Oh yeah, like Clark's secret would have kept Lana from running off to Paris. Please, child would be racing to Smallville International in a skipped heartbeat if she heard her Abercrombie-worthy crush was actually an alien. With superpowers. Not that he even got to spill the beans, seeing how that nutjob who took over the Talon kidnapped little Miss Lang, who, I'm sorry, totally got what she deserved. Whenever some googly-eyed misfit who sounds like Jean Kasem on really good herb says that she wants to be your best friend, it is so time to run the other way, OK? And I know that everyone is all gaga over Kristin Kreuk. She's adorable. So why does she remind me so much of that elf Muppet from The Dark Crystal?
Psychics, magicians, "mystifiers." Whatever you want to call 'em, they're just plain weird. John Edward, he's a little too slick, you know? David Blaine? Ew. Might as well be French with that scurvy look he's working. And don't even get me started with David Copperfield. And this guy, Gerry McCambridge? Yeah, um... huh. What can you say about a guy whose bit on the metaphysical link between twins requires an appearance by the Coors Light sisters? Cheese! Now, freaking out that Irish footballer in Times Square was cool, picking out the score of his last game back home. Though what mind reader worth his creepy theme music can't see that "street magic" is as tired as... well, mind readers with creepy theme music?
The Day After Tomorrow Preview
Speaking of creepy. In the middle of a freakishly early East Coast heat wave, we get a bloated trailer for the big summer catastro-flick about the next ice age. Well, bring it on! This humidity is killing me. So, too, is the idea that so-good indie up-and-comer Jake Gyllenhaal has resorted to popcorn flash. Dude, you were Donnie Darko... there's no need to be dodging Manhattan-erasing tidal waves and sodden dialogue like Dennis Quaid's faux-ominous "don't go outside." The world is encased in ice, champ! Where's he gonna go? A sample sale for new Uggs?
I'm sorry, what? WHAT?! Are you expletively kidding me? La Toya and Fantasia in the bottom two? For a second I thought I was watching the finale, then my roomies got out our QVC home defibrillator, revived me and broke the news that, yes, the divas God made for the final sing-off were indeed about to be split. Jasmine Trias, I have no words for you. Other than forfeit, blossom flower, ya hear? No self-respecting, tone-deaf, shoulda-been-cut-before-Jennifer Hudson screeching owl of a mess would keep that seat and send La Toya home. Now I understand why Elvis shot his TV. It's a voting travesty. But let's all just take a deep breath and remember that it is a contest, folks. We've been here before, losing Tamyra Gray in Season 1 at this stage. And as sad as we all are over the ouster, someone needs to tell Paula and the others to pull it together. Like the Donna Summer song that saved Diana's butt this week, "No More Tears." La Toya was cut, not killed. We'll hear from her again, trust me.
The Bachelor: The Women Tell All
Or as I like to call this one, Mean Girls: The Legal Years. Wow! How much do these chicks still hate Trash, I mean Trish? Not that I can't get behind that vibe. Chris Harrison tried so hard to keep this reunion show from going all catty and crass, but they were all so brutal, God bless him, he did what every smart guy would do: Sit back and watch the fur fly. The only thing Jesse Palmer's exes were missing were burning torches and bonnets. And you know what? I didn't feel an itch of sympathy for the Florida hot front with the cold heart. "I'm a good person," she says. Oh really? Then how come you're about to flare up like a bad rash on...
...to shanghai Mandy J.'s doomed last date with Jesse? Good thing Mandy had a goblet of wine the size of a football to keep her warm while he was off rejecting Trish's unstable proposal to spend the night with her. Like this guy doesn't have enough to worry about, with Jessica B.'s clingy confession that she's applying to New York law schools to be closer to him. Blondie, you might want to hold out for that final rose before packing your books. Actually, based on past pairings from this show, it might be wise to find a nice short-term sublet and book an open-ended round trip. Just a tip, hon. And Tara, I know Jesse asked to see "the real" you, but what the hell else did you show him in that fantasy suite? Whatever it was, good going. You just moved No. 1 Bachelor fan Carie S. from Pa. thatmuch closer to winning her pool. Let the battle of the blondes begin!
Carol Burnett: Let's Bump Up the Lights
Oh man, did this send me flashing back to the happy childhood. Staying up late with my brothers and parents, a TV tray of Elio's pizza and this crazy funny lady who sort of looked like the spawn of Liza Minnelli and Frank N. Furter from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Good times, good times. Honestly, I don't know what I love best about seeing Carol, Conway, Korman and co. again: The fact that they're all still hilariously in unison — and obviously still close — or that this show reduced me and my mom to tears of laughter every week, without fail. Whatever the case, I'll always be so glad we had that time together. So thank you, Miss Burnett.