwardly "host" the festivities, at a time when the talent competition's ratings are on the wane and Seacrest fatigue might be near its apex. The scripted bits, meanwhile, were simply deadly, including an exchange between "New Girl's" Zooey Deschanel and Mindy Kaling, the star of own new sitcom, that made both look merely dorky, minus the "a----able" part. (Of course, they seemed positively endearing compared to "The X Factor" judges, who other than Simon Cowell appeared determined to let short skirts do the talking for them.)

As for strategy and shows, Fox spent most of its time pushing a Tuesday comedy block of questionable strength, what with "Raising Hope" opening the night and "New Girl" -- a funny show whose ratings have tailed off as it got better -- anchoring it. In addition, two of the three new sitcoms the network previewed appeared to be near laugh-free zones based on the cut-downs, with some modest hope for "Ben and Kate."

Like NBC, Fox is also relocating a freshman show, "Touch," to Friday, where the likelihood of the series finding traction seems minimal at best. And while spooky crime drama "The Following" shows signs of promise as an addition to Monday night in midseason -- while Kevin Bacon stars, I especially like the casting of James Purefoy as a serial killer -- to imply the timeslot was available because Fox has such high standards, as entertainment chief Kevin Reilly did, ignores what a huge disappointment "Terra Nova" turned out to be. (Let's hope Politifact doesn't decide to start vetting upfront claims.)

Indeed, last year's Fox upfront tended to cast a bit of a shadow over this one, given all the high hopes surrounding "New Girl," "X Factor" and "Terra Nova." Yes, the first two return, but Fox's early proclamations of victory (and the press' enthusiasm for the scripted pilots) proved premature in hindsight, and the singing competition just might have cut the legs out from under "Idol," contributing to its decline. Whoops.

Fox does have some upside with the move of "Glee" to Thursday nights, but unless you're really jazzed about that show at this stage -- or all the sports and Ultimate Fighting the network has planned for Saturday night -- there wasn't much "Wow" factor in its upfront, much less an "X" factor.

Actually, I mostly came away with a big "Why" factor.

Preliminary grade (subject to revision): C-

Sadly, no one would take my bet that Megan Hilty and Katharine McPhee would sing at NBC's upfront presentation on Monday, which was about as sure a thing as one could imagine going into this week-long carnival, other than perhaps that CBS would say "No. 1" a lot.

Still, the "Smash" stars were left on the bench till midseason, while NBC Entertainment Chairman Robert Greenblatt did all he could to tout momentum -- that most elusive of qualities, especially at NBC in recent years -- on the strength of one show, "The Voice." (Even Greenblatt acknowledged, to his credit, airing the Super Bowl had a lot to do with narrowing the network's fourth-place gap.)

Having discarded initial concerns about strangling its golden goose, NBC will offer three hours of "The Voice" in the fall, which creates the prospect of a stronger lead-in for new shows on Monday and Tuesday nights. That said, NBC's decision to leave Thursday unchanged -- other than sliding the low-rated newsmag "Rock Center" into the 10 p.m. hour -- feels like an act of capitulation of the highest order, especiall with "The Office" having withered as its 9 p.m. anchor.

Greenblatt spoke of a "cohesive schedule with flow," but other than CBS, that concept has become difficult for broadcasters to achieve in this day and age. And while some of the new shows appeared promising -- among them "Revolution," which looks like the bastard child of "Jericho" and "FlashForward;" and the midseason hour "Do No Harm," a Jekyll & Hide medical show -- the network didn't do much to emphasize the benefits of its Comcast/NBC Universal parentage, which might be the best overall asset in its corner.

NBC will again have the Olympics this summer as a promotional platform, though as we've seen in the past ("Father of the Pride" and "Hawaii," anyone?), that's hardly a sure-fire way of launching programs. Moreover, the network's emphasis on new comedies makes the dearth of established, compatible lead-ins more of a problem, since few half-hour concepts are so marketable as to take off without a push, though clearly broad ideas like "Animal Practice" and "Guys With Kids" seem determined to give it a try.

Based on Monday's presentation, NBC doesn't look like it has done itself any serious harm. But I'm not clear that the new lineup -- when you balance the gains, mostly from "The Voice," with the deficiencies -- will do the Peacock a whole lot of good, either.

Preliminary grade (subject to revision after seeing the other presentations, since these things have to be evaluated on a curve): C+

Spoiler alert: If you still want to watch the "Desperate Housewives" finale and have it on your DVR, read no further.

Well, at least the ladies of Wisteria Lane weren't in purgatory. But for the last season or two their viewers were, and therein lay the challenge in wrapping up the series in some sort of meaningful way.

Before his cameo as a moving man (nice touch, that), series creator Marc Cherry and his team had to deal with a lot of unwieldy baggage from the ho-hum final season, including Bree's murder trial, Renee's wedding and the birth of Susan's granddaughter.

Alas, the twist to exonerate Bree was telegraphed so far in advance as to be sweet, but utterly unsurprising. And the drawn out, on-again/off-again romance between Lynette and Tom was just teeth-gnashingly awful, as well as poorly developed through the swan-song season, making both characters beyond irritating.

So if you were among the millions who once dutifully watched the show -- which drew a huge audience at its apex -- and drifted back just to see where things wound up, I suspect the first 90 minutes felt like a lot of preliminaries before the main event. "Lost" had the luxury of setting an end date, and even they couldn't pull it off. What chance did "Desperate Housewives" have when it slogged on, like a good soldier, well past its prime?

Mostly, the mix of elements in the finale kept making me think "Oh, a wedding, a birth and a death -- the whole 'Circle of Life' deal. ABC should pay a royalty to Disney. Oh, wait...."

For all that, it was hard not to admire the logistics -- and even the sentiment -- that brought together everyone who had died on the show, although even I had to strain to remember who some of them were, and I do this for a living and saw every episode.

The one other semi-peculiar aspect of the finale -- other than Bree's slightly perplexing move into Kentucky politics -- was the notion almost everyone ends up not just moving away, but apparently, rich.

Then again, at its peak "Desperate Housewives'" was certainly a money-making machine for the network and everyone involved, which might be its most enduring legacy -- especially given what a pivotal role it played in jump-starting ABC's fortunes.

So goodbye to the old neighborhood, even if it's been clear for awhile property values ain't quite what they used to be.

As a cub reporter, I had a chance to interview Dan Curtis, who was busy finishing the massive miniseries "War and Remembrance," a sequel to "Winds of War" whose cost had reportedly ballooned to more than $100 million. That represented a hell of an investment for a miniseries in 1988, even one that ran 32 hours.

Although the focus of our conversation was on "War," I felt kind of compelled to ask Curtis about another of his best-known projects, "Dark Shadows." Curtis sighed, and muttered something about how he dreaded the prospect that when he died, the obituary would begin "Dan Curtis, creator of 'Dark Shadows' ..."

So I was a little surprised, three years later, when NBC introduced a new version of "Dark Shadows" from Curtis, starring Ben Cross. The show has been playing as a marathon on Chiller all weekend, to cash in on the movie release.

Curtis died in 2006, and indeed, many of the obituaries led with "Dark Shadows," or at the very least prominently mentioned it.

Curtis certainly had a distinguished resume, but his relationship with "Dark Shadows" always fascinated me. After all, if he dreaded being associated with the show -- or perhaps more narrowly, the risk of having it obscure his other accomplishments -- why take part in revisiting it?

If Curtis was conflicted about the series, though, he's hardly the only talent to be associated with a hit -- cult or otherwise -- to feel uncomfortably tethered to it.

The lesson, I think, is that in the course of a long career, we don't always get to be the judge of what winds up casting the longest shadow.

That said, I hope I'm not remembered for this blog post.

As the networks hunker down to finalize their primetime schedules for the fall, I'd like to offer a few free words of advice.

From Brandon Tartikoff.

Almost exactly 15 years ago, and only a few months before his death in 1997, Tartikoff responded to an interview I'd conducted with a handful of TV producers in the Los Angeles Times by writing a sort of primer for the paper on TV development. I like revisiting the points from time to time, especially his line about how "Not many folks come home from work muttering to themselves, 'I wish somebody would put on a good fire station comedy.'"

A lot has changed in the intervening span, but much of what Tartikoff says still has relevance.

So without further ado, here's Brandon:

Other than the courtroom drama surrounding Nicollette Sheridan's lawsuit against series creator Marc Cherry, the final season of "Desperate Housewives" has been sort of a slog, including its own (yawn) trial over the killing of Gabrielle's stepfather.

Before the series breathes its last with this Sunday's two-hour send-off, though, it's worth saluting -- and remembering just how nowhere ABC was when it improbably introduced two huge hits, "Housewives" and "Lost," in 2004.

What I really remember about that first season of "Desperate Housewives" -- beyond Eva Longoria mowing the lawn to cover up her infidelity with the gardener, and Marcia Cross' never-to-be-forgotten delivery of the dinner-party line "Rex cries after he ejaculates" -- is how much story the show chewed up. Even at the time, it seemed extraordinarily bold to so quickly exhaust stories and pursue new ones, given how soap operas, even in primetime, had a history of doing a lot of running in place.

"Housewives" also helped significantly blur the line between comedy and drama by being entered in the former category for the primetime Emmys -- a move designed more to maximize its chances of winning, clearly, than reflecting where it rightfully belonged. Of course, since then we've had "Glee" do the same and a lot of half-hour cable shows that seem better suited to drama than comedy, so turnabout is apparently fair play.

While "Lost" clearly had a more potent and creatively influential cultural impact, "Housewives" was the more formidable player in turning around ABC, which followed its fall coup with the spring introduction of "Grey's Anatomy." Seldom has a network that appeared to be so deeply in the toilet pulled itself out quite as quickly.

Rereading my initial review, I was amused by this passage: Unlike most of this fall's promising newcomers, the residents of Wisteria Lane have all kinds of fertile avenues to explore in future episodes. The one cautionary flag is preventing the soapy elements from bubbling over the top, as they threaten to do on only a few occasions in the premiere.

In hindsight, the show bubbled over the top pretty frequently (tornado, anyone? Or the guy kept hidden in the basement?), and "Housewives" still kept going and going, Energizer Bunny-style. All that's really left, in fact, are the bubbles that can be used to toast what it accomplished -- in a cup that, for most of the principals, has clearly runneth over.

My colleague Josh Dickey has a good story today on the challenges posed in assembling the sequel to "The Avengers."

As a recovering comic-book geek, some free advice to Disney and Marvel.

Although the temptation will be to bring together as many elements from the original as possible -- after all, why tamper with success? -- the key to what Marvel has accomplished in its extremely ambitious gambit has been to create an interlocking universe of super-powered personalities, as I noted in a recent column.

So "The Avengers" offers a prime platform to introduce second-tier characters from the Marvel portfolio, using the comforting confines of the movie to expose them to viewers and potentially make them viable as stand-alone entities.

Of course, the comic books themselves provide a template for this, with a dizzying assortment of Marvel characters who have borne the title "Avenger" through the years. And since Marvel frittered away rights to many of its top-tier stars (Spider-Man, X-Men, Fantastic Four) in the past, that makes the opportunity created by something like "The Avengers" even more tantalizing as a way to test the viability of lesser-known heroes.

Put simply, I'm not sure the plans to forge ahead with developing Ant-Man or the Inhumans on their own makes as much sense as piloting them, as it were, through other existing channels, whether that's other planned sequels or animated and/or live-action fare on Disney-owned outlets Disney XD and ABC. As an ever-changing team of heroes, Avengers lends itself to such experimentation more to that than most.

Moreover, this approach might help avoid missteps, or characters a little too out-there to connect with a mainstream audience. Indeed, it's hard to think about an Ant-Man movie without flashing back to a classic "Saturday Night Live" sketch, where the Hulk (played by John Belushi) and Flash (Dan Aykroyd) ridicule Ant-Man (Garrett Morris) for having "the strength of a human."

While I'm sure none of this will come as news to Marvel -- where the minions are doubtless wading through the ranks of everyone from A to Z, just as comic-book fans are already speculating about everyone from Ant-Man to Vision and the Wasp -- one suspects a lot of folks at Disney, eager for another sure-fire smash, won't want to mess with a proven winner.

Still, it's possible to be smart while still being greedy. Marvel and Disney's next steps in developing a second "Avengers" will give a pretty good indication of where they stand on both fronts.

While I appreciate Sacha Baron Cohen's marketing savvy, the willingness of news organizations to happily cooperate -- and interview him in character as he promotes his new movie "The Dictator" -- is one more reason I can't watch "morning news" very often, or even label it as such with a straight face.

Cohen's tour included a stop on "The Daily Show" on Monday, and even that's pushing things. But to see Matt Lauer playing along and directing probing questions at Adm. Gen. Aladeen is just too giddy to tolerate. (That said, I did enjoy Cohen's joke about Lauer fighting off a coup by Ryan Seacrest and having him executed.)

Admittedly, the standards of morning news have never been particularly tough, and one of the reasons Lauer gets paid the (very) big bucks is his ability to segue from serious to silly in the blink of an eye.

Still, there's silly, and then there's ridiculous. And the newsmen who engage in these stunts tend to look less like good sports than corporate tools. (As an aside, there's only one person I'd really like to see interview Cohen in this fashion, and that's Stephen Colbert, since both possess an uncanny knack for improvising within a character.)

Fortunately, "The Dictator" tour will soon be over, and with any luck, the only thing that actually catches a bullet will be "Today's" credibility.

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Nobody around the office will take my bet that Katharine McPhee -- and probably "Smash" co-star Megan Hilty -- will sing at the NBC upfront presentation next week, which happens to coincide with the show's season finale.

Nor should they. When you have a couple of key assets on an otherwise under-valued property, you'd be foolish not to leverage them.

Still, having now seen the last two installments airing May 7 and 14, I have less desire to pile on the "Smash" bashing than lament where the musical serial went wrong, and gaze into its not-very-hard-to-predict future.

NBC renewed the show, despite the departure of creator Teresa Rebeck, almost because it had to. After having invested so much psychic energy in the series -- and built its entire season around bringing back "The Voice" and premiering "Smash" using the Super Bowl as a launch pad -- the network had little choice but to give the program a second chance. Besides, there's that upfront presentation to consider.

What comes next, however, is pretty clear. The network will either air the show with "The Voice" -- again giving it a lead-in, and praying for a second bite at the apple -- or see if it can stand on its own wobbly legs. If the network has a new drama with serious potential, that will certainly create pressure to use the singing competition to help get it going.

Whatever the scheduling, if "Smash" is going to have any chance at all, there's going to need to be a significant purge, shaking loose some of the more teeth-gnashing characters and subplots. In fact, if ever a series were ripe for the stunt FX's "American Horror Story" is pulling -- essentially keeping the title and a few actors, but discarding the rest and hitting the reset button -- this one is it. (Given the boxoffice for "The Avengers," how about "Hulk Smash?")

All told, it's a shame. An ambitious program that started with such promise very quickly began spinning off the rails, and never recovered creatively. And while the renewal likely amounts to flushing more money down the drain, having come this far, it's understandable why NBC would at the very least save face by rolling the dice one more time.

So enjoy NBC's upfront presentation. Because that might very well be the last show-stopper "Smash" delivers, until the show, finally, stops, and the curtain comes down.

Honest, when I was a kid reading and collecting comic books -- and rushing, time and again, to be disappointed by movies and TV shows based on them -- it didn't seem like a particularly savvy career move. More like a way of ensuring my dating life resembled early Woody Allen movies.

It's clear a lot of people who currently cover media view the explosion of comic-book-related entertainment less with enthusiasm than thinly veiled disdain. They're certainly entitled to that, but for them, this promises to be a very, very long summer.

The Twitter universe recent lit up over a mini-flap triggered by Samuel L. Jackson's criticism of New York Times critic A.O. Scott for his review of "The Avengers." Yet while I don't second-guess Scott's lukewarm reaction to the film, I do think Jackson had a point, perhaps somewhat unwittingly, in taking him to task.

Any popular entertainment deserves to be evaluated in context. While I might not like reality-TV dating shows -- and I don't -- when reviewing one I try to at least acknowledge how this or that one measures up within the parameters of the genre and the several dozen I've watched.

By contrast, Scott's review seemed to dismiss the genre of comic-book movies, and by extension "Avengers," without really engaging the material on its own terms. OK, let's stipulate you're not a big fan of spandex-clad people with super powers, and view films devoted to their exploits more as corporate products than movies. For those readers who might be looking for a more down-to-Earth, less-existential reaction, how did it measure up as an action flick?

What Scott wrote, in other words, was a perfectly fine essay, but I'm not sure it amounted to an actual appraisal of "The Avengers." (As an aside, it also looked strange -- or a bit schizophrenic -- to see him sniff at the movie in this fashion when the paper played the review across the entire front of its Friday arts section.)

From that perspective, Los Angeles Times critic Kenneth Turan struck a much more appropriate tone, while expressing some of the same general misgivings Scott harbors about the overall direction of summer tentpoles. Turan neatly summed up his review as follows:

If, as "The Avengers" depressingly underlines, comic-book movies are the ultimate expression of today's Hollywood zeitgeist the way, say, "Gone With the Wind" or "Casablanca" epitomized an earlier time, it's good to at least have them done this well. If you have to watch "a handful of freaks, isolated and unbalanced" saving the planet for the umpteenth time, you could do a whole lot worse.

That one paragraph, frankly, tells you everything about "Avengers," and Turan, a consumer would need to know in order to assess whether his taste is a guide for your own.

Based on my history, I tend to like comic-book movies -- when they're done right, which traditionally hasn't been very often -- more than either of them. Hey, different strokes. And I don't agree with Jackson's knee-jerk jab Scott needs to find another job.

That said, any critic who can't step outside himself or herself enough to judge these corporate products on their individual merits is, at the very least, in for a very cruel, cruel next couple of summers. Because trust me, after "The Avengers" finishes rampaging through theaters, the superhero invasion has only just begun.

Acts of numbing corporate media synergy are so common there's a tendency at this point to let them slide without notice. Sort of like spitting into a windstorm, why even bother?

Still, when they come washing up around the same time, it's occasionally worth pointing them out, if only for one's mental health.

First, ABC News produced a "Revenge for Real" two-part special, hosted by Cynthia McFadden, to fill the show's timeslot during a hiatus. Then the same "Nightline" anchor turned up on the series Wednesday, interviewing a fictional character within the show accused of murder.

Yes, I know real journalists make cameo appearances in movies and TV playing fake ones all the time. But for McFadden to be featured on her own network in this fashion just looked sleazy, especially after the earlier "Let's play ball with the entertainment division" gimmick.

Elsewhere, the Hub -- Hasbro's joint-venture kids network with Discovery -- announced a half-hour primetime special airing May 11 to plug the studio's upcoming movie "Battleship," under the title "Battleship: Battle Stations!"

But let's face it: It's not really a "special" at all, but rather a glorified electronic press kit being unleashed a week in advance of the Universal release.

This isn't intended to pick specifically on ABC News (OK, maybe a little bit) or Hasbro, since they're only this week's offenders. But it'll be a sad day when networks pull these kind of self-promotional stunts and nobody is inclined to wince, even a little bit.

That would be synergy's ultimate revenge.

Watching episodes No. 4-10 of "Girls" -- shrewdly provided to critics by HBO to capitalize on their rhapsodic reaction to the first three, which even spilled over onto op-ed pages -- provided enhanced perspective on the Lena Dunham series.

With its quartet of single white females in New York, "Girls" has invited inevitable comparisons to "Sex and the City." Except instead of that other HBO show, as the program unfolded I found myself reminded of a 1978 movie, "Girlfriends," from director Claudia Weill and screenwriter Vicki Polon.

Although I haven't seen the movie for years, it's one of those little understated gems, about two college friends -- Susan (a pre-"thirtysomething" Melanie Mayron) and Anne (Anita Skinner) -- sharing an apartment in New York. Only Susan's life changes when Anne announces she's getting married, leaving Susan -- an aspiring photographer/artist who is shooting Jewish weddings and bar mitzvahs to make ends meet -- to get by on her own. Plump and needy, she engages in various questionable decisions, including a flirtation with the elderly rabbi (Eli Wallach) with whom she works.

If this sounds a trifle familiar (oh, and did I mention Susan is a budding poet?), it should. The tone is extremely similar to "Girls," where the characters are also recent college grads, also covet careers in the arts, and also engage in questionable romantic entanglements, including flirtations with older guys, such as the dad to the children one of them nannies. The main difference between Dunham's central character, Hannah, and Mayron's Susan is the latter wasn't able back then to send text messages or (even if she could afford it) watch HBO. (You can find more on "Girlfriends" and its interesting back story from critic Emanuel Levy.)

This is less a commentary on Dunham's creation -- which features some strong moments in the subsequent episodes, as well as some particularly tired ones, mostly involving Hannah being a romantic doormat -- than the dearth of nuanced portrayals of women, which hasn't been helped by a shift away from the indie-film world "Girlfriends" occupied.

As for TV, which has filled some of the character-driven void, yes, the medium features plenty of prominent female characters. Yet when they're not solving crimes or serving as district attorneys, the small groups of them palling around Manhattan tend to be more of the "Friends" or "2 Broke Girls" variety. Perhaps that's why something like "Girls" can be heralded by some as a cultural breakthrough or subjected to bruising derision by the likes of Gawker when it ultimately amounts to HBO using its promotional heft to serve old wine in a new bottle.

(An aside here: "Girls" has been questioned and analyzed on several fronts, including its lack of racial diversity, which is noteworthy. That one element, though, is actually emblematic of a larger drawback that becomes apparent in these later episodes -- namely, the lack of depth in anybody featured in the show over the age of 25.)

Of course, Dunham wasn't even a dirty thought in her parents' minds when "Girlfriends" was released, which makes her 21st-century take interesting, whatever its flaws, and entitles her to a real-world claim on Hannah's aspiration to be recognized as "a voice" of her generation.

It's not a bad voice. It's just not a terribly new one, unless you're blessed with a short memory.

“Jackie Robinson stood on the shoulders of Jesse Owens,” sociologist Harry Edwards suggests in “Jesse Owens,” a terrific “American Experience” documentary devoted to the Olympic star, premiering on May 1.

Of course, most people are (hopefully) familiar with Owens’ four-Gold-medal performance at the 1936 Olympics – all the more dramatic since it happened in Nazi Germany, with Hitler unwilling to be seen photographed shaking Owens’ hand.

Still, this one-hour film by producers Laurens Grant and Stanley Nelson -- who also directed and wrote, respectively -- goes well beyond that, providing an interesting run-up to the Games, including Owens’ competition with another African-American athlete who threatened his supremacy, only to be injured before Berlin. The story also explores the Games’ aftermath, and how Owens was forced to engage in humiliating stunts, like racing against horses, to earn money and pay back taxes, before his eventual rediscovery and rehabilitation, becoming a U.S. Goodwill Ambassador during the Cold War.

As for the coverage of the Olympics, the filmmakers weave in illuminating interviews with German witnesses to Owens’ feats as well as historians, providing a fuller context of the response at home and in Europe. In addition, Owens’ fourth medal –- for the 400-meter relay -– came because the Nazis objected to two Jewish Americans running in the race, loathing the prospect of losing to them even more than they did blacks.

Narrated by Andre Braugher, "Jesse Owens" captures the tremendous irony in Owens’ story –- an American hero by virtue of his athletic exploits who dealt a powerful blow to Hitler’s dream of turning the Olympics into one big commercial for Aryan superiority, yet still treated like a second-class citizen when he returned home. One can only imagine, by contrast, how spectacularly Owens would have cashed in on his Olympic performance in the current day and age.

Airing during an Olympic year, this “American Experience” captures not only Owens’ brilliance as an athlete but does so in a very economical and expeditious way. Then again, perhaps that's its own kind of subtle and appropriate tribute to someone who once bore the title "The fastest man alive."

Condensing 25 years of any network into a two-hour special qualifies as a tall order, and perhaps especially for Fox, whose outrageous lows were often as significant in defining the enterprise as its highs.

Yet the most egregious absence in the "Fox 25th Anniversary Special" was its complete lack of any journalistic impulses, failing to incorporate a single Fox executive -- or, barring that, third-party expert, critic or scholar -- to provide some context about what the network achieved, and its substantial impact on television. Indeed, other than "In Living Color" producer-star Keenen Ivory Wayans, only one showrunner turned up -- "The X-Files" creator Chris Carter -- and that was for about 15 seconds.

Produced by Don Mischer and Charlie Haykel, Sunday's special instead offered a little bit of everything -- nostalgic walk down memory lane, current corporate cheerleading, and inevitably, a clip show. But as constructed, it was utterly weightless -- packing about as much oomph as an episode of "Access Hollywood."

Even limiting itself to interviews with past and present Fox on-air talent, many of the choices came across as arbitrary, including a lengthy tribute to "Family Guy" in the early going, which -- don't have a cow, Seth -- isn't even the biggest animated series associated with the network.

Choosing Ryan Seacrest to host was obvious, perhaps, but also proved deflating. Someone with either a little more gravitas or a better sense of humor would have at least steered the flavor away from conspicuously vanilla.

So when they got to Fox's reality shows, the only characterization comes from Seacrest referring to them as "often imitated, sometimes simulated, but never truly duplicated." Seriously?

There were some funny lines, yes -- "The Simpsons" delivering a little jab at Fox News Channel comes to mind -- but this was empty calories. And instead of celebrating the network's roots, Fox wound up delivering what amounted to a bad upfront presentation, only a month early.

Actually, I can sum up the whole special in one sentence: A Fox 25th anniversary tribute that gives less time to Barry Diller (zero) and Rupert Murdoch (three seconds as his animated self on "The Simpsons") than "American Idol" contestant William Hung. Even with an obvious preference for celebrity, that's hard to figure.

"In the history of television, nothing has had the worldwide impact of 'American Idol,'" Seacrest said during the closing half-hour.

One can debate the merits of that, but why bother? By the time they reached that point, it was pretty clear Fox's 25th don't know much about history.

When Rich Ross was tapped as chairman of Walt Disney Studios in 2009 there were the customary gasps about a TV executive being thrown to the wolves on the feature-film side.

The announcement that the former Disney Channel exec would be exiting that post will likely yield at least some analysis about bridging the gap between those worlds, which might sound interesting, but isn't particularly illuminating.

The truth is the historical track record of former TV executives in features is probably no better or worse than movie execs who change jobs. For starters, nobody hires a new head of a division because they're entirely happy with the results, sort of like a football or basketball coach. So the new guy always inherits some questionable material and talent.

Moreover, Disney at a corporate level has downplayed features, cutting back on the number produced and emphasizing marketing and branding over storytelling. As the Pixar guys can testify, it's easier to make a good movie and then figure out the theme-park ride that goes with it than trying to conceive films with potential merchandising in mind. (Full disclosure: My wife works for Disney Imagineering.)

Admittedly, there have been some big whiffs in the move from TV to movies. Brandon Tartikoff's tenure at Paramount comes to mind, and CBS Films has thus far been unable to extend the company's TV clout into movies.

For every one of those, though, there's someone like Bob Daly, who did quite well for himself -- and Warner Bros. -- after leaving CBS; or Peter Chernin, who started at the Fox network before migrating to the feature side and eventually becoming COO of News Corp. Oh, and let's not forget Disney CEO Bob Iger got his start at ABC.

Frankly, I think DIsney's issues are less about Ross than a need to reconsider its feature strategy. As an analyst said after "John Carter" flopped, one of the company's problems is by cutting back on titles, it doesn't have enough at-bats to occasionally jack out an unexpected homerun.

None of this is an exact science, but there are some basic rules. And one of them is if you don't regularly show up to play the game, you can't win.

Most people who knew of him only from "American Bandstand" and hosting "New Year's Rockin' Eve" probably have no idea what a significant figure Dick Clark was in the TV business as a producer.

Clark, however -- who died Wednesday -- was extraordinarily productive, producing a wide variety of award shows, specials and event programming, not the least being all those years of the Golden Globes. Frankly, he deserved a medal just for dealing with that, even before the lawsuit.

I still remember going to interview him in his office, a place dominated by memorabilia, and with several very large dogs bounding about.

Back in October 2001, I wrote a profile of Clark for the Los Angeles Times under the headline "Dick Clark Stays Tuned." In the course of the interview he said, "I've always said if I can stay healthy, I want to work until I die."

Clark didn't stay healthy -- a serious stroke in 2004 made speech a problem -- and still essentially worked until the bitter end. So for auld lang syne, as it were, I'd like to play him off with this one:

See Dick run. And run and run and run.

Early in his career, not long after "America Bandstand" made its debut, Dick Clark--the world's oldest teenager--came to the realization that he wasn't necessarily going to be able to be a bright-eyed young on-camera host forever.

We hear a lot about "media bias." But in the tons of coverage being showered on HBO's "Girls," we're seeing some very particular kinds of bias, all coming together in one neat little package.

For starters, there's a bias in elite circles toward HBO, which is seen as being more prestigious than most TV, and thus more culturally significant. Then you have the bias toward youth, and "Girls" fulfills that, focusing as it does on young women grappling with life in their early 20s.

Finally, there's the bias toward New York, where the show is situated. Put them all together, and you get the onslaught we've seen over the last couple of weeks.

I'm not talking about the positive reviews, including my own, which harbors more reservations than most.

No, I'm talking about all the political and general-interest columnists who have weighed in -- or veered outside their lanes to incorporate discussions of the series -- including Frank Bruni in the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times' Meghan Daum, and so on.

Such media infatuations happen with some regularity. Indeed, the New York Observer chronicles a sort-of "zeitgeiest twofer" involving "Girls" and the S&M novel "Fifty Shades of Grey," another recent preoccupation in cocktail-party circles, for overlapping reasons.

Still, the sheer weight of attention has the potential to make a project irritating even before the public gets its first exposure to it. For many, there's almost an inevitable "Really? That's what all the fuss was about?" effect, especially with a show as understated as this one.

"Girls" is an interesting show, and creator Lena Dunham -- who made her debut with the indie film "Tiny Furniture" -- a promising talent. But would the series be garnering this sort of attention if set a different city, on a different network, about a different (translation: older) age group? I sincerely doubt it.

An extraordinary story, "The Woman Who Wasn't There" is an almost-hypnotic 90-minute documentary, which will air on Investigation Discovery April 17 at 8 p.m.

Turned into a book released earlier this month, this companion doc chronicles the strange tale of Tania Head (pictured), who claimed she narrowly escaped death in one of the Twin Towers on Sept. 11 and that her fiance died in the other.

Only it was all a lie -- something we get to see straight from the horse's mouth. Director Angelo J. Guglielmo Jr. had interviewed her extensively along with a lot of other 9/11 survivors, among whom she became a leader, serving as president of the World Trade Center Survivors' Network. The sense of betrayal and confusion they eventually experience is almost palpable, even if the filmmakers can't pin down why the woman (Tania Head wasn't her real name) would go to such lengths to fabricate her story.

Produced by Meredith Vieira's company and 4235 Prods., "The Woman Who Wasn't There" relies on interviews and news footage, as well as bits of animation to illustrate certain aspects -- including Head's fantastic story about her Sept. 11 ordeal, and how she supposedly escaped death.

As Guglielmo explains in statement distributed with the DVD, he had already made the 9/11 film "The Heart of Steel" and was prodded by Head to produce another focusing on her and fellow survivors. When conducting the interviews in 2006, he writes, "I had no idea whatsoever that I was shooting a documentary about false identity, deceit and betrayal."

Or, as ID's press release explains it:

THE WOMAN WHO WASN'T THERE began as a small advocacy film after Tania approached filmmaker Angelo J. Guglielmo, Jr. in 2006, wanting to tell the resiliency of the 9/11 survivors. She was eager to film the issues they face and their painstaking road to recovery. Guglielmo not only filmed hours of exclusive interview footage with Tania, but he also became her friend and confidant. When it came to light that the facts of her astounding tale were completely fabricated, Guglielmo kept the cameras rolling.  

With complete access and participation from The World Trade Center Survivors' Network, the documentary is told from a unique inside perspective that has yet to be seen by audiences, allowing viewers to unravel the psychological mystery of Tania's tale as her closest friends did in real time.

Why Head was so brazen and so seemingly confident about perpetuating the ruse is only one of several questions the documentary leaves unanswered, albeit not for lack of trying. What's clear, though, is like the continued echoes of Sept. 11 on the American psyche, the mystery that is "The Woman Who Wasn't There" will stay with you long after it's gone.

Sean Hannity stressed, repeatedly, there's a lot we don't know about the case of George Zimmerman, who was charged with second-degree murder Wednesday in the killing of a Florida teenager, Trayvon Martin.

Which, of course, didn't prevent him and his panel of "experts" from devoting his entire Fox News Channel program to it.

Hannity wasn't alone, of course, but he's been thrust into a supporting role in the story, with Zimmerman's attorneys having dropped him as a client in part because he contacted Hannity without consulting them. Hannity referenced the conversation again Wednesday while stressing he won't get into its content, which is perfectly fair.

What hasn't been fair is the way the opinion-based media has chosen sides, even as they admit how much they don't know. Because for Hannity or a liberal counterweight like MSNBC's Ed Schultz, the case isn't really about what they're for so much as knowing who they're against.

Hannity's indignation over a "rush to judgment" in the case thus has nothing to do with the particulars, and everything to do with who's doing the rushing and judging. Conservatives are rallying to Zimmerman's defense -- while mouthing half-hearted disclaimers -- primarily because activist Al Sharpton and some other MSNBC hosts, Jesse Jackson and African-American Democrats in Congress urged that he be arrested for the shooting.

Of course, it would be nice if everyone practiced what they preached or could acknowledge the cable-news oxygen being swallowed up by the case right now is for the most part a colossal exercise in time-wasting, but how can they when they can't stop talking about it? "The point is that nobody knows," Fox contributor Monica Crowley told Hannity Wednesday, accusing the Left of "exploiting this case for their agenda and for their political purposes."

Precisely. Just as Fox News is -- with Hannity turning the case into an attack on (who else?) the Obama administration, Attorney General Eric Holder and rival TV networks, enlisting the Media Research Center's L. Brent Bozell III to echo his talking points. All of which simply promotes Fox News' "Trust us, and only us" marketing strategy vis-a-vis other news outlets.

Actually, it's sort of a shame: For all the finger-pointing that's going on, nobody's arm is long enough to point in every direction where the blame resides.

Ever hear a picture is worth 1,000 words? I certainly felt that way when I saw this one for the second episode of Lifetime's "The Client List," as massage-therapist-with-extras-provider Riley, played by Jennifer Love Hewitt, and her colleagues throw back a few in a bar.

As a fan of the New Yorker's cartoon caption contests, I thought I'd try a few for this one:

"So I says to him, 'Look, Reverend Manning, if you promise not to tell anybody about this, I won't either."

"Darlin, you should've seen me before I had the reduction. This shirt actually used to say 'Howdy Doody Time.'"

"Really, your all-time favorite show is 'The Wire?' Me too!"

"Can you believe ABC was gonna call that show 'Good Christian Bitches?'"

"Trust me, if you take that off, we'll beat the crap out of 'Mad Men' next week."