All Shows

Jesse, Russell, Vandy, Dawnie and Sam slurred Southern syllables and captured a nation’s interest and heart for three glorious weeks in 1999. Or something.

“Everybody’s smoking and no one’s getting high.”

It was a show about a fictional Presidency that was far superior to any of the actual ones it matched up against. President Bartlet and his motley staff were fair, just, commanding, and comedic at just the right spots. But as you might expect of a show about the President, the term eventually had to end. (Curse that pesky 22nd Amendment!) When it came time to elect someone new, NBC finally realized it should quit while it was ahead, and impeached the show. Relive the seven seasons of glory here.

It was an unambitious summer replacement show, an ensemble drama about a bunch of jerks who collected a huge payoff in the state lottery. But we say the real winners are the ones who gave up on it after four episodes. Like we did.

Lou Diamond Phillips’s waxed pecs worked very hard, Scott Bairstow and Max Wasilewski were very sexy, and young people thoughtfully got naked, but it turns out nothing can save a show that is, was, and always will be Very, Very Bad. One of its top dogs (one of many who came and went) called it “The Sopranos, but with wolves.” He will never, ever live that down. Relive the five glorious episodes of Wolf Lake, complete with lupine politics, nature footage, glowing eyes, and awful dialogue; you’ll understand why CBS and TWoP cancelled the shit out of it.

“Hello, my baby. Hello, my honey. Hello, my cancelled show.” The world isn’t big enough for two shows about disgruntled teens who obey the voices telling them to do things. This midseason replacement didn’t even get a chance. That’s what happens when you go up against God.

Savaged in the ratings by ER, railed against by mental-health advocates, Peter Berg’s psychiatric-hospital melodrama got the heave after only two episodes. You blinked, you missed ‘em — but we’ve got ‘em right here.

The first season was better than anyone (particularly in the art community) expected, but it still wasn’t museum-worthy.

Like a victim of a Stone Cold Stunner, like a recipient of a Pedigree, like a prone body being given The People’s Elbow, WWF Smackdown! is no more. The WWF lives on as the WWE, probably forever, but the recaps come to an end.