Jon Stewart v. Stephen Colbert is sort of like Babe Ruth v. Ty Cobb.

But on nights when Colbert is really on his game, there's almost nothing funnier.

Case in point: His advice to GOP candidates -- or as he calls them, "fellow conservatives" -- who seem to keep stumbling when fielding questions about a rape exception in relation to abortion.

Time Warner Cable put out a statement Wednesday night insisting that its new start-up regional sports networks are a great value. Besides, the channels have TV rights to the Lakers -- which the company committed $3 billion to acquire, and which in Los Angeles is sort of like peddling "Breaking Bad's" blue stuff to a bunch of meth heads.

Still, I'm sort of hoping the other program providers currently wrestling with TWC hold the line, if only to bring about some semblance of rationality to the lunacy that is the ever-escalating cost of sports rights.

Now, while Time Warner Cable would like you to think everybody in Southern California couldn't possibly live without the Lakers, I can think of a few folks -- like, say, my mother -- who can, and who also would feel the pain if asked to pay another $4 a month for the privilege. Of course, distributors don't have to pass the full freight along to their customers, but even if it's just a part of the per-subscriber fee, it means a lot of people who couldn't give a rat's ass about how Dwight Howard looks in a Lakers uniform will also be footing the bill.

OK, so other people gouge subscribers. I suppose if DirecTV jumped off the Empire State Building, Time Warner Cable would too?

In its statement, Time Warner Cable said:

With the Los Angeles Lakers, LA Galaxy and Los Angeles Sparks, two networks and unprecedented behind-the-scenes programming, Time Warner Cable SportsNet and Time Warner Cable Deportes are delivering tremendous value for Southern California sports fans. Any assertion that we are the highest priced regional sports outlet in the country is simply untrue; as a significant buyer of regional sports across the country, we know that there are higher priced regional sports networks, including Root Sports that we buy from DirecTV. Cox and DirecTV know that there is no regional sports network anywhere in the country that is offered on an optional tier -- that would be unprecedented. If Cox or DirecTV choose not to carry our networks, we and their customers will be very disappointed but we are confident there will be other alternatives for their customers to see this highly-anticipated Lakers season.

Except I'm a sports fan, and couldn't care less about the Galaxy or Sparks. So for someone like me, the extra cost amounts to the opportunity to catch a couple of additional Lakers games a month, period. Yippee.

TWC is relying on myopic bozos -- including sportswriters like Los Angeles Times columnist Bill Plaschke, who called the fee "industry-reasonable" -- to carry their water, along with irate Lakers fans. But at some point, the owners who have priced ordinary families out of attending games with soaring ticket prices -- and then had the gall to turn around and demand stratospheric increases in TV rights deals to boot -- are going to choke on their own greed.

With all due respect to Time Warner Cable and the Lakers, now would be as good a time as any.

For the past few weeks, TV viewers have been treated to a quartet of presidential (and vice presidential) debates.

Or as pundits have insisted on calling it, "Riveting primetime drama."

Even seasoned op-ed columnists can seldom resist equating such events to TV shows, mostly because TV is how we've been programmed to process the world.

The latest comparison along those lines came from New York Times columnist Frank Bruni, who wrote, "In aggregate these presidential debates gave us sublime drama, the first one scrambling the race’s momentum, the second one flavored with enough disdain to fill a 'Real Housewives' season, and Monday night’s reprising that ill will without quite replicating it."

Well, hell, how is "Elementary" supposed to measure up to all that?

The debate commission did spread the pain around: The four debates preempted one Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, disruptions which (coupled with playoff baseball coverage) have made a clear read on the fall TV season's ratings even harder to grasp. (There's a great story about then-ABC President Dan Burke complaining when there were initial plans in 1992 for four Tuesday-night debates, which at that time would have preempted the network's strongest lineup.)

There will be one more night of across-the-board preemptions, of course, on election night. And while the fate of the republic hangs in the balance, that's small comfort if you're the producers of "The Mindy Project" or "The New Normal."

Then again, if those shows were as consistently funny as some of the more ridiculous aspects of the campaign, they'd have nothing to worry about.

Let's table the third presidential debate itself, and Bob Schieffer's even-handed performance as the moderator, and get back to a question I've raised before.

Why would any news organization want their talent to be associated with moderating a presidential debate, given the polarized political climate and likelihood the journalist will be accused of putting his or her thumb on the scales?

After all the excoriation of Jim Lehrer following the first debate, reviews were generally favorable for ABC's Martha Raddatz, though some conservatives accused her of favoring Vice President Joe Biden, which most argued (accurately) merely meant the Democrat fared much better.

CNN's Candy Crowley, for her part, got drawn into the conversation by fact-checking GOP candidate Mitt Romney in mid-debate.

Schieffer managed to stay above the fray, mostly, though I don't think it's an accident the debates skipped over front-line anchors during this cycle. And frankly, I can't see any percentage in having a Brian Williams, Diane Sawyer or Scott Pelley brave this particular arena.

Here's a thought: Have top anchors preside over the debates, strictly as referees and time-keepers, and let a trio of print journalists ask the questions. Because having a single moderator simply places too much pressure on that particular personality and news organization.

Granted, the print scribes will get the same grief. But given the current state of the news biz, they could at least use the attention.

Barring that, as I suggested before, they ought to toss out the whole issue of moderators and hire hockey referees. They're well-versed in the part of rigidly regulating time during a heated contest, and a lot of them currently have extra time on their hands.

Of course, some of them are Canadian, but no one's perfect, eh?

Are you sick of reading about "The Walking Dead" yet? Because if you already are, this promises to be a very long fall.

The jaw-dropping ratings for the season three premiere of the AMC series have a lot of interesting implications, even with the Dish-AMC dispute settled. And although those numbers cooled a bit in the second week, the program is still attracting the kind of mass audience seldom associated with basic cable -- while scoring a demographic bull's-eye with a young-adult, unusually-male audience to boot.

In the near term, that slavering horde of viewers should have a very profound effect on the world of entertainment journalism, so much so that you'll be hard-pressed to avoid the show in the coming weeks.

Every outlet that cares a whit about web traffic (and these days, that's all of them) or newsstand sales will want a piece of the "Dead." Moreover, because it's a genre show perceptions about the audience's passion and willingness to seek the program out in ancillary areas is multiplied -- in the same way "True Blood" has received a disproportionate amount of pop-culture attention relative to its creative merit.

Simply put, you're apt to see a lot more zombies and vampires wandering around Comic-Con as opposed to, say, people dressed up in "Boardwalk Empire" or "Homeland" garb. And that will translate into love from editors and aggregators.

Even in these first couple of weeks, this has begun to produce a minor backlash, or at least some grousing from those who feel the excitement surrounding the ratings is being somewhat overblown.

Sorry, but get used to it. And if the entertainment world appears to be overrun by a new breed of "Dead"-heads, try to avoid letting the invasion make you green with nausea -- or more likely, envy.

We'll never know for certain the precise mix of factors that caused Dish to settle with AMC Networks on Sunday, and the trial certainly wasn't going well for the satellite company.

Still, as I suggested a couple of weeks ago, I wouldn't rule out the influence of "The Walking Dead" -- and its legions of ravenous fans -- in at least helping to motivate the company to look for a way out.

After all, "Dead" returned on Oct. 14 to record ratings even without Dish subscribers, which account for about one in seven homes with cable or satellite. At some point, even a company as arrogant as Dish had to start worrying about losing customers who weren't going to be satisfied by being told to go rent the show on Netflix.

Granted, there are only so many subscribers so hooked as to go through the trouble of changing their service because of the Dish-AMC standoff. But if that amounted to even a couple hundred thousand people, does Dish really want to throw away those subs in this environment?

Meanwhile, after its staggering debut, "Dead" will now reach about 14 million additional homes with Dish back on board, making life that much tougher on every other Sunday-night program. The only good news is DVRs will likely be working overtime -- at least in the homes of discriminating viewers -- with programs like "Dead," "Boardwalk Empire," "Homeland," "Dexter," "Revenge," "Once Upon a Time" and "The Good Wife" all on the Sunday-night menu.

However one views the timing, if those responsible for "The Walking Dead" had leverage in future negotiations with AMC before, after those jaw-dropping ratings and now this latest turn of events, watch out.

And if there's a message here for future carriage disputes (even if this one was unusual in several respects), I think it's as simple as this: People love individual shows more than networks, and generally like both a whole lot more than the distributors who deliver programming to them. Put another way: I've never had to wait four hours for an AMC technician to show up at my house, acting like he was doing me a favor for the privilege of letting me pay $100-plus a month for service.

For Dish, that might be a lesson best served cold.

As someone who has devoured practically everything he could find about the Cuban Missile Crisis, I ought to be the target audience for the 50-year anniversary special "Cuban Missile Crisis -- Three Men Go to War," which will air Oct. 23 on PBS.

But this one-hour documentary struck me as strangely flat, despite some obvious coups, like securing an interview with the son of then-Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev, Sergei, as well as various participants in those events and American, Cuban and Russian historians.

Oddly, this doc devoted squarely to the Missiles of October and the standoff over nuclear weapons in Cuba doesn't bring the period to life as vividly as HBO's "Ethel," which premiered Oct. 18, and allocated only a small portion of its time to the exchange. (My earlier thoughts on that documentary can be found here.)

The project does benefit from access to audiotapes of conversations involving President Kennedy, with Gen. Curtis LeMay -- who later became George Wallace's running mate on a third-party presidential ticket -- capturing how close the world came to a nuclear exchange by saying in regard to Cuba, "I'll fry it."

As several of the interview subjects make clear, Khrushchev "sees Kennedy as a pushover," as Peter Kornbluh -- director of the National Security Archive's Cuba Documentation Project -- succinctly puts it.

Still, even with the material unearthed thanks to newly declassified documents from all three countries, "Cuban Missile Crisis" feels mostly like a rehash, and unnecessarily dresses itself up with too-familiar images of mushroom clouds.

For those old enough to remember those days -- or even their baby boomer kids, who simply recall participating in "duck and cover" drills at school -- the specter of nuclear annihilation doubtless remains deeply ingrained in the psyche. They deserve a great special chronicling an incident of such enormous historical importance.

"Cuban Missile Crisis" isn't bad, but it also isn't that.

Barrooms are customarily the site of debates about who was the greatest pitcher or point guard or quarterback ever.

A university, I suppose, is as good a place as any to launch a similar discussion -- however fruitless it might be -- about TV executives.

The Brandon Tartikoff Legacy Collection was unveiled at the USC School of CInematic Arts on Thursday evening, and "Law & Order" creator Dick Wolf -- who was among the speakers paying tribute to the late NBC programming whiz -- said without any equivocation that Tartikoff was "the single greatest television programming executive in the history of the medium."

Was he? And how do you even outline the criteria for the argument?

This arises, interestingly enough, after someone (who, I should note, does not have a dog in the fight) recently contacted me, suggesting I write a piece in which I propose -- or at least open a dialogue -- as to whether CBS CEO Leslie Moonves qualifies as the most successful TV exec ever.

Like Tartikoff, Moonves has spent an awfully long time now at a single network (and just extended his CBS tenure by several years), and had the advantage of enjoying enormous success as a studio executive at Lorimar and Warner Bros. Television before he moved to CBS in the mid-1990s. That's sort of like Phil Jackson winning titles with both the Lakers and the Bulls.

Then again, Tartikoff's predecessor, Fred Silverman, held the top programming post at all three major networks, and also had successes as a producer after leaving them.

The hardest aspect in any of these discussions is the allocation of credit, especially since Tartikoff also spent part of his career working under Grant Tinker, who would be part of any such debate, given his run at MTM before NBC. Indeed, I'd also include another Brandon -- Stoddard, who developed such staggering events as "Roots" and "The Day After," as well as "Roseanne" -- during a tenure at ABC that partially overlapped with Silverman. Turning to cable, Chris Albrecht also had a pretty spectacular stretch -- "The Sopranos," "The Wire," "Sex and the City" -- at HBO.

Frankly, it's an interesting intellectual exercise, if one virtually designed to muddy the waters -- especially if you broaden the parameters of "programming" to include someone like Roone Arledge, whose career straddled news and sports; or pioneering figures like William Paley and Leonard Goldenson. Granted, they eclipse the definition of "programming executives," per se, but these days so does Moonves.

For all that, I confess it's difficult to argue with Tartikoff, given the length of his tenure and the mix of critical and commercial success NBC achieved in the 1980s. But I'm also open to suggestions.

And Wolf got it absolutely right in one respect, closing his remarks about the Tartikoff era by saying, "Just remember: It's not coming around again."

Both "Nashville" and "Arrow" got off to reasonably good starts ratings-wise, and enjoyed generally favorable reviews -- especially in the former's case.

So given my own mild misgivings about them -- which you can find here and here -- how did the singers and zingers fare in their second weeks, creatively speaking?

There were some sharp notes, but both struck me as a little bit flat.

"Nashville" clearly has formidable assets in Connie Britton and Hayden Panettiere, but most of the supporting players remain either out of step with them in tone (see Powers Boothe as Britton's power-mad dad) or not particularly interesting. And I'm already bored with Britton's band leader and old flame (played by Charles Esten) being caught between the two divas.

Frankly, I'm still mystified why the show received such unreserved praise, when I can think of other Southern-fried soaps -- TNT's "Dallas" reboot comes to mind -- which feel more inherently juicy. Moreover, after people got prematurely enthused about its debut ratings, "Nashville" looked considerably weaker -- predictably -- without an hour of "Modern Family" leading into it. (We'll see what DVR numbers do, of course, which has become a necessary disclaimer.)

As for "Arrow," the show has found two fronts in which to layer on mystery -- what happened on the island, and the power brokers the protagonist is out to stop -- but with every new beat, the series feels more and more like "Batman's Creek."

Even the conceit of Oliver Queen (Stephen Amell) having to pretend to be what he's not in order to obscure his secret identity by playing the churlish billionaire has "Batman Begins" written all over it. Then again, when you're trying to fashion a second-tier comic-book character for mass consumption, why not borrow from the best?

While Amell is just fine -- and I kind of enjoyed seeing Kelly Hu as a stock villain under a blond flapper wig in this most recent hour -- my biggest complaint so far is the action isn't particularly exciting. Everything is so rapidly edited, dark and murky it's hard to appreciate what's happening, and they have yet to find a way to make people getting shot with arrows all that riveting.

As a recovering comic-book fan who's quite familiar with the character, I really should be the target audience (OK, the father of those within the target audience) for something like this. So the fact "Arrow" again failed to pierce my hardened critic's heart and find the little boy inside isn't a particularly good sign.

That said, this is on the CW, and while I confess to admiring Amell's abs, I don't swoon every time he bares them. (Although this might sound like nitpicking, one more point: Seriously, would it kill him to put on a mask? How long before someone knocks his hood off and goes, "Omigod! Oliver Queen!")

The bottom line is both shows offer a pretty good demonstration about the wisdom of keeping one foot on the floor when judging new pilots, until a series demonstrates what it has in its playlist and quiver, respectively.

So if either show has a country hit or Cupid's arrow in its arsenal, I suggest they unleash them sooner rather than later.

Today's column dealt with the Brandon Tartikoff Legacy Collection, which will be unveiled at the USC School of Cinematic Arts at an event Thursday.

Because of obvious space restrictions I couldn't include everything in the exhibition. So I thought I'd post a couple of extra photos that didn't make the cut. And yes, sometimes you really do want to go where everybody knows your name.

In this one, Tartikoff -- who said he had a hard time picturing Michael J. Fox on a lunchbox when casting "Family Ties" -- commemorates the moment:

And here Tartikoff is shown with a very young "Fresh Prince:"

Memo to TV news execs, and their talent: So do you really want to participate in presidential debates? Is the benefit of showcasing your personnel truly worth the headaches, and inevitable finger-pointing?

I will hardly resort to a "Toldja" over suggesting in advance that CNN would wind up in a defensive crouch after its correspondent Candy Crowley moderated Tuesday night's presidential debate, because the result was so predictable.

The beauty of retreating to the charge of liberal media bias is that it's such a handy way of deflecting attention from inconvenient stories about more significant matters. Although to be fair, liberals themselves are hardly immune from blaming the media, as was witnessed in response to Jim Lehrer's role in moderating the opening debate.

Still, Crowley got embroiled in controversy even before she asked the first question -- there was the little issue of whether she was entitled to ask follow-up questions, as opposed to just referee -- and then got dragged further into the muck when she dared to suggest President Obama had indeed mentioned acts of terrorism in the wake of the Libya attack, appearing to contradict GOP candidate Mitt Romney.

Never one to mince words, Rush Limbaugh said Wednesday that Crowley had "made a fool of herself." But Romney surrogates also piled on, accusing the CNN correspondent of interjecting herself into the debate and misrepresenting the facts. (Crowley has been out to defend herself today -- on CNN, naturally -- and most of the non-partisan analysis I've seen would disagree with that, but never mind.)

So make that three debates, with significant blowback against the moderators in two of them, and an assault on the integrity of ABC News' Martha Raddatz that preceded the other.

Bob Schieffer, are you listening? Because as the moderator of the fourth and final debate, I suspect a lot of people trying to plant seeds in your mind hope you are.

Frankly, I'm all for getting rid of moderators entirely. Let the two candidates come out, with a pre-negotiated list of topics, and go at it. Ring a bell when they use up their allotted time.

But that will never happen. And that leaves news organizations in the unenviable position of seeking to be even-handed, grey and unobtrusive in a political and increasingly media world that sees only red or blue.

The Huffington Post had a headline that said "Town Hall Brawl" -- before the debate began. That was sort of like calling a famous fight the Thrilla in Manila, before anyone knew whether it actually provided any thrills.

Still, the ensuing debate Tuesday -- using a town hall format, and moderated by CNN's Candy Crowley -- did yield pointed exchanges between the two candidates, and an engaged President Obama, whose absence at the first debate caused so much hand-wringing among his supporters.

On style points alone, Obama was vastly superior to the first debate. He listened intently while Romney was talking, spoke more forcefully and called attention to the changes in position that have brought charges of being a "flip-flopper" to his opponent, Mitt Romney.

The President was strongest in assaulting Romney on taxes, using the analogy that it was a bad business proposition. The GOP nominee looked riled by the suggestion, and his response came across as -- yes, here's a word you've been hearing a lot lately -- testy.

Romney kept retreating to a very specific argument -- namely, that he knows what a successful economy looks like, and this isn't it. How we get from here to there does still appear to be a trifle sketchy.

Romney also hurt himself, seemingly, in the exchange regarding Libya, where Crowley stepped in to suggest the GOP candidate had misrepresented Obama's remarks about the embassy attack.

Because charges of liberal media bias have become a standard part of these affairs -- and a correspondent from CNN was seeking to referee the proceedings -- I paid a lot of attention to the questions that were chosen. The one that really jumped out by that measure was a woman who asked Romney to describe how he is different from President Bush, to whom she attributes many of the nation's current foreign policy and economic problems. Rest assured, you will hear bitching from Republicans about that question tonight and tomorrow morning.

Frankly, I still question why the entire debate should be geared toward people who after months and months of campaigning still haven't made up their minds. But such is life in a nation that's this evenly divided.

As for other factors, I've made a lot of fun of CNN's coverage (a pre-show titled "Debate Night in America?" Puh-leeze), but I did notice one thing this time, in contrast to the last debate. Although this is hardly decisive, remember those inane squiggly lines CNN runs on the bottom of the screen, having undecided voters manipulate dials? Romney's seemed to flatline a lot more than I remembered in the first debate.

And you know what that means. Blame the media.

The old definition of a schlemiel and a schlimazel goes as follows: A schlemiel is a guy who finds out his wife is cheating on him and jumps out a window; a schlimazel is the poor slob he lands on.

Somehow, in the latest presidential debate, I suspect CNN is going to manage to be both.

CNN's Candy Crowley is moderating the debate, which has already triggered a small fracas over whether she's free to ask follow-up questions. Both parties have complained, saying it violates the rules that were negotiated.

The main problem for CNN is Republicans -- always looking for liberal media to bash -- will be waiting to pounce if Crowley says anything that makes Mitt Romney even remotely uncomfortable. CNN has long been a prime target, since it professes to be neutral when all good conservatives know in their heart of hearts, the mainstream media are all wild-eyed liberals in the tank for Obama. Hence, even Martha Raddatz's performance moderating the last debate came under fire from the expected sources, including Rush Limbaugh.

Democrats, however, have shown they're not above similar charges, after panning Jim Lehrer for the first debate, where he failed to press either of the candidates, which allowed Romney to run roughshod over a sleepwalking President Obama.

Crowley -- a respected journalist, but hardly a household name beyond CNN -- thus finds herself in a classic no-win situation. If she intervenes at all, she'll be painted as putting her finger on the scale, one way or another. And CNN will again be fending off charges -- most of them likely bogus -- over political ideology. That's a shame, since CNN's real shortcomings -- as I documented in its gimmick-ridden coverage of the previous debates -- have nothing to do with its politics, and everything to do with its desperate desire to be liked.

So here's a prediction: No matter what happens, CNN will draw fire from all sides. Then again, that's a familiar position to be in for a network that continues to specialize in shooting itself in the foot.

So my plans to watch the vice presidential debate last night were dealt a setback when all power failed in my neighborhood. For a second, I thought it was just an elaborate promo for NBC's "Revolution."

But I did hear the first half-hour or so on radio (I was planning to TiVo the whole thing), and that actually was instructive on its own.

Listening to the debate, as opposed to watching, allowed you to bore in on the substance of what was being said. There were no distractions based on Joe Biden's smile (which I read about later) or Paul Ryan's body language.

It's a given that TV is obsessed with itself, so much of the discussion about any of these made-for-TV events is how they play on television. Nothing new there, as anyone who has read about the Kennedy-Nixon debates can attest.

Nevertheless, there is a cost to all the emphasis on body language (please spare me another "body-language expert") and image, on style over substance.

Taking in all the postgame (er, sorry, post-debate) analysis, half the time it sounds like the pundits are watching with the sound down. Maybe we'd all be better off if they tried listening with the picture off.

HBO’s feature-length documentary “Ethel” -- which premieres Oct. 18 -- isn’t a whitewash, exactly, yet nor is it history in the objective sense. Made by Rory Kennedy about her camera-shy mother, it’s a no-warts look at America’s royal family, the Kennedys, from the perspective of Robert Kennedy’s widow, and the 11 kids she raised after his tragic assassination. Leave the tabloid trash for someone else to take out. On its own terms, “Ethel” is warm and wonderful.

Ethel Kennedy was actually pregnant with Rory, the last of her 11 children, when Robert was killed, and their interview reflects a woman whose pride in and affection for her late husband endures. She gives him sole credit, for example, for their children’s interest in helping the less fortunate and social justice, when, as Rory points out, she never actually knew her dad.

Variety's John Anderson already reviewed the film out of Sundance, and like “41,” HBO’s recent feture-length biopic of George H.W. Bush, this is a portrait of a famous family told in celebratory as opposed to journalistic fashion. As such, what’s revealed might not be the entire picture -- don't hold your breath waiting for stories about the Kennedys and Marilyn Monroe -- yet what comes across is more personal, and intimate. Certainly Ethel, given her reticence, appears unlikely to have opened up even this much for any filmmaker who didn’t share her surname.

The project dutifully goes back to Ethel’s youth, being wooed by Robert, and how he had to work at politics, which actually came more naturally for her. The images of their household are nothing less than idyllic – kids bounding everywhere, wildly competitive sports contests, and the children nervous about being grilled regarding current events at the dinner table.

Of all the moments in "Ethel," one stuck with me more than any other. Asked about the losses and grief she's faced, the family matriarch simply says, "Nobody gets a free ride."

Despite the money, power and privilege, the Kennedys' storied ride through the world of American politics has been anything but free, but has also yielded some of the most indelible moments of the last half-century. Perhaps that's why the price for HBO seems like such a small one to pay for the experience of spending this time up close and personal with "Ethel."

OK, so I kind of liked the pilot for CBS' "Vegas," while expressing reservations that if it just became "CSI: 1960," it would get old kind-of fast.

Having now seen a handful of episodes -- including advance copies of the Oct. 9 and 23 installments (the show will be preempted in between by the second presidential debate) -- it sort of feels like CBS started to take a gamble, and wound up rolling "Boring."

Dennis Quaid's square-jawed sheriff is pretty much relegated to hovering around a new chalk outline in each week. And while Michael Chiklis' mob boss has a more interesting web of problems -- including how to handle expanding his turf, and dealing with the guys back in Chicago -- they've yet to come up with much interesting for him to do either.

About the only smart wrinkle is that Chiklis' character resists killing the sheriff off -- even when he's being a nuisance -- because having already iced one local cop, eliminating another would be bad for tourism and thus business. If you want people to feel good about coming to spend their money, it can't be the wild west.

That part makes sense. But everything else about "Vegas" -- except the period atmosphere and the general look and Rat Pack-era feel -- has been mostly a snooze. Even a promising cameo by Jonathan Banks -- fresh off his splendid work on "Breaking Bad" -- turns out to be mostly a waste of good casting, at least in the way he's used initially.

As I said, Quaid feels like a CBS star, and the numbers have been encouraging, if predictably skewed to an older demo. Nor did I expect this to be "Mad Men" given CBS' procedural comfort zone.

Nevertheless, CBS had the opportunity to make this an appointment show, a bet that appears to have come up snake eyes. Because it's hard to imagine the bright lights of "Vegas," as presently constituted, setting anyone's soul on fire.

Jon Stewart and Bill O'Reilly "rumbled" on Saturday night, in a staged debate that was streamed online.

Yet the starkest difference between the two men was much more evident on Monday, when the Fox News host displayed his self-aggrandizing, it's-all-about-me impulse, and Comedy Central's mainstay turned the whole thing into a fleeting joke.

Stewart, for his part, reduced the event into an opening bit about his young son getting into trouble for repeating his phrase "Bullshit Mountain." That was followed by a couple of riotous jabs at Fox's Lou Dobbs and various other pundits in the channel's employ for their assault on "Sesame Street" and public television, with Stewart wryly noting,"Fox News is upset that empty-headed puppets are trying to brainwash and indoctrinate Americans."

But that was it. Nothing of substance about the debate. No desire to re-litigate the discussion.

Cut to O'Reilly, who never seems to miss an opportunity to make his show mostly about him.

"The O'Reilly Factor" host began by devoting his "Talking points" segment to how the give-and-take with Stewart highlighted a fundamental difference in philosophy, which he characterized as "Nanny state vs. self-reliance." OK, if you say so.

Later, he brought out his resident sock puppet, Bernard Goldberg, to provide "No spin analysis" that, of course, was filled with spin -- mostly about the media's adulation of Stewart.

Notably, the clips were edited to provide some of O'Reilly's points from the debate, and a few of Stewart's one-liners. In other words, O'Reilly's remarks were presented as substantive, and Stewart's as funny, but devoid of any real content.

There's a longstanding pattern here, which is O'Reilly's desire to turn every media encounter into an opportunity to toot his own horn -- and not incidentally, set himself up as a victim of the liberal mainstream media.

Frankly, I was a little surprised, but pleased, Stewart didn't devote more time to the event, but based strictly on Monday night, their handling of the postmortem speaks volumes.

Both men are members of "the one percent," financially speaking. But in O'Reilly's eyes, he's still an underdog -- one of the ways he can narrow the gap, incidentally, between himself and his audience. And while I have no doubt he truly believes that he's "looking out for you" -- the "You" in this case being "the folks," the majority of them over 60, who watch him -- it's hard to escape a sense that what he invariably worries about most is another 60-something-year-old guy -- the one he sees every day in the mirror.

ESPN's "30 for 30" documentary series has been mostly terrific, and exceptionally good at drilling down into personal stories that also illustrate something larger about the nature and state of sports.

So there's a touch of irony in noting its latest  -- "9.79," about sprinter Ben Johnson's record-setting 100-meter time in the 1988 Olympics, which was later invalidated because he used performance-enhancing drugs -- is interesting, but also a little flabby and slow-going. (The doc premieres at 8 p.m. ET on Oct. 9.)

Filmmaker Daniel Gordon certainly leaves no stone unturned in exploring Johnson's case, and the widespread use of drugs by athletes in the 1980s. Part of that includes interviewing everyone who took part in the race as wekk as those involved in its aftermath, from the other sprinters to coaches and drug testing authorities.

Yet the conclusions reached -- that Johnson was vilified even though he was hardly alone in bending or breaking the rules -- hardly comes as a news flash. Nor is it much of a breakthrough to realize athletes cheat because they desperately want to win and the rewards -- both then and now -- make the risk worth the gamble.

The truth is everything here could just as easily be applied to those who skirt NCAA guidelines in recruiting, braving serious repercussions because jobs and careers can be made by landing prime talent; or athletes in other sports, including baseball and football, who have been caught "juicing."

Given how spectacular Johnson's feat was -- and the drama that surrounded his ongoing duel with Olympic champion Carl Lewis, who is also extensively interviewed -- "9.79" certainly stirs memories. But at roughly 80 minutes sans commercials, there's simply too much that tells those who have followed tawdry sports headlines about athletes cheating to gain competiive advantage what we already know.

However valid the point, in other words, it could have been made faster. Maybe what Gordon really needed was a performance-enhancing editor.

Even if you don't agree with him, Ross Douthat's columns in the New York Times are normally well-reasoned and thoughtful.

Still, today's premise -- that there's been no real leader of the GOP for the last six years -- struck me as clueless, or at least missing the obvious.

Speaking of the 2008 campaign, Douthat wrote, "after the general Republican rout that year, the party’s public image was suddenly defined more by media personalities -- from Rush Limbaugh to Glenn Beck -- than by any of its elected officials. The Limbaugh-Beck moment passed, but the vacuum remained."

But Douthat overlooks something that has been clear to virtually anyone who follows media, if not politics: That the voice of Republican opposition throughout the Obama administration has been Fox News Channel, and the de facto leader of the GOP its chairman-CEO Roger Ailes.

I'm hardly the first to register this observation. As Gabriel Sherman noted in an exhaustive profile, Ailes "is also, in a sense, the head of the Republican Party, having employed five prospective presidential candidates and done perhaps more than anyone to alter the balance of power in the national media in favor of the Republicans."

Focusing on talent like Beck or Limbaugh, however influential, misses all the resources in Ailes' arsenal, and his ability to not only set the GOP agenda, but to test and focus group lines of attack, fine-tuning and occasionally abandoning them.

As Sherman suggested, that might not make him the kingmaker in the next election. But give credit (or blame, if you prefer) where credit is due. And unlike the GOP, if Mitt Romney loses, Ailes and Fox News -- as a prominent counterweight to the administration, and no doubt the future employer of many a prospective 2016 nominee -- still win.

Let's get the confession out of the way: I'm a UCLA grad who likes watching UCLA football.

OK, that's not quite right. I watch UCLA football because I've been doing it for a really long time. Often it's just a source of anger and frustration. But enough about me.

The Pac-12 network wants me to be very upset about its standoff with DirecTV, which happens to be my cable/satellite provider. They want me to be so upset that I bitch and threaten to change my service because I won't be able to watch the UCLA-Cal game this weekend.

Frankly, I would like the option of watching the game, although I can certainly think of better things to do with those four hours.

But I also recognize that nobody but UCLA and Cal fans -- and frankly, not even a lot of them -- have any reason to care about this game. I'm also mildly perturbed about the expansion of dedicated sports networks seeking to leverage the ardor of fans, especially when there will be at least six months out of the year -- those not overlapping with football and basketball -- when there will be absolutely nothing on the Pac-12 network that I give a rat's ass about watching.

The only really fair way to settle this would be to make games available on a pay-to-view basis, but of course that doesn't offer the steady stream of income as a dedicated channel. And the new Pac-12 commissioner, Larry Scott, has been very savvy about leveraging the crush of TV sports deals in his efforts to maximize revenue for the conference.

What he can't do is make UCLA-Cal anything but a mediocre football game, between two so-so teams.

So even though I ostensibly have a dog in this fight, I'm pretty content to watch this little game between the Pac-12 and DirecTV play out from the sidelines.

While I had this thought at the time as the debate began, seeing the above picture while perusing post-debate analysis crystallized a question: How do the most vociferous conservative pundits rationalize the above picture, and GOP candidate Mitt Romney's chummy exchange, before and after the debate, with President Obama?

Now, I understand there's a certain cordiality and decorum expected at these affairs. They even had the wives hug, awkwardly, before the debate commenced. And yes, traditionally, the argument has been that you have to exhibit respect for the office of the presidency, if not the man himself.

But you have to follow the most pointed barbs directed at Obama by some of the best-known media personalities to realize "cordial" and respectful left the building a long time ago.

If the guy really is a socialist who harbors deep-seated resentment toward white people and is intent on destroying the American way of life -- as this guy and this guy and this guy and this guy and this guy have argued -- how do you sit there yukking it up with him, like you just completed 18 holes at the country club?

From what I heard Monday, conservatives were too busy exulting over Romney's perceived debate "win" to do a lot of naysaying. But it's a fair question. I mean, who wants to shake hands with a guy who sees America as being so imperfect as to pal around with terrorists?

Sure, even boxers shake hands -- or, you know, tap gloves -- when they get in the ring. Yet if you take the rhetoric to its extreme, I'm not sure Poland did the same thing with Germany.

There was a long pregame show, extensive postgame analysis, and of course a competitive contest in between, pitting reigning champ Barack Obama against challenger Mitt Romney.

All that was missing, in the metamorphosis from political coverage into sports, was a Roman numeral after the debate, and the flash of light bulbs at the opening kickoff.

Because CNN has had its problems the last few years -- and an event such as the first presidential debate should be a prime vehicle for a cable-news network that seeks to position itself down the middle -- I chose to watch them for part of the pre-coverage and the main telecast. And yet again, I found the channel committing the kind of unforced errors that make it such a ripe target for satirists such as "The Daily Show."

CNN seems to specialize in toys that add color but no context to the screen. Perhaps that's an attempt to compensate for how colorless many of its top staffers are.

So CNN ran a clock, showing how long each man had spoken. A fever chart crawled across the bottom of the screen, reflecting dial responses by undecided voters in Colorado. All that was missing was how many first downs each of them had, and whether Romney's ground game was breaching Obama's defense. (Of course, none of that was as silly, as "American Idol"-like, as the pre-debate interviews with the candidates' wives.)

As for the debate itself, while the men expressed strong differences of opinion on policy, one would be hard-pressed to come up with a memorable moment.

Romney sought to be combative, but if he famously spent time practicing zingers, precious few of them materialized. As for Obama, he stuck to his pattern of being wonky and long-winded -- and resisted teeing off when the challenger, so reluctant to release his tax returns, made a reference to needing a better accountant.

In terms of visual imagery and body language, the one thing that really stood out to me was Romney's completely blank expression -- frozen on his face -- whenever Obama was speaking. I'm sure he was coached not to react, but the look felt plucked out of Disney's animatronic Hall of Presidents, or Woody Allen listening to that comic in "Annie Hall."

The biggest loser, perception-wise, was PBS' Jim Lehrer. Certainly no stranger to moderating debates , he allowed the two contenders to express their views to a fault, and essentially gave up in terms of any effort to rein in the content or duration of their answers. If there was any challenging going to be done, any follow-up questioning, it would have to come from the opponent -- or wait for the fact-checking process that follows.

Frankly, if this had been a football game, it would have been a 9-6 affair, with the sides trading field goals, and Obama -- holding the lead -- doing all he could to run out the clock.

The other big surprise, in media terms, was how definitive the verdict was from most of the CNN pundits. Even if Romney "won" the debate on points, in TV terms this was a bland performance on both sides -- and Romney seemed indifferent to whether his statements might dovetail, or not, with his past positions.

Simply put, I can't imagine a more useless cacophony of voices than the post-debate analysis on CNN. A severe outbreak of Blitzeritis all around.

But to quote a popular media term, there was nothing approaching a "game-changer" on Wednesday night. As for picking the winner, that's between you, and the annoying political pundits of your choice.

Before watching tonight's presidential debate -- and however much post-event analysis one can stomach -- it's worth reading today's New York Times op-ed by Newton Minow.

Minow, a former Federal Communications Commission chairman, will forever be remembered for the speech in which he dubbed television a "vast wasteland" more than 50 years ago.

Yet the octogenarian offered an even more trenchant and important analysis by indicting the current political system's relationship with television, and how the need for astounding piles of cash to fund a tidal wave of nasty advertising twists and distorts the process.

Marty Kaplan, the director of USC’s Norman Lear Center, has spoken at length about the manner in which TV dumbs down politics, and conducted research demonstrating what short shrift incisive political coverage gets within the context (especially) of local news.

Nevertheless, it's worth quoting this passage from Minow's latest piece:

The debates are an institution now, and among the most watched television events in America. They are one place in the modern campaign — perhaps the only place — where the voter is treated with respect. They are the one time when the major candidates appear together side by side under conditions they do not control. They are a relief from the nasty commercials that dominate the campaign, fed by donations that are effectively unlimited and anonymous. Broadcasters provide the television time for the debates, without commercials, as a rare public service.

Of course, it didn't have to be this way, but gvien the recent tide of events, nothing is apt to change that. Perhaps that's why there's a naivete in Minow's last bit of advice: "Let me suggest that after you watch the debate on Wednesday night, you turn off your television set and do your best to avoid the spin that will follow. Talk about what you saw and heard with your family, your friends, your neighbors, your co-workers. You are smarter than the spinners. It’s your decision that matters on Nov. 6, not theirs."

It's a nice idea. But given the current structure of these events -- which CNN, apparently concerned "The Daily Show" doesn't have enough material with which to ridicule the channel, has given the idiotic title "Debate Night in America" -- that would sort of be like leaving the football game at halftime.

Cue the analysts, and pass the popcorn.

Billed as being four years in the making and spanning several continents, "Winged Planet" is the latest in a string of dazzling nature fare from Discovery Channel and the BBC, in this case assembled as a two-hour special premiering Oct. 6.

The primary come-on is kind of a brazen gimmick -- rigging tiny cameras to birds, providing an actual aerial view as they soar across the sky or, in one stretch, toward the Statue of Liberty. As Discovery describes it, filmmaker John Downer "developed a new team of Spycams to offer viewers a jaw-dropping view of the world from an entirely different perspective."

It's interesting, but a bit wasted, if only because the producers can't leave viewers stuck with that herky-jerky imagery for very long, lest the bouncy footage cause them to regurgitate dinner.

Fortunately, there are a number of the expected breathtaking shots in here, including vultures tiptoe-ing toward lions in mid-feast, hoping for a taste of the spoils; birds swooping in to gobble up pieces of seal after Great White Sharks have had their way with them; and eagles swooping through the air majestically before zeroing in on prey.

Frankly, as specials go this isn't even the bigggest event Discovery has planned for the weekend -- "Plane Crash," which I'll review later this week, airs Sunday, and could be a real draw -- but in terms quality it's of a piece with "Life," "Planet Earth" and the other nature documentaries commissioned to cash in on the blessings of high-definition technology.

And unlike "Plane Crash," these birds take off and land without a hitch.

Every time the Oscars pick a slightly out-of-the-box choice as host -- say, someone younger than Billy Crystal -- the hand-wringing begins.

So a brief reminder that hosting the Oscars is one of those gigs that's more about marketing than actual entertainment or fundamentally changing the show.

As the world knows by now, "Family Guy" creator Seth MacFarlane will host next year's ceremony, which is certainly unexpected. Not only does he have a relatively low profile despite the success of his movie "Ted," but his other hosting stints include a decidedly more blue performance emceeing the Comedy Central roast of Donald Trump. Odds are he'll tell fewer dick jokes this time around.

It's obvious why the academy reached out to MacFarlane, whose work attracts a younger, predominantly male audience that, for the most part, traditionally couldn't care less about the Oscars, unless they nominate the latest "Saw" sequel. Tapping him is an overt come-on to reach more folks within that elusive demo, while assuming the women and older crowd who tune in will regardless for the fashion and, incidentally, the movies.

In terms of the show itself, though, it's worth noting the host is never really a huge part of the telecast. Both Chris Rock and Jon Stewart -- hired for similar reasons -- couldn't break out of the Oscars' inherent stodginess, and were on screen relatively short amounts of time. Even the indignation registered at the Anne Hathaway-James Franco pairing -- another youth-oriented ploy -- largely ignored this point.

So -- and here's a shocker -- in their eagerness to get attention and generate buzz, the academy and ABC are using Seth MacFarlane, who is using them (with presumably somewhat less to gain, given his animation empire) right back.

Then again, how appropriate: The dude who created "Family Guy," in showbiz terms, is this year's version of a talking dog.

All right. Enough perspective. Unleash the hounds!

There's a fine line in serialized storytelling between keeping the audience off-balance and appearing to, pardon the expression, simply make shit up as you go along.

ABC has moved "Revenge" to Sundays, placing it alongside "Once Upon a Time," to become the linchpin of its lineup. This seems appropriate, since both programs give every impression of falling into the latter category.

Like a lot of critics, I was initially intrigued by "Once Upon a Time," the fairy-tales-come-true drama, before becoming increasingly frustrated as the season progressed. A first-year finale that promised to blow up the show brought me back, only to watch a second-season opener Sept. 30 that did virtually nothing to clarify what's happening or address the coyness that's been irritating me.

After not completely buying into the pilot, I sort of grudgingly stuck with "Revenge" because so many people professed to love it, leaving me wondering what I was missing. Yet in that case, too, the wild soapiness struck me more as massive improv than any sort of meticulous plotting, and this season's premiere careened somewhere beyond camp into "The Karate Kid 2" territory.

In that respect, ABC's scheduling is logical, since those willing to suspend disbelief long enough to accept one -- and stop worrying about coherence -- are prime candidates to extend the same latitude and courtesy to the other.

Part of me still wants these shows to work -- not because they deserve to survive, necessarily, but rather because it's nice to see broadcasters rewarded for taking a creative risk occasionally. Not every network drama should have to begin with a chalk outline, though lord knows that's worked pretty well for CBS.

That said, ABC's developing a bad habit of ordering up attention-generating dramas that can stir excitement, without crafting a clear blueprint for what happens after they come off the assembly line.

Call it "Flash Forward" syndrome. Only in these cases, it's just going to be my TV that blacks out.

Fox News Channel is very good at giving its viewers precisely what they want, and Friday's chase -- which resulted in an Arizona carjacking suspect shooting himself in the head, committing suicide on live TV -- was no different.

Fox issued the obligatory apology, but in this instance, the channel merely got burned in the silly game of tastelessness roulette that many broadcasters play -- especially in local news -- when it comes to following live events that are titillating, to be sure, but have virtually no news value.

As many might recall, KTLA and KNBC-TV in Los Angeles experienced almost the exact same scenario in 1998, and the former compounded the problem by cutting away from animated children's shows to document the moment. Plenty of variations on that have happened in the intervening years. (Truth be told, I was actually surprised to see my byline on the Los Angeles Times story about it, having not remembered being the one tasked with reporting on it. How time flies when you're chronicling the excesses of TV news.)

Let's face it, nobody watches a high-speed chase eager to see a happy outcome. And it has been demonstrated in L.A. time and again stations that return to regular news or programming during such coverage almost invariably lose audience, as viewers go surfing to find whatever channel happens to be sticking with it.

The fact there are a lot of sick bastards out there in TV land shouldn't really come as a newsflash to anybody, especially news outlets who spend half their time chasing stories on TMZ.

My only quibble with Fox News is the self-flagellation. Because the truth is once you commit to leaping to cover these sorts of shiny objects, it's only a matter of time before your luck runs out. It's the ultimate game of bad-taste chicken, dictated entirely by how fast your producers are on the delay button. Play it long enough, and sooner or later you're going to go off a cliff.

Frankly, I'd be happier if Fox improved on its problem with statistics. That, at least, is an easily correctable error, if an equally unforced one.

Beyond the new shows premiering on Sept. 27, the night marks the return of two second-year dramas: CBS' "Person of Interest" -- which despite its procedural bent, ended its high-rated first year on a cliffhanger -- and ABC's Washington-set drama "Scandal."

To its credit, "Person" became more enjoyable and compelling as the season went on, and the show picks up neatly where it left off, filling in more blanks about Michael Emerson's character and the mysterious machine he created, which allows him to predict, vaguely, when bad things are going to happen.

Beyond its vigilante motif -- with Jim Caviezel as the butt-kicking half to Emerson's reclusive billionaire -- the show has found a way to better incorporate its supporting players and done a firstrate job of casting guest stars, including Ken Leung (like Emerson, a "Lost" alumnus) in the premiere.

Created by Jonathan Nolan (who worked with brother Christopher on the "Batman" films), "Person" taps into the cathartic aspects of crimefighting, but does so with more wit and mythology than the average CBS procedural, and the show's success should liberate it, if the premiere is any indication, to push those boundaries even further.

As for "Scandal," which comes from "Grey's Anatomy" creator Shonda Rhimes, nothing in the second-season opener dispels the misgivings I harbored upon reviewing last spring's seven-episode run, which ABC made available to critics in its entirety.

Another "Lost" graduate, Henry Ian Cusick, has left the show (it's mentioned, briefly), but the core remains in place, with Kerry Washington still barking out lines like "I will win this!" in her unconvincing role as a D.C. political fixer, and Tony Goldwyn as the wimpiest, most-neutered Commander in Chief ever. (A few women wrote to insist I was missing what a fabulous romance the show is, and while I make it a point not to argue opinions with people, no, it's not.)

The premiere not only picks up where last season left off, but also incorporates a subplot about a congressman implicated in a sex scandal (now that's original). It's one of those ways "Scandal" tries to create the illusion of being hip and smart, when it's really has all the depth of a perfume commercial.

Having given the show a second chance, I can honestly say I won't pick on it anymore. Because in terms of watching "Scandal," eight is enough.

Animation -- the sillier the better -- has become a reliable method of reaching teens and young guys in primetime and latenight, which explains Comedy Central's decision to keep returning to the genre.

Enter -- in the teeth of the fall season, no less -- "Brickleberry," a tiresome, too-eager-to-offend new series produced by the channel's Daniel Tosh, premiering Sept. 25.

Yes, "South Park" has long since established animation is a fine place to skewer sacred cows, but "Brickleberry" has nothing more on its mind than seeing how far it can push the boundaries of dick and handicapped jokes. As a consequence the premise -- a second-rate national park -- is purely incidental.

As proof, the opening sequence involves an assortment of animals screwing, and while that might prompt a chuckle on its own, by the end of two half-hours -- with gags about wheelchair-bound and blind kids; and a randy African-American ranger with a penchant for bedding elderly white women -- the show has worn out its welcome. While there's nothing wrong with being juvenile, without some wit or purpose, such gags quickly yield diminishing returns.

Tosh himself provides one of the voices, as an adopted (and talking) bear cub, but most of the action -- such as it is -- centers around Steve (voiced by Dave Herman), the reigning ranger of the month; and Ethel ("It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia's" Kaitlin Olson), whose arrival threatens his king-of-the-forest status.

The series was created, with nary an original thought, by Waco O'Guin and Roger Black. All told, it's another good reason to keep the TV off -- or at least the channel tuned elsewhere -- until "The Daily Show" comes on, although I suppose it succeeded on one level: Sitting inside watching this show about national parks made me yearn for the great outdoors.

"New Girl" begins its second season with an inordinate amount of weight on its slim shoulders, becoming the linchpin of Fox's Tuesday-night lineup, with a couple of new comedies around it.

Fox brings the show back with a pair of episodes, clearly seeing it as a better launching pad than "Raising Hope." The first, somewhat wryly titled "Re-Launch," is just OK; the second, "Katie," is riotously funny, among the best the series has done, delivering one clever moment after another.

For all the attention the show garnered when its first season began -- and the focus on Zooey Deschanel as the "adorkable" Jess -- the show actually foundered, then got stronger in the latter half (precisely, it's worth noting, when the ratings started to cool down).

This season begins with more of the fallout from Schmidt (Max Greenfield) -- he of the douchebag jar -- having begun sleeping with Jess' model friend Cece (Hannah Simone). Yet with most of the action set in a bar, it's kind of a snooze.

Hang in there, because the second episode has an online-dating mix-up, Schmidt hitting on the sister of his roommate Winston (Lamorne Morris), and bartender Nick (Jake Johnson) being counseled by a crazy old man who claims to be his alter ego from the future.

Frankly, "New Girl" is of questionable strength to prop up an entire night, placing considerable pressure on what's a pretty wispy concept. That said, maintaining the quality of that second half-hour -- or consistently coming close to it -- ought to establish the show's appointment-TV credentials. (It will help if Fox's new sitcoms, "The Mindy Project" and "Ben and Kate," get some traction, too.)

All the networks have been aggressive in terms of scheduling comedies this season, especially on Tuesday night. Ratings-wise, the result threatens to be a whole lot of mediocrity, and one suspects unscripted replacements are quietly waiting in the wings.

For now, though, "New Girl" appears to be picking up -- creatively, anyway -- where it left off.

Well done. As a reward, go ahead and take a couple of dollars out of the douchebag jar.

Perhaps appropriately given how unpredictable this year's Emmy-nominated dramas have been, nothing would really shock me when the "And the Emmy goes to..." envelope gets opened on Sunday night.

Usually, I head into the Emmys with a pretty good idea what's going to happen, or at least an either/or proposition. That's certainly true in comedy, where it's hard to imagine "Modern Family" not scoring a threepeat.

By contrast, almost any of the dramas -- based on history and intuition -- have a reasonable shot. Or at least, nothing would completely surprise me.

"Mad Men," obviously, has won four years in a row, and could equal "Frasier's" five-time plateau. Yet it faces a formidable challenge, including fellow AMC drama "Breaking Bad," which sat out the 2011 voting and has perhaps its most-talked-about season in contention, thanks to the explosive (heh heh) showdown between Walter White (Bryan Cranston) and Gus Fring (Giancarlo Esposito).

Of course, academy voters have already demonstrated their love for "Downton Abbey," the 2011 winner as best movie or miniseries, which shifts into the series voting after a very strong second season. Showtime's "Homeland" has also enjoyed enormous buzz, and already won the Golden Globe, though the Hollywood Foreign Press Assn. does have a way of getting hypnotized by shiny new objects, with the emphasis on "new."

Finally, there are the two HBO dramas, "Boardwalk Empire" -- which won the most Emmys last year, only to lose the top prize to "Mad Men" -- and "Game of Thrones," which just cleaned up at the Creative Arts ceremony.

There's plenty of precedent for shows being honored in their second seasons (see "NYPD Blue," "ER"), as if Emmy voters like to see producers prove they're not one-trick ponys before handing out the gold. And while "Thrones" faces the highest hurdle as a genre show, the cast stands with any on TV, and I'm not sure there's a series I consistently looked forward to watching more.

Put all that together, and even if the first three hours of the show are a bit of snooze (which based on history, also wouldn't surprise me), the last few minutes should be awfully interesting. And with a field this deserving, no matter who wins there will be no legitimate reason to say of the also-rans, "They wuz robbed!"

HBO sent critics all 10 episodes for the current season of "Treme," which premieres Sept. 23. If only watching them didn’t feel like homework – easily the least-distinguished effort among "The Wire" producer David Simon’s stellar body of work for the pay service.

Although I wasn’t a huge fan of the program’s first season, its final episode – recounting what happened before Hurricane Katrina ravaged New Orleans – felt like a rather elegant and appropriate ending. Since then, the series has yielded moments of interest, but has too often struggled from an uneven array of characters amid its dizzying assortment of plots.

Admittedly, the show loses me in one key respect: I'm not enough of a jazz aficionado to fully appreciate the bountiful outpouring of live music featured each week. Yet part of that also involves incorporating a number of non-actors – both musicians and restaurateurs – intended to heighten the show’s sense of authenticity. They accomplish that, yes, but having them around also has a way of diluting the dramatic impact, given the stilted nature of the performances.

Of course, as with any Simon show, there’s some wonderful writing – I particular enjoyed a discussion of the difference between vice and sin, as filtered through the prism of New Orleans – and a sobering look at failed institutions. In that regard, some of this season’s major themes echo “The Wire,” as it layered them on: A corrupt, broken system, including (here) government and the police; ineffective schools; and a primer on journalistic legwork, reflecting Simon’s days as a reporter.

There’s also some terrific acting, with an expanded role for David Morse as a principled detective that’s especially welcome, as well as interesting storylines for both Clarke Peters and Wendell Pierce.

Despite low ratings, HBO has kept renewing “Treme,” presumably under its theory a show that inflames passion – even among a small audience – is worth having around. Moreover, the most recent hurricane to strike the gulf made the region’s continuing struggles feel especially timely.

After a memorable, often-wonderful run, "The Office" is hardly coming to a premature end. The announcement the show is heading into its final season felt like something of a relief, frankly, even for those of us who have long admired it.

Having seen Steve Carell move on and James Spader come and go, there just didn't seem to be many more doors to open, or close. Other longtime regulars -- like Mindy Kaling, taking on her own Fox series -- have also moved on. Nine years, for almost any series, is more than enough, as the show's softening ratings attest.

Still, the notion of building toward a conclusion -- which starts with this Thursday's season premiere -- is always tricky, and the writers appear to be embracing the task with a couple of significant plot lines that will carry through the season, including a few unexpected twists.

They also introduce two new characters, which, frankly, risks becoming more of a distraction from the show's core, though that's difficult to firmly establish from the busy opener.

Suffice it to say, without giving too much away, the episode lays the groundwork for people leaving, as happens with any office. At its best, "The Office" has delivered a balance of heart, wackiness and awkward situations, and the early days of the Pam-Jim relationship offer a how-to model for how to milk such a scenario over multiple seasons.

Hopefully the show can send them and the rest of the Dunder-Mifflin team out in style, and the premiere is for the most part promising. That said, the prospect of a spinoff seems increasingly unnecessary. The show and its characters simply feel played out.

Remember, Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant's original yielded a mere dozen episodes, plus a special. As much as I enjoyed this "Office," there shouldn't be any tears when they finally get around to closing the U.S. branch.

*  *  *

On a separate front, NBC also made the "Parks and Recreation" premiere available, in which Amy Poehler's character, Leslie Knope, takes a trip to Washington, D.C.

I know the show has a near-rapturous (if small) core of fans, but every time I dip my toe back into it I still come away underwhelmed -- including, in this case, the performances by three U.S. senators who make cameo appearances. I know they're not really actors, but if you're going to bring them on at least give them something to do.

By that measure, perhaps the field trip wasn't such a great idea. Even for "Parks" enthusiasts, in terms of comedy, the current Congress sets the bar pretty high.

No one could possibly quibble with the message of "Don't Divorce Me! Kids' Rules for Parents on Divorce," an HBO documentary -- produced by Rosie O'Donnell -- about the impact of divorce on children.

The style, alas, is something else again.

At 31 minutes, the special -- which premieres Sept. 20 at 6:30 p.m., obviously aimed at reaching tykes as well as adults -- hardly overstays its welcome. But using six- and seven-year-old kids to deliver their pleas directly to parents, complete with home-made signs saying things like "Learn to get along for our sake," can't help but feel preachy and manipulative.

O'Donnell has turned herself into a self-anointed maven of such messaging, having previously produced "A Family is a Family is a Family" for HBO, which -- with a stronger political foundation, validating same-sex couples and parenting -- felt considerably less irritating. The director here is Amy Schatz, responsible for the channel's "Classical Baby."

My least favorite part involved a kids round table, in which youngsters sit around discussing their feelings and sharing divorce stories. The best moment was the kid who said being able to divide and conquer -- exploiting guilty parents for two Christmases, etc. -- is kind of cool. At least that was a refreshing change of pace from all the angst and sappiness.

In essence, this is just "Kids Say the Darndest Things: Divorce Edition." Fine, send every child and family counselor in America a copy of it, to show kids they're not completely alone in dealing with these situations.

But nobody really wants to be lectured to -- even if (or perhaps especially if) it comes from children.

Perhaps that's why I couldn't separate myself from "Don't Divorce Me" fast enough.

As the Los Angeles Times shrewdly noted, somehow the talent competitions have lost their focus on the competitors, and shifted to an arms race to see who can land the biggest-name judges.

Afer all the hoopla that surrounded its underwhelming first year, Simon Cowell's "The X Factor" is back for season two, now with Britney Spears and Demi Lovato brought in to add youth and sizzle to the proceedings.

Since the judges are the new factor, let's focus on that, but with a few unavoidable observations: The two-hour premiere was staggeringly over-produced, including a full 45 minutes devoted to a 22-year-old bank teller from Texas, only to dump all over her; and unflatteringly photographed, so much so Spears at times looked like a Britney Spears impersonator. Nor did it help the opening tease including a bunch of sequences that looked as if they could have been culled from a night of WWE wrestling.

As for the actual content of what the judges had to say, Lovato brought a certain youthful exuberance to the proceedings, but her playful banter with Cowell -- admonishing her not to flirt with cute boys -- felt a trifle creepy. They might have been going for big brother, but dude, you're old enough to be her dad. Knock it off.

Spears, meanwhile, exhibited her tough-love approach primarily during an extended montage sequence. Yet if it was supposed to demonstrate how steely and mean she could be, there was little substance to her critiques, plus the bizarre melodrama of someone she knew singing for her and being rejected.

At this point, nothing is apt to change my mind about Cowell backing Fox into an untenable corner: Let "X Factor" go somewhere else, or undercut "American Idol" by having its flashier but more dim-witted cousin occupy a similar chunk of its lineup through the fall.

Tears flowed early and often, and "X Factor" could always get lucky with some really appealing contestants. But if the show catches on, it will likely be due to that more than its new high-priced duo.

Spears and Lovato haven't damaged the show, but based on first impressions they haven't done much to invigorate it either. That means Cowell remains the best (and often only) reason to pay attention when the judges begin talking, flanked by attractive window dressing.

In other words, oops, they did it again.

For the first time in quite awhile, I'm excited about "Glee" again.

Last year's graduation, moving several of the characters to new venues and challenges, has given the show a burst of energy, with Lea Michele in a "Fame"-like setting -- struggling to survive at a brutally competitive school for the performing arts. At the same time, the show has added promising newcomers to the original club, offering some of the thrill of discovery the series has been missing.

Finally, for all the big-name guest stars who have passed through the show, it's hard to remember one who made a more arresting debut than Kate Hudson, who not only plays Rachel's tough dance instructor (snidely referring to her new student as "Schwimmer") but delivers a spectacular song-and-dance number of her own. Throw in Whoopi Goldberg as another one of Rachel's profs, and Dean Geyer as the kind of temptation many a new college arrival faces (or would like to face), and the New York thread has made the show infinitely richer and more interesting.

Like a lot of people in my position, I've kept up with "Glee" at times more out of a sense of obligation than excitement -- grateful for the occasional show-stopping moment, but irritated by the soap-opera plotting. Yet unlike so many past high school shows -- which often hang onto characters until they're older than the original cast of "Grease" was -- producer Ryan Murphy and company had the guts to move forward.

Of course, "Glee's" uneven past and penchant for oddball flourishes warrants tempering enthusiasm regarding the premiere -- which will air Sept. 13, following "The X Factor" -- but if nothing else, this hour ought to remind people what, at its best, they've savored about this show. It's also impressive to see the show rebound with Murphy pulled in so many directions, also producing "The New Normal" and "American Horror Story."

OK, so I'm not ready to completely re-enrol just yet, but I'm honestly looking forward to the new school year around McKinley High as a possible elective, not a requirement.

If so, I guess they got it right in the original pilot: Don't stop believin'.

Katie Couric and Jeff Probst both launched their syndicated talkshows on Monday, becoming the latest well-known talents to risk the indignation of washing out in the afternoons.

So how did they do, realizing one can only discern so much from such a premiere?

Distributed by CBS' syndication wing, "The Jeff Probst Show" is the lower profile of the two, but in its approach and execution, also the more jaw-dropping. Somehow, the "Survivor" host has elevated himself to the role of New Age guru, tossing off catchphrases like "Say yes" (to life, that is) and "I'm all in."

According to Probst, each show will open with three related stories, before lighter segments, like the one where guys give women advice on how men think.

On Monday, the stories included a 31-year-old woman with a fatal cancer diagnosis; an eight-year-old girl raising money for charity; and a 90-something couple, interviewed via Skype, who met and fell in love in a nursing home. Loosely put, the common denominator -- never really spelled out -- was "Live like you were dyin'."

Probst's goal, obviously, is to be inspirational, but there's such an arbitrary quality to him assuming this role it's difficult to get past the fact this is all one enormous ego trip. As further evidence, Probst incorporates his wife, talent coordinator Lisa Russell, into the discussion, because she's, um....

OK, he was smart to "Say yes" to "Survivor," but....

"We're going to talk about love a lot on this show," he promised.

Maybe he will, and Probst is good company, TV-wise -- attractive, energetic, comfortable being front and center; still, assuming the premiere is any guide of what's to come, if asked to watch another episode, "Say no."

As for "Katie," Couric's bid (a la another former "Today" host, Jane Pauley) to make the leap from news to the syndicated arena began by going out of its way to humanize her -- introducing her daughters, her mom, even junior-high-school friends, who were flown in for the occasion but, in a missed opportunity, not allowed to say anything.

After that, the show was essentially a famous person talking to her equally famous friends, albeit with one of the most brazen and obnoxious bouts of in-program promotion ever witnessed.

Couric's first guest, Jessica Simpson, spent most of the interview blathering about her post-baby weight loss thanks to Weight Watchers. That would have been bad enough, but then they brought out her coach for one segment -- part of a chat that in its entirety consumed more than half the show. It's rather ironic to note a dieting focus could be so flabby in TV terms.

Couric was better with Sheryl Crow, getting her to talk a little about former boyfriend Lance Armstrong and his blood-doping investigation.

All told, the entire exercise felt like the new fifth hour of the "Today" show, capitalizing on Couric's skills as an interviewer. Clearly, she'll be most comfortable with big newsmakers, though given a finite supply of those, exploring tales of ordinary folks is inevitable.

While the Disney-ABC show will test Couric's personality, she's probably pretty well-equipped to survive, given her solid station lineup and compatibility with early local news. Even so, I can't help but think in hindsight her professional career peaked with that Sarah Palin interview during her stint anchoring the CBS Evening News.

Otherwise, as part of "Today" in its heyday and then CBS' $60-million woman, Katie Couric will always be perhaps best known for making a lot of money for herself and others. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but in the post-"Oprah" age, being a big name in syndication just seems a whole lot smaller.

Did George Stephanopoulos die a little bit inside this morning, tossing one puffball question after another at Katie Couric, helping her plug her new syndicated daytime show?

It was hard not to hope so.

ABC is clearly intent on using every possible resource to help launch Couric's show, featuring her throughout a surging "Good Morning America" (more on that shortly) and "The Chew" in advance of "Katie's" premiere.

"We are all excited for you," Stephanopoulos gushed, as Couric showed off her new set.

Of course, there's a lot of gushing on "GMA" lately, which might explain the program's ratings rise. Watching Monday felt more like "The KTLA Morning News" than a network news program, even during the first hour, which is traditionally set aside for a larger dose of hard news.

"You've done everything in television news" Stephanopoulos said, before asking the only genuine question he mustered about the show: "How is this different?"

Um, different from "GMA," or different from what anyone could genuinely refer to as "television news?"

You know the old line about how politicians campaign in poetry and govern in prose? Two of the more adept practitioners of the poetry part each had their moment at the Democratic National Convention, offering an intriguing contrast in styles.

Mostly, Bill Clinton's nominating speech Wednesday benefited from not having to hit the emotional notes that President Barack Obama did in his acceptance on Thursday.

For Clinton, playing the role of elder statesman is clearly liberating. He never looks happier than when he's holding forth in such a setting, reveling in wonky breakdowns of dense policy matters. As such, he deftly stuck a shiv into the Republican ticket, while throwing around so many references to billions and trillions as to sound like the late Carl Sagan.

Obama, on the other hand, faced a more difficult challenge -- taking jabs at the GOP, while trying to stay presidential. Moreover, he seemed to be channeling Ronald Reagan in calling forth so many heart-warming anecdotal examples of America's can-do spirit, to the point where it was tempting to yell "OK, we're swell, I get it!" (As I noted previously, rival Mitt Romney also appeared to be emulating Reagan, but more in terms of mannerisms and style than content.)

Having written earlier about the "optics" of Romney's speech, I'd be remiss in not pointing out the effect of seeing Obama with his wife Michelle and daughters, Sasha and Malia, which felt extremely humanizing, given the nature of the attacks frequently leveled against him. The first couple has to their credit mostly kept the girls out of the spotlight, but seeing how they've grown up during his time in office plays well to what the media politely like to call "low-information voters."

Disagree with Obama's policies? Sure, fine, plenty of room for that. Trying to paint him as a socialist out to destroy the American way of life? With those two adorable kids he'll be giving six-figure speeches to help support, either in a few months or four years? Aw, come on.

Boxing pundits like to speculate about pairing up fighters from different eras. Seeing Clinton juxtaposed with Obama created that opportunity for political yakkers.

After watching both, Obama's certainly smooth enough, but Clinton feels like the heavyweight.

ReelzChannel is premiering a new series Sept. 11 titled "Bomb Girls."

Sometimes, this job is just too damn easy.

Now, to be fair, I was kind of intrigued by the premise, about female factory workers during World War II. Yet after one episode and part of another it was pretty clear this Canadian import -- which features Meg Tilly as its biggest name -- wasn't going to get much better. Indifferently acted, tritely plotted and kind of chintzy looking, it's proof not everything that's shot in color really warrants exposure on a U.S. network.

And therein lies a lesson a bit larger than "Bomb Girls" itself. If you're Reelz, which enjoyed an unexpected windfall by picking up "The Kennedys" from History, you're a relatively small channel, without that many bites at the apple in terms of public or press exposure. Yes, I'm sure the financial terms were favorable, but wouldn't the network have been better off waiting until something it could really get behind came along?

At any rate, I've learned my lesson -- and having invested that much time myself, felt obliged to warn others. "Bombs" away.

"Sons of Anarchy" returns for its fifth season on Sept. 11, and frankly, I wish I found the show as consistently entertaining as series creator Kurt Sutter's profane, unfiltered, never-a-dull-moment Twitter account.

Having set up an interesting scenario at the close of season four (and Spoiler Alert if you're planning to Netflix the whole thing later), with the Jax character, played by Charlie Hunnum, assuming leadership of the SAMCRO motorcycle club, the series pretty quickly pivots toward a new threat. This time, the main heavy is played by "Lost" alum Harold Perrineau, who demonstrates his ruthlessness in grisly fashion.

The show also picks up another high-profile cast addition in the form of Jimmy Smits, who runs a call-girl ring. (Practically speaking, having a call-girl ring as background mostly for the scenery is one of those decisions few bother to question on a show with a "TV-MA" rating, sort of like the brothels on "Game of Thrones.")

Although a lot of people love "SOA," it's never cleared that bar with me, for a variety of reasons that aren't worth rehashing in detail. The most fundamental involves Hunnum, who is handsome, certainly, but never seems to convey the gravitas necessary given the Shakespearean aspects of the character. And while I understand a certain level of violence is both established and to be expected in the show's grim world, "SOA" sometimes feels as if it's going the extra mile to present brutality, unlike series where the terrible things that happen feel more organic.

Sutter continues to attract firstrate talent, and having watched this long, I am curious to see where the series ultimately winds up. At this point, anticipating the eventual payoff is frankly the main thing that keeps me interested. Blame it on "Lost," but closure is now a big part of the trip.

So for my money, Sutter's past tirades about the series being snubbed by Emmy voters, however colorful, don't really require any grand conspiracy -- or even the often-true lament about the TV academy being too stodgy to appreciate more daring programs.

"Sons of Anarchy" is a solid role player for FX. But this ride isn't for everybody, brother.

"Damages" nearly didn't get a fifth season, but DirecTV stepped up to make a 10-episode run happen. And while the former FX show had to engage in some creative nips and tucks to engineer its final run, based on the last few episodes -- which I've previewed, with the finale airing Sept. 12 -- it was worth the effort.

In some respects, narrowing the show's focus actually worked to its advantage, more intently zeroing in on its central relationship between Glenn Close's ruthless attorney, Patty Hewes, and her one-time protege Ellen (Rose Byrne). The series also stumbled into a bit of good fortune by introducing a plot line regarding a WikiLeaks-like hacker, featuring Ryan Phillippe, just as Julian Assange's legal troubles were exploding into the news.

No spoilers here, but the final installments again feature the show's time-twisting devices, and more than a little fudging to heighten the tension and jeopardy. To be honest, I could have also done with fewer fantasy/dream sequences, a heavy-handed device that was seriously over-used in season five.

Even such quibbles shouldn't detract from the fact "Damages" consistently functioned on an extremely high creative level, tackling complex issues pertaining to big business in an entertaining way. This was one of those shows that really required the audience's attention, not the kind you could watch while doing a crossword puzzle.

In addition, DirecTV -- which earlier helped keep "Friday Night Lights" alive -- made a shrewd acquisition to pair with the show, "Hit & Miss," one of the summer's most pleasant (if exceedingly grim) surprises.

All that adds up to a verdict in favor of "Damages" -- never perfect, but always interesting. And thanks to Close, that's not a close call.

With Tuesday's premiere of his eponymous syndicated daytime show, Steve Harvey officially completes the journey from stand-up comic to advice/relationship guru.

Harvey's book, "Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man," already became a successful if not particularly enjoyable movie, and now he's expanding on that with a daytime series. “I’m here to help. We’ll get through this thing together,” Harvey said at the outset, adding that there's "nothing I like better than giving out common-sense advice."

Of course, offering "common-sense advice" requires guests who lack it, which explains why two of the segments in the busy, slightly overproduced premiere hinged on just that: A 24-year-old guy who claims to be the "worst dater in America;" and a mom who tends to over-share online by posting intrusive photos of her young kids, much to the chagrin of her husband.

Harvey is quick, funny, and approaches the advice business in a light-hearted way. Even so, the series would probably benefit from settling down, finding somewhat weightier topics -- without getting too heavy -- and exploring them at greater length, instead of breaking the show into a handful of segments of questionable interest. (By the last third of the first hour, I know my attention was drifting.)

Produced by Endemol and distributed by NBC Universal, "Steve Harvey" passes the first and perhaps most fundamental test of the job: He's good company. What remains to be seen is whether he can translate that into a good show.

Comedy Central's publicity department gets the "BS press release of the day" award with its announcement that ratings for the network's "The Daily Show"/"The Colbert Report" hour beat the cable news competition among adults 18-34.

How many asterisks does a press release need before you don't bother to send it out at all?

For starters, two-thirds of the audience for the convention was 55 and over. So bragging about having more viewers under 35 is just flat-out silly. Almost nobody under 35 watches the conventions -- or for that matter, cable news, where the median viewer age is regularly in the 60s. Why not just say you beat them among 6-11 year olds, too? It's equally germane.

Moreover, comparing Comedy Central's performance in that single hour after primetime against the cable networks -- which have been covering the conventions throughout the evening, and shift into analysis mode after the last big speech each night -- is an apples-and-oranges scenario if there ever was one.

Finally, Comedy Central conspicuously excludes any mention of the 2-plus total-viewer audience, thus ignoring all those old parasites on Medicare who might not mean much to beer advertisers but who, you know, VOTE.

It would have been simple enough for Comedy Central to tout its ratings performance without pulling Fox News Channel, MSNBC and CNN into the mix or referencing them at all. The channel did for obvious reasons, since the headline from its release -- COMEDY CENTRAL TOP CHOICE AMONG YOUNG ADULTS DURING REPUBLICAN NATIONAL CONVENTION, BEATING FOX NEWS, MSNBC AND CNN IN HEAD-TO-HEAD COMPETITION -- is sure to garner attention, especially among the many political reporters who wouldn't know the difference between a rating and a share if one bit them on the ass.

By doing so, Comedy Central has only further muddied the waters, at a time where there's already enough wince-inducing ratings coverage out there.

As penance, they should be forced to watch six consecutive hours of convention coverage on any one of the cable networks.

You really have to hand it to Investigation Discovery. The network keeps finding ways to put a fresh coat of paint on the same old chassis. In the case of “Deadly Affairs” -- a familiar “This could have been a TV movie” concept profiling trysts and infidelities gone wrong, eventually resulting in someone getting murdered -- the inspired stroke involves having soap star Susan Lucci host and narrate the proceedings.

Sinking her teeth into the assignment, Lucci appears in wraparounds sipping cocktails poolside, while well-muscled young men serve her. Essentially, it’s like buying “All My Children’s” Erica Kane (a character known for running through husbands) for a fraction of the price, and without a prenup.

The stories themselves are the same old, same old –- a husband cheating on his spouse, who turns up dead; a young wife in a religious community in Kansas having an affair with a student at the college where she’s working. Moreover, the producers slip two tawdry tales into each hour, so this amounts to Short-Attention-Span Theater.

Still, Lucci’s presence and voiceover make the whole exercise not exactly fresh, but at least trashy good fun. Moreover, ID's casting an actress famous for enduring almost two decades of runner-up status before finally claiming her statuette at the Daytime Emmys makes "Deadly Affairs" promotable in a way it wouldn't be otherwise.

Viewed that way, I suspect based on Investigation Discovery's ratings standards, the channel has a winner on its hands. If so, the soap diva might not have to wait 19 years this time for her “You (finally) like me” moment.

Produced by Sirens Media. Executive producers, Valerie Haselton Drescher, Rebecca Toth Diefenbach; co-executive producer, Christine Nussbaum; producer, Candice Grubb; series writer, Walker Lamond; editor, Dave Kratz.

Strictly from a ratings standpoint, Mitt Romney's address to the Republican National Convention didn't measure up to John McCain's nomination acceptance speech in 2008, based on data from Nielsen Media.

Romney's speech adveraged 30.3 million viewers, according to Nielsen, easily the highest-rated night of the convention. Yet that fell about 22% short of the nearly 39 million who tuned in for McCain across nine networks four years ago.

Of course, that also means those people missed Clint Eastwood's "exceedingly strange" performance, so hey, their loss.

There are several ways to parse these numbers, and as the challenger, one can argue Romney has more to gain from all the free exposure provided by the conventions.

That said, the truth is ratings don't necessarily signify much of anything in this context, other than perhaps an element of fatigue that's already creeping into the current campaign. Moreover, with the web and wall-to-wall cable coverage there are plenty of opportunities for second-day viewing of the key portions of the address.

Finally, it's probably wise not to read too much into the fact Fox News Channel performed disproportionately well during the GOP convention. To borrow a sports analogy, watching the Republicans on Fox is sort of like watching the home team on a local channel, with announcers who can scarcely hide their rooting interest. If history holds, CNN and MSNBC should both get a relative boost during the Democratic gathering.

Let's just hope President Obama doesn't decide to lead into his speech by having Alec Baldwin interview a microwave oven.

Well, that certainly was a Grand Old Party -- as in, like, 60 and older, in keeping with the Florida setting.

Mitt Romney gave his acceptance speech at the Republican National Convention on Thursday, and I'll leave the politics and fact-checking to others. My only political point would be however much heat surrounded other speakers, in terms of the 2012 election the only speech that really mattered this week was Romney's, just as the same will be true next week for President Obama.

What interested me more, from a TV standpoint, were the visuals of the convention's big night -- the "optics," to use an increasingly popular term, and the style as opposed to the substance.

In terms of delivery, Romney almost consciously seemed to be channeling Ronald Reagan -- down to his mannerisms and expressions. Since the intent is to paint Barack Obama as the second coming of Jimmy Carter, that perhaps makes sense in more ways than one.

After that, there were problems. The candidate made perhaps the longest walk to the podium -- through a gantlet of admirers and well-wishers -- since the pre-fight sequence in "Rocky." While it sought to create the impression the crowd was with him, it felt self-indulgent and wearying.

Almost more significant than Romney, though, was the crowd itself. Forget its homogeneity -- the fact the convention hall seemed to be overwhelmingly populated by older white people, despite the party's outreach efforts.

More than anything, the crowd seemed much more eager, more enthusiastic, about booing the current President than anything Romney had to say about becoming the next one. Even through the TV, the anger sounded palpable, and I suspect to some of those precious swing voters, a little unnerving. These were people who clearly know what they're against, yet who sounded considerably fuzzier about what they're for.

Finally, there was the little matter of Clint Eastwood speaking, which proves that Republicans think Hollywood is full of out-of-touch elitists, unless of course they're conservatives, in which case, how 'bout a few minutes in primetime?

Eastwood was folksy, certainly, but too much so -- rambling, riffing, tossing off jabs at President Obama, but with precious little to say in support of the GOP ticket. NBC's Andrea Mitchell called the appearance "exceedingly strange," and one could tell she was straining to be polite. Who knew Dirty Harry had a burning desire to do improv?

On the plus side, Clint didn't seem angry, just disappointed.

In terms of the mood in the room, the movie world's quiet loner was once again going it alone.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but word that the National Football League will begin the regular season with replacement officials is a sign of the owners' arrogance, and a reminder what wimps the networks are when it comes to dealing with sports' biggest cash cow.

Given the billions the networks pay for rights to televise football, one might think they would want a grade A, undiluted product to kick off the season. Yet the owners have discovered time and again -- as they did during the most recent player lockout -- that whatever indignities are heaped upon fans, there's little chance they won't come back as soon as the dinner bell sounds.

Referees, obviously, don't have anywhere close to the leverage players do. Nobody tunes in to see a really well-identified holding penalty. But they're obviously on the first team for a reason, and some of the preseason griping by coaches and players indicates having replacements could have an impact on games.

What's clear is that with the billions the league rakes in from its TV deals, owners should have been able to put together a package that would mollify the refs without it coming to this. As for the networks, as usual when it comes to major sports franchises, they're sitting around with their thumbs in their ears, while the effect of replacement-refs debate becomes just another item about which the sport's talking heads can blather.

In the case of players vs. owners, the conventional wisdom was nobody cares about millionaires vs. billionaires, which is doubtless true. And while the referees aren't exactly in either tax bracket, the league can act with impunity knowing as soon as the action begins, fans will forget about the distractions and be ready for some football.

Or, as Eli Wallach said in "The Magnificent Seven," "If God didn't want them sheared, he would not have made them sheep."

For comic-book geeks, there might actually be a bigger release this year than "The Dark Knight Rises."

Try "The Dark Knight Returns," a two-part, feature-length animated DVD, which will hit stores on Sept. 25.

The project is an adaptation of Frank Miller's enormously influential 1986 graphic novel, which saw a bitter, middle-aged Batman (Peter Weller provides the voice) come out of retirement, teaming up with a new female Robin to fight wanton corruption and gangs taking over Gotham.

Oh, and did I mention when Batman is deemed too much of a vigilante threat, the authorities turn to another caped hero -- with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men -- to stop him?

Like a lot of people, I had been away from comics for awhile when "Dark Knight Returns" lured me back, and I remember going from one comic-book store to another trying to even find one. The damn things were selling out that fast.

While these animated PG-13-rated DVD releases based on Marvel and DC properties have largely been skewed to the fanboy base, "Dark Knight Returns" could cross over to a somewhat wider audience. And if the DVD is half as good as the original comics were, it should.

Want to see what's wrong with the conventional-wisdom memo circulating around CNN about the need to inject more opinion and passion into cable news? Watch Chris Matthews' interview with Republican National Committee Chairman Reince Priebus.

Even if you agree with the MSNBC host's points, his sputtering line of attack -- and repeated interruptions -- would leave any casual viewer feeling like the guest had been spit on by his host.

Moreover, the exchange was so uncomfortable the "Morning Joe" team turned it into a big joke, losing any content or context in the legitimate questions Matthews raised. And Tom Brokaw looked understandably mortified.

Like a lot of cable hosts, Matthews is in love with the sound of his own voice, and the guests are really there less for their responses or opinions than to give him someone to talk to. Most days you sort of wonder why he bothers with them at all.

Yet the very nature of the exchange ensured the clip would wind up posted all over the place, which counts as a "win" in the current twisted mind-set of cable punditry.

Are you watching and listening, CNN? Because if you want to broadcast in a "more compelling and engaging way," as Time Warner CEO Jeff Bewkes has suggested, this is an example of both. In the broad strokes, this sort of verbal slapfest makes for good TV.

It's just that from a journalistic standpoint, Priebus was right. Matthews didn't care about answers. For him, like so many of his brethren, it's all about the monologue.