Finally caught up with "VM" tonight. (Also this week's installment of "The Office," where the workplace boredom-beating made for one of the truest, and best, episodes of the American show so far.) I am confused, concerned and delighted. I bow to series creator Rob Thomas, and to Diane Ruggiero, "VM" co-executive producer and a writer who has made an enormous contribution to the show.

I get a little uneasy when I think about how much I have come to care about the "VM" characters, since they are all fictional, and I have plenty of people to care about in real life. But I found myself wanting to talk to Keith Mars about this whole running-for-sheriff thing. He's an idealist, after all, and he's running for the best of reasons — to do good for people who aren't getting much good from the current sheriff. But it feels as if no good can come of this. Has he forgotten that Veronica's messed-up, thieving mom is still out in the world somewhere, an opposition-research squad's dream?

But so often "Veronica" is about bad things happening to good people. (More dread: Wallace's budding relationship with a girl who looks like big trouble.) Nor is justice always done. And even when bad things are happening, they are often presented matter-of-factly, very "this is the way of the world." Characters may win in a specific situation, but the institutions of corruption have not been toppled. And, as was so painfully clear last night, the truth does not always set you free of pain and misery.

Because its world is so complicated, I love this show even when the characters are trapped in sadness.

Well, they did switch tribe members tonight, and Brooke was voted off by her reconfigured group, and Stephenie really is beginning to look cursed — as she admits — since even a change of tribe couldn't keep her out of tribal council.

To which I say, enh.

Compared to "Survivor: Palau," "Survivor: Guatemala" just isn't doing it. I've already complained about it some, but I've kept watching and still am not feeling the magic. This one feels flat. The personalities don't compel, for good or bad — no Tom, no Rupert, no Boston Rob. And as much as I liked Stephenie last time around, she seems like just another player now. The biggest continuing drama on the show is how long Gary will keep denying his NFL past. And that's not all that exciting, either.

I'm reminded of the way the "Amazing Race" fans at my office have been talking about the current "family edition." They're watching — and so I am — but they feel disappointed — and so do I. Here, the personalities are all right, some likable, some not. I can muster at least a mild rooting interest in some. But seeing people getting lost near Washington, D.C., doesn't feel the same as people getting lost on a dirt road in a foreign land. I mean, they're building suspense around whether people should stop for gas!

I suppose the whole "discover America" bit is good for kids in the audience (and with this installment featuring families, more families with children may be watching). Some may even be turning to parents and saying, "Gee, can we go see that battlefield?"

To which the wise parent will reply, "Yes, as long as we don't have to carry someone on a stretcher."

Digression: Given how easily the family with young children handled the stretcher, why would the all-grown-up families have trouble?

Digression the second: I see that praying will be an issue on next week's "Survivor." And have made note of some heavy praying on this "Amazing Race." I've no problem with prayer. But I often find it interesting what people pray for. Praying for strength and wisdom is fine. Praying to find the next marker on "Amazing Race" strikes me as too, uh, specific.

Resumption: I will still be watching "Survivor" and "Amazing Race" again next week. I'll also be hoping they get better.

The other day, my wife was checking out some baseball highlights online. (The best was that Ronnie Belliard catch.) Before some of the highlights showed, there was a promotional spot for hurricane relief.

All right, so that was for charity. But this morning, I decided to look at the online video selections from the Cream reunion concert. And before some songs played, I had to sit through an actual commercial.

Where there are moving pictures, there is advertising. It might be the ads we see in movie theaters. Or the promotional spots on DVD collections (and, before that, on VHS). Or, now, ads with video online. (And I'm not even going to start a rant about pop-up ads. There's not enough time.)  It's annoying as all get out, like a surtax. You pay for a DVD, putting the cash directly in the distributor's pocket. Or you pay for an online service. Then they extract a little extra, in the form of their ads and your time.

Nature of the beast, I know. But it also makes even good things feel cheap.

On Tuesday, NBC announced a full-season pickup for "My Name Is Earl," the very funny sitcom starring Jason Lee. Today, UPN gave a full-season order to "Everybody Hates Chris,"  the even funnier sitcom based on Chris Rock's youth.

That's a lot of good news. Not only does it suggest that TV audiences are finding laughs in prime time, it shows an embrace of a couple of quirky, unconventional comedies.

I've been thinking for some time about why some of the current comedies and good, and some are not.

"Joey," for one, seems better than last season — and it was by no means terrible then — but it's still something I watch more out of obligation than desire. It just feels old, as if you can predict the joke before it hits.

And what can we say about the live season premiere of "Will & Grace," where the funniest bits involved Debra Messing and Sean Hayes fighting the urge to crack up? And the funniest character was Alec Baldwin's? (But that was true quite a bit last year. Baldwin knows where the laughs are — look at his work for "Saturday Night Live," for one thing, or his performance in "State & Main.")

But that doesn't explain why audiences haven't been drawn to other shows that are quirky and very funny, like "Arrested Development." I suspect that "Arrested" just isn't likable enough. Almost all the characters are messed up, and the sane center — Michael Bluth — suffers considerably because the insanity around him is unrelenting. "My Name Is Earl" has its share of eccentrics, but they're more benign, and Earl is in a situation that allows him frequent success. "Everybody Hates Chris" is awash in well-intentioned characters, even if their intentions lead to odd behavior. "Arrested Development" is closer in tone to "Curb Your Enthusiasm," another love-me-or-hate-me show, and one with a boutique-sized audience.

Still, I'm happy that "Earl" and "Chris" are going to be around longer. And "Arrested Development" has at least lasted long enough to yield two DVD collections; the second season comes out next week, and I was laughing even at the deleted scenes.

I managed yesterday to get through an episode of "Gilmore Girls." It was the one from a week ago, but at least I can now watch the latest one.

It's sitting in my DVR, along with some other things from last night. I did see "My Name Is Earl," although I watched the last few minutes about an hour after I saw the beginning, and "The Amazing Race," which my wife and I watched around 10:30 because we had been doing things earlier in the evening.

I love my DVR, by the way. I used to be a compulsive archivist, taping things for future reference and viewing. (As you'll recall, I recently unearthed my tapes of the Indians' 1995 postseason games.) But the tapes, often unmarked, formed huge piles and I would end up never watching a lot of them. With the DVR, I have a list of what's recorded and when, and I don't have to go looking for a tape; the recording is already in the machine. The toughest part of the process is remembering which show is on which DVR. All right, that's the second toughest. The toughest is finding the time to watch everything.

Of course, the convenience of the DVR has a drawback. Since you can pause or stop a show you're watching, then come back to it later, there's a greater likelihood that you will watch things in pieces. I mentioned "Earl." And during "Amazing Race," we stopped watching for a bit to discuss something with our son, then went back to viewing where we had left off. The same thing happens with DVDs. I'll start an episode (Right now, I'm obsessively watching the first season of "Veronica Mars") and, if I'm lucky, watch one after another. More often, though, I'll start an episode, then stop to do other things, then go back, then end up stopping again.

Of course, we've done this in lower-tech ways before. VHS allowed you to play back a recorded show and stop when you needed. Commercials are also a form of TV interruptus, although that's involuntary, since the programmers are deciding when to stop things, not you. But we've all enhanced the commercial interruption with an even more significant break in concentration by using the parade of commercials to hit the bathroom or the kitchen.

Still, the DVR makes such breaks easier and so, I think, more likely. And that makes it even more important for people who make shows to keep us focused — since we can stop and leave a recorded show at any time, and we may not come back. One reason I know how good "Earl" is: I really wanted to get back and see those last few minutes.

Nipsey Russell, the comedian and TV mainstay, has reportedly died. (One report is here.)

When I heard the news, I dug out my copy of the book "TV Game Shows" (by David Schwartz, Steve Ryan & Fred Wostbrock) because it was on game shows that so many people came to know, and like, Russell.

Yes, he did other things, notably the big-screen version of "The Wiz." Though not a success in many ways, the movie was a triumph for Russell as the Tin Man. Donald Bogle, a tough critic and historian, said of the movie that "Seeing Russell is a joy. 'The Wiz' affords him a rare opportunity to do something special on screen, and he delivers. Weak as the film is, the role's the best of his career."

But it was television that sustained him, especially game shows. He was a frequent guest on "Match Game," for instance. But he was also seen as important to the games.

You can see that in the "TV Game Shows" book by looking at how often he was a guest on a game's premiere — on "Chain Reaction" and a '70s version of "Masquerade Party" and an '80s version of "To Tell the Truth." (He also hosted a short-lived show, "Your Number's Up," in the mid '80s.) It doesn't matter if those shows were successful or not; what matters is that, when they wanted to make a great impression at the beginning, they looked to Russell to provide it.

A few minutes before 9 on Sunday night, I gave myself a mental foreheard-pound. I had forgotten to watch "The West Wing."

It wasn't a big weekend for watching TV. There were chores — I spent Saturday morning trimming a metal door so it would pass easily over a new carpet — and obligations. The latter included completing a newsletter for a school group we work with, the running off 5,000 copies at the school on Sunday, then folding the copies. We're still folding.

I did squeeze in some TV here and there, both new ("Desperate Housewives" while folding newsletters, the season premiere of "Saturday Night Live") and catch-up (recordings of "Joey," the live "Will & Grace," "My Name Is Earl," "CSI:NY").  And I saw some of the Indians' games. I would have liked to see more. But considering the outcome, I'll take what I got.

Still, it was clear how much the Indians had caught people's interest (especially on a weekend where neither the Browns nor the Buckeyes were playing). Some notes:

Friday night, I'm picking up my son after a school dance. Standing outside, I see a father picking up his sons. They're talking about how the Indians game is going. Indians conversations are all around, and I get drawn into one without even trying. I happen to be wearing an Indians jacket while waiting. A young man walks by me, stops, says, "You want an update?" and gives me the inning, score, outs and on-base situation.

Sunday morning, before church, I say hello to an acquaintance in the aisle behind me. We talk about the nice weather. Then we talk Indians (and some other sports) until it's close to time for the service.

On Sunday afternoon, as the Indians play, we're stuck in a room with copy machines and have not brought along a radio. There's a bingo game getting set up in another part of the school, and it has a TV set on. My wife goes to check what's happening with the Indians. The TV has a football game. The Indians are on cable; the TV isn't.

Finally, after some more copying, I have to know what's happening. I go out to my car, turn on the radio — and hear Tom Hamilton call the last two outs of the game.

In a previous posting ("The Music of Vincent Chase") I mentioned an upcoming "Independent Lens" documentary, "Parliament Funkadelic: One Nation Under A Groove." It's due to air Oct. 11 here; check with your local PBS station for date and time — and don't take no for an answer. I have now seen the documentary and it's great stuff: interviews, great video footage and, of course, the music of Parliament, Funkadelic, P-Funk .. whatever name you attach to George Clinton's musical coalition.

I'll be writing more about the show in Sunday's Beacon Journal, including from an interview with Yvonne Smith, the maker of the film. We had a great chat on Friday, and it made me decide to do a bigger story than I at first planned. I had wanted to talk to Smith because, when I interviewed her about another documentary, she mentioned that she was working on a piece about George Clinton.

That was about 12 years ago.

She said just raising the money for the show took six years. That should tell you a good deal about public-television budgets, and about how few people in public television understand what P-Funk meant to music.

Public TV has a place for oldies specials, with toupeed performers singing songs they made famous 40 years ago, because people who were young at the same time as the performers will open their wallets at fund-raising time. But there's a multigenerational audience out there that will appreciate the Clinton special, and Clinton is still a lively, unpredictable presence. Viewers would probably be generous if asked for money around a Clinton show. (Wait a minute. I'm thinking about the thank-you gifts that would accompany a P-Funk-related pledge. Heh heh. OK, I'm back.)

Still, as good as "One Nation" is, I was ready to get on board just from hearing the subject. I saw Funkadelic about 30 years ago, as a down-the-bill act with Earth, Wind and Fire. I didn't like them, but they were way ahead of my ears; the sound grew on me. About 25 years ago I caught the whole P-Funk mob, and that was fun as music and as spectacle. Years after that, I caught Talking Heads when they were borrowing liberally from P-Funk (both riffs and personnel); loved it.

But last week was a trip down musical memory lane. I saw P-Funk and Talking Heads in and around Albany, N.Y., where I lived from the late '70s to early '90s. And in a column last week about an Akron music documentary, I mentioned the days of Blotto, the Units/Fear of Strangers and the A.D.'s in Albany. (You can find the column here .) That led to an e-mail from one of the Blottos, and some back-and-forth that yielded the news that the Units/FoS compiled a CD of their work, and it might still be available. Since the stuff I have is on LP and 45, I was pretty pumped to hear that; I've since e-mailed with one of the Units/FoS, and ordered a copy of the CD.

This is not only good for me, but for my 16-year-old, whose Ramones/punk/new wave appetite drew him to the Units and the A.D.'s. Great music doesn't fade.