Who dares interrupt my Sunday...

Who dares interrupt my Sunday night of First Amendment-protected comedy? Actually, I'm just trying to start with a bang — this show lived up to its irreverent promise (I had to look up "irreverent"). Let's start with Michael Rapaport, who has succeeded in the career of being Michael Rapaport. Seriously, he's always the same guy. But that guy is right for this series. I think I counted six blatantly racial, stereotypical or uncomfortable comments in five minutes. So the alcoholic thing, the questionably gay son, the teenage girl's new black boyfriend, the implants and even Rapaport's excitement over Lindsay Lohan have opened a few doors in the realm of "borderline offensive prime-time comedy." Oh yeah, and the sparky teenaged Kaylee Defer actually looks like Lindsay Lohan. Nice.

Problems don't really get solved, nor do they click, and we're once again reminded that having kids is rough. But I like the family's legitimacy — almost like they know we're making fun of them. Let's sleep on this one and give it a chance. I'm happy we've learned that bleeping is funnier than just not swearing. I like the way I believe that if middle-child Kyle Sullivan is gay, these parents will be cool with it, but still make fun of him. And no, I guess we really don't need special effects in those scenes where actors speak to us… if they're funny. At any rate the War will probably end soon, or at least move to a new night.