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Major League Baseball: Red Sox...

Major League Baseball: Red Sox vs. Yankees The biggest loser is... not the Boston Red Sox — can you believe it!? The Sox get to tease their fans one more time, raising their hopes for just an instant before dashing them to pieces yet again, because like it or not, we all know what Game 7 means to the Red Sox — Choke Time. Then again, who knows, this could be the year, right? Either way, I'm sure the bars will be open late tomorrow in Beantown. The Biggest Loser 22 lbs. in one week! How did they do it? No, really. I thought I knew a thing or two about weight loss and reasonable expectations vs. infomercial sales pitches — but they did it, or at least a lot of them did. I like Maurice. As the biggest of the big, he has a lot of courage, but did you see the look on his face when his teammate took the platter of sausages away from the breakfast table? Like a 5-year old who dropped his ice cream on the sidewalk. And what

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Major League Baseball: Red Sox vs. Yankees
The biggest loser is... not the Boston Red Sox — can you believe it!? The Sox get to tease their fans one more time, raising their hopes for just an instant before dashing them to pieces yet again, because like it or not, we all know what Game 7 means to the Red Sox — Choke Time. Then again, who knows, this could be the year, right? Either way, I'm sure the bars will be open late tomorrow in Beantown.

The Biggest Loser
22 lbs. in one week! How did they do it? No, really. I thought I knew a thing or two about weight loss and reasonable expectations vs. infomercial sales pitches — but they did it, or at least a lot of them did.
I like Maurice. As the biggest of the big, he has a lot of courage, but did you see the look on his face when his teammate took the platter of sausages away from the breakfast table? Like a 5-year old who dropped his ice cream on the sidewalk. And what is wrong with Lisa? She had a meltdown because she ate some barbecue sauce on her chicken. Then she gives herself an excuse to fail and pins it on the others by saying, "You tell me I'm fat — I'm gonna eat more." Um, Dr. Phil, can you give us a hand over here? As for Jillian, the drill sergeant, and Bob, the Zen dietitian, their approach to motivating each team to lose weight couldn't be more different, and yet look at the results. Whether the show takes off or not, I predict these two will have no trouble filling their schedules for the next two years.

He's a Lady
This show reminds me of my longhair college days when a fellow patron at a bar tried to stop me from entering the men's bathroom. It only took him a moment to realize his error, and I think he was more embarrassed than I was, but for just a moment the thought crossed my mind, "Hmm, I wonder what would happen if I actually tried to look like a woman" — then it occurred to me that I'd probably had one beer too many. Or maybe he had...
Now I don't feel sorry for the seven finalists chosen to channel their inner RuPaul. Sure, they have to spend the next few weeks wearing girdles, silicone boobs and heels, and yes, they had every hair that wasn't attached to their heads ripped mercilessly from their bodies — but at least they have a shot at walking away with quarter of a million dollars! Those other poor bastards have to sulk back to their families and friends and try to explain why they have pencil-thin eyebrows and no body hair.
And would somebody kindly explain to me what John Salley is doing as a judge on this show? Morgan Fairchild I can understand, but John Salley? What, was Dennis Rodman too busy with Celebrity Poker? Apparently Salley was thinking the same thing, because he looked less comfortable than the guys parading before him in their hose and heels. The question he poses to one of the newly transformed men says it all: "Is this your worst nightmare? Or is it just mine?"

Gilmore Girls
Oh Lorelai, your intentions are so good, pulling Dean into the fold for a double date and introducing Luke to Pippi Longstocking, but you should've listened to Rory and Luke when they told you the whole scene would be... oh, just a little bit awkward. But hey, who knew Bop It could be a full contact sport? Luke's overprotectiveness when it comes to Rory is cute, and it's understandable that he'd rather she ended up with a prince than with a pauper, but c'mon, look in the mirror, old man. You're not exactly the blueprint of a blueblood.
Exchange of the evening: Lorelai: (examining a gold-sequined vest in her father's closet) "Maybe it's a vest from the old days?"
Emily: "Our days never included Rich dressing up like that gay fella whose tiger tried to eat him."
Poor Roy Horn. He survives a life-threatening animal-performer malfunction only to see his legacy relegated to the subject of inspirational newsmagazine stories and cheap sitcom jokes.

Broadway: The American Musical
E! True Hollywood stories and VH1's never-ending loop of retrospectives on the '80s and '90s are entertaining in an "oh-my-god-did-I-really-wear-parachute-pants?" kind of way, but PBS does documentaries the way they should be done — with class. Who knew that once upon a time in American history, Broadway composers like Irving Berlin, Cole Porter and George and Ira Gershwin wrote music that not only sold tickets, but actually transformed pop culture and became the pop music of the day. Nowadays it works the other way around, with Broadway relying heavily on pop culture and pop music to stay relevant and profitable. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think the last time a song made the leap from the stage to the Billboard 100 was back in 1986 with "One Night in Bangkok," from the musical Chess.
As fascinating and educational as the first two installments of this six-part series were, I have a feeling the remainder is really going to resonate, once they get into the '40s and '50s with Oklahoma, Gypsy and — perhaps the most pivotal of all American musicals — West Side Story, 'cause when you get down to it, you have to pay deep respect to the godfather of the modern musical: Sir Stephen Sondheim. — Daniel R. Coleridge is on assignment. Tonight's column was written by Daniel Roberts in his stead.