Folks are asking why we don't have a Project Runway post--don't we care? We care, dammit, but I'm out of town and my damned hotel didn't have Bravo and I missed the premiere of season four. Says Slog tipper Drew...

Why not Project Runway post? The water-spirit lady makes last season's Vincent look like Alan Greenspan.

I'm not sure what this means, of course, since I didn't see the show. Anyone care to clue me in?

I don't know if you guys know, but there is a thing that exists in the world called a BABY ORANGUTAN. I was watching Animal Planet the other day (as uuuuuusual!) and it was broadcasting a program into my eyeballs called Orangutan Diary. You should probably check this shit out.

The title is misleading. Although orangutans might look like your grandpa (except more orange), they don't actually have a written language or bookbinding technology. Also, an actual Orangutan Diary would be tres horrific ("Dear Orangutan Diary, A farmer killed my mom with a machete today. Plus, I am so sick of eating bamboo pith. TTYL! Love, Baby O").

But anyways, the orangutans live in Borneo or something, where humans like to cut down the jungle (so that they can plant palm oil plantations and then make money for food or clothing or jungle huts), which results in dead orangutan moms and orphaned orangutan BABIEZ. (Is it racist that I said "jungle huts"? I was just trying to allude, in an oversimplified way, to whatever complicated shit causes humans to cut down jungles. The orangutan sanctuary people seem to think that the Borneo people just HATE ORANGUTANS. Surely that is not the case. However, I am not an economist.)

The baby orangutans are devastatingly cute and lonely, and they go live at this sanctuary where they attend "Forest School" for six years. The humans teach the orphaned orangutans how to be wild orangutans, like: "Look at this termite! It's hella delicious!" or "This plant is poisonous, dumbass!" or "YOU GUYS. DO NOT HUG SNAKES."

Sometimes the orangutans were kept as pets, so they're all neurotic and bald. But then they're SO HAPPY when they get to go sit in a tree and poop on a leaf. Anyway, in the end, when they graduate from Forest School, the orangutans all go live on a MAGIC ISLAND in the middle of a river, where they lounge on the beach and eat bananas ALL DAY.

Are you crying yet?

Moral of the story: I love orangutans.

Rating: 5 out of 5 orangutan poops.

Next time in Great Ape-Related Crap I Watched on TV: A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila. She looks like that Carl's Jr. mascot made flesh. Plus a prostitute. Minus hamburgers.

... but then again, reason lost that round.

The NOVA episode I slogged about earlier is airing tonight at 8 pm. (And again 9 pm Thursday for people in Seattle.) It's about Kitzmiller v. Dover, the landmark trial that ended with Judge John Jones, a Bush appointee, thoroughly repudiating the "theory" of intelligent design. Fascinating stuff.

Thanks to the international scope of the internet, I've come to learn that the UK version of Dancing with the Stars is entitled Strictly Come Dancing.

My question: What the hell does that mean?

Did they hope to name the show Strictly Ballroom but got legal threats from Baz Luhrman?

Or did they want to name it "Come Dancing" and got legal threats from Ray Davies?

Either way, the result is unfortunately bukkake-flavored.

I've gotten used to seeing Vulcan Productions (the film-production wing of Paul Allen's axis of weevil) turn out the deeply misguided and the merely mediocre. (OK, fine, you liked Bickford Schmeckler's Cool Ideas. But the slobbered-over Far From Heaven was a desiccated tribute to melodrama, and I'll fight anybody who disagrees.)

So I'm intrigued to see Allen fly his nerd flag and back NOVA's Judgment Day: Intelligent Design on Trial. I like the idea of focusing on the Dover decision--the propagation of intelligent design is, after all, a legitimate topic for legal debate, whereas it's outside the proper scope of science. The episode will air on PBS on Tuesday, November 13 at 8 pm.

When it comes to bad art, I trust no one like I trust my friend Mindy. She's my best friend from high school, now a lawyer and mom in Los Angeles. Most importantly, she's the person who introduced me to Paul Verhoeven's Showgirls, the holy grail of cinematic badness, which Mindy insisted I watch in 1999, and which I've watched several times a year (often with others) ever since.

So when Mindy called to tell me that I was required to watch the new CBS show Viva Laughlin, I obeyed. She'd seen the premiere episode and had been blown away by its astounding awfulness. Still, she needed reassurance that it really was as bad as she feared. (Mindy's faith in her own judgment had been dealt a crushing blow by Forrest Gump, a movie she'd watched in abject horror, only to watch it win the Best Picture Oscar; she was sure her brain was melting.)

Lucky for Mindy, her opinion of Viva Laughlin was confirmed by numerous press outlets, including the New York Times, which wrote, "Viva Laughlin on CBS may well be the worst new show of the season, but is it the worst show in the history of television?"

I couldn't wait to find out, and I spent the six days until the airing of Viva Laughlin's second episode learning about the show. Adapted from the BBC hit Viva Blackpool, Viva Laughlin tells the story of a fledgling casino owner and his struggles to open his fledgling casino—complete with song-and-dance musical numbers. The cast includes Melanie Griffith, Hugh Jackman, one of the sexy ladies from Twin Peaks, and a bunch of people I've never heard of. I couldn't wait.

Imagine my disappointment when I watched the second episode and realized Viva Laughlin is not only awful, it totally sucks. And not in a magical way—in a totally boring, cancellation-securing way.

This is a drag, because the musical numbers were pretty amazing. For example, the scene where Hugh Jackman's evil character is introduced by his warbling along to "Sympathy for the Devil." (Click the link, watch the scene!) Episode number two featured a similarly brilliant scene, in which the fledgling casino owner illustrates his ability to remain standing by singing "I'm Still Standing."

Unfortunately, the musical travesties were surrounded by some of the slowest, boringest, dumbest, sub-soap opera scenes imaginable, and after two episodes, Viva Laughlin was killed. CBS even yanked its webpage.

RIP Viva Laughlin: You sucked so hard it's impossible to care.

Heath, Merideth, Heath.

Via GoodAsYou, who says...

But if you think that's a suggestive double entendre, just wait until later this week, when we hear she'll ask Heath Ledger if he had any clue about what he was sliding into.

She doesn’t play accurately--any one can play accurately--but she plays with wonderful expression. Enjoy.

If the first step is admitting that you have a problem then well, we’ve got a major fucking problem: T.V. these days sucks balls, and not in the way that makes you beg your significant other to call in sick and play hooky together (again). Even Television Without Pity has run out of euphemisms for “this show is shit,” and hasn’t Gossip Girl already caused too many suicides?

But never fear! With some creative remote control button pushing and DVD magic, euphoric bliss with the TV wire mommy can still be yours.

This Week on Television

Sunday, 9:00 pm (PBS): The Inspector Lynley Mysteries. Sergeant Barbara Havers is hot on the trail of London’s latest notorious murderer, and she’s gonna kick some cheerio ass, even if it does mean extra paperwork. Inspector Lynley shows up occasionally and acts all dour, but it doesn’t matter ‘cause the show’s really about Havers—who totally rulz! Blimey!

Monday, 8:00 pm (DVD): 9 to 5. Movie night! Three secretaries kidnap and torture their sadistic boss, then conquer their office in the greatest marijuana-fueled, socialist How-To video of all time! 9 to 5 veterans will especially enjoy the “Sexist, Egotistical, Lying, Hypocritical Bigot” edition with the optional Spanish subtitles. No where else will you learn phrases like “Violet, cariño, ¿puedes venir un momento?” and “¡se disparó desde adentro de mi bolsa!”

Tuesday, 8:00 pm (DVD): Remington Steele, Season 3, Steele in the Chips. All hell breaks loose when Remington and Laura are hired to find the inventor of the zero-calorie chocolate chip cookie. Don’t fret, Midred Krebs, IRS, has their backs.

Wednesday, 8:00 pm (DVD): Veronica Mars, Season 1, M.A.D. Revenge is a dish best served sweet, or something. When Tad blackmails Carmen to stay together with him by threatening to post a humiliating cell-phone video of her doing something unspeakable with a popsicle in the hot-tub at Shelley Pomroy’s infamous party, she doesn’t get mad –she hires Veronica to take the chump down. How far will Veronica go? Press play and find out, but be forewarned that this explosive episode may end with mutually assured destruction.

Thursday, 9:00 pm (HGTV): Divine Design. In the beginning, there was Candice Olson. Over the years, HGTV has oscillated from architecture to silly “fix up my house for $50” shows to “quick, help me selling my ratty house with the exploding subprime mortgage” shows. But no one can touch Candice, and she will out-decorate your ass to the moon and back. Kenneth Brown tried to compete and she cut him. Bad.

Friday, 8:00 pm (DVD): Magnum, P.I. Season 4, I Witness. Magnum is called to suss out the facts and provide consoling moustache rides when the King Kamehameha club is robbed, and Higgins, T.C. and Rick all have conflicting accounts of what happened. You’ll be on the edge of your seat and Magnum’s face for the fourth season finale!

Saturday: Get off the sofa, out of the house and put your “structurally perfect, honey-baked ham" to good use!

This is Brendon Small:

You are cordially invited to our wedding, which will take place on June 2nd, 2010 (it's also my birthday--I'm saving you a present you have to get me).

How did we meet, you ask? Well, as you know, Brendan is the successful creator of some of the best animated shows to every grace a television screen--Home Movies and Metalocalypse, to be exact. It's every fangirl's dream story: I went to a convention he was signing at, and when I was waiting in line, my phone rang and Dethklok's "Thunderhorse" was my ringtone, and he looked up, and our eyes met, and it was magic. "Thunderhorse" is definitely our song, if you can have a joint song that the fiancé wrote.

You will have a choice of porterhouse or salmon (vegan options available).

The sex is great, let me just tell you. He always does the voice of McGuirk when we are having pillowtalk! So silly.

Do you think I should be Ari Small? I might just keep my maiden name. And it's not like it's a Christian wedding or anything, we don't have anyone to offend.

The reception is going to be really fun, we'll have Guitar Hero stations set up and the cake will be in the shape of a movie camera. I wish we didn't have to have that table of Cartoon Network bigwigs, they are such downers. But it's good for his career, you know?

Anyhow, I hope to see you there!

The worst kind of ambush journalism...

...but check out the super cute Scottish store clerk.

Vie Queerty.

Okay, I'm just a little excited because it is just a TV show. It's not like Jawbreaker is reuniting or anything. But still...

Project Runway 4. November 14. 10 pm.

More info about this season's contestants is at Bravotv.com. And look, one of them is from Seattle!

Just heard a rumor that THIS GUY will be a guest on THIS SHOW tonight, at 11:30 pm.

I wish I could afford cable TV.

Jon Stewart smacks down Chris Matthews, who declares their interview to be the worst of his life. (Sullivan declares the interview the best since Stewart's filleting of Tucker Carlson.)

While I've been toying with a pissy little local homophobe, Saturday Night Live's Andy Samberg goes after a titan.

Way to go, Samberger! All is forgiven.

Don't tell anyone I posted something to Slog about the cast for Project Runway 4. No one as cute as Daniel V., sadly, and I'm guessing that Chris is the first off the show based on that shirt/tie combo alone.

More impressions based solely on cast photos: Simone is wearing too much lipstick, Christian's hair makes my head hurt; and Marion looks like he's in a touring production of Oliver; Ricky's hate is tragic; and is Kit seriously wearing a beret?

Oh, and I'm betting that Victorya is the villain--they haven't had an Asian villain yet. It's about time, don't you think?

You should be when you watch this video.

Human space invaders. Via BlogBlog.

The newest idiot on the view clarifies her remarks...

Well, that's a relief. I'm supposed to go to Argentina in January and I was starting to worry about, you know, falling off the edge of the earth.

Via Towleroad.

This may relieve some of our more vocal Crocker-haters in the comments: That Variety article that Dan just linked to isn't actually telling you anything new.

In my profile of Chris Crocker back in May, I wrote about the development deal that Variety (and DListed) are now making sound new.

Over on YouTube, where Chris also posts, the total number of views for his videos long ago passed the one million mark. Among the people far away from Real Bitch Island who are tuning in: Cassie, the R&B star, who has a subscription to the Chris Crocker video stream on her YouTube page; Glenn Meehan, a Los Angeles producer who recently inked a deal with Chris to develop ideas for a TV show; and Matt Sunbulli, MTV's "web correspondent," who has requested a Chris Crocker video for the MTV website.

I'm not posting this to be huffy about Variety and DListed not having noticed my story, or not having noticed that particular line in my story—I don't care, no big deal in the end, it's just showbusiness. But I do want to clarify: There is some distance between having a development deal and actually having a TV show, and Crocker only has a development deal right now.

I just spoke to Meehan again, and he confirmed that nothing new has happened. "We've had him under a deal since you were up there with him," Meehan told me. "It's the same one."

But, he added:

There could be news soon.

It's on, bitches.

The "Leave Britney Alone" guy could be getting his own TV show. Reality shingle 44 Blue Prods. has inked a development deal with Chris Crocker, the Internet superstar whose tear-filled defense of Britney Spears has generated nearly 8 million hits on YouTube in just one week.

Plan is to develop a docusoap built around Crocker, a 19-year-old who lives with his grandparents in Tennessee. Even before the Britney clip, Crocker had developed a large Net audience via numerous video performances posted on MySpace.com.

The Stranger saw the Crocker phenom coming--including the irony that success might force Chris Crocker to stay on "Real Bitch Island," a.k.a. the small town that was making him miserable.

Over at The View...

...they're not just debating whether or not evolution is, like, a real and true scientific fact, but whether or not the earth is round or flat. Because in the bible God said to his son, "Let's create a earth." And if He wanted to create a flat earth then, by God, He could damn well create a flat earth.

We're doomed.

Via Towleroad.

This guy's press conference is a bit more credible than Larry Craig's.

Little Britain, via Towleroad.

Here's the video--thanks to Jeff H and Kelly O.

Contrary to earlier reports, it looks like Colbert wasn't all that ticked off when Branson tossed a cup full of water on him during the taping of an interview.

Apparently there was a spat on the set of the Colbert Report yesterday...

Virgin tycoon Sir Richard Branson hurled a glass of water of a TV presenter after he was banned from talking about his new airline, according to reports. The multi-millionaire, 57, was being interviewed by US political comic Stephen Colbert in front of a live studio audience in New York when he lost his cool.

But despite being drenched, the host, who Branson had named a plane after, refused to be phased.

He demanded a bottle of water from aides and then retaliated by flinging it that over his multi-millionaire guest. An unnamed member of the studio audience told New York's media website FishbowlNY: "Branson was apparently upset that he wasn't able to give a direct plug to the new Virgin service and doused Colbert with his guest mug of water.

The interview airs August 22.

This post has finally persuaded me to take my tirade public.

The Simpsons is in no way the greatest television show of all time. And my debate club skills and I can prove it.

Please, take your time to gasp now, before I get into the technicalities of language and performance.

The Simpsons was a great television show at one point in time. This amount of time is, of course, debatable in itself. I would say that the time in which the Simpsons was great are seasons 2-7. It has been getting worse and worse since then, turning completely unwatchable around the time I was a sophmore in high school (I believe that was Season 12. . .).

Now, during that time, the case could be made a little better that discounting the first, embryonic season, the Simpsons was the greatest show of all time. The episodes were uniformly brilliant. Therefore, it was the best. However, since then, the fact that the episodes have not been any good at all makes the Simpsons not the best show of all time. I would rather watch a dog shit on my foot than watch a new Simpsons episode. Is that how I would react to something that was the best TV show of all time?

I know what you are thinking: "Ari Spool, you ain't got no sense in that there noggin! Get yer snout out of that there trash can!"

By the time the Simpsons ends, there will be more shit episodes, more shit marketing, and more shit endorsements than there are moments of brilliance. The heights will be overshadowed by the depths. It's sad, really. But when the young people of today (I mean people who weren't conscious when those aforementioned fabulous seasons were first aired--those kids are in high school now) look back on the Simpsons, they will see more crap than good, and will look at the whole picture as a show that produced momentary good times, like Monty Python or the Rolling Stones.

My candidate for the best show of all time? Arrested Development. When you watch the whole series the entire way through four or five times and still find new jokes that were embedded beneath other jokes that are still funny, you can feel confident in a show being the best show of all time, every time.

A newscastress refuses to lead with the Paris Hilton story. ("Good lord, why is she such a journalist?")

Courtesy of my friend Rob.

So. Top Chef.

Howie and Joey got in a fight last night because they're dramatic little boys. Howie called Joey a little girl and Joey pouted like a… uh… well, a little girl. And despite their unimpressive dishes and hissy fits, Sandee got kicked off? Because she "didn’t do a BBQ dish"? Whatever.

With 12 people, it’s still too hard to keep track of everyone and have any idea who’s who, since they’re not all getting in yelling matches. So other than the tantrum between the two New Yorkers, here’s what I remember of the rest of this season’s cast:

Sara and Micah are sissies, but they made good dishes (according to the judges). Hung is a conceited and spastic little bastard. Brian is from the Northwest. Tre is as conceited as Hung but less of a spaz, and the two seem to have a little extra competition happening between them. CJ is really, really tall, and Sandee has a Mohawk. Not that it matters, she's gone now. I also remember wanting one of the huge artichokes they showed in the market. Steamed until tender with curry mayo. Yum.

Anyway, I already suspect to see Tre and/or Hung in the top three. That is if they don’t fuck up by, I dunno, attacking a castmate and holding him down while trying to shave his head or something. But no telling who the other slots might go to. Brian? He did win last night; he’s got some skill. Maybe Sissy Sarah? It’s too early to tell…

I want Sam back.

And goodbye, darling Bob.

Even right now maybe, just this very minute, Bob Barker is Bob Barkering for the very last time ever. He and his skinny skinny microphone retire today at last.

I remember watching Bob from my highchair at lunchtime, when his hair was still black as midnight coal, as I crammed the little square vegetables from my bowl of Campbell's Vegetable Soup up my nose. I can't say if I'll miss old Bob, but I sure do miss cramming vegetables up my nose. You understand.

Oh, Bob Barker! The source of so much excitement! The father of so much adventure! Lest we forget...

Still breast feeding at seven or eight? That's nothing, Paulus. Some Brits breast feed longer than that...

So stoked.

Spoiler alert: Apparently there's nothing to spoil from last night's Sopranos finale, the vague stasis of which has fans and critics howling and bickering.

Alessandra Stanley in The New York Times: "The abrupt finale last night was almost like a prank, a mischievous dig at viewers who had agonized over how television’s most addictive series would come to a close. The suspense of the final scene in the diner was almost cruel...Nothing happens. Credits. What? Mr. Chase wanted to end his tale without melodrama or even a splashy denouement. He succeeded."

Frazier Moore of the Associated Press: "Chase was true to himself, and that's what made The Sopranos brilliant on Sunday night, and the 85 episodes that went before. The product of an artist with a bleak but incisive vision, The Sopranos has always existed on its own terms. It was challenging and elegant, but seldom tidy."

Nikke Finke's Deadline Hollywood Daily: "It was terrible. Apparently, my extreme reaction was typical of many series' fans: they crashed HBO's website for a time tonight trying to register their outrage. HBO could suffer a wave of cancellations as a result...Chase clearly didn't give a damn about his fans. Instead, he crapped in their faces. This is why America hates Hollywood."

Me, I was too busy watching Kiki & Herb lose a Tony Award to a ventriloquist (this is why America hates Broadway) to pay attention to last night's Sopranos, but I'll weigh in sometime after I catch it on DVD. Until then, please continue bickering in the comments.

Can I just say how much I love Passions? I work from home, so I can have this trash on all the time, and the best parts are when Endora Lenox is the main focus. For those of you too lazy to follow the link, Endora is the child of the local witch, the product of a drunken one-night stand. That would be high camp all by itself, but when you add in that the 4-year-old girl who plays her is the most unresponsive, unemotive actress to ever exist, it becomes gloriously bad. Seriously, she makes Brian Bonsall look like Sir Laurence Olivier. As she refuses to speak, her dialogue is done through thought bubbles, and as she refuses to do much aside from sit there like a lump, cheap, cheap special effects are used to illustrate her witchcraft. Please see the below video, and just try telling me this child’s casting was not an act of serendipity that elevates soap opera to a new level of ridiculousness.

My girlfriend and I recently gave into the bored and disaffected bourgeois yearnings of our hearts and had cable TV installed. Since that day, watching television has been a celebrated event in our home.

"Have you been watching TV?"

"Yes, since I got home."

"Yay! Good work! "

"Thanks!"

A couple nights ago I was home and, in the grand (if brief) tradition of our household, watching TV. Kathy Griffin—My Life on the D-List was on Bravo in some kind of Kathy Griffin marathon including her standup show and the new season premiere of her series. As much as I want to hate Kathy Griffin (because she's so obnoxious), she does make me laugh. A few things that bothered me about her have been percolating in me since that night.

1. Doesn't she closely resemble Lady Elaine from Mr. Rogers?

Seriously, except for Kathy's hair (which is fake), they could be twins. Same sharp pronounced chin, same bulbous nose, same red and defined cheekbones and scary eyebrows; it's uncanny. It's like the more Kathy tries to be beautiful (she's admitted to having lots of cosmetic surgery) the scarier she gets. Without makeup she looks like a normal (and homely) woman, but with all of that cakey face paint on she becomes some creepy drunk carousel attendant of an imaginary world.

By the way, I don't feel the least bit guilty about criticizing her looks, and if you've ever watched her standup you'd understand why. The woman makes a living being a total bitch to whomever she wishes. It's hilarious.

2. She claims to have the gay demographic on lock.

She goes on and on about her gays, and gay this, gay that. That bugs me. Who does she think she is... Margaret Cho?! I don't think so. Like a crack baby with tons of health problems, Kathy Griffin was adopted by the gays because no one else wanted her. She loves us because we're the only ones willing to give her a chance in this cold, cruel world (gays love an underdog). Will she abandon us when she's finally upgraded to the C-List? Only time will tell.

This woman has a voice like nails on a chalkboard and tells frantic stories about her brief encounters with celebrities who constantly dismiss and belittle her. She gives off a vibe of dejection and inferiority that makes me want to break her. I think it's a Darwinian instinct on my part. She's weak and compromises the integrity of the human race.

I appreciate her standup, but what does she leave you with? A few spent laughs, and that's it. There's no sound bite, there's no catchphrase, there's no joke that you can pipe up with at a party. It's just some desperate woman telling her stories of brief encounters with those who are more famous and more talented than she. Her self-esteem is all tied up in price tags, status, and celebrity acquaintances. It's sad. She's sad.

And that's what's funny.

This is what happens when Dutch people stop getting polite and start getting terminal. Vital organs? Impending doom? Welcome to the most perverse and horrible popularity contest in the universe...Who's Gonna Get My Kidneys?

...during last night's Miss Universe pageant. Enjoy.

For the stoners and history majors...