The Big Bang Theory
The premise: Two quantum physicists try and have sex with their smoking-hot neighbor. First of all, Kudos to CBS for finally listening to those legions of fans clamoring for content about the riveting, laugh-a-minute lives of quantum physicists. (Anyone who has ever heard Stephen Hawking tell “The Aristocrats” knows what I’m talking about.) In an average sit-com, the “Hot Chick Next Door” scenario would be a single episode, but I’m sure the writing staff will have no problem stretching that one flimsy premise into a TV franchise to rival Cheers. Just imagine the comedic gold as the lady fends off the geeks’ awkward advances while flirting just enough so they’ll rip her CD collection onto her new iPod. Then tune-in next week, when she fends off the geeks’ awkward advances while flirting just enough so they’ll hook up her digital camera and upload her vacation photos from Cancun. It’s like a Madlib of hilarity, and best of all, the title says “Bang.”
The premise: an epic drama following a powerful Cuban family whose fortune comes from importing a white powder. No, no, I’m talking about sugar, silly! Though they also import rum, which as we all know, goes well with Coke. And it stars Jimmy Smits, who played a drug dealer in Running Scared. I actually think the title was shortened from the original: “Shmocaine”.
As the great Homer Simpson once said, “Firs’ you get the chugar. ‘Den you get the power. ‘Den you get the weemennnnnnnnn….” Personally, I’m excited for Cane. I always said that if The Sopranos had just done away with the cussing, tits and violence, then it might have had a chance at being a hit.
Chuck - The premise: A fix-it guy in a Best Buy-like electronics chain accidentally reads an email that downloads every government secret into his brain. Then the CIA has to protect him with their most buxom agent. Hilarity ensues. At first this show had me really excited. Between Chuck and The Big Bang Theory, it seemed like my dreams had come true: geek was now chic; nerd was the new black. I prepared myself for pussy in quantities previously reserved for produce, like bushels and grosses. Then I called every single girl I’ve ever wanted to sleep with, and now I have to figure out what to do with a kilo of condoms. Stupid Costco.
It’s hard to figure out which part of the plot requires more suspension of my disbelief. First, there’s the hot CIA agent, who comes from the same porniverse where cable repairmen put Wilt Chamberlain to shame. Second, an email that “downloads” government secrets into a man’s brain suggests that my mother was hired as a technical consultant. But the worst of all is that advertisements for this show say that Chuck is a nerd. Anyone who has ever taken their PC into a Best Buy knows that it would take them two weeks to install an ink cartridge in your printer. They aren’t nerds; they aren’t even graduates of ITT Tech.
The Bionic Woman – The premise: After being nearly killed in a car accident, a woman’s body is largely rebuilt using cutting-edge technology, giving her enhanced abilities and super strength.
NBC’s all-out marketing campaign suggests they’ll do whatever it takes to make it a hit. My only concern is that the show will send a message to young women that the only way to succeed is to be surgically enhanced. That being said, the only way I’m watching the show is if they give her big boobs. I mean, as long as you got her on the table…
Private Practice – The premise: Grey’s Anatomy, but in a different city. What I’m really afraid of is that in three years’ time, Grey’s Anatomy will be a franchise to rival CSI. If you’re a guy, make plans to be somewhere else whenever this show is on. If it’s anything like Grey’s, it will leave women emotionally charged, and positive about one or more of the following:
Cashmere Mafia/Big Shots: Here’s the description of Cashmere Mafia, from ABC’s website: “Four Manhattan women bonded by their Ivy League educations and executive success… support each other through rocky marriages, rival colleagues, kids' recitals and the hunt for the perfect loft.” Compare that to the description of Big Shots: “The lines between boardroom and bedroom blur in Big Shots, the story of four friends who are at the top of their game
until the women in their lives enter the room.”
If the two shows could somehow have a conversation, here’s how I imagine it would go…
Cashmere Mafia: I’m thrilled to have an opportunity to showcase successful, powerful women.
Big Shots: Women ain’t nothin’ but bitches and ho’s.
Cashmere Mafia: We both know that isn’t true. All over America, women are executives, captains of industry, even the Secretary of State.
Big Shots: To the moon, Alice!
Cashmere Mafia: Admittedly, I am a blatant rip-off of Sex in the City. And I can’t even describe women helping each other without mentioning shopping…
Big Shots: Women be shoppin’! Women. Be. Shopping.
Cashmere Mafia: Ooh, shoes!