The Sitcom Bible decrees, in large gothic letters, that a disparate group of people, usually coworkers or family, argue and insult each other for twenty minutes until finally coming together at the end of the episode to show they still care about one another and reassure the audience everything is okay again in the Land of Laughter.

It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia doesn’t do that.   In fact, for half a decade now it’s done exactly the opposite.  A typical episode begins with the owners of Paddy’s Pub having a meeting of the minds about a given issue, be it gun control, abortion, the disabled, home makeovers, gay marriage, etc., and then rapidly disintegrating into warring factions until they’ve been psychically crushed, harshly disillusioned, and thoroughly defeated.  The fact that The Gang never comes together is what drives the comedy, and why I consider It’s Always Sunny to be the great anti-sitcom.

Conceived by Rob McElhenney as a low budget vehicle for him and his friends, fellow writer-actors Glenn Howerton and Charlie Day, the show was originally going to follow the travails of small time thespians in L.A.  The F/X network thought the home shot pilot (a shorter version of the ep that eventually became “Charlie Has Cancer”) was funny enough, but they made two critical notes:  1) A broad audience would not connect with Hollywood based actors, and 2) the show needed a female part to offset the three guys.  Thus the show was reimagined as being about three young tavern owners in McElhenney’s native Philly:  “Mac” (McElhenney), whose grasp of the religion he professes to believe is about as loose has his grasp of the martial arts he thinks he’s learned from too many late night movies;  “Dennis” (Howerton), the vain and boorish “brains” of the group, with a penchant for lame 80’s music and solving any problem by popping his shirt (“Let the pecs do the talking.”); and “Charlie” (Day), the illiterate and unstable emotional grenade who nevertheless has hidden talents for music, taking a punch and sewing.  To address the female character, Kaitlin Olson of the Groundlings was added as “Deandra” aka “Sweet Dee” aka “Dee,” the twin sister of Dennis, a failed actress who started out as the voice of reason but soon – at Olson’s urging – revealed herself to be every bit as selfish, bigoted and psychotic as the guys.

The Sitcom Bible further decrees your characters must be likeable, but The Gang at Paddy’s Pub are the worst people in the world.  In Season 1’s second (and best) episode, “Charlie Wants an Abortion,” Mac jumps whole heartedly into the anti-abortion movement, first for vague religious reasons, but then to impress a hot girl who works for the cause.  After an afternoon quickie in her car, she tells him she’s pregnant.  Mac’s immediate reply:  “You gotta get an abortion.”  Meanwhile, Dennis decides to join the pro-choice side because they seem to have even hotter women, until his unsubtle come-ons earn him one rejection after another.  At which point, he jumps ship to the anti-abortionists.  Meanwhile, Charlie makes an effort to bond with the boy he supposedly fathered with a loose girl in high school.  Only the kid is an awful, racist brat, so Charlie finally resorts to getting the child drunk.  It’s a beaut of an episode, expertly setting up its payoffs, and demonstrating the show’s disdain for traditional sitcom paradigms of loveable characters and happy outcomes.

After a hilarious but little watched first season comprising just seven episodes, F/X renewed the series on condition that Danny DeVito add a little star power as “Frank,” wealthy but avaricious father of Dennis and Dee.  Revelling in their misanthropic lifestyle, he quickly makes himself a partner at the pub and a roommate of Charlie’s.  If the first season pushed the boundaries of good taste, the second season kicked ‘em right over the cliff.  The dynamic of these five horrible people ruining their own lives and those of everyone they came in contact with made for such gaspingly funny eps as “Charlie Gets Crippled” (the gang tries to benefit from faking disabilities), “Mac Bangs Dennis’ Mom” (in which said banging leads to a chain of revenge bangings) and, most memorably, “The Gang Exploits a Miracle (Dee attempts to seduce a priest so he’ll bless a stain in the pub’s bathroom).

Fans of the show generally agree that second season’s ten eps were the show at its fearless best, and I would put the third season right up there as well, particularly “Dennis and Dee’s Mom is Dead,” “Sweet Dee’s Dating a Retarded Person,” and the epic two-parter, “The Gang Gets Whacked.”  Since then, It’s Always Sunny has brought more writers aboard and while the show is often still funny, it’s become more hit or miss.  I wasn’t really loving this current season, it’s sixth, until last week’s superb “Who Got Dee Pregnant?,” written by McElhenney and Day, showed this series can still deliver huge laughs like little else on TV.  Slyly incorporating Kaitlin Olson’s real life pregnancy into the show (she and McElhenney are married in real life), Dee tells the guys one of them impregnated her at Paddy’s Halloween party.  Of course, they were so drunk they can’t remember that night, and so we get several Rashomon style flashbacks as Charlie, Mac an Dennis relive the eventful night as they each recall it before “browning out” (Dennis’s term).  Olson is a very attractive blonde yet a running gag is the guys always ridiculing Dee’s looks, likening her to a giant bird.  So the episode’s crowning gag is when Mac recalls the party, Dee is portrayed by a live ostrich.  It’s a joke five years in the making and I ruptured my spleen, I was laughing so hard.  Seriously, I need someone to take me to the doctor ‘cause I don’t like the look of what I’ve been coughing up.

Next time on, we check in again on the rolling trainwreck that is Survivor: Nicaragua.  Eat up!

About a year-and-a-half ago, a group of friends and I gathered for a DVD comedy marathon.  Everyone attending was instructed to bring in their favorite episode of a half-hour comedy series, along with something delicious.  We kicked back for several hours, ate, drank, and watched a wide assortment of shows from traditional sitcoms like the little seen but highly regarded Buffalo Bill and everpopular 3^rd Rock from the Sun, to subversive favorites like the still-going-strong South Park, animated cult classic Frisky Dingo, and (my pick) the brilliant anti-sitcom It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.  As the afternoon wore on, I noticed two important things:

1. We ran out of kettle chips far too early
2. Not everyone laughed at the same thing

I suppose, in retrospect, this should not have been so surprising.  After all, kettle chips are deep fried, salty heroin.  But as for why some people laughed more at John Lithgow than Eric Cartman, or howled at Kaitlin Olson while rolling their eyes at Dabney Coleman…who can say?  One of the great mysteries of human existence is how our sense of humor works.  As kids, we all love slapstick and anything else where adults act like idiots.  Which is why cartoons and C-SPAN are such a hoot.  But as we grow older, our sense of humor develops and becomes individualized, much like our taste in music.  Everyone likes Adam Sandler, right?  Wrong!  I find his retarded manchild shtick painful and repetitive.  Yet I’m the only person in the known universe who enjoys Ishtar, the biggest comedy flop in recorded history.  Two and a Half Men and Glee are more popular than free money, and I respond to them like a cancer diagnosis.  And yet I laugh like a mental patient on helium at Arrested Development, even though its ratings were somewhere south of nonexistant.  Point is, I can’t tell you what’s funny.

Except this one time.

Community is funny.  And I don’t mean a chuckle here and there funny, or an occassional line you share with a coworker funny.  I mean, it’s a show you have to DVR and pause over and over ‘cause you’re laughing so hard funny.  Now in its second season on NBC, Community is about Jeff Winger (Joel McHale), a vain, fast talking lawyer disbarred after it’s discovered he didn’t graduate from Columbia University, but Colombia the country.  In order to get a quick degree, he enrolls at Greendale Community College where he starts a Spanish study group, initially to hit on a gorgeous but earnest ex-Peace Corps volunteer named Britta (Gillian Jacobs).  Also in the study group are Abed (Danny Pudi), a half-Palestinian half-Polish pop culture savant who may have Aspergers; Annie (Alison Brie), an overachieving, recovering pill addict; Pierce (Chevy Chase), a wealthy old buffoon who has no idea how racist and horrible he often is; Shirley (Yvette Nicole Brown), a Christian single mother whose sunny nature can turn ferocious when challenged; and Troy (Donald Glover), a former high school star quarterback given to surprising outbursts of emotion.  The group – which of course we never see actually study – comes to form a surrogate family.  Cynical and selfish as Jeff often is, he slowly comes to be a better person thanks to the hilarious, weird and at times sincere lessons he learns from this odd collection of people.  No, it’s not a groundbreaking concept.  What is original is how the show sort of knows it’s a show.  Although series creator Dan Harmon has banned certain meta cliches like characters addressing the camera or having flashbacks, Greendale is a place where almost anything can happen, from an STD Fair (“Catch knowledge!”) to a spot-on Goodfellas parody centered around who controls the distribution of cafeteria chicken fingers, to full-blown open warfare when a campus paintball match gets way, way out of control (the prize is early registration).  It’s one of the smartest shows on TV, designed to look a bit over the top, which only gives the satire more bite.  Ironically, Community is up against Big Bang Theory, a particularly stupid show which pretends to be about smart people.

Like all great shows Community is only as good as its cast, and this is as good a comedy ensemble as you’re likely to find.  Joel McHale, already a proven comic ace from hosting The Soup, makes a perfect deadpan lead, firing off snarky lines like tracer bullets.  Those who only know the stunning Alison Brie as “Trudy Campbell” on Mad Men will be amazed how different and funny her performance is as the sweet but high strung Annie.  Danny Pudi, a skilled mimic, gets both laughs and surprising but well-earned sympathy as Abed, the film geek whose father wants him to run the family falafel stand.  I’ll say it right here and now; I haven’t liked Chevy Chase since he was opening Saturday Night Live every week with a pratfall.  But damn if he hasn’t found his redemption, absolutely killing it as the politically incorrect Pierce.

Abed:  You said I was a terrorist.

Pierce:  If I’m wrong, I apologize.  And if I’m right, I’m a hero.  I like those odds.

Annie:  You said I had a crafty Jew brain.

Pierce:  No one knows how to take a compliment!

And yes, he still does his own pratfalls.  Perhaps the biggest surprise is Gillian Jacobs, an actress given to more serious parts who plays Britta.  She starts as the relative straight person but once her ego and emotions get the best of her, she becomes a female doppelganger for Jeff.  After they finally sleep together, she confronts Jeff’s snotty girlfriend:  “Jeff needs a girl who doesn’t just not wear underwear because Oprah told her it would spice things up, he needs a girl who doesn’t wear underwear because she hasn’t done laundry in three weeks. He’s been to flavor country now, they should retire the table we did it on.”  Other standouts include Jim Rash of the Groundlings as overenthusiastic pansexual Dean Pelton and former doctor turned standup Ken Jeong as psychotic Spanish teacher Senor Chang.

Community debuted last season along with another great sitcom, Modern Family (see my write-up from three weeks ago).  Modern Family has gone on to become a massive hit because it deals with the familiar; we all have families, and we all see ourselves in the characters.  Community, on the other hand, asks the audience to embrace characters who are, at first, a bit off-putting and – let’s be blunt – failures.  However, we come to revel in their small victories because they’re failures trying to make themselves winners.  It’s edgier.  If Modern Family is the Beatles, Community is the Rolling Stones.  We all love “Hey Jude,” but where would the world be without “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction?”

Watching Survivor: Nicaragua is like watching your favorite band go on tour again…and they suck.  After enduring five episodes, I have concluded this is the worst season ever.  Even previous lowpoints like Survivor: Africa, Survivor: Fiji and Survivor: Gabon had standout players like Lex, Yau-Man, and Sugar.  This current cast, however, is devoid of anyone close to sympathetic, strategic or capable.  And remember, I’m the guy who liked Russell.  Just imagine what that angry little man could do to this bunch.  Hell, deluded dragon slayer Coach could school these morons, and still have plenty of time left over for fake tai-chi and misquoting MLK or Gandalf.

With the exception of Tyrone, every person voted off has talked themself out of the game.  And NaOnka, arguably the worst human being ever permitted on the show or this planet (more below), followed in the sad footsteps of Wendy, Shannon, Jimmy Johnson and Jimmy T., and basically told the tribe to vote her off.  It would’ve happened too, had Dan and Holly not switched sides to vote with the younger players and dump taskmaster Tyrone.

Dan and Holly…lord, save us.  I’ve watered things with more mobility and intelligence than Dan.  The man moves slower than a washed up corpse at low tide.  Plus, who wears alligator loafers in the Nicaraguan jungle?  Who wears alligator loafers anywhere?  Unless you’re under subpoena, there’s no excuse.  I must admit, I did enjoy watching Holly sink those offensive things.  But that’s only ‘cause I assumed Holly was going home that week and we were witnessing one last dingbat outburst before her ejection.  How was I to know freakin’ Jimmy Johnson would talk her into staying, and talk himself off instead?  Holly has that authentic smack ‘o crazy that is only seen in correctional facilities, psychiatric wards, and Glenn Beck rallies.  No wonder she bonded so quickly with that other Zoloft case, the truly loathsome NaOnka.

As you know, I’ve championed a fair number of villains in the past beginning with Richard Hatch in the first season and continuing all the way up to the aforementioned Russell Hantz.  Despite offending some viewers and/or their fellow castaways, these guys had some strategic sense.  I’ve no clue what NaOnka’s game is besides venting a life’s worth of bad decisions on a dumb guy and an amputee.  “I’m ‘hood, not ghetto,” she told us after stealing socks from poor dim Fabio.  Exactly which ‘hood would that be where physically abusing a legless woman is considered perfectly acceptable?  ‘Cause that moment where she knocked Kelly B. to the ground to snatch an idol clue was the single most revolting thing I’ve ever seen on television, and that includes Desperate Housewives in hi-def.  NaOnka cannot win.  I know she still has the Immunity Idol, but you know what?  She can have ten idols, an alliance with half her tribe, and Jesus owing her money.  She’ll still lose, because she’s a horrible person and no one’s gonna give her a million dollars.  Plus rain makes her cry.  And all those alliance partners of her’s who didn’t raise any objections when she slapped down Kelly B.?  Benry, Brenda, Chase, Kelly S., Sash…  All dead to me.  I’d defend Kelly B. more if she stood up for herself once in a while, but she’s wilted like a stepped-on daisy instead of the tri-athlete she was before the show.  If NaOnka had treated me like that, I’d calmy look her in the eye and tell her I’m a human being, I deserve as much respect as anyone on that island, and our survival as a team depends on us all getting along as a family.  Then I’d wait ‘til she fell asleep, hold a wet rag over her face until she stopped thrashing, and toss her body into the surf for the tide to take out.  But that’s just me.

An argument could be made that Marty is playing a strategic game.  Then again, an argument could be made that a race of super intelligent woodchucks live in the Arctic Circle.  An insane argument, yes, but an argument nonetheless.  Fact is, Marty only thinks he’s playing strategically.  Getting rid of the two Jimmy’s instead of batsh*t Holly and walking dead Dan was not strategy; it was ego gratification.  Marty won over Dan by telling him to think how great it would be to go back to NYC and brag to his pals that he took down the great Jimmy Johnson.  And Dan bought that argument ‘cause he’s dense as a stale cheesewheel.  A strategic player would’ve kept the high-profile NFL coach and the loudmouth fisherman to deflect attention from himself.  That’s why Russell, the master of the universe, kept Mick around.  Remember Mick?  Of course not, he was worthless, but he was a handsome doctor who everyone (including Mick himself) assumed was the leader of his tribe, when it was really Russell pulling the strings.  After the tribal switchup in last night’s ep (a sure sign the producers knew this season was DOA even while filming), Marty told his new tribe he had the idol because he rationalized Jane would’ve done so anyway.  A strategic player, instead, would’ve convinced Jane into sticking with her fellow older players instead of letting her go over to the kids.  Marty, just because you’re well-spoken doesn’t necessarily mean you’re the smartest.  It just means you’re the most eloquent idiot.  I suppose I could give props to Jill for riding the Marty ego train while laying low herself – she’s the one castaway I’m positive will make the merge – but like Kelly B., she’s too passive for her own good.

Brenda is becoming 3% less hot each episode.  Don’t ask how I calculated that; she just is.  While she still has a rockin’ bod, her face gets progressively more jack o’ lantern-like every week.

So to sum up:  A season of dumb, loathsome castaways, no strategies, and the only real hotty has a head that’s slowly starting to resemble a carved pumpkin.

Next time on TV Chile, Community.  Eat up!

I watch a lot of television.  I’m single, childless, and have my own not-too-creepy apartment with no roommate whose feelings I need to consider or whose death I have to plot.  So if I’m not flipping between History Channel, MSNBC, and whatever movie channel Comcast has conned me into paying for this month, I’m tearing through my DVD collection to do marathons of Arrested Development, Buffy, Deadwood, It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia, The Office, The Simpsons, etc.  This weekend I plan to watch Community Season 1 until my eyeballs dehydrate either from lack of sleep or me drooling over Alison Brie in a succession of short skirts.  Since I already have enough shows to keep me occupied, I am extremely wary of taking on any news ones.  Plus, I have all the patience of a two-year-old  whose juice box was replaced with a can of Code Red Mountain Dew so for me to start watching a new series, I have to be hooked from the very first viewing.

I did not start watching The Amazing Race until the summer of 2003.  By then the show was already a critical darling and had a small but fervent following.  None of that mattered to me, as I had just finished doing commentary for the sixth season of Survivor and the last thing I wanted to do was watch another reality show.  I think I also felt an aversion towards a show that took Survivor’s Thursday 8 p.m. timeslot for the summer, like it was some sort of stinky squatter playing off-key Phish tunes on a cheap guitar in the drawing room while the mansion’s owners are at Newport.  But there I was that July night, flipping channels and finding nothing else on, so I decided what the hell, I’d give this Race thingee a shot.  If it sucked, I could always…oh god, what do people do when they’re not watching television?  I really, really, REALLY hoped it wouldn’t suck.

That summer was The Amazing Race’s fourth season.  Hardcore fans who have watched since the beginning tend not to like this edition, if only because it wasn’t as all-get-out-awesome as the first three stellar seasons.  But I hadn’t seen those earlier races so the fourth season was my first taste, and I by the quarter-hour commercial I was hooked.  It took me less than ten minutes to decide Jon and Al (“Best Friends/Clowns”) were my favorite team, as they were not only fast but never failed to bust out the red noses and juggling whenever opportunity presented itself.  This was the season of air traffic controllers, models, football wives, asthmatics, and a gay couple, Reichen and Chip, who finished in the top three in nine of the thirteen legs, and ended up edging past engaged but bickering Kelly and Jon for the win.  I loved every minute, even if the clowns only finished in fourth.  I also liked the host, genial and unflappable Phil Keoghan.  He was cool autumn to Jeff Probst’s torrid summer.  No, I have no idea what I mean by that, either, but maybe it’ll make sense later.  Anyway, I’ve watched every race since, and caught the first three seasons when they were syndicated on GSN.  For my money, the best races were indeed those initial three, but I also really like Season 12.  That was the race that gave us dating goths, grandsons and grandfathers, and old school Chinese-American dad Ronald never missing an opportunity to belittle his daughter Christina, and speaking my favorite line ever:  “I’m optimistic with the real truth flavor.”  Worst season?  It’s a tie between Season 8 (the dreaded Family Edition) and Season 9, which featured the two most unlikeable teams in the show’s history (cloying hippies BJ and Tyler, frat tools Eric and Jeremy) making it all the way to the end.  While Survivor has always been a ratings juggernaut, The Amazing Race continues to pull solid if unspectacular numbers.  Nevertheless, it has snagged Emmy after Emmy for best reality series, and gets more applications than any other show.  If Survivor is a Rolls-Royce, The Amazing Race is a Bentley; not quite as well known, but sportier with lots of racing trophies.

As of this writing, we’re two episodes into Season 17.  I generally don’t care much for early episodes because there’s too many new faces to keep track of, and all the blonde women – seven this season – look identical when running through airports or falling out of boats.  Brook, Mallory, Katie, Stephanie, Rachel…it’s one pale yellow blur.  Here are the teams this season:

Ron and Tony (“Best Friends”); no sense of direction or balance doomed them on Leg 1.

Nick and Vicki (“Dating”); stupid but inoffensive.  Vicki’s got more ink on her than the Sunday Times color supplement.  Don’t expect to see them much longer.

Nat and Kat (“Doctors”); hot and smart, without the squealy “girl power” nonsense or pathetic flirting other female teams indulge in.  My favorites so far.

Michael and Kevin (“Father/Son”); the anti-Ron and Christina.  Old Taiwanese-born Michael is sweetly enthusiastic and kind of goofy, but Kevin is being as patient as he can.  Still, I think they both know Michael probably won’t be able to finish.

Katie and Rachel (“Beach Volleyball Partners”); really, that’s their job?  Plus I can’t tell ‘em apart.

Jill and Thomas, Chad and Stephanie (“Dating”); same teams with different names.  I think Stephanie is the one with shorter hair but, honestly, I don’t care.

Gary and Mallory (“Father/Daughter”); not as unbearable as I imagined.  Gary is pretty mellow, but bug-eyed Mallory always looks ready to laugh, cry and have a nervous breakdown all at the same time.

Connor and Jonathan (“Ivy League A Capella Singers”); aka guys who never got laid in college.  This season’s designated “nerds” but truth be told, they’re pretty funny and yes, they do sing well.  My second favorites.

Brook and Claire (“Home Shopping Hosts”); the team I’m most conflicted about.  They’re hyper and girly and doubtlessly have stuffed unicorns on their beds.  And did Brook really have to force a kiss on the poor tractor driver who told them which way was north?  On the other hand, Claire had the single best moment of reality TV this season when she tried to launch a watermelon with a giant medieval slingshot and somehow managed to shoot it back into her own face.  An average watermelon weighs three pounds, so that was almost 50 ounces of hard, speeding fruit smashing into her head at about 300 feet per second.  It was as awesome as it sounds, and I dare the hosts of Jackass to come up with anything better.  Anyway, Claire confessed her face felt numb from the impact, but she went right on ahead and completed the roadblock.  So I gotta give props.

Andie and Jenna (“Birth Mom/Daughter”); another team I was conflicted over.  Yeah, it’s real sweet Jenna wanted to reconnect with her birth mother, and it was lucky Andie was open to the idea.  But is a nationally viewed reality show the best place to do it?   They got eliminated before we could get a definitive answer.

I liked the 90 minute premeire episode with its Ye Olde England locale and knights of yore challenges, but the second ep in Ghana was, well, pretty damn depressing.  Much as I usually enjoy this show, I cannot stand when the racers (most whom are white and affluent) are sent into poverty-stricken Third World cities and the roadblock calls for them to sell goods to the locales, in this case cheap sunglasses.  It just feels sad and exploitive (Kat really looked like she hated every second) and, in this episode, it went on way too long.  Plus the pacing felt off, as the pit stop appeared rather early.  However, things dramatically picked up in the last quarter where the remaining teams had to get through heavy traffic, and a couple of the more daring cab drivers sped against on-coming cars to overtake the slow backup.  Seriously, it was like a Bourne movie!  And the show won back my love, like it always has since that summer night in 2003.

Next time on TV Chile, we’ll check back in with Survivor and what could be its worst season yet.  Eat up!