CSI-Miami. Show opens with a Who Classic Rock standard. Won't Get Fooled Again (you can make book on that).
Wait. Show of hands for any 60's rock band that would never sell out that hasn't sold out to corporate America.
Dead Silence. Except the crickets.
CSI-Miami. Starring David Caruso's sunglasses. This has got to be one of the lamest shows on TV and consists mainly of 34 minutes of Horatio Caine sliding his Ray-Bans up and out of the way while slowly cocking his head to the side. He then peers out from underneath or around the shades while uttering some stale inanity that somebody in Bruckheimer's studio thought quite clever.
I know, I know. Everybody's a critic, but if Lisa's TV didn't cost so much I'da shotgunned it while CSI-Miami was on the other night.
Yeah, yeah, I'll shaddup now, just a whiny amateur anyway. If you want serious TV commentary you gotta go to my cousin's site here where the motto is We watch TV so you don't have to. Or something like that.
As Ever, TWC