The show gets the twisted, paranoid spirit of Washington right, even if it exaggerates the details.
In the our upcoming cover story, writer T.A. Frank takes a look at the new epidemic of television shows set in our nation's capital—"Homeland," "House of Cards," "Scandal," "The Americans," and "Veep"—to see what they say about power in today's Washington. Read the story online next week. Photo illustration by Gluekit.
Colbert and Stewart have had a week-long field day with Rob Ford drug humor, running segments called “Cracked” (“intrepid intoxicant aficionado Rob Ford”), “Canadian Enablers” (“I heard that Mayor Ford’s approval ratings went up after he said he smoked crack. You know what that makes you as a city?
He already has a show: the daily news.
Seeking laughs with a surprisingly conservative sitcom
It’s as hard to keep a longform television narrative going as it is to raise a child. Sometimes shorter forms are tempting, with old-hat conventions like climax and closure. But these longform series now have a pressing ambition to be as good as the best modern novels. That raises an awkward question: Are we watching the predicament of the characters, or the cornered rat antics of the writers?
On last night’s "The Daily Show," host Jon Stewart interviewed the excellent comedy duo Key and Peele, whose show on Comedy Central is one of the slyest, strangest treatments of race on TV. One sketch featured an inner-city substitute teacher who insists on changing his name from Aaron to A.A.Ron. In another, they played slaves on an auction block, at first intent on rebelling but unable to resist the urge to compete over who gets sold first.
In the November 25th issue of the magazine, I wrote about the spectacle of Piers Morgan's gun control crusade, which required watching a brain-melting number of hours of Morgan's CNN show. So here are some of the most egregious moments from his past year of tabloidism as activism:
For four decades Ned Beatty has been the unofficial spokesmodel of Appalachian tourism. Even if Beatty, scrambling around in the woods wearing his tighty-whities, isn’t anchored in your somatic memory—even if you have no idea who Ned Beatty is—you know what his character endured in the 1972 film Deliverance.