I went to the something annual art show of something and man was it good. Take a look at the best (must cut and paste for some reason):

my friend memo's art
http://www.gmunro.com/images/pagina_servicios_mainIMAGE.gif

nudes
http://www.bellavistagallery.com/qian/attention.html

big feet
http://www.gabrielmejia.com/images/800/yourmomsaidthatina-2006.jpg

fngerpuppet photos
http://www.secretagentmartens.com/fingerpuppets/fingerpuppets.html

BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
A decade ago, Lauren Holly co-starred on "Picket Fences," which won awards, critical acclaim and references in pop culture. But it often hovered around No. 60 in the ratings, she says. Now all that's reversed. She co-stars on a Top 10 series -- but it gets no awards, no press and no buzz.
"We're like the bad stepchild" in the media, Holly says of "NCIS," a hit drama based on real sleuthing of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. "I sort of miss the attention -- being written about, the ads in all the magazines, all that stuff. Instead, it's like we're out here by ourselves, and we're just glad we have a loyal fan base that follows us."
Loyal isn't the half of it. "NCIS" has remained in the Top 10 even while it's been running repeats in the same time slot as behemoth "American Idol."
"We're like the only show that does well against it," Holly says.
There's an online devotion, too. SpoilerFix.com, the site that spoils upcoming episode plots of TV shows, says "NCIS" is a Top 10 show for drawing Internet traffic to the site.
What the cast may not know is this: Critics partly neglect "NCIS" because CBS doesn't send us DVD screeners of upcoming episodes; we can't review what we don't have. (CBS wouldn't even supply me with new episodes after I said I was writing this big, splashy feature.)
The cast, Holly says, thinks non-viewers don't understand what the series is: a character-based show, more than a cop-procedure show. They associate it with "JAG," the military show from which it was spun off. (One critic has called "NCIS" a "JAG"-off.) Or they think it's a conservative show.
To the contrary, Holly says it's not conservative; it has a "great cast," it goes for both humor and somber story lines, it's well-shot and quickly paced, "and frequently there's a lot of secret sex going on."
Yet "NCIS" is the most popular show on TV that people don't talk about, she says.
She fears it could remain that way, "shy of us ripping off our clothes and running down Sunset Boulevard, screaming that our hair's on fire. It'll be like, 'Those are the people from that show -- "CSI What?" '"
"NCIS," which debuted in 2003, is not another "CSI" or "Law & Order." It always begins with a caper involving forensics and footwork. Sometimes it's solved, sometimes not. But that's not the thrust. Most of the series focuses on the interaction between the civilian detectives, who flirt with and rag on each other.
Granted, the tone is kind of bizarre. One episode this season began with a military vet getting blown up by a terrorist. At times, his death was treated sentimentally and with manipulative patriotism. Other times, a cop cracked crass jokes about the dead vet. Meanwhile, male and female cops checked out each other's butts.
That's the "NCIS" way. It mixes humor and playful innuendo with grim crime cases. One cop shot a mobile-phone video of another cop who was scratching a poison oak patch in his pants; the phone video made it look like the guy was not itching but masturbating.
Dialogue can be gung-ho silly. In another episode this season, a character said, "These scumbags have been selling weapons to tyrants and terrorists ever since they gave us the slip -- guns and bombs and RPG's used to kill American soldiers and Marines in every hellhole from Mogadishu to Baghdad. It's time it ended!"
That said, "NCIS" isn't a frat house. The three smartest and capable characters are women: NCIS Director Jenny Shepard (Holly), Israeli-born cop Ziva David (played by Chile-born Cote de Pablo) and wiry lab detective Abby Sciuto (Pauley Perrette).
Ziva gives the boys hell, calling them on lies and behavior even as they try to impress her into the sack. These women aren't den mothers or vixens. They're powerful figures who -- like women on other detective shows -- work diligently. They don't giggle or lose composure when men sexualize them.
But Holly jokes she wouldn't mind if de Pablo used her off-camera sexuality to draw more public attention to "NCIS."
"She wants me to start dating a celebrity, which is something I would never do -- not for the sake of dating a celebrity," de Pablo says.
"The women here are being portrayed as smart women," she adds. "I love the fact that they made the director of 'NCIS' a woman [Holly]. That would never happen in real life."
Arguably, the key character isn't any of the women but Mark Harmon's Gibbs. He's the ostensible lead. But Harmon puts all the credit for the show's ratings on the producer, the ensemble cast and the huge crew.
Harmon calls producer Donald Bellisario a demanding "force of nature" and "not for the weak of heart." (Bellisario tries to keep upcoming plots a secret from critics and fans.) Bellisario is a former Marine who previously created and wrote "JAG," "Magnum, P.I.," "Quantum Leap" and the first "Battlestar Galactica."
"You come here, you bring you're 'A' game. And you bring it every day," Harmon says. "We work an average of 16 hours a day, every day, and sometimes Sundays -- [from] July 4th till the end of May. People really put the effort in here."
Most hourlong series shoot scripts numbering at about 57 pages, but "NCIS" scripts are 80 pages, Harmon says. Hard work has garnered fan allegiance, he says. And with no bitterness in his voice, he suggests the show can gain more respect from the press if everyone on "NCIS" keeps plugging along.
"I think we're earning you guys who write about us, and I think we're earning the promos on CBS," he says. "The only thing we can control here is the work we do every day."

By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
Playing "Lost Planet" is like going on a date with a really hot dummy. Look how gorgeous! But so stupid!
The choice: Do you put up with a pretty moron to engage in promising action-adventure? Or is the idiocy so pure it'll ruin your happy fun times?
The Hot Dumb game is a type of game that comes along frequently. Hot Dumb "Lost Planet" does have redeeming merits. But first, let's look at a checklist of attributes, so typical of the Hot Dumb Shooting Adventure subgenre.
A) All the characters have terrific hair.
B) Everyone looks 25 percent Asian.
C) At least one skinny yet curvy woman, despite standing in a freezing tundra of snow and ice, is wearing a big thick coat that ill-advisably does not cover her ample cleavage.
D) A simplistic yet confusing story line takes place among space colonies.
Here, humans must shoot elephant-sized aliens named the "Akrid scourge." They appear to be menacing and curious-looking, as if they were giant scorpions in the process of mating with monster-truck tires. Yes, in the process.
To kill this scourge, you shoot them in the butt (really) and eat their soul (I am being totally for-real).
Furthermore: Don't be surprised if you suffer "temporary amnesia" and encounter "snow pirates."
E) The dialogue stinks.
"You want some of this?" you say, while machine-gunning an alien ne'er-do-well. Apparently, your father dies (I wasn't 100 percent sure about this, since it's a sloppy plot point), and you yell, "Daaad!" These are perhaps the two most compelling sentences in the game.
What is it with these fantasy, sci-fi games? They cost millions of dollars to make. As many as 100 people per game draw the computer programs. So why not hire better writers?
Story lines and conversations are corny, childish and canny: the Three Stinky C's of intellectually challenged video games.
That's the bad.
The good is considerable. Remember, you went on this date for a reason.
The makers of "Lost Planet" have used their drawing skills to develop phenomenal-looking spectacles and scenes, featuring fun guns, cartoon-photorealism and many hours of action. The online multiplayer modes offer up decent, if murkily lighted, battles where you respawn back to life after chatty punks kill you.
It is, for sure, somewhat addicting to run across terrain, blowing up ground-based and flying aliens with shotguns and rocket launchers (plus, a supreme scope rifle). It's cool, exploding big bugs with hand grenades and stepping into an SUV-size man suit (a "Vital Suit") equipped with machine guns and hover rockets.
There is one Hot Dumb commonality "Lost Planet" cannot avoid, because all games are like this: Its challenges seem difficult at first. But once you figure out what you're supposed to do on a given map of alien-rampaging, the violence becomes easy, if cheesy.
And after all, what defines a good game is not dialogue or originality but game play. It's fun to dance with. Just because you've dated similar, luxurious-haired, 25-percent Asian Hot Dumbs doesn't mean this Hot Dumb won't impress you with luster and fast moves.
("Lost Planet" for Xbox 360 -- Plays fun despite being very typical of the sci-fi genre. Looks great. Moderately challenging. Rated "T" for animated blood, mild language and violence. Three stars out of four.)

By Doug Elfman
The Chicago Sun-Times
I'd like to take credit for this year's reunion tours by the Police and "Diamond" David Lee Roth's Van Halen. Last month, Sting performed a musical press conference for TV critics, and I told him what I didn't think he knew.
I informed him a lot of music fans believe the resurrections of those two bands are "maybe the two big reunions the world is waiting for."
"Really?" Sting said, then joked, "I'll join Van Halen."
(Obviously the Beatles and Led Zeppelin, among others, would be bigger reunions. But they have dead guys.)
My exchange with Sting was reported around the nation, and -- wouldn't you know it -- weeks later, the Police and the Roth version of Van Halen announced future gigs.
(You're welcome.)
The Police are performing at the Grammys on Sunday. On Monday, the band's expected to announce tour dates. Word on the street is they might do Wrigley Field July 5-6.
In answer to my questions, Sting did say he, Stewart Copeland and Andy Summers had already been discussing doing "something," since 2007 is the 30th anniversary of the birth of their band.
"Last year," I said to Sting, "I was talking to Stewart Copeland, and he said the last time that you played together, he said, 'We should do this again on a tour.' And he says that you said, 'Never say never.' But in retrospect he thinks what you meant was 'Never. Say never.'
"Do you hate them with a blind passion?" I asked.
"Absolutely not," Sting responded. "I'm deeply, deeply fond of both of them. I'm very proud of the band that we were in. I left the band because I felt I wanted to grow as a musician, to mature as a musician and to try more things than a band is able to do. ... Definitely no hate. The opposite."
Sting also has a hit solo album. It's on the, um, traditional classical charts. "Songs From the Labyrinth" is Sting and Edin Karamazov playing lute songs that were "hits" 400 years ago, romantic and tragic songs composed by English musician John Dowland. Sting's renditions have spent months at the top of that chart.
He has also visually recorded an intimate acoustic performance of "Labyrinth" for a special airing Feb. 26 on PBS.
Sting, ever the Englishman and former teacher, had been aware of Dowland's music. Karamazov convinced him to try recording some of the songs.
"We made the record just out of curiosity and love, with no idea that we could have a No. 1 record," Sting said.
The album is melancholy.
"Melancholy is often confused with depression," Sting said. "Depression is a serious clinical disease many people suffer from. Melancholy is something different."
Melancholy "comes from self-reflection, comes from thinking about the state of the world and one's position in it, and why we're here. I think we need more self-reflection in this time. All of us, from the president on down, need to reflect."
But "Labyrinth" isn't all doom and gloom.
" 'Come Again' [is a] very dirty song, actually, if you investigate it. He's singing about sex in an extremely modern way," Sting said. "I felt from reading the text and listening to the melody that it perhaps could be treated more personally, a little more sensuously, a little more wet, you know?"
Another critic asked Sting if he worried one of his pop music peers would beat him to the punch and put out his or her own lute album.
Sting didn't even pause.
"You haven't heard Van Halen's version."

I cannot believe that you think that "Brothers & Sisters" is not a good program. Everyone at the office where I work loves the show. I guess when you are a TV critic, you see things different than just the plain old people who like shows because they are entertaining and enjoyable. If "Two and a Half Men" and "Reba" can stay on TV, then surely "Brothers & Sisters" should.
Anne

I am so tired of "CSI"-type shows and "Law & Order" and all the other shows that just show violence. Or, on the other hand, we could watch all the tasteless, stupid reality shows -- what a waste of TV space. "Brothers & Sisters" portrays the life of a dysfunctional family that is enjoyable to me. As a senior citizen, I'd like to see more shows that have a family-oriented theme: sometimes funny, sometimes sad and sometimes very touching.
Lorraine

I am often at the whim of my wife, who exposes me to such tripe as "Brothers & Sisters." If there is one thing more aggravating than a pseudo-soft comedy that isn't one damn bit funny, it's one that feels it's much smarter than the viewer. I am not sure what these producers think the real world sounds like, but it ain't this.
T.

I read your interview with Sally Field, where she stated, "I haven't seen anybody really explore this territory -- certainly not in American film or television ..." Apparently she never saw "Judging Amy." Tyne Daly brilliantly portrayed a woman with issues involving adult children, aging, her own rich life, etc., and the writing was topnotch, at least in the early years. I think Sally Field is an excellent actress, but in this case she's not breaking new ground.
Susan

Bad as it is, "Brothers & Sisters" is blessedly rare in that it focuses quite a bit on a character as old as Sally Field, who plays the matriarch, Nora. Both Nora and Field are 60. That's not ancient. But TV abhors the aging process.
I talked to Field a few weeks ago, and I agreed with everything she said about this subject.
"I love that they're showing a grown-up woman -- a grown-up adult mother, with grown-up adult children -- and how complicated it is," Field said.
Yes.
"I haven't seen anybody really explore this territory ... certainly not in American film or television," she said. "Nora's character is, like, being a woman baby boomer heading into her 60s with grown-up children, with a life to begin again" as a widow.
Correct.
Women her age walk up to Field in public and thank her for portraying women like them.
"This is," she said, "absolutely about them."
Now if only the show can stop sucking, everything would be great.

What a strange world most of us are missing out on. Apparently, if you live in a big mansion -- like the family in "Brothers & Sisters" -- you often grab an uncle or a U.S. senator and whisk him to a secret room for a chat. You may suggest to the senator you want to bone him but you're on a "man fast."
And your mom uses real words in fake ways. She tells her ill son on the phone, "Tommy, just come here. The last thing you want to do is get Julie and the fetus sick."
Man fast? Fetus? What the hell is going on here?
"Brothers & Sisters" is a bizarre amalgamation. It's a political show. Everyone in the family is a very outspoken Democrat or Republican. But mostly they're dealing with sexual famine, indiscretions and scandal (the dead patriarch cheated sexually and financially before he croaked).
This show aspires to be a whimsical comedy about dramatic interiors. But "Brothers & Sisters" reminds me of daytime soap operas my grandma watched (all that melodramatic conflict) and teen comedies (unlikely scenarios that make people look awkward).
It's like "All My Children Eat American Pie."
"American Pie"? Yes. In the last episode, Sarah (Rachel Griffiths) and her man Joe (John Pyper-Ferguson) taped themselves doing it on the same videotape they were using to record a tribute for their mom's 60th birthday.
Sound dumb yet? Just you wait.
The sex tape was put on DVD and (whoops!) accidentally shown at the old mom's birthday party. (Gasp!) Joe couldn't find the darned "stop" button on the remote control. Evidently rich, successful people can't work DVD players.
This can only be an ABC show. Its sensibilities are feminine, which is great, though you get a lot of Calista Flockhart saying "Sex and the City" stuff such as "If my shoes could talk!"
But the music score never -- never! -- stops telescoping the feeling of a light and airy Halcion haze. It's the most cloying, pizzicato loop imaginable, as grating as the music in ABC's "Desperate Housewives" and "Grey's Anatomy." Why does this network think women can't watch scenes without awful music scores?
This heinous, horrible, hideous sound of synthesizers is also destroying the hard work of actors, directors, lighting technicians -- you name it. And this is no cast to waste: Sally Field, Griffiths, Flockhart, Ron Rifkin and on and on.
On the birthday episode, Marion Ross did a guest-acting part as the mother of the 60-year-old mom, Nora (Field). At first, Ross had to deliver the worst "All My Children Eat American Pie" dialogue, telling her gay grandson -- whom she didn't know was gay, of course -- that she'd date him if she were younger.
But after that, Ross was vulnerable in a scene where she cried and dug into truths of her character. She was remarkable. But her deep acting was masked by the constant hypnosis of bouncy little music, which is supposed to comfort the viewer, like: Oh, everything's going to be just fine -- and silly again! -- very soon.
Also, Rob Lowe has joined the cast. The onetime star of his own sex tape, he's now a solid actor, which clearly signals a coming apocalypse.

Click that headline there if you want to see video of the Lost writers coming up with the show's premise. (Adult language!)

February 4, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
The other night, I was remembering when, as a music critic, I had to review Britney Spears. I realized something startling: Even the moronic Britney has experienced more character growth in the last three years than the hit series "Lost."
Think about her arc since about '04: Spears has altered her tours (for the worse), developed her music (slightly less awful) and she went from pure virgin to party slut to pregnant.
"Lost," on the other hand, has evolved about as much as "Gilligan's Island." The castaways are still stranded. Nothing substantial has changed.
And fans will not get answers to "Lost's" supernatural MacGuffins for a long time. At recent press conferences, producers Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse said they want to keep their secrets until the show ends.
When's that?
"If it was 11 or 15 years, God, we really hope that we're doing something different by then," Lindelof said. "But if we get to tell the story that we want to tell, in the time we think it should be told, we're the guys that absolutely want to do it."
Eleven years?!?!?!
If you suffer the delusion you will get resolutions from "Lost" before the end of the series, listen to Cuse: "If we started really giving answers about what is the nature of this island, what is the sort of innate underlying meaning of the numbers, those things are sort of series-ending questions."
So there you go, "Lost" fans. Have fun waiting, possibly until the year 2018, for writers to have the guts to end overall mysteries, then see if the character dramas are good enough to stand on their own. (They probably would be.)
After airing six new episodes in the fall, "Lost" took a winter break and returns anew this week. I won't divulge anything big. It's just like any "Lost" episode -- a staring match between disinterested idiots, plus sporadic violence.
One new scene looks stolen from "A Clockwork Orange," just as last fall's killing of Mr. Eko was eerily similar to a scene from "Evil Dead 2: Dead By Dawn" -- death by a cloud of smoke in the shape of a tree-size arm.
I used to hear fans guess about what the island is. But after autumn's frustrating episodes, the "Lost" backlash is now in full swing. It was the No. 1 show that became unwatchable last year, according to the fan-interactive site JumpTheShark.com.
Of those old fan theories, the most convincing one has strandees as subjects of a grand experiment carried out by a mysterious entity: an omnipotent force, an evil corporation or something.
My theory is this: Lindelof is conducting an experiment to see how long he can jerk around viewers while getting money from ABC.
In its third year, here are just a few of the show's unresolved issues:
• Why is there a polar bear on a warm island?
• What entity is controlling the castaways?
• How can a cloud turn into a huge arm and kill a man?
• Oh, and there are ghosts of people who are still alive, like in "Scooby Doo." What's up with that?
Ree. Diculous.
I've been wondering why viewers stick with "Lost." I mean, the cinematography can be gorgeous. The actors are fine. The flashbacks are rich. But all this glory is infuriatingly ruined by idiotic dialogue and go-nowhere mysteries.
I think many fans are trying so hard to figure out how any detail is a clue to the larger mysteries that they're not really watching "Lost." This isn't a viewing experience. It's like doing Sudoku.
Another appalling development is that Lindelof confessed he's intentionally keeping his characters from asking realistic questions. No one on the island ever seems to ask the Others, who appear to understand everything, what the hell is going on.
"As writers, the questions that the characters are asking on the show are always a slippery slope," Lindelof said. "We find ourselves saying, 'We'd be asking much better questions, too.'
"Unfortunately, if Jack asked the questions that we wanted him to, the Others would answer none of them. So you would just have him asking a string of questions with Michael sort of looking back at him stoically."
Lindelof understands he's ticking off a lot of people: "The audience doesn't feel they're getting answers to mysteries in the time allotted."
No kidding.
"I think the characters on the show experience in many ways the same frustrations that the fans and the critics do," Lindelof said. "Why don't the characters talk more amongst each other about the mystery of the island?
"The reality is, we've written those scenes and in some cases we even shoot those scenes. And whether you take our word for it or not, we think they don't work; they're incredibly boring."
You know what's boring? The first six episodes that ran in the fall. Co-producer Carlton Cuse feebly explained them this way: "We had to service the story of Jack and Kate and Sawyer in captivity. By the time we sort of did that, we ran out of time to do a lot of other stuff in those first six [episodes]."
Really? Six hours is what it took to tell the story of two people in cages in the rain and a third guy in a prison cell? Pathetic.
I believe Lindelof has no idea where he's taking "Lost." Lindelof addressed this concern, but he didn't win me over.
" 'Lost' came together very, very quickly. During that period of time it was all we could do to write the outline, write the pilot, put the cast together and begin to have preliminary conversations."
He said those conversations were about, "What is this island? Who are these people? If Kate's in handcuffs, we need to know what Kate did. If Locke has a secret, we need to know what that secret is. If we show a polar bear, we need to know where the polar bear came from."
But he added, "To say we know everything we're going to do in advance would be completely disingenuous and probably stupid as a writer/producer because you have to be able to adapt to sort of the changing currents."
Here's where Cuse and Lindelof's arrogance is painful to listen to. Cuse said "Lost" lost viewers because "this show requires sort of vigilant maintenance.
"There are people who fall away because it does require you to really keep up on the episodes. It's a complicated show. It's hard to drop in and out," Cuse said.
So if viewers are frustrated with the series' lack of plot progress, it's the viewers' fault for not bowing down to the genius brains of the producers?
I stand by what I've said before. I can't wait for "Lost" to get canceled. Then, the writers will be forced to give answers. I will resume caring about "Lost" at that point of resolutions, I imagine, and not a moment sooner.
delfman@suntimes.com

February 2, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
When David Spade's comedy "Just Shoot Me" went off the air, Howard Stern asked his friend how he was feeling. Spade said he was feeling like someone just chopped down the money tree growing in his backyard.
Spade is a sensitive artiste.
A new potential money tree is sprouting on CBS for Spade. It's the sitcom "Rules of Engagement," which debuts Monday and will be promoted over and over on Super Bowl Sunday. Once more, Spade is playing the man who wants to acquaint himself with many ladies' parts. This isn't a stretch, since Spade befriended, ahem, Heather Locklear last year.
If you like Spade (I do), he is reliably amusing on "Rules." But if he wants to grow cash on branches, this sitcom has more of a Charlie Brown Christmas tree feel to it. Then again, what do I know? "Two and a Half Men" seems even more creatively wilted, and it's flourishing on the same network.
"Rules of Engagement" actually seems patterned after a ratings-struggling sitcom on Fox called " 'Til Death," starring funny Brad Garrett. "Rules" presents an older couple that has "wrapped up the sex portion of the marriage," so they befriend (not sexually) a younger and friskier neighbor couple.
Just like in " 'Til Death," the older husband of "Rules" advises his younger male neighbor not to get too excited about marriage, because (news flash!) marriage sucks.
The one difference between the two shows is "Rules" features Spade playing a fifth-wheel playboy (a playboy named Russell?) who will tell the two married-type guys how dumb they are for getting stuck in relationships, while he picks up hot chicks in front of them.
"Rules" and "'Til Death" bear exactly the same ups and downs. The ups: essentially a good cast, plus sporadic funny lines. The downs: many un-funny lines, plus rehashed storylines from a thousand episodes of married-life sitcoms dating all the way back to "The Honeymooners."
Why are " 'Til Death" and "Rules" similarly troubled? Probably because they aim for middle America and successfully strike that watered-down target.
Your wife messes up your joint-checkbook balance? Ho-ho, you don't say! Your husband spent $105 on a robot dog? Whoa, that is rich!
The highlight of "Rules" is Patrick (Puddy from "Seinfeld") Warburton, playing the older husband, Jeff. Good old Puddy, we missed you.
The younger husband Adam (Oliver Hudson) asks Puddy, I mean Jeff, why he lets his wife wear the pants in the family. Warburton -- as deadpan and intense as " 'Til Death's" Garrett -- alludes to the cause, which is his wife owns a vagina. His delivery is perfecto.
To be honest, all these ball-and-chain sitcoms do a fair job of cutting to the quick of the stupid little things that stink up relationships. Unfortunately, the topics have been re-trod often, so it's hard for the idea to be fresh, which may be why NBC has moved to comedies focusing on new subjects, because NBC is smart.
Or maybe CBS is smart. The network is killing NBC in the ratings.
Either way, it's clear from watching "Rules of Engagement" and " 'Til Death" that Spade's Russell has the right idea, if marriage really is this sort of death grip.
What I read between the lines is that people get engaged only because they're jealous types who want to constrain their lovers. Or they become too worn out by chatty one-night stands and shaving below the knee to keep dating. The correct reason to wed or stay married certainly is not to share a checking account, duh.

February 1, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
Sarah Silverman's new comedy is funny right from when she explains the premise in the intro. "The Sarah Silverman Program," she says, contains "full-frontal jewdity." Her life is uncomplicated: "Some people call me on the phone, my parents are dead, I like cookies."
If you get the humor of that line when you hear it -- the buoyant, childlike delivery and the placement of dead parents in the middle of the sentence -- then congratulations, you understand comedy.
Fans have long expected Silverman, 36, to become a bigger phenom than she is. Finally, she might have a career-defining piece of work with "The Sarah Silverman Program." And if the series doesn't peter out after its first two great episodes, Comedy Central may at last have on its hands a live-action comedy as funny as "Chappelle's Show" -- two years after Dave Chappelle famously bolted from that satire, just when it was on track toward partially redefining pop culture.
Silverman (bravely?) named the show "The Sarah Silverman Program," a title making it sound "Chappelle"-ish, as if it's a collection of sketches and stage performances. It's not.
"Program" is a scripted half-hour comedy. She plays a very self-centered, childlike woman named Sarah Silverman who is unemployed and speaks to people the way one of the nicer (but crass, nonetheless) kids on "South Park" might.
Fake Sarah is aware of some of her put-downs, but she's either oblivious or unconcerned about hurting people's feelings with childish truths.
At the store, she meets a 70-year-old woman. At first, Sarah says she doesn't believe the woman's that old. The woman moves in to hug sweet Sarah. Then Sarah says, oh, right, up close she can totally see her old face wrinkles, and she walks away disgusted.
In the hands of a lesser comedian and a weak director, that scene would merely seem cruel and desperate. But the actors play their bizarre characters without self-parody, and scenes are shot with calm expertise. Comedy is all about the how, not the what.
If you're not easily offended, you'll probably dig on the scene in the debut where a cop tries to show his pro-Jew stance while flirting with Sarah's sister Laura (played by her real sister Laura Silverman).
"So your last name's Silverman, huh?" the cop says. "You know, I believe the Holocaust was completely uncalled for."
Everyone on "Program" talks like that -- stupid. But it takes very smart writers to put dialogue into the mouths of half-dumb, half-witty people without stooping to the lame setups of generic TV comedies.
On cable TV, any subject is up for abuse, and the writers make the most of this freedom. You'll see that in upcoming episodes in which Sarah stubs her vagina and boinks "Black God." I have a feeling Sarah will kick him out of bed afterward. She's not really a people person. Or a God person.

January 31, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Television Critic
Chicago Sun-Times
Lately, I've been crushing on the melodic genius of two Fiona Apple songs, "Extraordinary Machine" and "Not About Love." (I'll get to MTV's "Juvies," I swear, just hold on a second.)
Fiona was a teenager when she wrote and sang "The First Taste" and "Sullen Girl" with a wise interpretation you'd expect not of a child but of a two-time divorcee who'd buried her whole family after a bludgeoning.
Fiona's all of 29 now, and I can barely believe she or anyone else wields the quill skills to draw this recent line: "It doesn't make sense I should fall for the kingcraft of a meritless crown." Or this one: "Be kind to me or treat me mean/I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine."
(I'm almost to "Juvies." Promise.)
I can't help but covet Fiona's gifts. I was once a scholarship musician. I'm a college-trained writer working at the best columnists' newspaper in the country.
Yet, I can't think of a sentence I wrote, or a concert I performed, that I enjoyed as much as listening to a dozen songs by Fiona, who did not go to college but who sat in her room for chunks of her childhood crafting lyrics and music to fulfill a desire.
So here I am watching "Juvies," a new MTV documentary series that follows various delinquents in Crown Point, Ind. And a 16-year-old runaway named Sara says she's sad to be stuck in kiddie jail because, "I was supposed to try out for 'American Idol' this year."
When I hear Sara say this, I condescend that she doesn't embrace the noble/elitist (take your pick) goal of studying formally to become a master singer like Fiona Apple, as a preparation to audition for "Idol."
Surprise, surprise. A Pew poll in January said the No. 1 goal of four out of five people between Sara's age and 25 is to be rich. Half said their No. 2 goal is to be famous. I can't imagine why they wouldn't rather toil to become a Fiona Apple (I would -- I want that brain) unless they think of her merely as a thin celebrity who lucked out in life.
Everyone on TV, even imprisoned children, aspires to win, not earn, fame and fortune. That's probably why these juvies agreed to let their faces be shown while they were incarcerated.
I'm torn about Sara and the children to come on "Juvies." A) They're a mess; why should I care? B) They're only kids; I couldn't wait to grow up, either; I can't blame them. (They remind me of two teen friends who dropped acid and busted car windows and played mailbox baseball. One was caught; one wasn't.)
Caring about the subjects of this series is necessary, since the show looks and feels fairly standard for MTV's documentary department, which means it's more interesting than entertaining (that's good; documentaries should be enlightening first, fun if possible).
One of the tricks of viewing the show will be guessing if the juvies are lying when they claim to be innocent by rehearsed degrees. (How many times have you been lied to? Today? By adults or children?)
Anyway, I'm not a fan of juvies, but "Juvies" is more serious and less exploitative than it could have been, if not endearing. It's possible there's a Fiona in there somewhere, but I doubt it. An "American Idol"? More likely, statistically speaking.
Either way, the first two featured juvies of "Juvies" proclaim they never want to find trouble again. The way Fiona put that sentiment, when she was about their age, was "I suddenly feel like a different person/From the roots of my soul come a gentle coercion/And I ran my hands over a strange inversion/A vacancy that just did not belong; The child is gone."
See what I mean? Am I expecting too much of the world to produce more Fionas and adore them?

The producers of ABC's biggest shows speak openly about their plans to either produce their shows indefinitely or to bail out after a few years.
This is a big deal. Look at how the direction, tone and writing of shows like "Gilmore Girls" and "The West Wing" changed once their guiding forces left.
Damon Lindelof, a creator of "Lost," says he wants to bring the show to an end in a set amount of years. He won't say how many years. It seems unlikely ABC would let this happen.
Regardless, Lindelof wants to negotiate with ABC to name a date for the show's final season several years in advance of its goodbye. And he wants to be there till the end.
"If we get to tell the story that we want to tell in the time we think it should be told, we're the guys that absolutely want to do it. It would be incredibly painful to watch a version of 'Lost' that we had no involvement in."
Meanwhile, Shonda Rhimes doesn't want to ever put "Grey's Anatomy" in the hands of another producer.
"I feel it would be really painful to watch it turn into something that wasn't what I had originally intended."
Marc Cherry claims he will "personally take down the sets" at "Desperate Housewives" after seven years, because he wants to protect it from being run by another producer. Last year, Cherry realized how the show could go off the tracks, because he let others guide the drama's direction.
"I took a little step back in season two, because of exhaustion a little bit," Cherry says. "I don't think I was quite as present there. Things didn't go as well. It kind of really hurt me in a deep place. ABC can't bulldoze me out of that show.
"I'm only going to have one major hit. I'm only going to catch lightning in a bottle once. I wish I had the energy to develop and write at the same time, but I don't. This is going to be on my tombstone. I'll be damned if I don't protect it."
"Ugly Betty" is only in its first season, so producer Silvio Horta hasn't become burned out or fatigued. He says he's up for running the show indefinitely.
"I will be there for as long as they'll have me -- the network and fans," Horta says. "As long as I can contribute."
Bicks eyes her future at "Men in Trees" as never-ending.
"I wouldn't want to hand my baby to anybody. It would be unnerving to do that," she says.
But "Brothers & Sisters" producer Jon Robin Baitz wouldn't mind if the show he created got taken over by someone else.
"I would like my show to turn into something I hadn't intended, whether it's better or worse. I can't imagine doing this for more than four years, really," Baitz says.
"I want to go back to making plays and to the theater," Baitz says. "I can understand Aaron [Sorkin, creator of "The West Wing"] getting on that plane to Vegas." (That was in 2001, when Sorkin was busted at an airport carrying pot, 'shrooms and crack.)

Chicago Sun-Times
January 26, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Not a single finalist on "Grease: You're the One That I Want" is from Chicago. None of the 12 even auditioned here. But that's no surprise. After producers came looking for Broadway actors here, judges found our city so weak with talent, they breathed "a sigh of relief" when they got to other audition cities.
"We auditioned in Chicago first, and it just was not as strong in terms of quantity as New York or L.A.," says show judge Kathleen Marshall. "Once we got to New York and we saw all these really strong candidates, I think we all ... our shoulders all went down."
"Grease" also doesn't look as if it will be much of a Cinderella story. At first blush, it may have looked like the contestants were largely amateurs, but they were actually a mix of professionals, semi-pros and small-time nobodies.
"We've never pretended it's amateur night," producer Al Edgington said. "We've always said it's the biggest open-casting call in history. You don't just have to be a member of [an actors union]."
What's more, none of the 12 finalists is heavyset. And the dozen look about as lily-white as the movie and as many previous stage productions did.
This seems strange, particularly because last week, just before the finalists were announced, Edgington told reporters it wouldn't be a tough ticket to put an interracial couple in the lead roles. He said this knowing who the 12 would be.
"Things have changed since the late '60s and early '70s, and now we want to find someone completely new and fresh and that feels like 'Grease' is a new, burgeoning brand," Edgington had said. "It's been around for so long, it's time for change."
The Chicago shutout in the talent competition is notable mostly because "Grease" was birthed here. The first production was an amateur night at the Kingston Mines in Old Town.
For NBC's reality-competition show, "Grease" co-creator and Chicago native Jim Jacobs, along with other judges, auditioned to find a Danny and a Sandy to star in a Broadway revival set for staging this year.
"They've got to be better than John [Travolta] and Olivia [Newton-John]," Edgington said. On Sunday, Newton-John takes on the role of guest judge for a two-hour live episode.
Jacobs says newbie cast members hired through the TV show will leave the competition with bigger names, so they'll earn more money than New York veterans.
"They'll get paid around the level of the other experienced Broadway actors playing those roles. It's that plus a bit, I think," Ian says.
Jacobs is surprised by his musical's popular durability.
"Without trying to pat myself on the back, it's almost indestructible," he says. "You see productions in church basements and in community centers that neighbors drag me to, and then people jump to their feet when it's over and they scream and they applaud. I don't get it, you know, quite honestly."
"You're the One That I Want," like "Idol," began with auditions of bad performers, and a few good ones.
But Edgington -- who in 2004 produced a tour special called "American Idol: Life on the Road" -- says the winners of "Grease" have to do more than just "Idol" singing. They must sing, dance and act eight times a week on Broadway.
In "Idol," he says, "they can warble a little bit, and then someone records an album, and off they disappear. I used to work at 'Idol.' I know how it works. This is about a real job and a real prize."
TV viewers -- not the judges -- will vote for the winners out of 12 finalists. Is that a dicey proposition? Putting viewers in charge of Broadway?
"We had our input, and we had our choice down to these 12," judge David Ian says. "And now, what happens happens. We don't have a safety net."
Marshall says it's harder to cast Danny than Sandy, partly because more women than men try out for stage roles.
"It's easy to find a pretty young girl who sings well, but you want to have somebody who also has a little bit of toughness and spirit to her, and she has to transform into this sort of sexy siren by the end of the show," Marshall says.
"But Danny, it's a tall order to fill. You need somebody who has that kind of confidence to be the leader of the gang. That's a hard thing to find."
Too hard to find in Chicago, apparently.

Hollywood has been overtaken by a hideous monster. That monster is an overused phrase called “At the end of the day …” All kinds of stars are saying it all the time, from Conan O'Brien to Queen Latifah and other actors and TV executives.
The phrase does make stars get to their point quicker, though, like when Lisa Ling talks about being a reporter now, instead of a cohost on “The View”:
“At the end of the day, I'm as much a pop culture junkie as anyone else. But for me as a journalist and for my job, I just have sort of chosen to focus on these things because it's where I derive the most inspiration and passion.”
For two weeks, Hollywooders abused the phrase during the Television Critics Association in Pasadena. Here’s a look-see:
- Conan O’Brien on working outside of his duties at his late show: “At the end of the day, when I've taken what I do in late night and I go anywhere else and I do a guest appearance on a primetime show, or I do the Emmys or something like that, I just try and think of what would be funny.”
- Producer Eric Kripke explaining his show, “Supernatural”: “At the end of the day, the whole concept of the show is two brothers on the road with chainsaws in their trunk, battling things that go bump in the night. There, that's the whole show.”
- Queen Latifah on her HBO movie, “Life Support”: “It's that simple with HIV and AIDS, at the end of the day. What will make it continue is our prejudices, our ideas about it, and the fact that we don't look at ourselves as one giant community and protect each other's children and protect each other's wives.”
- Producer Bill Lawrence on “Scrubs” copycats: “At the end of the day … this show is without a doubt cribbed from “M*A*S*H” and “The Wonder Years,” which are two of my favorite shows.”
- “Lost” producer Damon Lindelof on why the show has many executive producers: “At the end of the day, if you are doing a job, if you have some level of autonomy, if you are responsible for the finished product, you know, my personal opinion, I think the more EPs, the better, because it makes your job a little easier as a show-runner.”
- Actress Nicole Sullivan on her new cop show “Raines” starring Jeff Goldblum: “I'm there for [displaying] txxs and ass really. … And [her character] sort of begrudgingly goes through her work helping [her boss]. But she really does obviously care, at the end of the day, very much. She has a real soft spot for this guy.”
- Liko Smith of G4’s reality-snowboarding hotel show, “The Block”: “On top of the hotel, we layer it with snowboarders and the scene and the music and the media and the stripper poles and the parties, this and that. It succeeds as a hotel first because, yeah, it's fun and games, but at the end of the day, you need to get your wake-up call on time.”
- Producer McG talks about his new reality-competition show on the CW, “The Pussycat Dolls”: “Under no circumstances is this in the service of men. You see women having fun and applauding, and really, at the end of the day, should we have to apologize for having fun?”
- Producer Tim Minear of Fox’s new “Drive”: “We actually do have a [storyline] plan. What we don't want, at the end of the day, is for the audience to feel like they didn't get someplace.”
- Producer Al Edgington on his reality-competition, “Grease: You’re the One That I Want”: Obviously our dream would be for the guy from Allentown to actually end up being Danny. But at the end of the day, long after I've disappeared, Kathleen [Marshall, a talent judge] has to work with these people to make sure they can make a Broadway show work.”
- Producer Ed Bernero describing the appeal of his CBS drama “Criminal Minds”: “It's a thriller. You sit down and watch this thrilling episode, and then it's over, at the end of the day.”
- Dawn Ostroff, president of the CW, on viewers aged 18 to 35: “We're targeting them specifically, and at the end of the day, I think a lot of the components that we have, and some that you will see today, will speak to them in different ways so that we are going to be many things to them.”
- PBS president Paula Kerger on finding funders for “Masterpiece Theatre”: “I think the quality of the work will [be obvious] at the end of the day – that's why I'm optimistic about it.”
- PBS documentarian Irshad Manji: “At the end of the day, the world is at a crossroads. And I can tell you, from the perspective of young Muslims, that one of the reasons there is so much anger at America is that this is a country whose every move matters to the rest of the world. And so many young Muslims see that they do not have any vote in what happens in this country, and yet what happens in this country affects them profoundly.”
- Executive Larry Aidem on his Sundance Channel: “Our audience does not distinguish between the kinds of original programming that we make and the kinds of acquired programming [found] from around the world. At the end of the day, they're either good or not, and they're exclusive to us.”
- Talent manager David Weintraub on protecting clients from doing super stupid stuff while starring in a reality show: "At the end of the day I'm always going to do what's best for my client's career.”
- Actor Robert Vaughn using the phrase literally regarding his AMC show, “Hustle”: “Most people that are in series do not see each other at the end of the day, but we do see each other. We do like each other, and I think the more that we've liked each other and growing each year to be more friendly and a part of our lives, I think the show has improved for that reason.”

Ever more acerbic 'Idol' judge chalks it up to nicotine cravings -- and telling it like it is

January 23, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Any cigarette smoker will tell you when you go too long without a fix, you get grumpy. "American Idol" judge Simon Cowell is the country's reigning king of harsh words -- and he smokes. So I ask him if he gets even blunter when a nicotine fit kicks in.
"You mean when I'm doing auditions?" he says. "It's a long day. It's 12 hours. Working with those two [Paula Abdul and Randy Jackson] is a nightmare at times. And you get a bit ratty, so I go have my cigarette break and I get better."
Cowell's latest flareup -- mocking a singer who had been in Special Olympics, and calling another a "bush baby" -- brought out the ethical ninnies last week. The "bush baby" guy, now going by the name Michael Swale, said on "Jimmy Kimmel Live" that Cowell should apologize. Journalists and other failed contestants are acting as if Cowell has finally gone too far.
Riiiight.
If you believe that, check the ratings. They've never been higher, because his straight shooting (or, depending on your point of view, his cruelty) is exactly what viewers crave while hearing horrible singers, which is the most obvious observation I have ever written.
Cowell's persona must be gnawing at him a little, though. In a few episodes this season, he sometimes prefaces harsh words by saying, "I'm not being rude, but. ..." He says to loud people in a hallway, "I'm not being rude, but can you shut up?!" I ask Cowell why he's using this buffer.
"Probably just to make the point I'm not being personal or gratuitous about it," he says. "I'm trying to offer some sanity to what can sometimes be an insane day."
I tell him he looks surprised when people think he's rude.
"Yeah, I'm surprised," he says. "I thought everyone would be shaking my hand: 'Thank you for steering me down the right path, Simon.' "
Cowell does regret some things he's said over the years, including the "bush baby" bit.
"The fact that I'm 47 years old coming to America talking about bush babies is sort of surreal. I think it was an off-the-cuff remark I made, and if he's offended, then I'll apologize. I'll never call anyone a bush baby again."
Pressed about the matter, Cowell rolls his eyes. He will be contrite, but he bears little patience with anyone's browbeating. Except maybe his own.
"There are times, trust me, when I watch [episodes] and I just think, 'God, I wish I hadn't have said that,' and, 'Why do they put it in the show?' " he says. "But we are prepared to show the warts as well as just the good things. ... I think that's why the audience trusts us."
It's commendable for a TV star to stick to his guns in the face of public rebukes over unpopular positions, particularly his take on Jennifer Hudson, who lost "Idol" but now is winning awards for her role in "Dreamgirls," and his disdain for Taylor Hicks, last year's "Idol" champ.
Hudson "should come back on and gloat," Cowell says. "You gotta remember I was one of her main supporters in the beginning. If it hadn't been for 'Idol,' she wouldn't have been picked to do 'Dreamgirls.' The public voted her off, not me, [although] I don't think she was good enough to win the year she was on."
"Idol" host Ryan Seacrest said last week that judges influence viewers' votes. But Cowell says, "Obviously not, because Taylor Hicks won last year.
"I still say Taylor Hicks was not the best singer on 'American Idol 5.' I think he was the most popular. And at the end of the day, record sales will prove me right or prove me wrong."
Tell me. Where is Cowell incorrect anywhere in these comments?

Courteney Cox tells me about her toy-powered onanism scene in her new FX show, 'Dirt.'
Q: What's the difference between doing a love scene and doing a love scene with yourself?
Cox: “Wow. When I did a love scene with myself I was really nervous. With the guy [on the show], I’ve had love scenes too. But for some reason, that was very vulnerable and awkward. I don’t even want to see it. I don’t watch it. I just close my eyes. I don’t need to see that, possibly what I look like.”
Q: Was that vibrating sound a special effects added afterward?
Cox: “No, no. That was there. It just maybe wasn’t THERE.”