SUNDAY

Extreme Makeover: Home Edition
There's no arguing with the fact that the Pope family getting a whole new house means Shelby gets a whole new life. Yet there's gotta be a moment when they're watching the videotape of the demo team taking their house down when at least a small voice has to say: "Hey, wait..."

Then Tracy's three hours behind schedule... so couldn't they be moving the furniture in while she's doing her officer-and-a-gentleman shtick? Whatever. There's shtick right and left on this show, but you can't argue with the end result — happy people.

Desperate Housewives
Golly, Bree — there's a word no kid ever wants to hear come out of Mom's mouth: "fornicate." Someday a therapist'll be hearing it, too.

A bigger question here, though: Susan leaves a trail of flower petals to lead Mike into the bedroom, tempting him with scented candles to seal the deal. Uh... she does realize he's straight, right?

And if Rex wants to be dominated, doesn't having him tell Maisy he wants the stilettos instead of the boots and whatnot kind of defeat the whole tell-me-what-to-do thing? Though I guess it really doesn't matter if you're having a heart attack, huh?

But the most off-putting aspect of the whole episode? I like brussels sprouts.

The Wire
Quote of the Weekend
"I caught him, Bunk.... I caught him. And he doesn't f---in' know it." — Det. Jimmy McNulty, sitting by the body of Stringer Bell, mourning the case (and, true to character, only the case)

Here I go with my superlatives again. But I was thinking that this show presents a weekly case for industry observers who complain that there aren't enough good roles for African-American actors on TV these days. If there were, there's no way the producers would have a monopoly on this cast, all of whom turn in Emmy-caliber work. And the fact that the show didn't receive even one Golden Globe nomination? Not one? (Go on, see for yourself.) That just means that the industry ain't watching.

Now I once again join the ranks of the HBO addicts "waiting for my man" — those putting in time till the next season of their show starts up. (Yeah, I'm talking to you, Sopranos and Deadwood watchers. Not you, Entourage people. Siddown.) Provided there is a next season.

King of the Hill
John Red Corn: "Hank, I understand an elder wishes to use your home as an entrance to the spirit world. My people teach that a person must be happy at death or they are destined to walk throughout eternity on their hands, so their frown appears to be a smile. Food for thought."

Hey, it made me chortle. But then I got to thinking: Everyone's down on Hank for refusing to let poor old Ms. Wakefield die in his home? Sure — it's easy for them to say. Me, I can see where he's coming from since I watch TV for a living and know what happens to a body after death. I mean, I watch all the CSI shows, and Crossing Jordan, too. It's all, like, runny and gooshy and blorpy and junk.

SATURDAY

Saturday Night Live
Even if you find SNL to be uneven, your inner third-grader can't help but laugh at De Niro as a military man, reeling off terrorist names too dirty to share here. Juvenile... but funny as hell — and brave, even, given the puritanical mood in the air these days and our humorless FCC.

Now, ya gotta love Bobby D., but couldn't he have learned his lines?

And the best skit for my money? The cat-lady gag. Who cares if it doesn't really make sense? They're using real cats!

FRIDAY

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
I just want to point out that long before critics painted The Incredibles as an argument for Ayn Rand's Objectivism (egalitarian society tries to keep the superior superheroes down in the swamp of mediocrity, thus stifling their individual potential), I wrote a paper calling Rudolph a refutation of Francis Galton's eugenics, which holds that we should promote the pairing of the superior among us and prevent the "imperfect" from breeding, thus improving the race.

Think about it. Poor Rudolph's red nose is revealed after Donner tries to cover it up and what does Santa say? "Donner, how could you?" Like, oh, sure — I should just help the reindeer genetic-superiority crowd persecute my own son, you old bastard.

I know — I get carried away. Got an "E" on that paper, too. (My egalitarian high school eliminated the "F" so no one would feel like a failure, even though an "E" wasn't a passing grade and it was just pushing the bullet in by hand rather than shooting you.) Seems I was supposed to write a paper on Animal Farm instead of watching TV.

Popeye's Voyage: The Quest for Pappy
Here's a question I thought 3-D CGI might answer: How is it Swee'pea's frock, or whatever he's wearing, completely wraps his body, legs and feet in tadpole fashion, yet he's still able to crawl? Don't see my point? Put on a dress and give it a try. (Yes, I puzzled over matters of locomotion as a lad. And I won't tell you how I already know it won't work; my private life is private.) Alas, it remains a mystery, along with what's wrong with Popeye's jaw, forearms, eyes and voice. And for god's sake, is it Bluto or Brutus?