I had to watch the pilot of "Shark" in installments. That was how bad it was. After the first twenty minutes I felt so unclean that it took an entire half-season of "Scrubs" to get the bad taste out of my brain. The second third was even worse. I had to go for the big guns: "Surprise"/"Innocence," plus "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" up to the "Got the Love" sequence. Finally, my sense of duty to you the reader made me grit my teeth and bear down for the denouement. I watched it. It's over now. I highly doubt I'll ever have to watch it or think about it again. Except now I have to write about it, which by itself might be such a distasteful act that it will require seasons four through six of "Deep Space Nine" inclusive to recover.

I thought about writing a little doggerel to the tune of the "Family Guy" number. You know the one, "I've...got...JAMES WOODS!" That would have required more time and thought than "Shark" really deserves, though. So here's a bunch of thoughts, presented as quickly as I can force them out. One: This show's direct inspiration is "House." If you can make a bland, unoriginal medical show must-see TV by having the doctor be mean and nasty to his patients and underlings, then surely the same thing will work for a generic lawyer show. If you dig deeper you can see how closely the formula has been imitated. Jeri Ryan is Cuddy, the deputies are Foreman, Cameron, and Chase (except there's more of them, since it's easier to write a half-dozen one-dimensional characters than three interesting ones), and bizarrely Shark's teenage daughter is Robert Sean Leonard. Network TV is a weird and scary place. Two: Jeri Ryan can actually act. You have to close your eyes and just listen to her speak, but she can. My theory is that the human brain simply will not accept the idea that someone who looks that much like a porn star can actually be a fairly accomplished television actor. Clearly Ryan's ex-husband had the same processing problem. Three: The dynamic between Woods and the aforementioned daughter character is all wrong. A father should not approach his estranged daughter as if he wants to do her rotten. Or wait, maybe that's me. Four: At one point an opposing defense attorney tells Shark that she will "beat him like an African drum." Why doesn't she just say "like a drum" and leave out the redundant modifier? Because she's black.

Now that that unpleasant experience is behind us forever, a few thoughts about "My Name Is Earl." Did it strike anyone else that the episode aired on Thursday was unusually low-key for a season premiere? It was a nice little episode, but it was basically a three-person show and it seemed to go out of its way to avoid the big moral conclusion that most "Earl" episodes eventually ease towards. The research department (who's really earning his four bucks an hour this week, he also pitched in with that obscure reference to Jeri Ryan's ex-husband which if you didn't get I suggest you Google) has directed me towards an interview with Ethan Suplee in which the actor says the show will be taking a turn towards a more serial direction this season. Since "Earl" has already found its audience, I think that's a pretty neat idea. Certainly the concept introduced towards the end of the premiere of Joy in prison has some fascinating possibilities. I would watch a whole series centered around Joy behind bars. It could be an extended riff on those seminal late-night Cinemax women-in-prison movies. Oh, don't tell me you've never watched them.