Glee: They’re bombarding all of us with this one. But that’s
because they know it’s kind of great. Pilot’s already aired like 17
times. If you haven’t seen it yet it’s because you’re just not trying.
So try. I like it because it’s clever. And because of the nerd-revenge
feel. And because of Jane Fuckin’ Lynch, one of the funniest women
around and a major Power-Lez. That doesn’t mean I’m going to go buy the
soundtrack CD so I can listen to musical theater kids sing “Don’t Stop
Believing.” But I’ll at least be watching.

Southland, Mercy, Trauma, Mental
The one-word shows about people in
trouble are all over the place this fall. Southland
is a cop show. I like cop shows. Actual cop shows, not all this
forensic examination stuff. I like it when the guns come out and guys
in uniforms are chasing bad robbers. I know I’m starting to sound like
a Tom of Finland apologist, but that’s what I like. So here comes a
cops-on-the-beat show with guns and a gay cop. I’m in. Also, this cop
is not played by the kid from The O.C. He plays the
other cop. The gay cop is played by a guy who looks like your suburban
next-door neighbor. And you know that’s hotter.

As for Mercy and Trauma, they’re both
medical shows, obviously. Both have gays. The one on Mercy is played by the actually gay Guillermo Díaz,
who was in Party Girl and Half-Baked and a bunch of other stuff. What’s great
about these two shows is that I don’t have to pay attention to them at
all because I already watch Nurse Jackie. Sidekick
nurse Thor and I are already very happy together. So one of you can
watch those shows and tell me if I’m missing something.

On Mental they’re going to have a lesbian psychiatrist
character. But, again, I’ve already got Obsessed and Hoarders in my TiVo and that’s about as much mental
illness intake as one person should be asked to deal with. And just as
an aside here, have you seen Hoarders? Not only are
a weirdly disproportionate number of people who live amongst mounds of
decaying stuffed animals and garbage and broken furniture homosexuals,
but they always seem to be guys whose beloved mothers just died. Would
any lesbian psychiatrists reading this please explain that to me?
Anyway, you haven’t seen the end of what’s acceptable on television
until you see someone refuse to clean up 12-year-old dog shit from the
backyard because it feels like souvenirs of a favorite pet long since
passed. (“I think I should keep this turd. I like how it’s turned
white. That will make a classy accent color when I turn this place into
my dream house.”)

Tags: television