It's About TV: Humor

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August 19, 2026

TV Jibe: Never waste a moment

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August 1, 2026

This week in TV Guide: August 2, 1969

Until its reappearance as a guest-star vehicle for Rick Dalton in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, it was mostly only oldtimers like us who remembered Lancer, the western which ran on CBS for two seasons from 1969 to 1971. As is the case with so many Westerns, Lancer thrives on drama involving intertwined family trees; Bonanza's Ben Cartwright sired three sons with three different mothers, The Big Valley had an outsider who turned out to be the illegitimate son of the deceased Tom Barkley, The High Chapparal featured a second wife 30 years younger than John Cannon. (These family patriarchs sure did get around, didn't they?)

In the case of Lancer, our patriarch is one Murdoch Lancer, dealing with the tensions brought on by the relationship between his two estranged sons, each the product of a different marriage, who are now brought together to help the old man protect his ranch, also known as Lancer, from land pirates. It probably seemed like a good idea at the time, and in fact even though the series only ran two seasons, it was well-regarded by many western fans, and boasted good scripts and fine guest stars. It also had the advantage of this week's cover star, Andrew Duggan, in the title role.

With his two "sons," James Stacy (left)
and Wayne Maunder.

Dugan is one of those actors who invariably makes any show better than it would be otherwise, and even comes through bad shows with his dignity intact. And "dignified" is a good way to describe the subject of Leslie Raddatz's article: standing 6-feet-5 and 205 pounds, with his prematurely gray hair (he's only 45, but "I have always looked old," he tells Raddatz), and smooth voice (product of several years on the stage), he knows how to command a stage. Not that he lords it over people; those who work with him describe him as "unpretentious," "a fine human being," and "a real man." Of his work in Lancer, he acknowledges that "It barely gets through the second layer of you," but he doesn't complain; as a professional actor who's never wanted to be anything else, "I do the next thing to come along."

Lancer is the second show in which Duggan has starred, following the Warners detective series Bourbon Street Beat, and although I've always enjoyed his work, it was his portrayal of detective Cal Calhoun in BSB that made me a fan. He was adept at playing both heroes and villains (and sometimes you were unsure until the final scene), though his turns on the dark side were often complex and three-dimensional, and usuallty featured his own brand of charm. You're likely to recognize him from his many movies (70, including the unlikely pairing of The Incredible Mr. Limpet, with Don Knotts, and Seven Days in May, with Kirk Douglas and Burt Lancaster) and guest-starring appearances on television (more than 140). When he died of cancer in 1988, only 64, it was a loss. No matter what he was in, it was always worth a watch.

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The humorist S.J. Perelman was a frequent visitor to the pages of TV Guide in the day. I'm not sure how many of you remember Perelman, who died in 1979, and how many more of you know him only as a name. As has been the case with so many humorists of the time (Thurber, Parker, Levenson, Menken, Buchwald), Perelman's style of writing, which featured most prominently in The New Yorker, has fallen out of favor over the years* (as, indeed, has The New Yorker), and reading him today can be a struggle, even for those of us who consider ourselves reasonably well-read, although I'm perfectly willing to take the blame for it.

*Arguably, P.G. Wodehouse is the one humorist from that era who has remained reasonably popular, probably because of his beloved creations Jeeves and Wooster. I'd be willing to include Damon Runyon in that category, thanks to Guys and Dolls and his eccentric, "Runyonesque" characters.

Anyway, Perleman is writing this week about nudity on television, and if you think I was going to pass up that story, you're crazy. The origin of the story comes from a recent BBC documentary dealing with nudism. The whole thing bothers Perleman, not because the site of naked men and women offend him; after all, as he points out, "every schoolboy polled [in Britain] knew more about sex than his family obstetrician." No, what bothers our author is how the BBC wasted this nakedness on a documentary, eschewing "the juicy potential of skin as entertainment."

As an alternative, Perleman proposes a story based on the recent case of Miss Pamela Brewer, 18, who was found guilty of violating University of Florida rules for posing nude "on a bear rug" for a men's magazine. In Perleman's hands, Miss Brewer becomes Crystal Gondorf, a "demure but zottick freshman, with a brain rivaling Spinoza's encased in the body of a Lollobrigida." Having undeniably verified that the picture is, in fact, of Miss Gondorf, university president Butterfoss has no alternative but to expel her. Crystal claims her innocence, comparing her situation to that of Josef K. in Kafka's The Trial. Eventually, it turns out the picture was doctored, the culprit being one Babs Cheesewright, a classmate jealous of Crystal's (pre-nude) popularity.

Perleman has some other ideas as well, his story running for another two pages. It's humorous (as opposed to funny), but I couldn't help but think, and again I may be the one to blame here, that the story was a bit like the skits we see in classic variety shows, running just a little too long for its own good. I appreciate long-form writing as much as anyone, but I kept wondering how I was going to summarize this story without taking up the entirety of today's column. As you can see, I finally gave up. This isn't meant to serve as a recommendation against reading Perleman's pieces, unless your job is to condense them. It just seems as if nudity on television should be, well, a bit more exciting, don't you think?

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You'll forgive me for taking a moment to catch my breath after all that.

(Pause)

Well now, for something else that's out of this world, The Doan Report takes a look at how last month's flight of Apollo 11 went over with TV viewers. It was, to coin a phrase, a smash. A worldwide audience estimated at 700 million watched the epic journey of Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins from the launch pad in Florida to the ghostly images live from the moon and the triumphant splashdown; just about the only parts of the world to miss the adventure were China, India, and most of Africa. But it was seen in Poland and Czechoslovakia, and even Moscow TV ran taped coverage of the moon walk three times in one day. Summing it all up was actress Gina Lollobrigida (she of the Perleman story above), who said, "Nothing in show business will ever top what I saw on television today."

As for the coverage itself, the clear winner was CBS; Walter Cronkite and Wally Schirra garnered about 45 percent of the total audience, and Doan had high praise for the commentary of the former astronaut, who reassured viewers with clearly-understood explanations of what was going on during tense moments.

And in a little more space news, on Saturday, the unmaned Mariner 7 is scheduled to pass by the southern region of Mars, five days after the flyby of its twin, Mariner 6, beaming black-and-white pictures of the Martian surface back to earth. The networks may preempt regular programming for coverage, including the possibility that the planet could support life.

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It's about time we get to what's on TV this week, don't you think?

Spread across the weekend is coverage of President Nixon's visit to Romania and London, and back then it really was a big deal for an American president to visit a country behind the Iron Curtain; as a result, NBC plans live coverage of Nixon's arrival in Bucharest Saturday at 6:00 a.m. ET, while CBS has a prime-time special scheduled at 7:30 p.m., preempting Jackie Gleason's show—for one night, he wasn't the Great One after all. I'd assume there was more coverage than what was scheduled, though.

Here's something that caught my eye: an episode of All Star Theater entitled "The Tryst." (1:30 p.m., WIBF) Is the story any good? I don't know, but the cast is, with William Lundigan, Edward Arnold, and two very young future stars: Anne Francis and Vera Miles. The night rounds out with NBC's Saturday Night at the Movies (9:00 p.m.), showing a rerun of the pilot for this fall's new series Then Came Bronson, starring Michael Parks. a kind of Route 66 on two wheels. Unlike Tod, Buz and Linc, Bronson's adventures only cycled for one season.

It's too bad we don't have Sullivan vs. the Palace this Sunday, but while The Hollywood Palace takes the summer off, Ed's back in reruns with a strong lineup: Johnny Mathis, singing a medley of songs by Henry Mancini (with Mancini conducting the orchestra); Diana Ross and the Supremes; dancer and chorergrapher Peter Gennaro; singer Shani Wallis; comedy from Burns and Schreiber and Rodner Dangerfield; and the balancing Rolan Brothers. (8:00 p.m., CBS) That's followed by a very good lineup on Hee Haw (9:00 p.m,. CBS), featuring Loretta Lynn and Waylon Jennings, along with Roy Clark and Buck Owens and the Buckaroos. For all of the ridicule Hee Haw takes for its cornpone humor, just about every big name country star appeared on that show over the years.

Monday's highlight is a rerun of the 1966 historical epic Khartoum (8:30 p.m., NBC), the story of the 1884–1885 Siege of Khartoum, in the Sudan. Judith Crist hails this "intelligent epic," especially Robert Ardeny's screenplay, and a star-studded cast led by the two antagonists: Charlton Heston's "very good portrait of the enigmatic General 'Chinese' Gordon," leader of the British forces defending the city of Khartoum, and Laurence Olivier's "simply superb portrait" of the Mahdi, leader of the Arab tribesmen besieging the city. It is, says Crist, "the rare spectacular that engrosses the mind as well as the eye." If you're in the late-night mood, check out the guest hosts on the chat shows: Flip Wilson on The Tonight Show (11:30 p.m., NBC) and Pat Butrram (!) on The Joey Bishop Show (11:30 p.m., ABC); Pat's guests, by the way, include Gene Autry and Xavier Cugat and Charo. That might be the show of the week.

If you haven't figured it out yet, this week's shows are heavy on the rerun side, but that doesn't mean they aren't worth watching; after all, it's when people used to catch up on the shows they'd missed in this pre-VCR era. For example, one of Tuesday's choices is "All Our Yesterdays," the much-loved episode of Star Trek that sends our heroes back in time: Kirk has to defend himself against charges of witchcraft, while Spock and McCoy are stranded in a prehistoric ice age with the woman who captures Spock's pre-Vulcan heart, Mariette Hartley.* Of course, if you're going to give this a watch, you'll have to pass up this week's episode of Lancer, with guest star Johnnie Whitaker. (7:30 p.m., CBS)

*Typo alert: in the TV Guide, she's listed as "Mariette Hart."

Mariette Hartley—this time with her name spelled correctly—is back on NBC Wednesday night, this time as a naive Missouri girl who hires David Ross to find her missing brother (Rick Jason) in Darren McGavin's cynical P.I. series The Outsider (10:00 p.m., NBC). One of these days, I'm going to have to dip into the grey market and get some episodes of that. Fortunately, I won't have to do that with "And When the Sky Was Opened," an excellent first-season episode of The Twilight Zone, starring Rod Taylor, Jim Hutton and Charles Aidman as the first three astronauts into space, who find upon returning to Earth that not all is as it seems. After all, I have the complete series. (6:30 p.m., WPHL)

Have you had the feeling, especially in the last few years, that you're just a piece on a chessboard, being moved at will by someone else? Find out what happens when this is literally the case, on a rerun of "Checkmate" on The Prisoner (Thursday, 8:00 p.m., CBS). As usual, the plot involves one of the favorite topics in The Village: conformity. As usual, Number 6 meets the challenge with his own favorite topic: escape. Otherwise, check out one of those movies I mentioned that features our cover star, Andrew Duggan. Yes, it's The Incredible Mr. Limpet (9:00 p.m., CBS), which Judith Crist describes as "a movie about a schnook who becomes a dolphin." I'm not sure who Duggan plays, but Don Knotts is the schnook.

Friday boasts an interesting lineup of guest stars, beginning on The Wild Wild West (7:30 p.m., CBS), with opera star Patrice Munsel as—what else; a tempestuous opera star—who's run afoul of the sinister Order of Lucia. That's followed at 8:30 p.m. by The Name of the Game (NBC), a Robert Stack episode featuring Ricardo Montalban as a ghetto priest taking on the syndicate, led by—not Bruce Gordon, alas, but Edward Andrews. On NET Playhouse (8:30 p.m., NET), David Hemmings, who's since become famous in Antonioni's Blow-Up, stars in "Auto Stop," the story of a "callow youth" hitchhiking across continental Europe in hopes of becoming a man. The Saint (10:00 p.m, NBC) features one of Roger Moore's future co-stars, Lois "Moneypenny" Maxwell, as Simon Templar becomes involved in revenge, blackmail, and murder. Sounds as dangerous as anything Bond will come up against.

A precaution, though: President Nixon is scheduled for an address to the Nation tonight, at which he'll reveal his new welfare initiative, the Family Assistance Plan. Typical of the time, the speech will be followed by analysis from network correspondents. Regular programming will be preempted, rescheduled, or delayed.

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An interesting Letter to the Editor this week, from Bill Cifton of Shelton, Washington, writing about a recent article on whether or not there's too much violence on television. (A recent poll indicated viewers felt excessive violence on TV was detrimental to society.) It's a little long, but I'm going to repeat it because I think it resonates with many of us out here:

My boss tells me what time to come to work, take my coffee break, eat lunch, get my paycheck, take my vacation and go home at night. Then my wife tells me to cut the grass, trim the hedge, take out the garbage, eat my dinner, not drink too much, and lastly what time to get up. The bank tells me when to make my house payment, car payment, TV payment and bring more money because my account is overdrawn. The only escape I have is watching TV—especially a nice violent show—because now somebody else is getting theirs. If I don't get any healthy violence to watch, I'm going to get even: I'm going to call the bank to come get the TV set. Then I'll send Nielsen his 50c and form back and tell him I just listen to radio.

I'd like to shake Mr Clifton's hand.

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Finally in this issue from Philadelphia, dueling news legends:

In this corner, one-half of the news lineup on WCAU, narrator par excellence of NFL Films, John "The Voice of God" Facenda!

And in this corner, present newsman of WLS and future star of NBC News, Tom "The Tomorrow Man" Snyder!

Who have ya got?

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OK, I lied. Here's the final thought. It comes from former U.S. senator Henry Clay, as quoted in a letter from Ira H. Schoen of Yonkers, N.Y., writing about that poll on TV violence. Said Clay, "Statistics are no substitute for judgment." Make of that what you will. TV

June 10, 2026

TV Jibe: Remenber when?

May 20, 2026

TV Jibe: The Demographics Show

April 29, 2026

TV Jibe: What the stars watch on TV when they're home

TheAustinVerse, Deviant Art

April 8, 2026

TV Jibe: Standing on the corner watching the Doctor go by

March 25, 2026

Hadley's Three Laws of Television Writing

The community of writers, to which I belong by virtue of having written four (soon to be five!) books, is a great one for rule-setting. I mentioned in a recent Substack essay that being a writer nowadays means being confronted with a whole series of rules, many of which do their very best to stifle any kind of creativity you might have: don't use flashbacks, don't include prologues, don't make your chapters too long, don't this-or-that-or-the-other. (You'll notice almost all of these rules start with Don't.)

Well, that got me to thinking, and this being a television site and all, you can probably guess where this is headed. If there's a rulebook for book writing, there ought to be one for television writing as well. And who better to come up with said rules than yours truly?

I was spurred to this decision by a recent episode of Adventures in Paradise that we watched a couple of weeks ago. I've mentioned before that Adventures in Paradise isn't a great show; sometimes it isn't even a particularly good one. It is, however, often a fun show, and Gardner McKay is a compelling lead, a genuine example of an actor who has true star power even though he's not the world's greatest actor. This particular episode, however—it was, and is, called "The Trial of Adam Troy," from the third (of four) seasons—was so bad, and broke so many obvious rules, that it seemed to me a good time to set the key rules down, and use this episode as an example of what not to do when coming up with a storyline for an episode.

Note that this list is not meant to be all-inclusive. I've overlooked some of the more obvious rules, for instance, the one that characters—especially regulars—should behave in ways that are always and everywhere consistent with the establishment of their true characters, the qualities that they've displayed throughout the series. If someone suddenly acts in a way that's totally contrary to how they've behaved in the previous seventy-five episodes, then you've either got a problem with your writers or your lead has suddenly developed schizophrenia.

It's my feeling that rules like that one should be, as Jefferson might say, so self-evident that they don't even need to be set down. There are others, however, that might not occur to you at first thought—that might, in fact, not even be on the radar until you actually see a violation in an episode of one of your favorite shows. And it is to this purpose that I've chosen to present to you Hadley's Three Laws of Television Writing™.

The first rule of television storytelling is one I've brought up many times in the past: Do not put the hero in a situation where we already know the outcome. You've experienced my rants about false jeopardy before; basically, it involves a storyline that puts our main character in a situation where he or she is supposed to be at risk, but one in which you and I know is obviously impossible: being accused of murder, for example, or being in a life-or-death situation from a deadly illness or accident. We know the outcome is predetermined because Sergeant Saunders is not going to die as a result of the wounds suffered during an attack in Combat!, Perry Mason is not going to lose to Hamilton Burger, and Joe Mannix is not going to be convicted of the murder for which he's so obviously being framed. Unless the actor playing the character is in a contract dispute, there's no way he's going to be killed off, jailed, or otherwise put out of the way. So you've created a storyline in which one of the major sources of suspense has already been eliminated. Yawn.

Now there's one exception to this, and it's a flimsy one: the resolution to the fake jeopardy has to be so compelling, so exciting, so fraught with suspense, that it overcomes any doubts you might have about the outcome. In Combat!, for instance, we know that Sergeant Saunders and his men are going to get out of that German ambush (we're not so sure about the guest stars, though); what's compelling is in watching just how they do it. The solution usually requires some foresight, some manuever executed due to the experience Saunders has gained from the years spent fighting in the war. In other words, cleverness counts. Likewise, if Mannix is able to escape from police custody long enough to track down the real killer, we may buy it, but only if the outcome is so propulsive, so fraught with suspense and surprise, that we watch just to see how it turns out. I mean, if you know who didn't do it, the payoff has to come from the unwinding of the story to see who did. (It also helps if Mannix beats the hell out of the killer before the police arrest him, but that's another story.)

The long and short of it is that false jeopardy is always a loser unless you can knock the viewer's socks off with the resolution. And, having watched a lot of television over my lifetime, I can tell you that this does not happen very often. When it does, it can save the episode. When it doesn't, that's when I usually start checking my email.

Closely related, but not exactly the same, is my next rule: Do not require something just short of divine intervention to get the hero out of a jam. This one gets violated more often than I'd like to admit, and when it does, it often leaves me feeling disappointed. My feeling is that a truly heroic television character always remains in control of his fate. A sports analogy here may help out. We've often heard an analyst say that Team A has their fate in their own hands, meaning that if Team A wins the remainder of their games, no matter what any other team manages to do, Team A is going to win the championship. On the other hand, many times a team will be in the position of depending on external factors out of their own control. Team A's chances of making the playoffs may depend not only on their winning the remainder of their games, but also on Team B losing at least once. But as we've seen above, if Team B wins all their games, then Team A is out of luck.

Now, obviously, television shows would be pretty dull if there weren't some manner of suspense involved. If your hero is Superman, and all of his opponents are mere mortals, you can be pretty sure that no matter what life has to throw at him, he's going to come out of it on top. He doesn't need any stinking badges, or anything else for that matter, to get him out of trouble. But suppose your hero isn't Superman, just Jim Rockford, and that he and Beth are being held hostage by a killer who's determined to eliminate them both—permanently. There are a number of ways for this to happen, but for it to be effective, it has to pass through what I like to call the "Plausibility Meter."

In writing, I use the Plausibility Meter to determine whether or not I should pursue a particular storyline. Now, by plausible, I don't mean that this has to be the only outcome, or even the likely one; it just means that it has to be realistic enough that the reader is going to buy into whatever it is you're proposing, without requiring a suspension of disbelief so massive as to be virtually impossible. To go back to our situation with Rockford and Beth, if Dennis knows that Jim was headed out to that deserted factory to find the clue pointing to the identity of the killer, and if he knows the killer is also headed for that factory, then it's entirely plausible that Dennis will head there as well; therefore, when Dennis shows up (invariably) just in the nick of time to save our hero and his girl, we're going to buy it. It might not have been the most likely resolution to the situation, but it's certainly a plausible one. We can buy the cavalry coming to the rescue at the last minute if we know that a cavalry exists, and if the cavalry knows there's trouble afoot.

On the other hand, when the hero requires a virtual Act of God to get out of a jam, then we're apt to roll our eyes. Which is what I mean when I say that the hero's fate should never be out of his own hands. Rockford works with Dennis, knows Dennis, trusts Dennis (at least most of the time). Therefore, being rescued by Dennis is, in a very real sense, a result of Rockford's own action. But when we see the equivalent of the two scientists standing at the blackboard working on a formula which can only be completed by inserting "and then a miracle occurs," we're in trouble. If the hero's survival depends on a change of heart by a heretofore cold-hearted character, or if the bad guy is knocked out just before pulling the trigger by a falling ceiling beam that just happened to have come down exactly where the bad guy was standing—well, then, Houston, we've got a problem. A very good series is entitled to a mulligan like this every once in a while, but the series has to be very good, and the frequency of this happening has to be very rare.

And now we come to Hadley's Third Law of Television Plotlines: Don't deny the viewer the pleasure of the payoff. The mystery writer Dorothy L. Sayers once said that for a mystery story to have a payoff, justice has to be visible; the balance of right and wrong must be redressed. It is why, in her opinion, any story in which the bad guys won was a violation of the natural law of things. If justice is not dispensed in a story, there can be no equilibrium, no restoration of truth.

You may think that this doesn't come into play in the examples we've been looking at here. If Saunders and his men win their battle with the Germans, if Rockford is rescued, if Mannix finds the real killer, doesn't that mean that justice has triumphed? Well, yes, but remember that storytelling is a visceral experience for the viewer or reader. In other words, the payoff at the end has to make everything they've experienced worth it. We all know by now that writers manipulate our emotions all the time; they make us hate the villain, love the heroine, boil at the sight of injustice. If they really do it well, we're not aware that we're being manipulated, but whether or not it's done well, that's what they're doing. And for this manipulation to have been worth it, we need a payoff.

What do I mean by this? Take the story of a particularly heinous criminal, a murderer, a child rapist, the worst of the worst. The capture of this vermin by the end of the story is a given (unless we're dealing with a true story, or the writer is trying to prove a larger point, which is itself an iffy proposition), but admit it—you don't want to see the detectives just slap the cuffs on them, and take them away, do you? Of course not. In a story like this, that's too good for them. You want to see the hero beat them to within an inch of their lives. You want to be assured that not only will they suffer in the process, but their future suffering is also assured. You want a visceral form of justice to prevail. If you've never felt that way, you're not human.

One of the things that makes Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer books so satisfying is that you're assured of this kind of payoff at least three or four times in every book. You live for that moment when Hammer locks the door, rolls up his sleeves, and turns the radio up high, so that nobody will hear the perp's screams as Hammer puts the fist, the boot, and the butt of the gun to them. Maybe you don't need to see all the gory details, but you need more than a subtle fade-out to the next scene to be satisfied. It's a variation of Chekhov's Gun, the principle that every element introduced in a story must be significant and relevant to the plot. In other words, if something is mentioned, like a gun, it should have a purpose later in the story; otherwise, it shouldn't be included at all. If the bad guy is as vile a character as you've been made to believe, you sure as hell want some kind of satisfaction at the end.

In the case of the Adventures in Paradise episode I mentioned at the outset, this story managed, unbelievably, to violate not one, not two, but all three of these principles before it had ended. To recap the episode, we find Adam Troy (Gardner McKay) facing the loss of his captain's license, and possibly more, due to his negligence in the death of a passenger while on a voyage. Said victim was a young man with a background of wealth and privilege, with a father determined to avenge his son's death by whatever means necessary—in this case, by blaming Adam for his son's accident.

Right away we're faced with a clear-cut case of false jeopardy: since we're in the middle of the third season, and since the very premise of the series involves McKay's adventures on his schooner, we know damn well that he's not going to be found guilty here, of negligence, or of anything else. So already we've had the violation of Hadley's First Law: the main character is in no real danger, regardless of what the writers want us to believe. We know Adam wasn't negligent, through the extensive use of flashbacks (whoops!) that show us what really happened. The trick is to get the authorities to believe it, when the only possible evidence is the testimony of a girl who can't be found, having been stashed away by the rich kid's father, henceforth known as the Rich Bastard.

Now, let's give them credit that they probably realize we're on to this trick, and therefore, they've tried to inject as much suspense as possible. Will Adam be able to find the girl in time and convince her to testify on his behalf? And here, I have to give them a little credit, because they do try to string us along for a bit. Adam does manage to find her, and she does tell him the truth, but guess what: she lies on the witness stand, because her father works for the Rich Bastard, and if she tells the truth, that the son was responsible for his own death, then daddy will find himself out of a job. But guess what? At the last minute, Dad stands up and says he'll not allow his daughter to perjure herself on his account, and insists she tell the truth.

This obviously breaks Hadley's Second Law, in a couple of ways. First, Adam had to put his trust in his ability to persuade the girl to come to his defense. This isn't necessarily an outright violation, but it does start to put a strain on the Plausibility Meter. But then we get this out-of-nowhere statement from Dad, which basically saves Adam's bacon. Who could have anticipated that? There simply wasn't enough time in a one-hour drama to develop the characters to the point that you can buy a turn of events like this. Therefore, it becomes a textbook example of being bailed out due to an improbability—a miracle, if you will.

So good triumphs over evil, Adam's name and reputation are cleared, and the Rich Bastard winds up losing. At least that's what we're told, for we don't see him actually suffer the consequences. Does he go to prison? Do the shareholders revolt, does the bad publicity cause the business to suffer, does he face public shame for his nefarious actions? Who the hell knows, because none of it gets played out on screen. There is no payoff: no comeuppance, no visible punishment. Adam doesn't even get the chance to belt him in the mouth, which was the least to which he was entitled. And us too, by the way. What is it that Mick says about not getting any satisfaction? It really had the feel of an episode in which they ran out of time and had to sum it all up in a sentence or two.

Now, lest you think I'm picking on Adventures in Paradise—well, in a way, I am. It was a disappointing episode, without a doubt. But it's far from the only series to fall into these traps, to break Hadley's Three Laws™, and it hasn't stopped us from continuing to watch.

It is rare, however, to see a single episode that manages to violate all three of these laws in the same story; a trifecta, if you will, or maybe a triple crown. Not one I'd want to win, though, because with an episode like this, there are no winners. TV

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February 18, 2026

The end of the world as we know it

You may recall that last year, I wrote an entire book about modern society's descent into hell. It rang a bell with a lot of people, who see a deterioration of the world that seems more or less inevitable now. I see more and more people reacting to our current state of being with something close to despair: some of their fears are, I think, greatly exaggerated or misplaced, but others seem to hit a little too close to home for comfort.

Perhaps you've wondered, during these times, what the end will be like, and if you'll be around to experience it. The thought raises a great many questions, both theological and philosophical. But let's face it: we're here to talk about television, and for our purposes, the major question is this: how will television cover the end times?

When Ted Turner started CNN, way back in 1980, it was with the promise that the network "would stay on until the end of the world." Now, based on the network's increasingly dwindling viewership, you might wonder if the end of the world is a little closer than you'd like to think; personally, I think it's less an indication of an approaching doomsday and more an issue of the network's mismanagement. It seems to me as if CNN lost its way some time ago, and given the uncertainties about its future ownership, it's not wrong to wonder if CNN, as we knew it, remains a viable concern.

Regardless of how one might feel about it, you can't help but note the irony of it all, especially when considering the video below: the infamous, oft-rumored and apparently confirmed, “Doomsday Video” that Turner had prepared for broadcast at the end of the world.

You may well have seen the video since it first surfaced about a decade ago. The premise is just bizarre—it sounds like something you’d see on The Simpsons, doesn’t it? In fact, it's more than a little unsettling to watch. (Having the band play "Nearer My God to Thee" is a nice touch, though.) It’s also somewhat problematic theologically, whatever your beliefs. My own thought is that the Second Coming probably won't need breaking news to announce it. But who knows? It’s not as if there's any precedent to go by.

Now, CNN is not the only network to have thought about the potential of this story; the late Roger Ailes once mentioned that Fox would be there to provide live coverage when the end comes ("God to World: It’s OVER"), and I suspect MSNow, or whatever the hell it's called nowadays, would be of the same mind ("World to End: Women, minorities affected the most"). No word if they have a similar video locked away in a secret vault.

Whatever—but if CNN still plans to air this tape when the world ends, it would first behoove them to make sure that the network doesn’t end before the world does. TV

February 4, 2026

TV Jibe: Smarter than the average bear?

January 7, 2026

TV Jibe: Violence on TV

December 10, 2025

How Hallmark comes up with its Christmas movies

As you know, it's a longstanding tradition here to present a Christmas humor piece as a gift from us to you. This year, we've been fortunate to obtain, through means that cannot be revealed, the transcript of a meeting between a famous television producer (known here as "Mike") and one of the leading executives in charge of Christmas programming at Hallmark. This heretofore secret document gives us unprecedented insight into how the network goes about developing its phenomenally successful holiday movies.

The office is sleek and modern, with a massive desk cluttered with scripts and a framed poster of a generic Hallmark movie: a couple kissing under mistletoe in a snowy small town. MS. HARGROVE, a jaded woman in her 50s with sharp glasses and a no-nonsense suit, sits behind the desk, sipping coffee. MIKE, an overly enthusiastic man in his 40s wearing a tacky Christmas sweater in July, bursts in with a thick binder under his arm.

MIKE
(breathless, grinning wildly)
Okay, MS. HARGROVE—can I call you Karen? Executive Karen? No? Fine, Ms. Hargrove. I’ve got it. The pitch that’s gonna REDEFINE Hallmark Christmas. We’re talking RATINGS GOLD. Emmy bait. No, wait—People’s Choice Award bait. Picture this: "JINGLE BELLS AND ALIEN SPELLS: A COSMIC CHRISTMAS CATASTROPHE!"

MS. HARGROVE
(sighing, not looking up from her laptop)
Mike, it’s July. We just wrapped the last batch of these sap-fests. And "Alien Spells"? Hallmark doesn’t do sci-fi. We do predictable romance with a side of fake snow.

MIKE
EXACTLY! That’s why this is GENIUS. We’re innovating. Staying true to the formula but cranking it to ELEVEN. Hear me out. Our heroine: Brittany Snowflake—wait, no, better: HOLLY EVERGREEN. She’s a high-powered corporate executive in New York City. You know, the kind who HATES Christmas because her parents died in a tragic EGGNOG-CHUGGING ACCIDENT when she was a kid.

MS. HARGROVE
(raising an eyebrow)
Eggnog-chugging? That’s… specific.

MIKE
TRAGIC! Builds sympathy. Anyway, Holly’s played by LACEY CHABERT—obviously. She’s got that girl-next-door vibe, but with a power suit. She’s all about closing deals, firing elves—wait, no elves yet. So, her boss sends her to the quaint small town of MISTLETOE MEADOWS to shut down the local… um… Christmas Tree Farm slash ALIEN ABDUCTION MUSEUM.

MS. HARGROVE
Alien Abduction Museum? Mike, if you don’t stop now, I’m calling the police. And an ambulance.

MIKE
(interrupting, pacing excitedly)
YES! It’s run by our hero, JACK KRINGLEMAN—no, JACK FROSTBITE—no, JACK KRINGLEMAN. He’s a rugged, single dad with a heart of gold and abs of steel. Played by… drumroll… RYAN REYNOLDS! But get this: Ryan as a flannel-wearing lumberjack who secretly believes in aliens because his wife was abducted by them on Christmas Eve.

MS. HARGROVE
Ryan Reynolds? In a Hallmark movie? He’d cost more than our entire budget for fake snow machines.

MIKE
(waving it off)
Details! We can CGI his face on a body double. Or get his stunt double from Deadpool. Anyway, Holly arrives in town during a FREAK snowstorm—classic—and her car breaks down right outside Jack’s farm. BOOM! Meet-cute. She slips on ice, he catches her, they share a lingering stare while "Jingle Bells" plays faintly from a passing sleigh. And the tow-truck driver who originally pulled her out of the ditch? Unbilled cameo—ROBERT DE NIRO, muttering, “You talkin’ to me? …You talkin’ to Christmas?”

MS. HARGROVE
(leaning back, arms crossed)
This sounds like every other movie we’ve made. Except for the aliens. Why aliens?

MIKE
Because it’s ABSURD! It’s satire wrapped in cheese! Okay, so Holly checks into the only inn in town, run by a quirky old couple—BETTY WHITE and MORGAN FREEMAN, because why not? Betty’s the sassy grandma who bakes cookies that predict the future, and Morgan’s the wise grandpa who quotes Shakespeare while fixing the plumbing.

MS. HARGROVE
Betty White is dead, Mike.

MIKE
(undeterred)
Deepfake! Or her hologram. Moving on. Holly’s there to appraise the farm for demolition, but Jack shows her around. They bond over decorating a GIANT Christmas tree that’s actually an ALIEN BEACON. Subtle foreshadowing. Jack’s kid—little Timmy, played by that kid from Stranger Things, but with normal ears for now.

MS. HARGROVE
Elf ears? You’re losing me.

MIKE
So, opening credits: Snowy New York skyline, "Deck the Halls" orchestral version playing. Cut to Holly Evergreen in her corner office, yelling into her Bluetooth: "No, I don't care if it's Christmas Eve tomorrow! Close the deal or you're fired!" Her assistant—played by a cameo from Ariana Grande as a perky intern—brings her coffee. "Ms. Evergreen, your flight to Mistletoe Meadows is booked." Holly groans: "Small towns are for losers and lifetime movies."

MS. HARGROVE

Lifetime? That's our competitor!

MIKE

Self-deprecating humor! Cut to the airport: Holly's luggage is a designer bag stuffed with spreadsheets. Plane lands in a blizzard—stock footage. Rental car skids into a ditch. Enter Jack: Pickup truck pulls up, window rolls down. Ryan Reynolds with a beard: "Need a lift, city girl?" She hesitates, but climbs in. Banter: "You drive like a maniac." "Better than walking in heels." Sparks fly.

Scene two: Next morning: Holly at the farm. Jack's chopping wood shirtless—in December, because hot. Timmy runs out: "Dad, the aliens are coming!" Holly: "Aliens? This town's crazier than I thought." Jack explains: "It's tradition. Every year, lights in the sky. My wife saw them up close." Flashback: Wife (played by Blake Lively, Ryan's real wife for irony) beaming up into UFO, waving goodbye.

MS. HARGROVE
Blake Lively? So now it's a family affair?

MIKE
Chemistry! Montage time: Holly in heels trudging through snow, Jack teaching her to chop wood—SEXY axe-swinging scene. She hates it at first, calls it "barbaric," but then she NAILS a log and feels EMPOWERED. Cut to them baking gingerbread men that come to life—wait, no, that’s too much. Just regular baking, with flour fights and ACCIDENTAL kisses.

MS. HARGROVE
Accidental kisses? In the first act? Pace yourself.

MIKE
Fine, lingering hand touch over the dough. Tension BUILDS. Then, the town festival: The Annual Mistletoe Meadows ALIEN SIGHTING PARADE. Everyone dresses as reindeer crossed with little green men. Holly scoffs, calls it "small-town nonsense," but Jack explains how the aliens bring MAGIC to Christmas—literally. Flashback: His wife was abducted, but she sent back a message via CROP CIRCLES saying, "Save the farm!"

MS. HARGROVE
Crop circles in snow? This is getting more demented by the minute.

MIKE
THANK YOU! That’s the point. Satire! Now, enter the villain: Ebenezer Scrooge McCorporate, Holly’s ex-boyfriend and boss, played by… TOM HANKS. But EVIL Tom Hanks, with a mustache he twirls.

MS. HARGROVE
Tom Hanks as a villain? He’d never—.

MIKE
It’s a stretch role! Oscar buzz.

Scrooge wants to turn the farm into a MEGA-MALL for Black Friday deals year-round. No Christmas spirit there. So, conflict: Holly’s torn between her job and her growing feelings for Jack. They have a BIG fight when she reveals she’s there to shut it down. She storms off into the blizzard—CLASSIC walkout.

Holly's phone rings: Scrooge says: "Demolish it by Christmas or else!" She confesses to Jack over hot cider. "I'm here to shut you down." He: "I knew it. City folks like you don't get small-town magic." Storm out. Holly cries in her room, looks at old photo of parents chugging eggnog—tragic backstory monologue: "Mom, Dad, why did you have to compete in that contest? Ten gallons was too much!"

MS. HARGROVE
Eggnog contest? You're killing me.

MIKE
No, I'm killing THEM! Emotional depth! Act two low point: Holly packs to leave. Blizzard hits. Lost in woods, snowman visions: Parents as Frosty and Mrs. Frosty: "Holly, Christmas is about heart, not charts!" Song sequence: They dance, sing "All I Want for Christmas is You" but changed to "All I Want for Christmas is True Love and Aliens Too."

Rescue: Jack on snowmobile. "Can't let you freeze. Even if you're a corporate Grinch." Back at farm, fireside chat. Jack: "My wife didn't leave; she ascended. Aliens chose her." Holly: "I lost my parents to dairy overload. We both have scars." Almost-kiss, Timmy interrupts with Comet the puppy: "He followed me from the crop circles!"

MS. HARGROVE
Again with the crop circles?

MIKE
Foreshadowing! Next day: Town meeting. The mayor, who just happens to be played by SAMUEL L. FRIGGING JACKSON, says, "Motherf— I mean, merry folks, we gotta save the farm!" Plan: Bake-a-thon with love pies to sway Scrooge. Holly bakes with Jack, flour fight turns steamy. Kiss! Finally.

But twist: Scrooge arrives early. Bulldozers rev. Town blocks them with human chain, singing carols. Holly confronts: "Tom—I mean Scrooge—this farm is more than land. It's magic!" He sneers: "Magic? Bah humbug!"

Climax: Midnight, Christmas Eve. Sky lights up. UFO descends. Alien Queen (Blake Lively in green makeup): "Jack, I've found peace in the stars. Be with Holly." Beams cosmic energy into the tree, which glows, saving Christmas. Scrooge's heart grows three sizes—literally, CGI effect. He cancels the mall: "I'm opening a charity instead!"

MS. HARGROVE
(rolling eyes so hard they nearly fall out)
Grinch rip-off. Disney will sue us into the next dimension Another lawsuit.

MIKE
Public domain now! Act two: Heartbreak and hijinks. Holly gets lost in the woods, hallucinates from the cold—visions of her dead parents as dancing snowmen, singing "Let It Go" but with Christmas lyrics. She realizes Christmas isn’t about profits; it’s about LOVE and ALIENS.

MS. HARGROVE
(to herself)
Frozen rip-off? Another lawsuit.

MIKE
Anyway, Jack rescues her on a snowmobile shaped like a sleigh. They share cocoa by the fire, he opens up about his abduction trauma. Romantic tension peaks with an almost-kiss interrupted by Timmy bursting in with a PUPPY he found—abandoned by aliens, of course.

MS. HARGROVE
A puppy? Now we’re adding animals?

MIKE
Every Hallmark needs a cute pet. This one’s named COMET, and it GLOWS IN THE DARK. Subplot: The town baker—played by MELISSA MCCARTHY as plus-sized comic relief—is secretly an alien in disguise, baking pies that make people fall in love.

MS. HARGROVE
Melissa McCarthy? Mike, the way you’re going, you’re going to need a loan from the World Bank to finance this.

MIKE
Cameo! One scene. She slips Holly a pie, and suddenly Holly’s dreaming of Jack in tights—like, superhero tights, but Christmas-themed. Wake up, embarrassment. Then, the BIG reveal: The Christmas tree farm is built on an ANCIENT ALIEN LANDING SITE. Every Christmas Eve, aliens come to recharge SANTA’S SLEIGH with cosmic energy. If the farm closes, NO MORE CHRISTMAS WORLDWIDE!

MS. HARGROVE
(sarcastically)
Oh, sure. Because Santa needs aliens. This is beyond clichéd—it’s clinically insane.

MIKE
Insanely PROFITABLE! Think merchandise: Glowing Comet plushies. Alien ornaments. Now, climax: Christmas Eve. Scrooge arrives with BULLDOZERS. The town rallies—carolers, snowball fights against the construction crew. Holly stands up to Scrooge, quits her job live on the local news (run by WHOOPI GOLDBERG in a Santa hat).

MS. HARGROVE
Whoopi? Really?

MIKE
DIVERSITY! Then, the aliens ARRIVE. Big UFO lands, beams down Jack’s wife—who’s now the ALIEN QUEEN. But she’s happy up there, gives her blessing for Jack to move on with Holly. Poof! Magic snow falls, farm saved, Holly and Jack marry under the tree, aliens as bridesmaids. Timmy: "Best Christmas ever!" Everyone kisses under mistletoe. Comet glows. Roll credits with bloopers: Ryan flubbing lines, Melissa eating real pie.

MS. HARGROVE
That’s… the end? It’s ridiculous! Aliens blessing a divorce?

MIKE
Ex-abduction! Twist: The aliens are SANTA’S ELVES from another dimension. Mind BLOWN! Fade out on the couple, kid, and glowing puppy watching the Northern Lights spell "MERRY CHRISTMAS."

MS. HARGROVE
Mike, this is the most psychotic thing I’ve ever heard. Hallmark is about feel-good romance, not sci-fi nonsense.

MIKE
But that’s why it’ll WORK! It’s meta. Poking fun at our own tropes while delivering them. Plus, casting: Lacey, Ryan, Tom, Melissa, Morgan, Betty’s ghost, De Niro’s cameo—RATINGS THROUGH THE ROOF!

MS. HARGROVE
Don’t take this the wrong way, Mike, but do you have pain with these spells?

MIKE
(continuing, even more manic)
WAIT! I forgot the B-plot: Timmy’s quest to contact aliens with a homemade radio. He befriends a stray cat that’s actually an alien scout. Cat talks—voiced by IAN MCKELLEN. Gandalf as a cat: “You shall not pass… without treats!” During the bake-a-thon, cat sneaks ingredients that make pies levitate—comedy gold.

MS. HARGROVE
(flat, pinching the bridge of her nose)
Ian McKellen is a cat. Of course he is.

MIKE
Scene: Timmy and cat in barn. Cat: “Young human, the mothership approaches.” Interwoven with main plot. Another scene: Holly’s transformation montage. From suit to flannel, city hair to messy bun. Music: Pop version of "Santa Baby" but "Alien Baby." Conflict escalation: Scrooge bribes the mayor—SAMUEL L. FRIGGING JACKSON turns it down: “I don’t do snakes on a sleigh.” Pre-climax: Holly’s big speech: “I came here to destroy, but you taught me to believe—in love, in Christmas, in extraterrestrials!” UFO arrival detail: Aliens emerge—little green men in Santa hats. Dance number: "Jingle Bell Rock" with laser lights. Resolution: Scrooge reforms. Post-credit scene: Comet beams up, becomes space dog. Sequel tease!

MS. HARGROVE
Mike, I need a drink. A very large one. Possibly intravenous.

MIKE

Now, that's just the outline. Let me flesh out more scenes. There's the subplot with the inn's haunted mistletoe—every time Holly walks under it, she gets a vision of future kids with Jack. And the rival love interest: Jack's ex-neighbor, played by Jennifer Aniston as a jealous baker who sabotages the pies.

MS. HARGROVE
Aniston? Do you have any idea how many greeting cards Hallmark will need to sell to finance this?

MIKE
Dream big! We film in Canada, use real snow. Celebrities? Negotiate. And think of the buzz!

And that's not all! We can add musical numbers. Original songs: "Alien Angel" ballad, "Mistletoe Mayhem" upbeat dance.

Casting expansions: Cameos from Hallmark alums like Candace Cameron Bure as a nosy neighbor. Or Elon Musk as himself, visiting the farm because "aliens are real, bro."

MS. HARGROVE
Elon? Now it's product placement?

MIKE
TESLA SLEIGHS! Genius.

MS. HARGROVE

Mike, I don’t know how to tell you this, but…I really think you need professional help.

MIKE

THAT’S IT!

MS. HARGROVE

(tentatively)

It is?

MIKE

(eyes lighting up like a malfunctioning Christmas tree)
A doctor! Get this: we need a scene where Holly’s having a full-on crisis of faith—“Is ANY of this real?!” So we bring in the town’s world-renowned, Nobel-Prize-level SCIENTIST-SANTA-EXPERT DOCTOR who runs the North Pole Research Institute out of the back room of the feed store. He bursts in with charts, an MRI of Santa’s brain, and a sworn affidavit from Rudolph’s nose.

The doctor who PROVES Santa Claus is real and not a delusion? NICOLAS CAGE.

Full National Treasure mode, hair flying, screaming “SANTA IS A LIVING SAINT-LEVEL ENTITY AND I HAVE THE DNA TO PROVE IT!” while waving a glowing vial of what is definitely just glitter and eggnog.

He does the whole scene in a lab coat covered in jingle bells. Oscar clip.

MS. HARGROVE

Of course. I should have seen it coming.

MIKE

So what do you think?

MS. HARGROVE

Do you really want to know?

MIKE

DYN-O-MITE, isn’t it?

MS.HARGROVE

(quiet, exhausted, staring at the ceiling like she’s praying for a meteor)
You know what, Mike? Fine. Just… lean all the way in.

Make the aliens turn out to be the actual Three Wise Men who got lost in a wormhole on the way back from Bethlehem.

And give Santa a cameo at the end—riding in on a flaming chariot pulled by eight cyber-reindeer with laser antlers.

Played by The Rock. Shirtless. In a red velvet thong.

MIKE
(eyes go saucer-wide, binder already open, pen flying)
THREE WISE MEN ALIENS!

DWAYNE JOHNSON AS BUFF SANTA IN A THONG ON A LASER-REINDEER WAR CHARIOT!

GENIUS! PURE CHRISTMAS GENIUS! I’LL HAVE THE NEW PAGES BY TOMORROW MORNING!

MIKE sprints out of the office at full speed, sweater lights blinking like a police chase. Door slams.

MS. HARGROVE
(sits in perfect silence for five long seconds)
…What have I done?

She slowly lowers her head to the desk.

Thunk.

FADE TO BLACK. TV