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Saturday, January 22 Rocky IV (1985)

TNT 34, 4:30 p.m.

I am an emotional trainwreck when I watch Rocky movies: my bloodstream is flooded with testosterone and adrenaline. After I change the channel I'll put my gloves on and punch the nearest face. If my roommates aren't home, I'll have to wait until a random person walks by and then I'll run out of the apartment and nail them in the beak. If I don't get it out of my system, I'll burn our building down or screw the cat or something equally unacceptable.

Doctor Zhivago (1965)

PBS 11, 9:00 p.m.

To even start out at the ground level of critical movie watching, this is required viewing. Shamefully, I have to admit that I have yet to see it. Every time I walk past it at the video store I think, you have to watch this! I never do.

Monday, January 24 Fear Factor

NBC 7, 8:00 p.m.

I fear being homeless, dying alone, or letting my love of comic books turn me into "one of them" -- you know who I mean. Sucking the juice out of a bull's intestines and then drinking the spit-up never occured to me as something to be afraid of. The stupidity of this program, its contestants, and its host is the most frightening thing of all.

Tuesday, January 25 Hannity & Colmes

FNC 37, 6:00 p.m.

Last time I watched this, the guests were debating about drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, and a headline rolled by on the scroll, "Mexican Oil Monopoly Pemex Spills 5000 Barrels of Crude Oil into Gulf of Mexico." On and on the experts debated drilling into the ANWR, and one very conservative guest was actually claiming that this could be beneficial to caribou in the area. No one brought up spills, not even the spill that had just happened that day in Mexico. The irony was killing me and I yelled, "Look down! Look at the little red letters about chest level and read them!" I don't know if it's because the lettering would be backwards to them or if they just couldn't hear me.

Wednesday, January 26 The Simple Life: Interns

FOX 6, 9:00 p.m.

I'll bet there's a Motel 6 heiress out there somewhere who just fucking hates Paris Hilton. I imagine her to be a dark, brooding type. She probably prefers writing poetry in her room to glamming it up on the New York club scene. On nights when she's really pissed she puts on black lipstick and shoves needles through a Paris doll. Whenever paparazzi hound the Hiltons on the red carpet, she screams, "SHEEP! FUCKING SHEEP!" at her TV set

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