Great to have the show back, and back the way it should be — traveling internationally, showing off remarkable locations and with teams of two. And, although it's still early, I have a tentative favorite: Dave & Lori, the nerds. It's not just that their nerdiness is so complete that Lori at times seems to be channeling Gilda Radner. They're just so darn likable, and they seem to have a real shot at winning this thing. A competitive fourth place when people are just getting going is not a bad spot to be in.

BJ & Tyler also look like a fun pair — "the hippies," as another team dubbed them — and they had the line of the night, during their helicopter adventure: "Dude, is this the most James Bond thing you've ever done?" That's a pretty good summation of the show's appeal. A good Bond movie has thrilling stunts, exotic locations and a decent pace; the "Race" also draws on those things, only with ordinary people getting to take part.

Couple I am ready to see leave next: The pink ladies, Danielle and Dani.

Before we get to the report card, a couple of points. Paula Abdul has fallen into her worst habits, especially on that incoherent analysis of Katharine McPhee.

We can figure McPhee did well in rehearsal, since she was opening the show; we can also figure that Paula had planned some remarks based on that rehearsal. So when she did not deliver a standout performance — and had a bad outfit to boot — Paula was left vacillating between happy talk and an admission that McPhee was, well, not too good.

Abdul's comments and the strained repartee among Randy, Paula, Simon and Ryan made me realize how much more I enjoyed the show last week when I had recorded it and fast-forwarded through almost everything except performances.

Another thing: Could we get some respect for Smokey Robinson? He wrote "Who's Loving You," and the Miracles recorded it (magnificently) years before the Jackson 5. The Jacksons' version is very good, too, but I'm often dismayed by the places "Idol" starts its musical time line.

And now, the vocals. For most of the first 60 minutes, it was not a good night, and it sure looked as if "Idol" planned it that way, wanting to hold the audience for that last half-hour. Paris Bennett was the transition act, with her vocal and then her evaluation straddling 9 p.m. Then the last half-hour had the formidable Ayla Brown and the supreme Mandisa (who rightly closed the show), with blonde cutie Kellie Pickler sandwiched in between. Kellie is the second-biggest problem facing Akron native Heather Cox, since they are both cute blondes but Kellie is scoring more personality points.

The biggest problem facing Heather, though, is that she is not stepping up. The judges were right: You don't tackle Mariah Carey's "Hero" unless you are going to outshine Mariah. She did not outshine most of the other singers. It's not that she's bad. It's that she is undistinguished.

Here's my card: Mandisa is tops, with a B plus; the goosebumps start almost as soon as she begins singing. Ayla Brown follows with a B, even more impressive because she followed Paris Bennett, whose "Wind Beneath My Wings" was a step ahead of the previous performances but still shaky enough to get a B minus in my notes.

C pluses to Melissa McGhee and Kinnik Sky, both of whom were energetic if not overwhelming vocally. C to Heather and to Lisa Tucker. C minuses to McPhee, Brenna Gethers and Kellie Pickler. (Even if Kellie is as cute as a plate of calamari, she butchered the first half of her song.)

Since my lowest-graded women were the ones the voters kicked off last week, I should be expecting McPhee, Gethers and Pickler to be in trouble this week. I'm not that confident. The difference in quality was much clearer last week, for one thing. And the show is boosting Kellie for her cuteness, which audiences may also be responding to. In anticipating Brenna's ouster, Simon may have urged viewers to defy his prediction. So I'm not pretending to be a seer here. Just another viewer, with a blog full of opinions.

Before you get out your cudgels, let me be clear about one thing: I like "Grey's Anatomy." I am a devoted watcher. My wife is a devoted watcher. I do post-mortems on telecasts with other people, too. Ithink Sandra Oh is terrific, and that Cristina & Burke are a much hotter couple than Izzie &Alex, and that a scene brightens when Chandra Wilson is in it. I marvel at Kate Walsh, whose mere presence demonstrates what a fool McDreamy is. I laugh when the Chief gets exasperated (and delight that Cleveland's James Pickens Jr. is a regular on a hit series), and I get misty over the patients' suffering.

That said, I hate Meredith Grey. I used to just be weary of her. She was, as I indicated in a previous post, the least interesting of the major characters. But now I hate her. I hate her for sleeping with George. I hate her for crying at the worst possible moment with George. When Izzie said she would be on George's side in any Meredith-George division, I almost cheered.

Some of this, to be sure, is a function of Ellen Pompeo's performance, which I find too laid back — brooding lite. It sometimes seems as if she can't even be bothered to open her eyes in a scene. But it's also due to the way Meredith is written. Yes, other characters on the show have quirks and flaws and irritations (and I'm not talking about what happened to Addison on Sunday night). Burke's love of Cristina shows even more of his tender side, because Cristina is such a pain in the neck and Burke has seemed so intolerant of life disruption. But Meredith's flaws took a deeper, more awful turn in her dealings with George. The audience, like the other characters, knows how George felt about Meredith. She knew, too. Still, she indulged herself in a way that was cruel to the extreme.

I want her friends to abandon her. I want McDreamy to realize at last that his feelings for Meredith are nothing more than infatuation, and that Addison is a much better match. Maybe his attempt to be friends with her — doomed, it would seem, by their mutual attraction — will show him what a lousy friend she can be. Even if he's still googly about her, let him moon from afar. Get rid of her. Change the show's name to "Anatomy." I hate her, do you hear? I hate her.

This morning, thanks to bad traffic and the scheduling that comes with a teenage son, I spent more than two hours shuttling between my house, high school and the dentist's office. Granted, the news was worse for my younger son, who will be facing the removal of awkwardly growing wisdom teeth this spring. But after my journeys, I needed to stop and breathe before going about my usual business. I also wanted a laugh. I turned, therefore, to my recording of last night's "How I Met Your Mother."

I did not get as big a laugh as I had hoped. It was not, overall, that great an episode. In fact, the show is pretty uneven, pivoting on a search for love that is really the least entertaining thing about "How I Met." (That relationship is, in other words, what Meredith is to "Grey's Anatomy." More about her in another post.)

But the episode underscored that point with a storyline that was less about the central character than about his best friend, the delightfully overbearing Barney, played by Neil Patrick Harris.

Last night's episode continued Barney's march to the center of the show. Already there have been promos playing up Harris over the lead, currently existing in my memory as whatisname. Yes, the show can be called an ensemble, and there is good work from Alyson Hannigan, Jason Segel and Cobie Smulders, if not whatisname. But last night's show was built around a big gag involving Barney (while whatisname's big moment just involved gagging). Barney told the story that kept people watching. Barney ruled over the other characters as thoroughly and remorselessly as Dick Cheney loaded for quail.

If "Harold and Kumar" was Harris's resurrection, "How I Met" marks his ascent into the top ranks of current TV comedy. He's not alone up there, not as long as "The Office" and "My Name Is Earl" are around. But I'm hoping that when it's time to hand out awards for this TV season, Harris gets more than just a mention.

Many folks insist that deaths come in threes, and so it wasn't exactly a surprise that the news of Dennis Weaver's passing came today — on the heels of Don Knotts and Darren McGavin.

I don't have as strong feelings about Weaver as I do about Knotts and McGavin, although his resume was certainly impressive.  (He was also outspoken on environmental and political issues. See www.dennisweaver.com. ) And don't just go by TV.

Take a look back at him in Orson Welle's "Touch of Evil" for evidence. His official biography from 1969 mentions an early stage performance as Stanley in "A Streetcar Named Desire" — opposite Shelley Winters. He and Winters were colleagues at the Actors Studio in New York, and Winters helped get Weaver a movie contract at her studio. He worked as a director and acting teacher.

But in terms of the public he was, to the end, a TV guy. His final work was for TV, in a role on the ABC Family series "Wildfire" and in special segments for the Encore Westerns channel.

Before that, there had been an array of TV series, most successfully in "Gunsmoke" and "McCloud," but also in the likes of "Kentucky Jones" and "Gentle Ben." And we have to mention "Duel," a TV movie by an up-and-coming director named Steven Spielberg; Weaver was crucial to the movie's man-against-machine story working.

That 1969 bio notes that he was not happy in the movies, where the better roles at his studio went to Rock Hudson, Tony Curtis and Jeff Chandler while he played ''small roles in almost every western the company produced."

Then, in 1955, came "Gunsmoke."  As Chester, Marshal Dillon's limping sidekick, Weaver was both memorable and easily parodied. He could have made a living just by staying on the show but decided to move on after a decade. "I wanted to grow as an actor, to create, to expand," he once said. "From the standpoint of money and security it could not be beat. But money is a drag when you let it become an end instead of a means. … In addition, I just couldn't make one character my whole life's work."

Instead, he took the name recognition from "Gunsmoke" and made an ongoing, respectable career.

I think we may have to make Monday "Grey's Anatomy" night at the House of Heldenfels, since Sunday seems to fill up with other commitments. Not that Mondays are always easy, either. It took me almost a week to get to the Feb. 18 episode of "Grey's," and last night's episode is filling a spot on the DVR until we get to it tonight. I hope.

Sunday night I also recorded "Dancing With the Stars" and have peeked at the conclusion. Although I thought Stacy Keibler was better over the course of the show, I can't kick about Drew Lachey winning. He certainly did what it took to dazzle viewers on the Thursday telecast. But that still leaves me puzzling over Jerry Rice's second-place finish. Sure, he fit best with the idea of the show as "journey" (which I wrote about in a previous post), but his dancing was so much less impressive than the other two finalists, that I have to wonder if some people voted for Rice just to make mischief with the results.

As for why I was doing that recording, the answer is that the bride and I have rejoined the "Sopranos" dinners involving a bunch of our co-workers. The dinners date back to the previous airings of new episodes of "Sopranos." Basically, every couple of weeks, people bring food, we eat and then we watch a couple of "Sopranos" episodes — usually the one from the previous week followed by the newest telecast. Some conversation accompanies, often along the lines of "Wait, whose bloated body did they just find on the beach?" Attempts to understand the plot may also follow. It's low-key fun. Good food, too, although the show's violence may not be easy on the digestion. One co-worker turned away from the grisly scenes rather than risk losing her vegan chocolate cake. She told me later that violence is not good for the soul and the psyche. One more reason for me to write off my soul.

The dinner-and-TV format does not work with just any show. "Carnivale," for instance, was not as big a draw (and required a lot more plot discussion). But "The Sopranos" has been a consistent pleasure, so people started warm-up dinners. Last night, we watched the 11th and 12th episodes from the fifth season; on March 12, the 13th episode (which finished the fifth) will be followed by the sixth-season premiere. I'm going to be hungry for new stuff then, since the episodes last night just made me hungry for more.

But I'm still waiting for review copies of some new episodes. Today's mail instead included a real oddity: a Joan & Melissa Rivers bobblehead.

Someone in TV decided that bobbleheads are a cool way to hype shows. A little Chuck Wooley bobblehead on my desk has been joined by a "Dennis Franz as Andy Sipowicz" figure (tied to the release of the third season on "NYPD Blue" on DVD). I may take Sipowicz home to keep my Vic Mackey bobblehead company. I am keeping him a safe distance from Joan & Melissa, who arrived to promote the TV Guide Channel (where they will be holding court for the Oscars soon).

But there's something wrong with Joan & Melissa. Joan in particular looks too normal — well, bobblehead-normal. And that may just be more marked with time. The figures should come with their own tiny scalpel, so they can be brought up to speed with Joan's nip/tucks, then keep pace with future changes.

To me, the great good fortune for an actor is to find a great role somewhere along the way — a role that sticks in the public imagination, a role that is satisfying to play, a role that other actors can look at with awe. Don Knotts, eulogized below, found that role in "The Andy Griffith Show." Ray Walston, an actor who had done wonderful work along the way, once longed for that kind of role; he looked more than a little enviously at Burgess Meredith, who at the time was enjoying just such a role in "Rocky." Of course, Walston was stuck doing dinner theater at the time, which may have added to his depression; years later, he would have another grand moment in the sun on "Picket Fences," winning Emmys for it.

I'm rambling about this because Darren McGavin has died, and I hope that he has gone to his grave knowing he had had not just one grand role, but two.

The first, of course, is as Carl Kolchak, the intrepid, brash, loud-mouthed reporter in the "Night Stalker" movies and TV series. The material was not always what McGavin might have hoped — especially when it came to the TV series — but McGavin himself was a joy to watch. He might have inspired a few folks to become reporters, so clear was his "The Front Page"-style love of scoops and scandal.

His impact — and I mean HIS impact, not just his show's — was certainly felt on another generation of thriller writers. When McGavin appeared on "The X-Files," it was not just a guest shot, it was tribute being paid. When his image was edited into the wan, recent updating of "Night Stalker," the homage proved ironic — a reminder that the new Kolchak had none of the zest of McGavin.

And what was that other great role? If I say "Christmas," does it shake your memory tree?

We could probably argue about the quality of the various "Night Stalker" projects. There is no arguing about "A Christmas Story," the big-screen movie that has become a small-screen perennial. And as many good things as there are in the movie, one of the best is McGavin's performance as the Old Man. Think not only of his world-weariness. Think, too, of the way he played a man with a dream, someone who just wanted to have a little well-earned success in his life.

Think of his joy at the leg lamp.

I'm smiling just at the memory.

I have other memories of McGavin over the years, of course, because the man worked steadily. I began to pay attention to him before my age hit double-digits, when he starred in a show called "Riverboat." He had a memorable (though unbilled turn) in "The Natural." But in the end, it did not matter how much he worked. I know the two things that first came to mind when I learned of his passing, and I know those are good enough roles to validate a career.

The whole family was out for the evening; when we came home about 11 p.m., there was a message from my office that Don Knotts had died. It went without saying that a beloved TV actor was gone.

And one who has been a regular part of my screen-watching life. I only knew his work for Steve Allen from retrospectives, since I was too young to see it new. But I've spent much of my life watching and admiring — heck, loving — "The Andy Griffith Show." And I remember feeling as if it just wasn't the same when Knotts left the show. Andy and Barney were a great team, as were Knotts and Griffith, two guys who had known each other — and worked with each other before "Andy Griffith," in the play and movie of "No Time for Sergeants."

In Richard Kelly's book about "The Andy Griffith Show," Knotts recalls how he was looking for work after Allen's show, and read about Griffith's show. At the time, it did not have a deputy for Sheriff Andy Taylor, so Knotts called Griffith and suggested one. Griffith referred Knotts to producer Sheldon Leonard — and a wonderful collaboration was born, one that echoed across TV (and that made Knotts's appearance in "Pleasantville" resonate with the audience).

And let us never forget how important that collaboration was. Knotts could be funny and touching on his own — "The Incredible Mr. Limpet" remains a fond memory of my youth — and worked well in tandem with Tim Conway. But it's crucial for Barney Fife that Andy loves and respects him; it makes us love Barney even when he messes up. And Barney is key to our watching Andy; not only do we admire Andy more for his loyalty to Barney (a loyalty that is returned, as we would often see in episodes where Andy ran into trouble), but Barney's extremes of behavior make Andy look solid and respectable.

Indeed, in Kelly's book, Griffith's performance as Andy changed when he realized that he did not have to be a broad character, that others were carrying a lot of the comic water. "I just realized that I'm the straight man," he is heard saying in the book. "I'm playing straight to all these kooks around me."

Knotts, of course, was the greatest of all the kooks — and the most heart-rending. I'll always remember the feeling I had the first time I saw the episode where Barney comes back to claim Thelma Lou — only to find she is no longer available. It almost broke my heart, since any "Griffith" fan wanted Barney to be happy, and he had lost a chance for it. It wasn't just that Barney was a wonderful character, it was that Knotts played him so wonderfully.

Just when you've had enough of reading what I think about Thursday's telecasts, I have podcasts up with me talking to Knight Ridder's Jim Arnold about TV. Here, courtesy of Jim, are the links to the individual topics or the whole thing.

* Survivor (02/24/06)

http://www.ohiomm.com/podcasts/tv/survivor_022406.mp3

As soon as Drew Lachey made that first jump in the freestyle section of "Dancing With the Stars," I knew he was going to win the judges' cards in that round. Like the judges, I had expected more from Stacy Keibler, who has been very good in what I've seen of the competition (which hasn't been much before last night. I was much more involved in the first season of "Dancing.") Keibler's freestyle routine on Thursday was just too safe. Lachey has no fear of audience-grabbing dance moves — or of seeming camp, which was part of both of his dances on Thursday's show.

That said, if I'm judging, Stacy still has a bit of an edge. I thought she was better in the first round, when Drew's cape was just too laughable. (Jerry Rice's big hair in the freestyle was pretty weird, too, but a wide camera shot had given away the gag before we got to the dance.)

And I have a pretty simple way of deciding which dancers are better. First — memo to Master P — they actually have to dance. Second, I imagine how I would react if I saw them, non-famous, in a chorus line. In most cases, you would look at one of the celebrity dancers and think something was wrong; even in the better dancers, there's self-consciousness and stiffness in some moves. Keibler seems to fit most easily into the dances and the least likely to stand out unpleasantly in a larger group of  dancers.  I concede that I may be giving too much credit to her because of those chorus-girl legs.

But, as fans know, "Dancing With the Stars" isn't just about being a great dancer. It's about, as reality-TV folks are so fond of saying, "the journey." "Dancing" is making that a pretty long journey, giving the contestants one more chance to impress the judges on Sunday night before a winner is announced. But a journey it definitely is.

"American Idol" starts at least with the assumption that, once the auditions are completed, the contestants have some singing ability. "Dancing" makes no such assumptions about its ''stars" and dancing, so part of the audience interest lies in seeing how people will improve. Or not.

Rice, then, is very much "the people's champion," as "Dancing" referred to him in the opening on Thursday night. (As in, something like "two perfect dancers and the people's champion.") He obviously brought fewer skills to the competition than either Lachey or Keibler; his recap in the first hour last night showed a lot of flaws for something that was supposed to feature highlights. But he keeps working and finally on Thursday night won over the judges to a degree he had not done before.

By the way, I watched "Dancing" this morning, having run out of viewing energy on Thursday night after catching "Idol" and "Survivor" (written about below) and a chunk of the Olympics, which I'll get to in a bit. And competing shows were clearly structured with "Idol" in mind. "Dancing" spent almost the entire first hour (when it was directly opposite "Idol") on recaps, and did not put a live dance on the air until after "Idol" was done at 9. Tom Bergeron even told viewers during the telecast that the live dancing would begin later, as if warning channel flippers they weren't going to miss anything.

The Olympics coverage also spread out its drama. Of course, part of that is to keep the audience around for four hours of programming; men's figure skating was also spread out over the evening. But it makes for a long night when Emily Hughes isn't shown until after 10 p.m ., when "Dancing" had finished as well as "Idol." Sasha Cohen and the eventual gold-medalist, Shizuka Arakawa, did not get on the air until after 11.

As I mentioned yesterday, the figure skating lost some attraction for me after I saw online that Cohen had fallen and ended up with the silver medal. Still, I stayed up late enough to watch her and Arakawa. (The Japanese skater probably won over some viewers just by using the familiar and dramatic strains of "Nessun Dorma" for her music.) But after Cohen's falls, as well as the falling and wall-touching by other skaters, I have to wonder if something in figure skating needs an overhaul.

Is it emphasizing great but risky stunts too much? Are young skaters just not mastering the basics? Or should new drama be added — perhaps by balancing the judges' scores with viewers' votes?

I'm kidding! A little.