It's About Time.

Clyde's goin' tonight.

A few small concerns about the overall quality of the show: Not that they're doing anything wrong per se, but it's always helpful to register at least a few complaints. In case you couldn't tell, I am referring to my favorite reality show right now, "Dancing with the Stars." Actually, it's been my favorite reality show for about a year (or at least spanning two seasons) and, if you don't believe me, read some of my archived ramblings on "Why Joey Sucks" et al. First of all, I applaud this show for playing the upper hand and not acknowledging its enemies. Namely, "American Idol." Because, if you ever watch an episode of "DWtS" (as I tend to refer to it), you will see nary a reference, or even the use of a song by any of the "American Idol"s on the show. They're also very respectful (which, let's be honest here, you can't admit about ANY reality show today) to Broadway, and, likewise, quite a few alums are appearing on the boards.

Of course, applying a career post-"DWtS" is the easy part. They make such a huge deal over Fantasia and **Konstantin** appearing on Broadway, and, yet, nothing is said of the impending game show host-itis that seems to plague past "Dancers" (Tucker, Jerry, and now Mario replacing Bob Barker on "The Price Is Right," apparently). Maybe because, without knowing how to sing, the people on "Dancing with the Stars" are entertainers already. While the "Idols" might be perceived as rank amateurs otherwise. I don't know about you but I'm already wanting to see Harry and Lisa in "Chicago." To whet your appetite, she's going to be singing "Roxie" on tomorrow's results show, but I so wish Harry would come on and do "We Both Reached for the Gun" with her.

Anyway, on to the complaints. Florence Henderson. Florence Henderson!? We need to see more current celebrities when they show close-ups in the audience.

And speaking of currency, they need to utilize the orchestra more or, at least, choose songs that suit the band's needs. I know Harold Wheeler was the music director for "Carrie." He did the orchestrations, and at least knows his way around a Broadway production number. He's golden. But it's the four backup singers, who I've only recently taken to calling "The Angel City Four," who've been rankling me lately. Usually, with four people carrying out tight harmonies like that, you'd have someone sing the appropriate solo line (Soprano, Alto, Tenor, or Bass), with everyone else on backup the rest of the time. But when the music is all Shakira and Gwen Stefani, and they take turns trying to impersonate Shakira and Gwen Stefani, it's just plain disconcerting. I was perplexed trying to keep up with who was singing the vocal parts, and I think they were, too. Personally, they need to take it easy on themselves, and if you get the "Angel City Four" reference I made earlier, you're more pathetic than I am.

Also, note to "Notes from the Underbelly": Don't show Randy Graff in the preview if you ain't gonna show her anywhere in the hour special premiere. One hour of my life last week I will never get back, thank you very much. Although there's always "Boston Legal" and Rene Auberjonois on Tuesday, and I never miss that one on account of pausing to change the channel after "DWtS."

The music choices, I gather, are as un-current as you'd think otherwise. I guess when most of the hit parade today comes from Kelly and Daughtrey releasing singles like Eddie's ex-wife churns out babies, it's staggeringly hard to keep up.

All I know is, the whole time, they just don't even mention that "American Idol," or any network other than ABC even exists. It's like 45 minutes of Heaven. And maybe I was a little too harsh on Flo Henderson. I mean, I thought they showed Lewis Stadlen in the audience this week. My mom is a huge fan of his, so she'd probably be able to tell me if that was him or if it wasn't. Just keep Guillermo and I won't complain about any of this show's shortcomings from now on.

I know what you were thinking about Lance and Carlton: They're totally lovers!

Pshaw. The Bergeron may feed fires, but he doesn't fan flames. And he was surprisingly energetic tonight. Probably because the competition is finally feeling like a real competition. While there aren't any surprises on the caliber of "Jerry: Likable Guy!" and "Whoa! Emmitt got a lot better!" we still have Ian's mohawk and Joey's gradually turning into a sex God despite the paunch. If the judges keep criticizing, all the contestants will do is focus on the negative feedback. Clyde made some effort, but he planned his work around it. Put yourself in Clyde's shoes. You'd understand why he was even weaker than usual: Practice + Jet Lag + Getting paid to tell a room full of Chinese businessmen it's Suntory Time = Meh.

I don't know about you, but the Bergeron was probably told to make a big deal of the apparent double standard on "DWtS." Namely, that the men, as they do every season, are kicking ass. Well, I've always maintained that beauty queens never fare well on this show because they're told to pose, as opposed to move.

It's actually a lot like why women are so much better on "American Idol." What it is actually amounts to some stereotype anyway, and, in the wake of the Imus controversy, it wouldn't be such a good idea to state my sister's opinion of this.

Guillermo's still on the show. WE ARE GOOD.

I watched "Hannah Montana" just to see what kinds of kids are voting for Mr. Ray Cyrus. It's the tenuous David Lynch connection that keeps me from being a total skeptic, but, at this rate, all three of Billy's kids are better actors than he.

Kiddies, if you're going to vote for one of the bad ones, vote for Ratzenberger.

Hmm...What else? Apolo got the first 30 of the season, and it was well-deserved. Ratzenberger at least improved a little, and toned down his walrus arm-flaps.

Don't think the Weisslers aren't watching and taking "Follies" notes right now.

Not since the Great Synthesizer Scare of '89 has Broadway been so freaked out.

And I like it.

No, I didn't die.

Although a brush with a carving knife came dangerously close to taking my own young life tonight.

While I was on blogging hiatus, I took in some time to catch up on some YouTube goodies I missed. For one thing...how did I not know the "DWtS" inaugural civic center national tour had already started! Dude! In case you were wondering, yes, I am watching this season. As a matter of fact, I'm watching it right now. Yes, it's a chintZY recap show. Yes, I already watched last night's performances. Live and on DVR, as a matter of fact. But a rerun of "Dancing" on a weak night still beats any horrendously out-of-touch-with-America's-youth theme night "American Idol" has in store whenever, so all of you Fanjayas can stop spamming me now. It won't get me to watch any day.

Whenever I flip through channels and land on "American Idol," no matter what time it is or what they're doing, it's always the same thing. Some poorly styled twentysomething sings an overproduced version of an already dated song that's either 1. obviously off-key or 2. uselessly ornamented. The scary executive producer in the audience creepily tells everyone to either scream or clap or boo or whatever (usually while he's standing, although it looks like he really hates some of the finalists this year!). And the large black woman on the show is dressed for sabotage, because everyone knows large black women are superior to us in all forms of pop culture, and if they make all of these poor soulless white people sing Motown one week, soul the next, R&B the next, and "Philly Sound" well into next month, they're only going to pick the same three overdone numbers we've all gotten sick of, AND they're only going to look worse.

Anyway, I hate how the judges acknowledge how bad the show itself has gotten over how bad the contestants themselves have gotten. It's a damn shame, when you consider that it really exacerbates how "Dancing with the Stars" is a far superior show to "American Idol," in almost every way. While on "American Idol," the celebrity "guest coach" (which, by the way? WORST IDEA EVER. It's not like they have anything constructive to say besides, "Wow, pretty black girl. You sing a lot better than I ever did!") has to say something to the worst contestants, but it's usually this begrudging acknowledgement of the apparently unfixable. Like, "Yeah, Sanjaya. I have a public image to uphold and can't say anything bad about you, but we're really banking on a train wreck performance of some sort tonight...so I'd be a damn fool to not keep my mouth shut." At least we all knew Jerry could waltz by the end of last season. He was magnificent!

But Sanjaya? They're just not even trying when he's raking in the votes already. If it ain't broke, I suppose. Anyway, Jerry makes them look like rank amateurs.

Here's one thing you wouldn't know about me. I have never seen Chicago. Yeah, that's right. One of my favorite musicals ever and I've only seen the movie version. I've never seen it live in the decade-plus it's been running on Broadway. And I live for Broadway. Still, while I'm happy that Harry and Lisa are going to be leaving the tour to star in it and indulge the Weisslers' stuntcasting whims (and if you are a man truly after my own heart, you'd do student rush with me), I am kind of disappointed that the current Roxie and Billy have to take a mandatory leave of absence. I mean, come on: Lilith Sternin and Freddie Trumper? You people are spoiling me. Now I don't know when I want to see it!

Whatever. Since onetime celebrities who compete on cheesy televised ballroom dance competitions aren't unionized, I figured now would be as good a time as any to post Jerry's surprise guest appearance from the Columbus stop. I plain don't like Sanjaya.



The Kiddies luvz them some Jerrys!!

And while I'm at it, I'll substitute my current gambit for why I don't watch the "Idols" anymore, which many a person who's talked to me recently has heard repeatedly: As far as I'm concerned, James Naughton is the real American Idol. He's even better than Sanjaya.

I just want people to find me by Googling "Sanjaya."




Enjoy it while ya can. I know I mentioned earlier about the unions and all, and how it's really wrong, but I'd be losing my punk rock cred if I didn't post this, what, when the revival of the Living Theatre's The Brig is opening this month. !Viva la Revolutions! I won't do it anymore.

Man, that sleeveless Fosse dancer's got some guns on 'im.

Good News for Kramer!

Joe Davola, not so much.

Is the Broadway Overture Dead?

Because I was thinking about this article last night, and, for what it's worth, I think it probably is.

So, here's a very concise, well-thought-out list of my Top 10 Favorite Broadway Overtures of All Time

1. Gypsy - Literally, the "Mother" of all overtures

2. My Fair Lady - Kickin' it old school

3. Merrily We Roll Along - And then Sondheim said, "Hey, I could get used to this uptempo stuff...Maybe I will write that jingle for Buzz Cola!"

4. Promises, Promises - Shagadelic!

5. City of Angels - Who Framed Roger Rabbit? meets something really, really awesome.

6. A Little Night Music - It starts weird, then becomes really fucking gorgeous, then frightening, and then back to the most gorgous thing ever in one fell swoop.

7. The Most Happy Fella - Even when played on only two pianos, it packs an emotional wallop.

8. Candide - Somebody else said it better than I ever could in that article: This makes me want to sit up and write a check to the next PBS pledge drive.

If you don't believe me, watch this trippy clip from the 51st annual Tony Awards and then try to tell me what the hell it's supposed to be.

9. Mack and Mabel - The ultimate ice-dancing song.



Incidentally, I was really pissed that I found this HYSTERICAL clip of the failed musical with the same plot Keystone only a few minutes after I hit "Publish" on my last entry. Even if you didn't find any of the things I listed in it hilarious, I'm sure you'll agree that this one only renders all of them totally moot. WATCH IT!

Seriously. Tears.

10. Carousel - Because you don't fuck around with Rodgers & Hammerstein.

The Top 10 Things That Made Me Laugh This Week

10. Kate Hanley in the movie version of Godspell - Not even my closest friends know this about me, but, when I was in high school...man, you wouldn't have even wanted to befriend me. I had scraggly hair, I wore all black, I listened to Hole, and, that combined with puberty may well have banished me to Virginland forever.

Most of it changed one fateful day sophomore year, when I was summoned into the vice principal's office. "Well, it looks like your grades are excellent, Havoc. We'd recommend you for a great college, except for the fact that you have absolutely no extra-curricular activities listed on your transcript. I'm so sorry."

"But there must be something I can do."

"The annual school production of Bye, Bye Birdie is coming up."

Sadly, I caved in, auditioned, and happily, didn't get cast.

As fate would have it, a new teacher was coming in from the recent strike at the public high school. And he was going to direct a production of a show I had never heard of called Godspell. I was sort of put up to auditioning for it, and when I was the only underclassman to get cast in a lead role (as the Mary Magdalene surrogate), I freaked. I almost didn't do it, convinced that this was going to be a Christian show, and its hardcore New Testament-ism wouldn't jibe with my Jew ways. But, as my Broadway-lovin' ma informed me, the show was composed by a Jew (Stephen Schwartz), and the other Jewish kid in the county was playing Herb.

It was the greatest moment of my high school career.

Anyway, I remember when a bunch of the delinquent upperclassmen in the show stole a used VHS copy of the Godspell movie from the local supermarket and had weekly stoned viewings of it; that is, until the tape cut off somewhere around "Save the People." I was self-thinking as too cool for school and didn't bother going (that and my parents were overprotective), although I may still have the Godspell satin jacket I ordered belatedly after seeing the delinquents wearing them to school on opening day, thinking it was only a loser thing to do.

And that's pretty much when I became a theatre freak.

When I finally saw the movie version of Godspell last weekend on my Netflix, I don't think I missed much. The whole thing is just inherently laughable, but I swear to you that Kate Hanley's facial expressions are a crack-up throughout the whole thing. Granted, it's a show about clowns. Bible re-enacting clowns.

Also? Close runners-up are the swishy, 70s visual effects that accompany David Haskell's appearances out of nowhere as Judas Iscariot within the first ten minutes of the movie; the fact that Lynne Thigpen wears an R. Crumb t-shirt with her clown getup (this getup is my getdown); and the whole sequence at the end where they (SPOILER!) crucify Victor Garber on a chain-link fence and then everybody walks around singing "Long Live God." It's supposed to be the resurrection in the original show, but, for some reason, it hilariously climaxes with some weird footage of a bunch of hippie clowns dragging poor Victor Garber's dead body all around the Upper West Side. (END SPOILER) Insanity.

9. The Way Terri White sings the line, "I'm huge as a townhouse!" on The Best of Forbidden Broadway - I was talking to my mom about this, and informed her that, even if you're not a writer, or a performer, or a singer, or a general creative, theatrical poof-y type, when you listen to a Broadway cast recording? You tend to identify with those voices that just grab at you and make you feel something, maybe it's longing, melancholy, or a giddy happiness.

Like David Carroll? When I downloaded the song "Could You Use Me?" from this album, I had no idea he was singing the guy part. The man has one of those clear, full tenor voices that would make Groban himself run in a remote bear cave somewhere and be forced to cower in an anxiety-induced state of panic.

This entry isn't going to be about David Carroll and his unfortunately short-lived Broadway triumph in Grand Hotel, lest it enter total downer territory, so instead I direct you to this Amazon review of the cast recording of Barnum, and I quote: Terri White, in her dual-roles of Joice Heth and the leading singer in "Black and White" is given ample time to display her amazing belt. In Joice's number "Thank God I'm Old", she slightly restrains her voice, but in "Black and White", watch out! She lets her voice climb to the rafters and you will be a fan forever.

Well, count me as one of those fans. What I wouldn't give to hear her play a role that not only suits her talents but exposes her to a way wider audience she ever would have found in Forbidden, Two Gentlemen of Verona, and Welcome to the Club combined. And this song itself, a parody of "And I am Telling You I'm Not Going" called (ingeniously!) "And I am Telling You I'm Not Singing" could not be resurrected at a better time, what with every deluded white person in the country going on every TV talk show within earshot right now thinking they can sing the song and, with what precious little talent they have, shamelessly cash in on J-Hud's Oscar win. She earned it! "I'm huge as a townhouse"? Triple happiness.

8. Letter of Recommendation for a Forgettable Student - I confess that I'm even more particular and picky with the way I spend my money. Now that I'm unemployed, I find myself wondering what would be worth the purchase, as opposed to just up and spending money on useless crap I wouldn't otherwise need. What this applies to most are magazines and books. The books I tend to buy have to carry some redemption value, while all magazines should be cheap.

I stopped off at the local magazine store and bought MAD. Why, I don't know. I feel like I haven't read it since the Gold Rush Days, or, at least, when Little Annie Fanny went out of print. This week's issue is full of gems that should at least remind everyone that, before YouTube? There was the written word, my friend. And if you can't think of anything funnier or sassier, then just shut up.

This is best exemplified in this issue's lead-off pages, which include an excellent parody of something that trods off the beaten path of pop culture and everything else MAD: "Letter of Recommendation for a Forgettable Student." Some choice excerpts: "Katherine has a plethora of qualitities that cannot be captured by a mere transcript, or even a letter of recommendation. She is a special girl wtih a unique outlook on life: her character and personality can only be described as her own. As an educator for over 24 years, I can safely say I have never had another student exactly like her." And "Now, you are probably asking yourself, 'How will Katherine Mackey enhance our campus life? What does she bring to the table that others do not? Does Katherine have the intelligence, the drive, and the will to succeed at our university?' And with Katherine Mackey, these are all important questions. In conclusion, it should be pointed out that Katherine V. Mackey is the applicant's name." HA! I don't know about you, but I was laughing right there in the store. Considering that there was a time in my own life when I had exceptional grades, but wouldn't even think I'd ever be able to set foot on a college campus, period, this was hilarious and true.

7. "N***** Guy" - "South Park is just awesome, but this week's episode induced more uncomfortable laughter as needed, with a subject that was only made more relevant this week with the "f-word" being said more than it needed to. I've had that problem...trying to make a point and only making it worse?

Yeah, just not like this. How great was their drawing of Kramer? Making fun of "The Kramer Incident" is one thing, but what class and grace...and a MIDGET!

6. Scene Stealers - Upon reading this press release, I honestly don't know which is funniest: The fact that half of these songs are on my Ipod, the fact that I started singing half of these songs when I read their titles, or the fact that I was on Amazon within minutes pre-ordering and promising to delete any and all tracks performed by pre-Staying Alive post-Barbarino John Travolta.

5. "The session cooked like an after-hours club date..." - I've been listening to the soundtrack (ahem. I mean, Original Broadway Cast Recording) of City of Angels an awful lot lately that it's come to the point where I was at a party last night and, out of the blue, I got a phone call from my mom saying, "Jimmy Powers is on 'Numb3rs' RIGHT NOW and he's got, like, TWO LINES!"

But the ultimate confirmation that my Angels obsession had reached a true breaking point was when I found a cheap copy of the cassette tape for a buck.

I've been wondering just what to do with it exactly. Perhaps I'll mount it, if there's such a way as to approach actually, y'know, mounting cassette tapes.

If you ever find a tape of your favorite Broadway show, I urge you to buy that tape. Because, not only does it include many photographs (both color and B&W, although, in all fairness, they're smaller than a thimble and Randy Graff looks like a total blur in most of them) that aren't even included in the CD liner notes, it has a very primitive full-size foldout sheet detailing the entire plot, with the complete lyrics and memorable quotes from the show in a smashing Bee's Knee's font. Apparently, the New York Times called it the funniest musical to hit Broadway, and I'm so inclined to agree, because the straight-from-the-press-agent quote that this particular recording session "cooked like an after-hours club date" was enough confirmation for me that maybe it's that full-length lyric sheet I should mount instead. I already caught myself meandering around the kitchenette this morning singing that weird scat vocal on Side One.

Just so you know, I wouldn't be totally averse to sending the entire cast of City of Angels to Washington and having them shake up the administration. Get Shawn Elliott to lecture on foreign policy to a rockin' calypso beat, and Randy Graff to motivate W into changing his defense strategy on Iraq -- with James Naughton and Scott Waara going overseas to sing the troops into kicking ass!

Yeah, I'm getting to a pretty sad point with this one.

4. Dusty Old Playbills - I know I've been meaning to write an entry on this alone, but I'm convinced that I live on the same block as the Man in Chair from The Drowsy Chaperone. Because I don't work during the day, I have the time to peruse thrift shops, vintage stores, antique huts, and swap meets and, more often than not, I find opening night Playbills from Broadway shows.

I was on the verge of happiness when I found Dreamgirls and Nine a few months ago, but nothing made me laugh harder than the dusty ones I found yesterday, when I almost offically declared a moratorium on actually collecting these things. I counted an intimate article on Robert Klein, an ad for the 3,042nd performance of the original Broadway production of Grease! and numerous obscure photos of Jason Alexander as Tevye with funny captions and that's just in the Playbill for the 80s revival of Oklahoma! Hey, my mom is a huge fan of Harry Groener and, I don't know about you, but I would have put down the Groeners I had for her and her alone.

For a nickel, I'd say it was a worthy purchase.

Personally, I was happy enough to find the Playbills for the shows that, what I've said more than enough on occasion, inspired my two favorite Forbidden Broadway parodies ever: Show Boat and Grand Hotel. The Show Boat one was just to spend some extra loose change, but I was thrilled to discover among its 50+ ensemble members an old friend of mine from improv class! What's even better, this show went through approximately 305,761 cast changes over the course of its run, so at this point the only stragglers left from the original cast were Joel Blum and Gretha Boston. On the plus side, David Carroll was still in Grand Hotel around the time this Playbill went to print, and there are plenty of cute pictures of him with a totally Gomez moustache.

I've been wondering what to do with all these Playbills. Mounting them seems incredibly slapdash and crude, but if anyone has any suggestions for creative things to do with old Playbills besides mounting them on the wall or selling them on Ebay, well, I'm soliciting.

3. Last week's "Simpsons" on second viewing - Watching this with my sister and her boyfriend on the DVR gave me a renewed perspective on what I meant with last week's post. "The Simpsons" wasn't so bad and, even though the Sound of Music and Sondheim references flew over their heads? Hysterical.

2. THE GREATEST EPISODE OF "FULL HOUSE" EVER - Although I was also considering writing a single entry on this, they programmed my favorite episodes of "Fresh Prince" and these priceless bad clips of "The Secret" movie that would just propel everything that woman wrote down the toilet.

What, with this and Jimmy Powers making an unwarranted comeback, this was one week you'd have wanted to be pemanently PARKED on the sofa for.

Especially since they were showing Episode 818, "We Got The Beat."

By the way, just looking this up on Wikipedia reaffirmed some sweet nostalgia for such past TGIF train wrecks as "Where I Live" (the only TGIF show set in Brooklyn!), and the glorious Peter Benson as the dad on "Hi Honey, I'm Home!" But I digress. This isn't even about "Hi Honey, I'm Home!"

Perhaps one of the biggest pitfalls of a TV show is the obligatory episode where one, or all of the characters on the show start a garage band. It's so ludicrous because nobody plays in a garage anymore and there just happens to be a talent contest involved. I still love these episodes like a fat kid loves cake and watch them whenever I can, or, at least, whenever they happen to be, you know, ON.

In this one, they just didn't even try to let it make sense, and there's some great funny stuff to be had here. Especially the fact that they were totally cool with only using pre-existing music at the time, resulting in many ineptly lip-synched versions of "The Sign" by Ace of Base played more times than it ever needed to be played over the course of a single half hour of TGIF sitcommery.

Basically, Stephanie starts a band with herself on guitar and lead vocals, and Kimmy Gibber on keyboards (why the band even needed a keyboardist, I don't know), but they become so fixated on their image that they don't rehearse the one song they know to win the big "Wake Up, San Francisco!" talent contest. And, given the fact that nearly every member of the Tanner family was involved with what little of an entertainment scene they had in San Francisco during the late 80s-early 90s, I'm surprised nobody ever called "nepotism" whenever Joey, Jesse, or pretty much anyone else who was even remotely linked to the fam appeared on "Wake Up, San Francisco!"

Needless to say, they lose. Because, whenever there's a talent contest, always bet on the gay boy. Michelle Tanner knew this and parlayed it all the way to bank.

1. The Post rips into King Lear - Just read it and hear Kevin Kline weep.

Although Frasier appearing in My Fair Lady might as well have been a close 11.

Look who's replacing Big Pussy on "DWtS."

When I heard the news, all I could think of was this.

Blood for Creme!

Despite a very funny Sondheim cameo, I was very disappointed with last night's "Simpsons." Yes, I know, the ending finally made sense. It was everything else...

I don't know. I mean, I can't even bring myself to watch the old episodes in syndication anymore, because there's a greater viability they will be showing an episode I'm unexpectedly disappointed in than an out-and-out "Simpsons" classic: a rarity these days. The new episodes are rude, crude, and, if you believe everything you read on Wikipedia, unexpectedly racist. And, yes, I know "The Simpsons" is usually better than ninety percent of the crap out there. But I think sometime around when they started doing parodies of shows/movies/pop cult parahernalia I was totally unaware of ("The Prisoner!" Day of the Dolphin!) was a true jumping-off point for my loyalty to the series as a whole. Combined with the fact that most of the show's writers are as old as Bart Simpson (b. 1984 and after) and are either oblivious or unaware of the show's origins, it's bunk.

I've always used the hiring of Ian Maxtone-Graham as my usual gambit, but a rerun tonight confirmed my worst fears: "The Simpsons" stopped being great when the writers discovered irony.

At some point, when "The Family Guy" became a mainstream hit, I'm guessing, "The Simpsons" was perceived as stale, out-of-touch, and, compared to some of the edgier comedy out there like "American Dad" and "South Park," a glorified morality play. This point of view was probably that of the "Simpsons" writers themselves. I mean, the older episodes are quaint, and, when push comes to shove, Flanders and his bible are typically right about everything.

And then, someone thought: You know what would be hilarious? Let's give the fans the opposite of what they expect. Let's make Homer stupider, Marge crazy, Lisa shallow, and Bart the bystander, instead of the show's breakout star. You can just imagine the writers' laughing at themselves and this ingenious ploy.

But the thing is: This hasn't been the case for only one episode, or even a few. No, this rule applies to NEARLY EVERY DAMN EPISODE THAT'S BEEN RUNNING RIGHT NOW. The humor has even veered into unexpectedly racist, scatalogical, and homophobic territory. And, I know, "The Simpsons" was the exception to the rule. Now, it's a product of its own time. You can't watch those promos for Wild Hogs and tell me this is a funny, inoffensive film by any means. I saw an ad for Blades of Glory on the 6 today, and all I could think was, "Yep, that's pretty homophobic." "Simpsons" was smart, now it's just smart-ass. The humor just isn't the same. It's supposed to be ironic, and it comes out as offensive.

Take, for example, Cletus hanging a raccoon. No, this isn't the only joke that would be perceived as "racist," nor is it the only gag having to do with a character in that episode being fatally, and violently, choked. It's just gotten to a point where the writers have to just make things up. The Bart storyline was the "B" storyline in this week's episode. Normally, I wouldn't give a shit about a fictional cartoon family, but you'd think the writers would have some knowledge of who these characters are. Considering that there are cults, nay, entire segments of the population who have "The Simpsons" trivia memorized to the smallest detail, you'd think those people who are paid to dream up storylines for the characters in Springfield would know who they are and what they're about. All through last night's episode I kept thinking, "Where's Dylan? Where's Dermot?" And thus, one of the show's great, randomly funny gags is now lost FOREVER.

And that's what is wrong with "The Simpsons": Now it tries too hard to be random, instead of not trying at all, which is when the show was really cooking, IMO. You'd think these kids, who perhaps grew up with the show's greatest episodes, would know that Bart knows what sex is already, Marge wouldn't resort to violence when acting upon her jealousy, or that Lisa wouldn't care about body image (leading to at least three of the show's most baffling recent denouments). I know these characters aren't supposed to age, but they should mature, and that's what they fail to understand: And what great writers like Conan O'Brien, Adam Lapidus, and George Meyer knew to a brilliant T. Now, it's all about violence, offensive throwaway jokes pertaining to serious issues (gay marriage, teen pregnancy out of wedlock, religious Jews and Mormons), and, yes, pop cultural references that only the writers would get. I was racking my brain trying to figure out what they were accomplishing with the Bart storyline. Granted, it wasn't as extreme as Homer being raped by a panda, but what was it supposed to be? 12 Monkeys? "The Sopranos"? Edward Gorey? The hell? And why would Principal Skinner bust out "Let's Hear It for the Rainbow Tour," anyway? I find myself, of all people asking, "What are they parodying?"

Okay, I'll admit. I was kind of proud that they did shout-out "Let's Hear It for the Rainbow Tour." But it's all too much for probably anyone else. I mean, I fully expect Homer to tell us about the time he left an aborted fetus in the dumpster a la Peter Griffin in the next new episode, and I worry that he might.

But maybe there's hope. There would be no such thing as a "Simpsons" purist, but I know the humor used to be less presentational and a lot more subtle and mature. Now it's all about easy grabs to the Iraq War, the death penalty, the Internet, red states, and "golden showers."

I'd cite more examples, but I'm getting tired right now. Like when Maude Flanders died? I wouldn't have expected "Simpsons" to be in such poor taste.

Also? Salad dressing.

By the way, my own personal choice for Worst Episode Ever. Maggie isn't even in it, and Dennis Rodman jokes when they've already become stale? Pandering!

I so miss Sideshow Raheem. Angry, angry young man...

I could really use some new shoes.

And while I'm at it...

Here's another obscure YouTube find that reduced me to tears...of joy, of joy. Of course, they have just about every "classic" clip of the old TV show "Fame," and the one with Leroy wearing that obvious Chorus Line-aping gold lame tux would be a close second for sheer entertainment value. My choice of this one to post on the bloggy does not speak of any personal bias whatsoever. Which is to say, it does. Solely. Solely so. Just watch the link.

Every time I see this commercial.

I weep. Just watch the freaking thing.

Holy Evening Primrose!

Look who's guest-voicing on tomorrow night's "Simpsons."

How delightfully droll, indeed...