I spent last night in a kind of energy-deprived funk and wound up watching several hours of prime-time television in the hopes of drowning myself in the Great Emanation for a time. But, man, oh man. About twelve seconds into Three Sisters I began to get the shakes. It's some wrong shit going down in there. Somebody get to Vicki Lewis. She's got that trapped look. Even the writers know it -- every scene she's in is about how unhappy she is to be there.

Also, is the Chekov-ripoff title a product of some misbegotten notion of pomo literary reference? Or is it just the result of the fact that, as far as the creators of sitcoms are concerned, no one in the world could be expected to notice or care about some moldy ol' play?