It's really hard to watch this show without judging it directly against the million other food competitions on TV or against The Voice, since it has co-opted its format nearly identically, minus the annoying spinning chairs and Christina Aguilera's tacky wardrobe. It's not really a bad show in any way, but we can't help but think of the pissing contest that The Voice has become, or of all those chef vs. chef team shows on Food Network, and worry that this will quickly devolve into something more grating.

Justified's killer third season justifies our love for the FX series.

Hell hath no fury like an angry former child actor who hates his own show.

I cannot begin to tell you how low my expectations were for Animal Practice, NBC's newest sitcom in which longtime Weeds actor Justin Kirk plays a wacky veterinarian. I have been suffering through Weeds for so many seasons that, frankly, this show sounded like some kind of sick joke my co-workers were playing on me and the addition of the monkey made the prank just plain sloppy.

It's the most wonderful time of the year for SOAPnet fans.

'Tis the season for repeat hosts.

It seemed a given that Danny Gokey was going to torture us with his boring stylings, ever-present glasses and heart gestures right up until the bitter end of American Idol, but the American public didn't agree and sent him packing last week. During a press conference call, Gokey talked incessantly about wanting to design a line of eyeglasses, or be a glasses model, and also about his charity and being inspiring and all that crap. That was all really boring though. Here are the slightly more interesting tidbits from the call.

I have a bone to pick with you, Sesame Street. I'll give you the Feist sing-along skit -- who can really eff with "1 2 3 4 Monsters Walking 'Cross the Floor"? And I'll most assuredly give you St. Neil as the Shoe Fairy because, um, genius? But what's all this celeb-courting, high-concept, vaguely inappropriate biznass of late? When you have Kim Cattrall invoking her sexed up cougar incarnation Samantha Jones in close proximity to Oscar's trash can, I can't help but wonder if things have gone a little too far. Playing up to the parents is nothing new -- cuz really, is a kid who doesn't yet know how to control his bowels gonna get a 30 Rock parody? -- but when we have Jonah Hill, who is known nearly exclusively for playing sailor-mouthed stoners, waxing poetic about mustaches that look like outtakes from a seventies porno, it's time to rein it the hell in. What sorts of values are we teaching kids when a talking cake tries to make out with Jessica Alba? US Weekly will have them in a death vice soon enough. Does the one unspoiled place where a kid can hang out with monsters and learn to tie his shoes in peace need to beat the trashy tabs to the punch?