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."

This is such a boom time for TV drama two of the most entertaining hours around, TNT's "Southland" and FX's "Justified," spent most of the season running opposite each other, and -- despite plenty of admirers in media circles -- often seem to generate less attention than the higher-profile fare on HBO, Showtime and AMC.

"Justified" will wrap up its third season April 10, with an episode (made available in advance) that seeks to resolve the dizzying number of conflicts and two new bad guys introduced in the current campaign, played by Neal McDonough (pictured, right) and Mykelti Williamson.

Although the show remains anchored by Timothy Olyphant's charismatic portrayal of shoot-first, sort-it-out-later U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens, roaming the modern wilds of Kentucky, showrunner Graham Yost and company have done a remarkable job of surrounding him with firstrate guest stars and crafting season-long arcs. In addition, those seasons tend to layer upon each other -- hence, we get Jeremy Davies still in the mix this season, after playing a pivotal role in the second -- while largely paying off the central plot.

Without giving anything away, the finale manages to address most of the loose ends, incorporating plenty of dark humor as well as action and violence. It's also the closest thing to a successful western on television, even if the miscreants populate meth dens instead of saloons.

For my money (and with apologies to "Sons of Anarchy"), this is now FX's signature drama -- as smooth and bracing as a belt of Kentucky bourbon.

And in honor of the third season, I'll make mine a double.

Today, I offered my mostly positve review of "The Client List," the new series starring Jennifer Love Hewitt as a Texas mom who begins turning tricks to make (financial) ends meet.

This has resulted in a few emails from people asking if A) I have lost my friggin' mind, and/or B) whether someone is holding a loved one hostage.

So a brief explanation about the way I review things, and a key word: Context. "The Client LIst" isn't "Downton Abbey," but nor does it pretend or aspire to be. It's meant to be amiable trash, and on that level, it delivers in just the way it intends to.

I would contrast this, in fact, with something like ABC's "Scandal," which many critics appear to be dismissing as laughable, but fun. The distinction, from where I sit, is that "Scandal" actually takes itself seriously, whereas "Client List" clearly doesn't.

Still, for all the puns I chewed up in my review, I didn't get to use all of them. And since I have this handy blog, consider this the DVD extras version, with lines that didn't make the cut:

This might be the first series where after watching it, you'll feel like leaving a few one-dollar bills on the nightstand.

If Lifetime is really savvy about this, they'll stage promotional events throughout the country, with an over-priced two-drink minimum. 

The only thing missing from the pilot is a cameo by Current's Eliot Spitzer. Then again, maybe they're saving that for sweeps.

... thanks to star Jennifer Love Hewitt, whose episodic TV career has taken her from "The Ghost Whisperer" to "The Whore Whisperer." (To be fair, I stole this one from one my colleagues.)

Doing the show on Lifetime, of course, forces Hewitt and her fellow employees to change behind a gauzy screen, but then again, that's why God invented DVD extras.

If this works, one suspects there are going to be some serious alterations to the wardrobe on "Army Wives."

I'm not sure what this makes the viewer, but many of you are going to love "The Client List" a long time.

"Three parts harmony, one part drama" says the promo line for TV Guide Network's new series "Wilson Phillips: Still Holding On," which premieres April 8.

Well, maybe one part music, one part backstage drama, one part weight-loss angst, courtesy of the well-documented struggles of Carnie Wilson, who previously underwent gastric bypass surgery.

Ostensibly, the half-hour show is about a comeback reunion of sisters Carnie and Carrie WIlson and Chynna Phillips, who have an album coming out that pays tribute to their parents' music, "Dedicated," featuring songs by the Beach Boys and the Mamas & the Papas.

Perhaps inevitably, though, the "drama" surrounding the upcoming tour initially centers on Wilson's weight, which is obviously the most relatable element for a nation obsessed with its own battles with the bulge.

On its face, the show is a perfect promotion for the accompanying album, being released by Sony Masterworks. But the conventions of the genre demand more, and so Wilson's latest public ordeal.

Of course, the series doesn't need to garner huge numbers to move the needle for TV Guide (and it probably won't), but the eight-episode run should be a solid plug for the group best known for its signature hit "Hold On" 20 years ago -- if perhaps not as helpful as their cameo in the movie "Bridesmaids."

That song title also proves a pretty good metaphor for the network, which has upped its reality profile while operating under the prospect of being sold by parent Lionsgate.

Hey, people in glass houses, as they say. But just a thought before Lionsgate's ownership officially goes away: "Wilson Phillips: The Hunger Games?"

Years ago, I remember hearing my dad say to my mother that he was wrong "to let her start that fight." It always struck me as a particularly mealy-mouthed way of assigning blame to someone else while appearing to shoulder some.

That, in a nutshell, is what Keith Olbermann did on "Late Show With David Letterman" on Tuesday, saying of his relatively brief tenure hosting a show at Current, "It's my fault that it didn't succeed, in the sense that I didn't think the whole thing through."

Olbermann's fault? Only to the extent that he agreed to the gig in the first place, likening himself to a "$10-million chandelier," without a house to put it in. Current, in other words, hired a big-time anchor to headline a rinky-dink, empty news operation.

Having watched enough of "Countdown" on Current, that's accurate, though it still doesn't necessarily make Olbermann especially sympathetic, mostly because of the whole $10 million part. He was, in essence, getting paid a butt-load of money to put Current on the map. Even with the frustration of the lights going out occasionally and the car service not getting paid, that seems like a reasonably sweet deal. (Olbermann joked that doing a Top 10 list on "Late Show" in September was "the last time I had fun on TV," but again, boo hoo.)

As it turned out, Olbermann's best advocate on Tuesday was Letterman. Olbermann, he said, was being "contrite to almost a fault." Dave then gave the newly unemployed anchor his own endorsement, saying he believed the Current brass "took on some responsibility that they could not live up to and fulfill, and you are suffering for it."

That sounds about right, except for the suffering part, which is certainly relative. Whatever the outcome of Olbermann's plans to take legal action against his most recent employer, he'll be fine, and as the New York Times' David Carr noted, some brave soul will get back into business with him. Moreover, Olbermann -- as a celebrity -- has a leg up vis-a-vis the mostly faceless execs against whom he's railing, while he let Current co-owner Al Gore off the hook by saying he was, in essence, an absentee landlord.

The Olbermann-Current breakup will remain news because it's been so public, honest and nasty, unlike the usual "spend more time with my family" press releases to which journalists are accustomed.

Besides, the media thrive on conflict. And for my small part in that, I blame myself ... come to think of it, not at all.

Showtime brings back three returning series on April 8, each with modest strengths, but also pretty serious flaws. Pay cable -- including Showtime, with series like "Homeland" and "Dexter" -- has its A list, as well as guilty pleasures like "Californication."

These programs belong more on the C+/B- list. A trio of capsule reviews:

"The Borgias" ought to be a lot more fun than it is. Showtime made a point of promoting the 15th-century drama as "the original crime family," one seemingly made for pay cable, with sex and violence aplenty. Plus, you have Jeremy Irons as a lascivious Pope. Talk about a little something for everybody.

The ornate trappings notwithstanding, though, the show seldom pops, and the opening salvo of second-season episodes gets bogged down in both family and papal politics. Even the sex -- however lurid -- has a been-there, seen-that feel to it.

More than anything, "The Borgias" resembles "The Tudors," another period series that hung around on Showtime for a handful of seasons. It must have had its ardent admirers, but it was more a program you watched to soak in the scenery and costumes than get lost in the story and characters.

Yes, "The Borgias" is about an Italian dynasty, but ultimately, it's more "Dynasty" than "The Sopranos."

"Nurse Jackie" and "The Big C"are really two peas from the same pod, offering showy roles for female stars -- Emmy winner Edie Falco and Laura Linney, respectively -- but veering all over the place in terms of tone and storylines.

Without giving anything vital away, "Nurse Jackie" finds Falco's title character heading to rehab, where she's confronted with some hard truths about herself. Yet when a counselor rather bluntly tells her, "You're good at your job; you suck at life," it's nothing that anybody who has watched the series this far doesn't already know.

Each season brings new wrinkles to Jackie's screwed-up, pill-popping existence, and watching Falco is perhaps enough of a reward for a half-hour each week. But the show has never really gotten much past the quirky phase, which has become a rather familiar shortcoming among Showtime's longer-running half-hours.

"The Big C" started with a promising concept -- a woman with a cancer diagnosis, who begins to live differently, more freely -- but has gone in all sorts of directions, including last season's cliffhanger and the twists introduced in season two.

The problem is everything outside issues of life and death in the show feels rather pallid, and the supporting cast -- while a highly talented bunch, including Oliver Platt, John Benjamin Hickey and Gabourey Sidibe -- yields side stories that simply aren't that interesting.

At its core, the show asked: What would you do if presented with a fatal cancer diagnosis? Would you make the most out of what time you had left, and if so, how?

"The Big C" had the guts to pose the big questions, and they're truly provocative. If only the answers were as good.

Assuming the termination of Keith Olbermann by Current TV does wind up in the courts, I think I can make a pretty strong case why both sides deserve to lose.

For Olbermann:

Ladies and gentleman of the jury:

Whatever Current executives might say now, they knew precisely what they were doing, and what they were getting. They hired Keith Olbermann to put them on the map, and essentially handed him the keys to the kingdom, complete with a lot of promises to build an operation around him.

What has been the result? A network that still looks cheap and cut-rate, and where Olbermann has been surrounded by mostly TV novices -- people with the appropriate liberal views for the channel's profile, but not much chops in the way of television, which is a different animal from radio and politics.

Yes, Cenk Uygur had an extended tryout period on MSNBC, but there's still a public-access quality to his "Young Turks" show. And former Michigan governor Jennifer Granholm is demonstrating the difference between being a cable-news guest and actually fronting a program -- not the easiest place to engage in on-the-job training.

In short, the Current hierarchy made clear they were going to defer to Olbermann, and they didn't keep him happy. And it's not like his reputation for being a bit of a professional malcontent didn't proceed him by, oh, three or four jobs.

As they say, let the buyer beware. And in this case, let the buyer pay up for its errors in judgment.

For Current:

Thank you, your honor.

Let's face it, Keith Olbermann knew he was signing up for a rinky-dink news operation with virtually no profile. He wanted to be a big fish in a small pond. Now he's complaining because the water was too shallow and not warm enough?

Olbermann might have brought his show over from MSNBC, name and all, but it was frequently clear he was frustrated by the glitches at Current, and it began to show up in the work. It might sound cosmetic, but when he stopped wearing a tie, it felt like a not-so-subtle commentary on the fact the network that was carrying him wasn't worth knotting one.

As for Olbermann sitting out the channel's primary-election coverage, based on what Current was paying him, he should have been front and center, whatever his misgivings about the network. The first rule of exercising editorial control as "chief news officer" is showing up, isn't it? (By the way, even if we take him at his word about throat trouble being responsible for many of his absences, he was still absent an awful lot.)

This might not sound like advancing Current's cause, but New York Times columnist David Carr was right when he said the network "was not and is not ready for primetime." But Olbermann signed on with a mandate to help the channel get there. And if he lacked the patience to do it, the responsibility for that falls on him, not on his employers.

I rest my cases.

Remember when Keith Olbermann and Glenn Beck were two of the loudest, most influential voices in the cable news space? Now, you have to strain just to hear them.

Current TV dropped Olbermann after what could only be described as a period in which the host exhibited thinly veiled contempt for the start-up network, especially when it experienced one of its many on-air glitches.

In response to Current's statement, Olbermann took to Twitter, promising a lawsuit against the network, and accusing them of dastardly behavior in a flurry of 140-character bursts. Here's a link to his full statement.

Beck, meanwhile, recently chatted up his solo efforts in a Wall Street Journal interview, but when was the last time you heard anybody quote him, no matter how outrageous he tries to be? Like Olbermann, he sacrificed a huge portion of his audience by leaving his former home -- Beck, Fox News; Olbermann, MSNBC -- and striking out on his own.

Was this predictable? I certainly thought so in a column nearly a year ago, where I questioned how well such talent would fare as stand-alone "brands," without the umbrellas of a solid, corporately backed parent network behind them.

Or as I quoted liberal pundit Bill Press saying at the time, Beck "needs Fox more than Fox needs him."

The question now -- more immediately for Olbermann, obviously -- is what's next. Although a lot of people hate his politics, he's certainly talented as a broadcaster and enjoys a small but loyal following. And if he made a mistake parting with MSNBC, that channel hasn't exactly adorned itself in honor since he left, in a lineup highlighted by Rachel Maddow and Lawrence O'Donnell, but lowlighted by Ed Schultz and Al Sharpton.

Olbermann will have options, certainly, but he's burned so many bridges anybody buying in is going to be plagued by "Do you know what you're getting yourself into?" questions.

All of which brings me back to what I wrote a year ago:

It's hard to imagine more unlikely bedfellows than Beck and Olbermann, but they're plunging into the same uncharted waters -- each betting his persona is bigger than a single program, and doesn't necessarily require a media conglomerate's promotional clout to connect with viewers and listeners.

Although Beck's on-air rants and evangelistic fervor have invited comparisons to "Network's" raging prophet Howard Beale, the question, strictly from a business perspective, is whether being mad as hell is the same thing as being crazy.

Then again, at this point in cable news, dealing with "crazy" is apparently just a standard cost of doing business.

A writer and provocateur, Dan Savage has an easy-going, glib manner when the subject is sex advice that's well suited to TV -- and especially engaging college students, as he tours and lectures dispensing much-needed wisdom to the hormonally challenged population.

MTV tries to bottle that in a new series, "Savage U," premiering on April 3 at 11 p.m. And while Savage's quick wit, no-nonsense observations and racy ripostes play well, the show proves a little bit too cute for its own good by seeking to create a sort of rom-com-style banter (minus the sex) between its star and his producer, Lauren Hutchinson, who's basically reduced to following him around saying "Oh no you didn't!"

Fortunately, the half-hour episodes (MTV's ordered 12) go down pretty quickly, and to give you an idea of Savage's approach to sex ed, there's no way he'd let someone say something as suggestive as "go down pretty quickly" without making a joke about that.

Savage recently hosted the MTV spec "It Gets Better," a much weightier effort based on his admirable viral video campaign, designed to provide a comforting shoulder to lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender youths.

"Savage U" skews toward the lighter side, and there's room for that too. It's just an elective, to put it in terms college kids can understand, as opposed to a core requirement.

What would Spider-Man look like as strained through the juvenile, rapid-fire-joke filter of "Family Guy?" Disney XD's "Ultimate Spider-Man," unfortunately, seeks to find out.

Paired with the animated "Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes" and premiering April 1 -- all rather transparently to help cash in on, and beat the drums for, the upcoming Avengers live-action movie -- "Ultimate Spider-Man" has an odd, borscht-belt comedy quality to it, while pairing Spidey with teen versions of several established second-tier Marvel heroes (Power Man, Iron Fist, White Tiger, Nova), creating a sort-of alternative to DC's "Teen Titans."

If only they were that interesting. Instead, the group -- assembled by S.H.I.E.L.D., with Chi McBride providing the voice of Nick Fury -- spends a lot of its time bickering during the premiere. Granted, such squabbling is a Marvel staple, but here it plays like a bad episode of one of Disney XD's live-action efforts aimed at tween boys.

The studio and channel are being shrewd about using Disney XD as a platform to showcase animated versions of Marvel characters, just as DC/Warner Bros. has done on Cartoon Network. Still, this high-profile misfire with "Spider-Man," creatively speaking, doesn't bode well for Marvel's efforts to straddle the line of catering to kids without dumbing down venerable properties that plenty of adults know and love.

Admittedly, that's a difficult challenge, but by that measure "Ultimate Spider-Man" is both a nice-looking swing and a pretty clear miss.

And as George of the Jungle used to say, watch out for that tree.

PBS' "American Masters" takes a fascinating trip South on April 2, wedding movies and literature with a pair of specials about writers responsible for two of the most beloved movies of all time: Margaret Mitchell, author of "Gone With the Wind;" and Harper Lee, who gave the world Atticus Finch and "To Kill a Mockingbird."

Airing back to back, both are worth the time. But if you have to choose, carve out 90 minutes for "Harper Lee: Hey, Boo," a completely absorbing look at the author, her friendship with the mercurial Truman Capote, and a book and movie that has resonated for more than 50 years.

Produced, directed and written by Mary McDonagh Murphy, "Harper Lee" goes way beyond mere biography to capture the essence and influence of "To Kill a Mockingbird," interviewing an array of authors as well as such luminaries as Tom Brokaw and Oprah Winfrey.

Along the way, one learns a tremendous amount about Lee's life, her relationship with Capote -- including a falling out brought about by his apparent jealousy over her winning the Pulitzer Prize. But the documentary really goes much deeper than that, providing insight into Southern culture and history, the civil rights movement and the delicate prose that makes "Mockingbird" such a great book and film.

By contrast, "Margaret Mitchell: American Rebel" is a more conventional biography about another one-hit wonder, as it were, tracing Mitchell's early life and eventual breakthrough with "Gone WIth the Wind." Yet other than Mitchell's own evolving view of race relations -- having grown up privileged in the South, she refused to stay in a class with a black student in college -- the hour more dryly recounts Mitchell's life, and employs reenactments (a personal peeve) to help illustrate it. Given that exec producer/writer Pamela Roberts had a four-hour movie to use to help putty in visual cracks, the device feels particularly lazy.

Still, "Gone With the WInd" is such a seminal film learning more about its author is certainly of interest, as much a slice of movie as literary history, timed to the 75th anniversary of Mitchell winning the Pulitzer.

Television isn't always great at capturing ideas, but it certainly helps to have two such well-known movies as a foundation. And if you get all the way through "Hey, Boo" without tearing up in a couple of places, you're made of sterner stuff than I am.

Having somewhat favorably reviewed the premiere, I decided to check in on the final episode of ABC's "The River." If you haven't watched it yet -- and with only 4 million viewers on Tuesday, per Nielsen, my guess is that applies to most of you -- and actually still want to (no doubt a much smaller group), beware of spoilers.

Lousy ratings and an inconclusive ending are a bad combination, but that's where "The River" left us, without many answers about its magic-and-demons exploration of the heart of darkness, or something like that.

The real ripoff, in hindsight, was that the lost explorer/TV host everyone was seeking, played by Bruce Greenwood, finally turns up, and then he won't even tell the people who've gone through hell looking for him -- including, not incidentally, the show's few million viewers -- what the big mystery was all about, except in the vaguest of terms. Throw in a demonic possession and exorcism in the finale, and it's pretty clear "The River" ran dry, creatively speaking.

Too bad, because I admire the idea, the look, and the risk inherent in the gamble. But as they say, TV's all about the execution. And despite delivering a few thrills and chills along the way, all the show ultimately did was execute itself.

Having nearly broken out into hives at my first exposure to "Touch," the new Fox series starring Kiefer Sutherland, I felt compelled to give the second and third episodes a chance in light of the program's return on March 22.

And no, I'm sorry to report, it hasn't gotten any better.

There's obviously something meant to be very touching (pardon the expression) about the show, and its whole "It takes a global village" concept. But the interconnectedness of the various storylines in each episode -- a device that looks impressive and intricate on its face -- continues to have a sloppy quality to it, and tugs so shamelessly at the heartstrings the cynic in me can't help but resist it.

Charitably, "Touch" is a bit like CBS' "Person of Interest," only the "machine" that spits out patterns, in this case, is the Sutherland character's autistic son. In a way, it's a lot like "The Twilight Zone" episode about the old salesman who can see the future and gives people "what they need," except it's much better looking, more elaborate and not nearly as well executed.

So how does the premise work? Danny Glover's character, a magical professor who periodically appears to help fill in gaps, explains it this way: "Some cosmic pain that has to be healed that your son feels, senses –- something unresolved, unfinished in the world."

Got that?

Not surprisingly, the dad expresses some frustration at all of this -- wondering if his lot in life, for as long as the series runs, is to try to decipher his kid's clues, and asking how to make sense of what's happening. Glover responds, "Sense? Is that what you’re looking for, sense?"

Nope, not from this show. Not a fourth time, anyway. From now on, consider me officially out of "Touch."

NBC's "Smash" is turning into a show about artists who make all the wrong choices.

Unfortunately, that refers not to the characters so much as the program's show runners.

Like a lot of critics, I was with the musical drama at the beginning, after viewing four episodes. But the three subsequent hours -- including the one airing this Monday, which NBC made available for review -- have become a cautionary tale about how quickly a promising program, even one about treading the boards, can come close to skidding off the rails.

Mostly, "Smash" has undermined itself by writing toward the show's big-name stars and losing sight of what made its relative unknowns -- the two characters vying for the role of Marilyn Monroe in the fictional musical, played by Katharine McPhee and Megan Hilty -- so appealing.

A subplot involving Debra Messing, the writer dallying with an ex-flame/co-star, has been simply terrible from the get-go. And I've grown a little tired of watching Anjelica Huston's producer throw drinks in her ex-husband's face. Cute the first time. Tiresome thereafter.

As for the young women, their longing and hunger -- and not inconsiderable talent -- gave the show its heart. But having an overt pettiness creep into the relationship between them has made Hilty's character much less sympathetic, when the first couple of installments were propelled by the fact the show managed to have you rooting for both.

Monday's episode is a good example of how uneven the show has become, with some nice moments courtesy of Jack Davenport as the imperious director and a couple of strong musical numbers, but mostly hackneyed dialogue and subplots.

Ratings-wise, "Smash" has stabilized in tolerable territory, although much of that stems from the power of its "The Voice" lead-in. Yet all these missteps ought to be a source of chagrin and concern at NBC, which has invested so much -- perhaps more emotionally than financially -- in the series. Even if it comes back, "Smash" -- at its core a serial with a glamorous, high-tension setting -- is going to need to do some serious soul-searching to shore up its soap-opera elements or risk looking unworthy of the spotlight.

Thanks to its arsenal of talent, "Smash" can still regain its footing, and takes at least one step in that direction (I'll skip any spoilers) on Monday. Still, the show's rather abrupt slide is one reason I tend to incorporate disclaimers into reviews of serialized fare. Programs that grab you initially can easily veer off course, especially when the premise is ambitious.

Barring that, the show might demonstrate what many a musical has in the past: Even with all the catchy tunes you could ever want, if it's a weak book, that usually makes for a very long evening -- and alas, not often a long run.

It has been fascinating to watch conservatives employ the Pee-wee Herman defense -- "I know you are, but what am I?" -- in their efforts to defend Rush Limbaugh.

Personally, I'm somewhat surprised by the current and continuing uproar over Limbaugh's remarks about Sandra Fluke, a Georgetown law student, not because they were so intemperate and over the top (they clearly were), but because nobody at this point should be unfamiliar with Limbaugh's shtick. Even so, the pressure on advertisers has been successful enough to alarm Limbaugh's supporters and sustain interest from other media, who -- especially on the left -- have enjoyed watching El Rushbo squirm.

At the same time, most of the efforts defending Limbaugh have been feeble at best, either trying to equate his attack on a private citizen with remarks about public figures, or grasping to find liberals and progressives -- including political satirists, such as Bill Maher -- who have said things they deem equally offensive.

Enter Media Research Center founder L. Brent Bozell III, who has been running around with his hair on fire (oh, wait, that's his natural color) trying to get someone, anyone, to listen to him.

First, he launched a petition on Limbaugh's behalf. His latest target: MSNBC, which -- now you better be sitting down when you read this -- employs liberals, who talk an awful lot about Limbaugh.

Apparently realizing this probably wouldn't come as news to MSNBC Prez Phil Griffin (pictured), Bozell has written to him and copied his boss' boss, Comcast CEO Brian Roberts. This reminds me of Peter Chernin interviewing Roberts at The Cable Show two years ago and asking if he fully knew what he was getting into by acquiring NBC Universal, including MSNBC.

The odd part is Limbaugh's defenders are only helping to add fuel to a story that doesn't appear to represent an existential threat to the host, other than inconveniencing him and his syndicator. And speaking of hypocrisy, it's hard to top Bozell, who has -- through organizations such as the MRC and the Parents Television Council -- regularly advocated pressuring advertisers regarding personalities and programs of which he disapproves.

Myself, I've never much liked the tactic, either way, and I do find MSNBC's preoccupation with bashing Limbaugh tedious, mostly because he's such an easy and obvious target. But turnabout, as they say, is fair (and almost inevitably, hypocritical) play.

Introduced after the season finale of "Face Off" on March 14, Syfy's "Monster Man" dives a little deeper into the world of Hollywood special-effects makeup, featuring eccentric goremeister Cleve Hall and his colorful posse of miscreants.

It is, in short, a pretty colossal bore.

Hall vaguely resembles something he created in his own workshop, with arch features and a wild mane of hair. Beyond that, though, he's just another reality-TV character in an exotic profession with "deadlines," trying to foster suspense about whether he can pull off various effects in the allotted time. Think "Project Runway," only with more blood splatter.

What spoiled "Monster Man" for me, aside from how familiar it all felt, is how chintzy those FX generally looked. Hall created a conjoined-twins shot -- using two identical twins, who then "tear" apart -- and a two-headed shark for a cheapo monster movie.

The former featured cute girls in bikinis -- which at least showed some recognition of the target audience -- while the latter looked like something concocted for those comically awful movies Syfy airs, with titles like "Leprechaun's Revenge," airing this weekend just in time for St. Patrick's Day.

As always, the show has a family twist -- Hall works with his daughters -- but it's not enough to bring the festivities to life. So consider this mini-review my way of alerting the villagers: There's a "Monster" on the loose, and it's a big ol' dud.

While the Weinstein Co. continues to wrangle over the MPAA rating for its documentary "Bully," Cartoon Network is offering its own look at the problem with a half-hour special titled "Speak Up" as part of its "Stop Bullying: Speak Up" public-service campaign.

Production-wise, the special -- which features testimonials from kids as well as encouraging words from various celebrities -- basically feels like an extended PSA, though if exposure to it helps one kid, that's worthwhile. President Obama will tape an introduction for the telecast, which will air commercial-free on March 18.

Although I can appreciate that the special is aimed at younger children, what's frankly missing from "Speak Up" -- even with kids discussing how bad being bullied made them feel -- is an exploration of the most serious consequences of bullying, which seems to cry out for blunter treatment. In a sense, that makes the half-hour a sort of watered-down companion to the Weinstein release, which is due to open next week.

Cartoon Network is supporting the telecast with ancillary materials that include an interview with an expert on the subject and posting the spec for later viewing, available via the website www.StopBullyingSpeakUp.com.

Remember when "Mad Men's" last season premiered, all the way back in July 2010? I took New York Times critic Alessandra Stanley to task for featuring a key spoiler up high in her review, without so much as a warning.

This produced a mini-debate among laptop-stained wretches, with James Poniewozik of Time leaping to Stanley's defense, expressing confusion as to what qualified as a spoiler and objecting to the notion of writing with what amounts to one arm tied behind his back.

I can appreciate the second half of that, since tiptoeing around plot isn't fun, although it is possible to discuss such a familiar project in generalities. Moreover, the whole preview thing is a double-edged sword: Networks and producers certainly want the publicity, but as usual, they want it on their terms. ("Mad Men" creator Matthew Weiner, incidentally, expressed his irritation with Stanley at the time.)

Personally, my feeling on spoilers is pretty simple -- and more about protecting journalists than TV shows: Why should critics risk alienating their best customers by potentially undercutting the viewing experience? Write whatever you want, but if you do plan to mention significant plot developments, then at least give readers the courtesy of a heads up, and keep them coming back. In this climate, who can afford to be cavalier about chasing away people who actually read reviews?

The irony is the Times can't cover "Mad Men" enough -- witness Sunday's exhaustive profile of Weiner -- because it's the kind of arty show the paper's editors, their friends, and presumably a few subscribers watch. That impression, anyway, explains why the show receives such a disproportionate level of attention.

At any rate, "Mad Men" returns March 25, and the two-hour premiere DVD came with a letter from Weiner. It says, in part:

I know you are aware how strongly I feel that the viewers are entitled to have the same experience you just had. My goal every season is first and foremost to entertain the audience, and I know that this is best accomplished when key storylines are not revealed in advance. I am asking you to please join with me to ensure this enjoyment by not revealing any of these answers or other issues. ... I truly look forward to your spoiler-free thoughts and insights.

Call me wacky, but even from a notorious control freak, that doesn't sound like an unreasonable request.

Will critics adhere to it? All I can promise is that this one -- who watched the DVD over the weekend -- will. So look for a review -- yes, spoiler-free -- closer to the premiere date.

With all the shows NBC has canceled this season, "Harry's Law" has managed to hang on, returning Sunday (March 11) on a new night, opposite ABC's increasingly tedious "Once Upon a Time."

Sometimes, slow, steady and older really can win -- or at least, survive -- the race.

Starring Kathy Bates as a cranky lawyer, this David E. Kelley-produced series drew derisive chortles in many quarters when it premiered in January 2011, seeming to recycle many of the producer's familiar flourishes. Moreover, its audience profile skewed old enough to resemble some of CBS' creakier procedurals, with close to half its audience eligible for retirement.

In a rare act of generosity, I decided to sample the "Harry's" screener NBC sent out, and I still find the show mildly entertaining, with the episode featuring a plot about suing cigarette companies, and another about a woman who fears her estranged husband.

Is it great stuff? Hardly. But Kelley has assembled an appealing cast -- picking up key players like Mark Valley and Christopher McDonald, plus a guest shot by "Boston Legal's" Christian Clemenson -- and hasn't completely lost his knack for mixing drama and quirkiness.

So while "Harry's" doesn't come close to representing Kelley's fastball, with all the other gaps NBC has on its schedule, it isn't far-fetched to think the show could survive the season if its Sunday numbers are acceptable, geriatric though they might be.

That's right: "Harry's Law" could outlive all those prettier, younger things like "Prime Suspect" and "The Playboy Club," and hang on to fight into a third season.

Go figure. Or as Harry might say, "Take that, you skinny-assed bitches."

*And a lot of other critics.

It's become accepted practice for cable networks to send out multiple episodes of a new series. For critics, this is often helpful, allowing you to get a better handle on the arc of the show.

But now the major networks have started doing it. And I'm beginning to worry I'm never going to get to sleep again.

NBC sent out all six episodes of "Bent," its new comedy. ABC weighed in with seven installments of "Scandal" (pictured), which premieres in April. CBS -- usually a pilot-only channel if there ever was one -- made four episodes available of its new drama "NYC 22," produced by Robert De Niro's company.

Now, as a critic, if you're diligent at all, you should take advantage of seeing as many episodes as you can. Still, there are only so many hours in the week, and staffs are already stretched pretty thin. It's not like we can just ring up the bullpen anytime we feel like it.

As is, I still haven't completely recovered from sitting through all nine hours of "Luck" -- which HBO sent out prior to its premiere -- considering how the show finally crossed the finish line. Plus, with the proliferation of original cable fare, there are more programs that merit sampling and analysis than ever before -- and that's not even counting Netflix and Hulu's new offerings, which are prodding us to be considered as well.

If this sounds like whining, hey, guilty as charged. But the next time you're watching a new program and think sitting on your ass being a TV critic must be the cushiest job in the world, ask yourself, "Do I really want to watch four, six or seven more episodes of this?"

My colleague Justin Chang has already reviewed Werner Herzog's "On Death Row" out of the Berlin film festival, but I can't resist sharing a few thoughts about the four-part series in advance of its March 9 premiere on Investigation Discovery.

In the program, Herzog continues to explore questions surrounding capital punishment he tackled in the documentary "Into the Abyss," interviewing more death-row inmates. What's most intriguing, though, is the role the filmmaker himself plays as an opponent of the death penalty.

Herzog isn't a journalist, but he comes to the task with a natural curiosity that serves him -- and the project -- well. Calmly, he asks the right questions, while still saying things in voiceover like "As a German, coming from a different historical background … I respectfully disagree with the practice of capital punishment," which make his own convictions crystal clear.

The thoughtful manner in which "On Death Row" examines those concerns is a cut above for ID, which has carved out a true-crime niche thanks in part to its sensational approach and cheeky attitude, often cloaking its programs in familiar movie trappings. (The new "Deadly Sins," for example, brings "Seven" to mind, while "Dark Minds" has a jailed serial killer assisting cold-case investigators, providing the network with its own in-house version of Hannibal Lecter.)

The inmates Herzog speaks to have done terrible things, but by forcing the viewer to contemplate the ramifications of capital punishment, the director helps give their deaths, if not their lives, meaning.

"You know it doesn’t deter anyone," Herzog says during one interview with an attorney regarding a frequently cited rationale for executions.

So give Investigation Discovery credit for allowing Herzog (who wrote and directed the show, with Erik Nelson producing) to further delve into this topic and dare to question the state putting people to death. While it's unlikely to sway many hearts and minds, it ought to make anybody with even a hint of an open mind think.

Werner Herzog's ON DEATH ROW (2:30 Clip) from Investigation Discovery on Vimeo.

CBS and the Turner Networks held a conference call this morning to promote the upcoming NCAA Tournament, and expressed great satisfaction with how last year's tournament unfolded in the first year under their joint venture to carry every game live in every market.

Still, execs also expressed surprise -- and some relief -- that having four games running simultaneously against each other didn't produce wholesale flipping from one channel to another each time a game went into commercials.

Turner sales, distribution and sports prez David Levy said he was "very surprised" there wasn't more channel-surfing, saying, "People weren't jumping around as much as we thought they would. They stayed with the games they were on."

CBS Sports Chairman Sean McManus echoed that relief, while noting -- in what sounded like something of a contradiction -- that viewers "almost instantaneously figured out how to navigate" the new TV format.

So here's my question: Why not surf?

According to Levy, fans stay with their teams, so even if a home team was winning by 20, its loyalists would stay tuned. OK, fine.

But what about the other team that's losing by 20? And what about people who -- in most games -- don't have a dog in the fight? Why wouldn't you start flipping around to see what's happening elsewhere during those early rounds, when multiple games are running on CBS, TNT, TBS and TruTV?

I understand the networks keep telling us viewers don't always zap through commercials when they delay something on the DVR, as counter-intuitive as that sounds. But one would think sports fans would be a little more adept at that -- and if nothing else, itchier on the trigger finger.

Unless, of course, CBS and Turner fans aren't as bright as they -- and the networks and advertisers who love them -- would like to think. Which, come to think of it, probably helps explain the kind of sponsors they attract.

Hello, Budweiser.

It was a classic Rush Limbaugh performance Monday morning -- attacking relentlessly, as usual, against the ideological foes he demonizes daily.

But then there was that apology he snuck in. An apology? From El Rushbo? In the parlance of "Animal House," that sort of makes him "A wimp and a blimp."

A "blimp" not because of his girth, but because the hot-air Limbaugh express is notorious for taking no prisoners as it surfs the airwaves. A wimp because he nevertheless apologized, presumably to help quell unrest among his advertisers and Republicans, some of whom were actually forced to denounce him.

Of course, the apology came while simultaneously remaining on the attack, saying that by labeling a Georgetown law student a "slut" and "prostitute," "against my own instincts ... I descended to their level."

"Their level," of course, would be the one occupied by liberals, who Limbaugh makes clear every day are not merely on the opposite side of issues, but his enemy. And he quickly turned the discussion away from Sandra Fluke, the target of his vitriol last week, to Barack Obama's "socialist agenda" and the healthcare-reform debate.

Still, I can't help but ask "Why apologize?" If Fluke is a Democratic flunky and activist, as Limbaugh again charged on Monday, then why retreat at all? Why mince words, or devote nearly 45 minutes to discussing the situation? Somehow, the "I descended to their level" explanation sounds hollow, since the host descends to that level -- indeed, steadfastly swims around in it, in terms of ridicule and name-calling -- daily. It's part of his formula, and at this point, anyone apt to be offended probably knows better than to tune in.

"All of this, folks, is political," Limbaugh said, reiterating his assertion that "the Left" "treats pregnancy like a disease."

Limbaugh insisted his only commitment is to the audience, and acted unconcerned about the sponsors who have fled. "We'll replace them," he said, implying that those who dropped the show no longer want his audience's business. Consider that a not-so-lovely parting gift.

Still, trying to apologize while continuing to verbally bash Democrats sounded a bit too much like "I know you are but what am I?," even for Rush. And he let out one howler of a falsehood, saying conservatives never try to silence anybody by pressuring their advertisers. This might come as news to, among others, Brent Bozell and the mini-empire of advocacy groups he founded, including the Parents Television Council.

It's unclear whether this episode will diminish Limbaugh in the long term, or whether Republican politicians will continue to kowtow to him and his vast audience of "Ditto-heads" quite so obsequiously.

But for the last few days, anyway, Limbaugh has done something we've seldom seen from him through the years: Not just trip over his own venomous tongue, but then proceed to tie himself into knots with it.

Fox didn't send "Q'Viva! The Chosen" out for review, and there's a reason: In the bigger scheme of things, it's only secondarily a TV show -- and a derivative one at that, "Latin America's Got Talent."

The program's larger purpose, clearly, is to provide an extra incentive, an ego stroke, to satisfy its co-host superstar, "American Idol" judge Jennifer Lopez.

Lopez produces the talent showcase with her ex-husband, Marc Anthony. And she told the Los Angeles Times that she thought the show would do perfectly fine, despite its rather grim Saturday timeslot, in a piece that oddly failed to quote -- or explain why it didn't quote -- a single Fox executive about that scheduling decision.

But who are we kidding? Fox wanted to make Lopez happy by ordering the show. And the network obviously didn't think it would be a ratings barn-burner, so it then sought to mitigate the risk by running it on a night every other network has turned into "Encore Presentation" theater.

Not surprisingly, the ratings were at best tepid: Averaging 2.2 mllion viewers, according to preliminary Nielsen figures, edging only NBC's burnoff of "The Firm" among the broadcast networks.

As for the actual series, I watched Saturday's premiere (thank goodness for TiVo), and seeing Spanish subtitles on the usual reality-TV sob stories didn't qualify as a major creative breakthrough. The one moment that stood out had to do with the couple's relationship, with Anthony leering at some buxom Puerto Rican twins and acting like Lopez was going to be jealous. If it was meant to be cute, it mostly came off as a little weird and creepy.

So like a salsa dancer who isn't particularly thrilled with his or her partner, this is one of those instances where everybody is just going through the motions.

What I don't entirely understand is why people seem skittish about stating the obvious: Dress it up all you want in sequins and glitter, and "Q'Viva" is a vanity project, pure and simple -- "Sabado Ego Trip." Just once I'd like to hear someone at Fox say, "Look, J-Lo is very important to us, and this is a passion project for her. Frankly, if she wanted to film her trips to the supermarket or yoga sessions, we'd probably commit to six on the air."

Whatever language you choose to use, in Hollywood, that's life.

Update: Rush Limbaugh took the very rare step -- for him -- of issuing an apology, if you can call it that, via his website for his word choice regarding Sandra Fluke.

Frankly, though, that doesn't really wash, coming as it does from a guy who has 15 hours a week on air to address issues. In other words, if Limbaugh thinks he can make this kerfuffle go away without addressing the matter on his program, he's got another thing coming. But truth be told, I'm surprised he'd bother. Like I said in the original post, nobody who advertises on his show -- or listens to it -- can claim they're not familiar with his routine. If he really is doing this because a few sponsors fled, he mostly looks like a wimp.

In the meantime, I was amused to see people taking to Twitter to try to explain to Limbaugh and Bill O'Reilly how birth-control pills work, and that they're not like condoms, where you put them on each time you use them. It's a nice try, but at this point, logic has sort of left the building.

Original post: The furor over Rush Limbaugh's incendiary remarks about a Georgetown law student -- calling her a "slut" for testifying regarding the importance of birth control -- blew up after I filed my latest column, about the moving line pundits are asked to toe. But it's hard to think of a better example of just how arbitrary the rules are when it comes to saying outlandish things, and paying any kind of a penalty for it.

Limbaugh has already lost some sponsors over his remarks, and even been condemned by a few Republicans. But anyone who's falling for that trick -- "We're shocked, shocked, to discover intemperate things are being said here" -- is a classic media rube.

For years, Limbaugh has been a master of dancing up to "the line" -- on subjects like women's rights and race -- and occasionally tumbling across it. Rarely has he apologized, and for all the righteous indignation voiced, he's still here, pocketing tens of millions and carried by more than 600 radio stations.

There's no question, moreover, lesser mortals would have been forced to apologize -- and perhaps terminated -- for some of Limbaugh's utterances, particularly if they came on TV as opposed to talkradio, where the advertisers, frankly, tend to be bottom-feeders anyway. If you doubt this, try listening to a talk station, and take a shot every time someone tries to sell you gold, hair plugs, drunk-driving defense or a miracle cure for diabetes/obesity/insert-your-disease-here. You'll be tanked before you get through the first traffic update.

Ever since Don Imus got himself fired, people have been fascinated with variable standards of what can push a loudmouth over the edge. This has led to a lot of finger-pointing, of the "If Johnny Finnegan got thrown off the Empire State Building for being an idiot, why isn't he getting pushed off?" variety.

The answer's simple: There are no clear rules, because no two situations -- or hosts or commentators -- are exactly alike, sort of like really irritating snowflakes. And when it comes to having the right to be a jerk and getting away with it, the Limbaugh snowstorm might just be in a class all by itself.

A brief word about "The Walking Dead," the AMC drama, after watching the latest episodes, including the one airing this Sunday. (Don't worry, this post will be spoiler-free.)

One of the unexpected pleasures of the show in this second season has been the way it has tackled questions of morality, and what the central group will do in the name of survival. At one point, the stalwart leader, Rick (Andrew Lincoln), said, "We don't kill the living." But in a lawless world, such a principled stand has become increasingly difficult to maintain.

There's been some grousing, inevitably, about the show (even in the context of the half-hour talkshow AMC devotes to it, "The Talking Dead"), which is to be expected with anything that burns this brightly and operates under the added burden of being adapted from a graphic novel -- a world where fans are seldom shy about voicing their displeasure and reservations.

Even so -- and especially with the behind-the-scenes tumult stemming from the departure of Frank Darabont, who developed the series -- "Dead" has remained enormously compelling this season, managing to deal in thought-provoking topics that go well beyond the perceived limitations of a "show about zombies." Virtually every episode, moreover, has contained at least one sequence that had a way of lingering beyond the hour, including a showdown a few weeks ago with strangers in a bar that was a mini-masterpiece of sustained tension.

Of course, when you dabble in morality, that often means having characters sit around talking about things, which isn't always as visceral or exciting as some viewers would like. Still, if exploring those issues means less brain-splattering gore for the young male demo, that thinking-man's approach is not only vital to keeping the series interesting, but more than a fair trade-off.

Fox is getting into a bad habit: Renewing marginally rated series, but then trying to “fix” them.

The last grand experiment, “Human Target,” took a fun, kind of charming show and pretty well messed it up. The latest, “Breaking In,” was less promising the first time around, but the network’s solution, oddly, is almost exactly the same: Bringing in a female character who bankrolls (or in this case, buys) the existing entity, trying to tart up the show's dynamic.

So the security firm featured in the program, headed by Christian Slater, is acquired by a new boss played by “Will & Grace’s” Megan Mullally. All this really does is take a concept that was slightly over the top to begin with and ratchet up the silliness, “Spinal Tap”-style, to about an eleven.

The only really clever bit happens right at the outset, when Slater’s character makes a pitch to sell “Mr. Fox” on his enterprise –- a not-so-thinly-veiled reference to how close the show came to extinction.

But with the changes made, and the series placed behind “New Girl” –- the bright spot in a pretty weak Tuesday comedy lineup also consisting of “Raising Hope” and “I Hate My Teenage Daughter,” with “Glee” taking a breather –- my guess is the network didn’t prevent its demise; rather, it merely postponed it.

The larger question is this dubious notion of making shows more appealing –- presumably to women –- by casting female characters and trying to earn a second bite at the apple. Sure, Mullally has a track record, but it’s hard to imagine many people rediscovering this Sony Pictures Television series based on her addition.

The bottom line: Either exhibit faith in a show and renew it, or unless you really have a fresh take, why not just go back to the drawing board and start over with something new?

“Breaking In” might be a second-rate caper, but that doesn’t mean it deserves second-class treatment.

“Breaking In” airs at 9:30 p.m. Tuesdays on Fox starting March 6.

ABC News has clearly demonstrated itself to be a good "team player" in terms of trying to feed the network programs that could easily come from the entertainment division, like the news-staging morality test "What Would You Do?"

Now enter "Revenge for Real," a two-part program (I can't in good conscious call it a documentary) designed to fill the slot normally occupied by the serialized drama "Revenge" with a news-based show that looks just like it.

Here's the description from the network:

Wednesday, March 7: “Revenge for Real: Murder in the Hamptons”

A rich, handsome, philandering husband, his scorned trophy wife and her boyfriend, an electrician from the wrong side of the tracks… a love triangle seemingly made for Hollywood. But this was not Hollywood, rather a real life Hamptons revenge story. When millionaire Ted Ammon was brutally murdered in the bedroom of his East Hampton mansion in 2001, suspicion fell on his wife, Generosa, and her boyfriend, Long Island electrician Danny Pelosi – who was eventually convicted of the crime. But now, from behind bars, Pelosi is telling Cynthia McFadden what he says is the real truth of what happened that night. It is a twist to the sensational Hamptons murder case that casts new light on members of New York’s high society.

Look, I get it, we live in competitive times. But the willingness of ABC News to churn out this sort of frothy fare -- especially in the midst of an election year, when there actually appears to be some demand for harder news -- is disheartening to say the least. And the fact "Nightline's" McFadden is anchoring only reinforces how that once-stately program has stooped and pandered in an effort to keep its numbers up.

No doubt ABC News will inundate me with stats about all the serious reporting they've done lately, but I don't see much of that finding its way into primetime. And when I asked ABC News Prez Ben Sherwood about all the fluff the network airs during the TV Critics Assn. tour in January, he insisted the old "hard" and "soft" news labels no longer apply, which is self-serving in the extreme.

So to put it in terms viewers of "What Would You Do?" could understand, I'd say on this particular test of character, the network flunks.

Although there will considerable attention devoted to this summer's live-action tentpole "The Avengers," DC and Warner Bros. beat Marvel's super-team to the punch with a movie devoted to its own gang of heroes, "Justice League: Doom."

Except "Avengers" is live-action, while this "Justice League" epic -- which hits stores today -- is merely the latest animated, PG-13-rated, direct-to-DVD release aimed at the significantly smaller market of hard-core comic-book fans.

Admittedly, these animated films serve an additional purpose, helping stoke excitement, hopefully, for movies as well as lighter TV series aimed more squarely at kids.

Mostly, though, the medium allows animators and storytellers to feature superhero characters with a level of shorthand that certainly isn't possible in live-action movies meant to appeal to a wider audience.

In this case, the plot hinges on an assortment of supervillains -- some extremely obscure -- being assembled to take down the Justice League, using an elaborate plot where each individual attack is as much psychological as physical. Moreover, the heroes later discover the bad guys are working from templates actually devised by Batman (voiced, as usual, by Kevin Conroy), who has planned these contingencies to neutralize his fellow JL members -- Superman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter -- should any or all of them go rogue.

The story thus advances the popular modern image of Batman as not only misanthropic and sullen but near-psychotic, so driven by his vigilante streak as to stand apart even from other costumed heroes.

Beyond that, the movie -- directed by Lauren Montgomery, from a script by Dwayne McDuffie -- paints on a vast canvas and incorporates a tremendous amount of action, while weaving in some welcome humor. (As my colleague David Cohen noted, McDuffie died a year ago, at the age of 49, and was posthumously honored by the Writers Guild of America a few months ago.)

Both Marvel and DC have gone this route as an ancillary business to exploit their characters, but if the former has enjoyed more success on the live-action front of late (witness "Thor" and "Captain America" versus the disappointing "Green Lantern" movie), DC pretty well owns the direct-to-DVD animation market from a qualitative perspective, including first-rate vocal casts and extremely ambitious stories. (The last title, "Batman: Year One," was among its best in that regard.)

Financially speaking, these projects are mere singles and doubles, to be sure, but they still scratch an itch for a discriminating audience. So for those who can identify more than one of the characters in the picture at left above, it's more than likely you'll enjoy watching the combatants in "Doom" lower the boom.

My guess is TiVo subscribers generally forget about the fact that its beloved set-top boxes are assembling data -- collectively, not individually -- about its users while they watch TV programs.

Yet the company couldn't resist reminding us that it possesses this ability in the context of the Oscars, and issuing a release about the five most "TiVo'ed moments," meaning those that were watched, then rewound and watched again.

Here, according to TiVo, were the five:

1. Cameron Diaz and Jennifer Lopez presenting the award for Best Costume Design and Makeup (and a potential wardrobe malfunction from J-Lo)

2. Robert Downey, Jr. and Gwyneth Paltrow presenting the award for Best Documentary with Downey's documentary crew filming it

3. Meryl Streep wins the Best Actress Award

4. Octavia Spencer receiving the award for Best Actress in a Supporting Role

5. Tom Cruise announces “The Artist” as Best Picture

For the record, I also rewound the J-Lo moment, strictly for professional reasons, and I still can't say for certain what I saw, although I'd be lying if I said it was the least fun part of the evening.

Anyway, isn't it comforting to know that while you're watching TV, your TV can now watch you?

Note: TiVo revised its list, so this post was updated and revised. An earlier release also included Angelina Jolie presenting and showing off some leg among the most TiVo'ed moments.

A new survey finds that 73% of new surveys are a complete waste of time.

And I'm only 50% kidding about that.

The latest example of "news you can't use (that isn't really much news to anyone)" comes courtesy of Poll Position, which bills itself as "a unique non-partisan news, polling, and social media company founded and lead by two award-winning CNN news and polling veterans. The company’s goals are to engage, enlighten, and entertain millions of people with exclusive news-making, buzz-generating public opinion polls."

So what's their big revelation? Here it is:

A vast majority of Americans watch TV for entertainment and news, according to a new poll by Poll Position.

In a national scientific telephone survey Poll Position asked, “What is your main reason for watching television?”

Entertainment is the number one reason with 39%, news is second reason with 34% and sports are the third most reason to watch TV with 12%. After that there was a drop off. Other reasons to watch TV is the fourth reason at 9% and weather is the fifth reason at 3%. Three percent offered no opinion to the question and 2% said they don’t watch television.

That's it??? That was worth conducting a poll and sending out a press release to announce the results? Does this really represent a shocker to anyone? Hell, "Eyewitness News" has been selling itself as "News, entertainment and sports" for 35 years.

Not to pick on Poll Position (well, maybe a little), because these kind of announcements flood journalists' inboxes daily. Call them "Things that make you go 'Duh,'" like a release saying that PBS' "Downton Abbey" has generated a lot of social media searches.

Um, dude, it was the most-watched program on PBS since 2009. If there weren't a lot of social-media searches, I'd be surprised.

Look, I get that some outlets will jump on this, or just about anything -- especially some of our less-schooled brethren in broadcast TV and radio. Even so, sending out releases strictly to justify your existence can have a certain "Boy who cried wolf" quality, at least for those of us who bother paying attention to such things.

In fact, I'd say I'm probably 55% more likely to ignore the next press release I see from Poll Position. You know, with a plus-or-minus 5% margin of error.

Having toured the festival circuit, the documentary "Phunny Business: A Black Comedy" gets a showing on Showtime Feb. 23, timed to Black History Month. It's an interesting, mostly entertaining film, whose flaws owe as much to its headliner as the execution.

That would be Raymond C. Lambert, who came up with the idea for All Jokes Aside, a comedy club featuring African-American comics in Chicago. Launched in 1991, the club had the good fortune to come into its own during the heart of the stand-up explosion, only to implode a decade later, thanks in part to resistance from local merchants, reflecting the thorny nature of both race relations and Windy City politics.

Directed by John Davies -- who also produced and co-wrote with Lambert -- and narrated by John Ridley, the doc is a useful examination of the club's role in advancing the careers of many black comics, and how the shifting business model eventually worked against the small clubs that helped make such performers stars.

The main drawback, frankly, is Lambert himself, whose direct-to-camera interviews are stilted, stagy and insincere-sounding, in a way I struggled to put my finger on -- finally feeling more like a performance than honest conversation. He winds up being the weak link in a movie devoted, rightfully, to his own foresight and entrepreneurial drive.

For all that, there's still much to like about "Phunny Business," which interviews a wide array of comics (Steve Harvey, Cedric the Entertainer, D.L. Hughley, etc.) who cut their teeth at the club. There's also a heartfelt tribute to the late Bernie Mac woven into the narrative.

Much has been said regarding the evolution of comedy -- including the period in the late 1980s and early '90s, overlapping All Jokes Aside's heyday, when it seemed everyone with five minutes of material was getting sitcom deals. In that context, "Phunny Business" is a noteworthy reminder of cultural rifts that prevented some minority comics from fully sharing in those rewards.

So if you have an interest in comedy and its history -- and can get past Lambert's quirks -- it's worth the cover charge, but not if you include a two-drink minimum.

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.