Mr. Rocca scored a two-bedroom in the Village.

Manhattan rental prices are so high these days that looking at the listings—they want how much for that place?—would almost be funny if it weren't so sad. Renters are accustomed to smiling through their tears as they ink their names on leases they can't really afford.

But at least one famously funny New Yorker will no longer have to search for the humor in the apartment hunt. Wait, wait... who is it? you ask. Why, it's Mr. Mo Rocca! City records show the comedian/writer/journalist paid $1 million for a two-bedroom co-op at 69 West 9th Street.

The apartment, listed with Prudential Douglas Elliman brokers Polly Chang and Lee Sender, offers big, West-facing windows, space-efficient built-ins and dark hardwood floors. The apartment comes with lots of fancy kitchen features—Liebherr refrigerator, Bosch dishwasher, Wolf dual fuel oven—perfect for the host of the Cooking Channel show "Food(ography)." There's  also a spacious walk-in closet in the master bedroom where a person can "keep everything within reach." Which is kind of a stretch, but hey! walk-in closets are nice.

The apartment, purchased a little below the $1.14 million ask, still made owners Andreas Wiesenack and Judy Wong some money—they bought it for $930,000 back in 2008.

As for the Village, it seems like the perfect place for Mr. Rocca. There aren't as many eccentrics roaming the streets as there used to be, but Mr. Rocca has (mostly) moved on to new interview subjects. Plus, the building does allow pets—a nice perk for a former "Wishbone" writer.

kvelsey@observer.com

And it wasn't! Well, kind of; after all, it was a party for a documentary about some of the worst regions in the world, ravaged by war and human carelessness!

Anyway. Mr. Cooper, his co-hosts, and assorted CNN brass made their way in after the screening of the special (airing this Thursday night), flanked by leggy hors d'oeuvres and cocktail carrying waitresses, and a smallish media crowd including The Daily Beast's Tina Brown and The New York Post's Cindy Adams.

Mr. Cooper quietly filed in without much fuss, making his way through the room so he could get back to... working on the documentary the party was for. "I've been in the editing room all day, I'll be there tomorrow, I'm going to go do my show right now," he told the Daily Transom. "We worked on this from the end of last year to now. We're still editing it, still tweaking it."

He added: "For me, it's become part of my normal life to do this kind of traveling. But I don't find going to a beach and sitting there all that relaxing. I'm trying to work a story over Christmas week; I may not be able to get one."

As for any call to action or intention the highly political, mostly anti-corporate agenda Planet In Peril suggests, Mr. Cooper noted, "A lot of the action that's required is large-scale action. It's governmental action. It's all well and good for an individual to turn off their lights, and conserve in their own life, and certainly, I'm not one to discourage anybody doing anything. But these are governmental changes. But I think it starts with education, changing consumer demand, changing traditions—eating shark fin soup, using ivory—whatever the case may be."

The images on the TVs rolled on throughout the party: gun-toting warlords, piles of ivory husks, the aforementioned dead monkeys. NPR contributor Mo Rocca, though, was having a blast. He stood near CNN chief Jonathan Klein; Mr. Klein picked a chicken meatball off of a tray while Mr. Rocca filed his grievances with the network head: "I wanted to know what happens to the planet in the end," he said, straight-faced. "I thought Shirley Bassey was going to perform the Planet In Peril theme song. I also wanted to know how they kill off [Planet In Peril co-host] Jeff Corwin. Also, [Peril correspondent Lisa Ling] was an amazing BatGirl."

The danger and suspense Mr. Rocca saw wasn't quite there for those actually in the doc. "No [medical maladies] that were unsuspecting," noted Dr. Sanjay Gupta, CNN chief medical correspondent and one of Mr. Cooper's co-hosts. "But I remember: I was with this infectious disease doctor; all of a sudden, I couldn't feel my left leg. I [told him] thought that it was because of one of the bites. I told him, 'Hey, I can't feel my left leg anymore. 'He told me it was probably from all the hiking."

"I know that the White House Correspondents' dinner in about 10 days gets most of the glory," said the ubiquitous political satirist and sometime MSNBC contributor. "I think of this one as sort of the Nicky to that one's Paris Hilton. This is sort of the Jamie Lynn to that dinner's Britney. Well that dinner is sort of like CNN. This one is MSNBC."

The crowd snickered.

"I kid because I love," he said. "And also because I want the right to lay into everyone else tonight."

Sure enough, over the next half hour, as the black-tie audience chased down their surf-and-turf dinners with cups of coffee and more glasses of wine, Mr. Rocca was ecumenical in his ridicule of their employers. Perfunctory jokes about CNN (Lou Dobbs hates foreigners) and Fox News (Bill O'Reilly hates everybody) inevitably led to Katie Couric.

"You know that things are really bad when CBS News was included as one of the charities in Idol Gives Back," said Mr. Rocca. "Personally I believe CBS News will really take off when they pair Katie with Connie Chung."

"I can't take credit for that joke," he added. "I should give credit to my joke writer. Bob Schieffer, where are you? Stand up and take a bow Bob Schieffer."

The host of Face the Nation (and go-to scapegoat in the aftermath of any critical story about Katie Couric) was in the audience. He did not take a bow.

Back on stage, Mr. Rocca ran through the usual slate of political jokes: Hillary Clinton ducking sniper fire, Barack Obama bowling badly, Dick Cheney fathering Luke Skywalker, etc.

"President Bush couldn't be here tonight because he's having dinner with Catholic bishops," said Mr. Rocca. "And also because he hates you."

Sure enough, President Bush was on Pope duty. Instead of attending, he dropped by via video. "You have a tough job to do," said Mr. Bush on a series of jumbo screens. "I know the long hours and time away from your families is not easy."

Nor on Wednesday night was it particularly hard. For many guests, the long hours of sacrifice had kicked off earlier with glasses of wine and trays of passed martinis at the Fox News pre-game party.

There, in a tent in the Hilton's courtyard alongside the occasional string quartet, Mike Huckabee mingled in spitting distance of Mitt Romney. (This assessment was not put to the test.) Oliver North chatted with a statuesque blonde lady. Bill O'Reilly greeted a handful of well-wishers. Lloyd Grove hovered. And Fox News Washington Bureau Chief Brian Wilson talked to the Media Mob about growing up in Odessa, Tex. and attending the high school that inspired the multiplatform media behemoth that is "Friday Night Lights." How'd he like the book? Long conversation short: He thought it got the football right.

A half hour later, Russell Simmons, decked out in hip-hop black tie (which at this time of year includes a starched Yankees cap and white sneakers), and the rest of the guests settled into their seats in the main auditorium.

Center stage, Mr. Romney took the microphone, made a joke about the liberal bias of CBS News, and launched into the top 10 reasons why he decided to get out of the race. No. 5: "I'd rather get fat, grow a beard, and try for the Nobel Prize."

Shortly thereafter, Mr. Romney gave way to the featured political guest of the night, Vice President Dick Cheney. Mr. Cheney took the stage and put on a fishing hat and sunglasses. "You'd be surprised by how many guys want to go fishing with me these days," he deadpanned.

Soon, the ribbing returned to the comedic political evergreen that is Al Gore. "Speaking of Vice President Al Gore, I'm sorry to relate that he's a little bit sore at me," said Mr. Cheney. "He's convinced that on global warming, I just don't get it. But lately, with every passing day, the evidence has been catching my attention. I have no doubt, none at all, that we are in the midst of a global warming. Or, as I call it, spring. And I don't want to be an alarmist, but it's going to get a lot warmer."

Mr. Cheney said that earlier in the day he had met with the Pope at the White House. "I spent the morning with one infallible authority," said Mr. Cheney, "and now I get to spend the evening with a thousand of them."

Hear, hear!

Afterwards the infallible authorities of American television and radio wandered the carpeted halls of the Hilton dissecting the night's entertainment (verdict: Mr. Cheney was sooooo much funnier than Mr. Rocca) and searching tirelessly for more booze.

Following their reportorial instincts, many correspondents eventually wound up at CNN's after party, which was held across the street from the Hilton at a three-story lounge called the Russia House. There, CNN's political guru Sam Feist held court by an open window overlooking Connecticut Avenue while Wolf Blitzer studiously eschewed the vodka station (the Media Mob, not so much).

As the party pushed past midnight, the crowd thinned out, and the CNN ice sculpture began to melt. Was there one more punch line there? Al Gore and Wolf Blitzer walk into a bar ...It was getting late. There was work the next day, and ideally the hangover has to be gotten rid of before the White House correspondents' dinner. Various bloggers and journalists lined up by the ice sculpture, took one last snap shot, and called it a night. The punch line could wait for the morning. Couldn't be any worse than Mo Rocca.

Samantha Ronson has practically moved in with Lindsay Lohan. [P6]

Super-delegates like Gov. John Corzine shouldn't go to the Waverly Inn because they might get eavesdropped on. That is reportedly what happed when Mr. Corzine was chatting up Ben Silverman, Al Pacino, Andrew Stein and Doug Liman at the restaurant recently. [P6]

Fake News: Ashlee Simpson is maybe pregnant, maybe not. [Us Weekly, MTV.com]

Stop making fun of The Hills' Justin Bobby for being an affected hipster wannabe who plays with his hair and burps a lot: he is officially a model now. [The Moment]

SOFA, so good? In the 1990's, your empty apartment would've seemed Zen, but now all that wide-open space is giving you panic attacks , so pop an Ativan-oh, all right, maybe two -and brave the arty and tarty ladies and all the men still wearing blazers over black T-shirts at the International Exposition of Sculpture Objects and Functional Art's opening-night preview, featuring some prr-rretty kooky teapots . What it benefits: the Museum of Arts and Design-no relation to the super-duper Cooper-Hewitt, we think . If you've got one of those "parking-meter boyfriends" who needs to be fed every hour on the hour, fear not: The affair features plenty of grub from Daniel (French, fancy), Zarela (Mexican, fancy) and Heartbeat (abstemious, fancy) …. Or perhaps you're like us, and everyone you've been dating lately seems to be an immigrant from Planet What-the-F*ck, flocking to you like the mothership with their weird little Caesar haircuts and coke problems? HurryDate, the coed sewing circle of our generation, is having one of its express dating sessions tonight (meet 25 people in three minutes- whee , what a ride!), and indeed every Wednesday throughout June. Bring industrial-strength Binaca.

[SOFA New York 2003 Gala Benefit, Seventh Regiment Armory Park Avenue at 67th Street, 5 p.m., 212-956-3535, ext. 112; HurryDate, Gaslight Lounge, 400 West 14th Street, 7 p.m., www.hurrydate.com.]

Thursday 29th

Grrrr! The Wildlife Conservation Society (basically PETA without the crass theatrics) hosts a "Tiger Time" gala for all those hairy Hearsts and Hiltons at the Central Park Zoo to celebrate the opening of Tiger Mountain, the zoo's spiffy new big-cat area , whose name unfortunately suggests the Great Adventure trips of our girlhood. Your "wildlife ambassadors" for the evening: Lorraine Bracco , (our "enlightened" editor, currently on some mystical Memorial Day retreat, is totally hot for her) and actor Jerry Orbach .We found zoo assistant director of communications Linda Corcoran (no relation to toothy real-estate dominatrix Barbara) glumly staring at a 10-day forecast. "It's supposed to pour!" she said. "I'd be a lot better if it was the half-cloud symbol with the little drops, but it's not-it's the one with the whole cloud ! I don't care what religion you are: go to church this weekend and pray for the sun to come out !" Um, O.K.! There won't be any actual tigers at the party, unless you count Sherrill Aston ( not ), so if you want to see 'em, you gotta come back for the exhibit. "Literally, there's an inch of glass between you and tigers ," enthused Ms. Corcoran. Every log in the exhibit is scented with perfumes, especially those with a musky smell -the tigers love that-or sometimes with another animal's urine. They especially like Calvin Klein's Obsession for Men !" And speaking of guys who wear cologne: Investment bankers are gathering like dark storm clouds in the east to honor Goldman Sachs chief executive Henry Paulson Jr. and former Clintonista Donna ("My Name Is the Chorus to 'Brown-Eyed Girl'!") Shalala at the Harvard Business School's annual international dinner. Zeitgeist -y theme: "Rebuilding Trust." How does one dress for that, we wonder?

[Tiger Time, Central Park Zoo, Fifth Avenue at 64th Street, 6:30 p.m., 718-220-5090;

Rebuilding Trust, Starlight Roof, Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, 301 Park Avenue, 6:30 p.m., 212-843-1742.]

Friday 30th

Ladies with tempers ! Some are duking it out for seats on the Jitney, others are clawing over shoes at Loehmann's, and the dregs are filtering into the Bluestocking Women's Bookstore for an "empowering" night of "Murder 101: Killer Bitches, Babes, Broads, and Bombshells." Authoress Trina Robbins will read from her gripping new book, Tender Murderers: Women Who Kill -think old favorites like Bonnie Parker, Lizzie Borden, Jean Harris and some new surprises! "Belle Gunness was the ogress of Indiana," said Ms. Robbins by phone from bluestocking-filled San Francisco. " She was so bad ! She started small: First her husband-who was insured-died very suddenly, so she remarried and took her kids to live in this farmhouse with this widower and his baby. Then the baby-who was insured-died mysteriously, and soon after a wrought-iron meat grinder 'accidentally' fell on the widower's head-and, of course, he was insured, too! … By the time they found her out, they dug up about 14 bodies, but there was also a hog pen in back where she had been feeding her suitors to the hogs!" We understand the impulse, sister. But back to Belle: "She's actually having a movie made about her-and Liz Hurley, of all people, is going to play her! And let me tell you, Belle Gunness weighed 280 pounds and was quite unattractive, so I don't know what they're going to do to Liz Hurley, but this is beyond putting on a nose and pretending to be Virginia Woolf." Yep, we smell an Oscar for Ms. Hurley!

[172 Allen Street, 7:30 p.m., 212-777-6028.]

Saturday 31st

Where's Waldo? Rumpled types who fancy themselves "students of human nature"-rub elbow patches at the big, bad Ralph Waldo Emerson Bicentennial Celebration. What to expect, besides a musty aroma: lectures, group discussions and "dramatic" readings of works like "Nature," which-or so we seem to remember from our expensive Ivy League education-argued that true happiness is only achieved when man becomes one with nature (which, coincidentally, happens to be the "sex rap" of the aforementioned rumpled types) .

[School of Practical Philosophy, 12 East 79th Street, 1:30 to 5:30 p.m., 212-744-0764.]

Sunday 1st

Tan-demonium: Is it just us, or have the gals of Condé Nast, Hearst and their gamine French sister, Hachette Filipacchi, been lookin' suspiciously tawny lately -almost like they're spending their lunch hours getting spritzed at Mystic Tan parlors ? Need to investigate further. Anyway, today Allure editor Linda Wells -who will be played by Jodie Foster or maybe Anne Heche in the movie-is slathering on some bronzer, slipping on kitten-heeled flip-flops and smick-smacking over to Central Park for "Play Safe," an event about solar safety-all about how S.P.F. 45 is the new S.P.F. 15, etc. Michael Douglas spawn Cameron Douglas spins; Vanessa Carlton look-alike Michelle Branch sings. Your hard-earned dollars are mysteriously spirited away to the Skin Cancer Foundation.

[www.mystictan.com for locations; Allure Play Safe, Rumsey Playfield, Central Park, Fifth Avenue at 69th Street entrance, 2 to 5 p.m., 212-360-2777.]

Monday 2nd

MoMA mia! Summoning all socialites in fluttery chiffon dresses: It's the Museum of Modern Art's annual Party in the Garden , which, strangely, is neither at MoMA nor in a garden (discuss amongst yourselves), but will have a whole lotta Lauders in the crowd. Cast members from 42nd Street gamely shimmy down to the Altman Building to serenade tonight's honoree, former Mayor Rudy Giuliani, and his throbbing sex bomb of a new wife, Judith Nathan -New York's answer to Camilla Parker Bowles. What it will cost you: $1,500 ( ouch ), but if you shoot yourself full of Botox and pretend to be under 39, it's a little cheaper …. Meanwhile, it's the saucily titled " Blowin' the Blues Away " fund-raiser for Jazz at Lincoln Center! Watch with mild horror as Karenna Schiff-part of an alarming new breed of smug young mothers-shiny-headed Ron Perelman and sultry Ellen Barkin, and grossly underused actress Glenn Close "groove" to performances by Ray Charles, Eric Clapton, B.B. King and Wynton Marsalis. Pot-lovin' septuagenarian Willie Nelson will also be par-toking ….

[Party in the Garden, the Altman Building, 135 West 18th Street, 7 p.m., 212-708-9680; Blowin' the Blues Away, Apollo Theater, 253 West 125th Street, 7:30 p.m., 212-258-9803.]

Tuesday 3rd

Put me in Coach! Coach, which used to make dowdy leather handbags and goat cheese but now peddles "beach glamour" accessories, hosts a kicky kickoff party for the Cooper-Hewitt's forthcoming National Design Awards (brace for still more kooky teapots ). And the starlet wattage is … medium, namely Anna Paquin and Rosario Dawson (both of whom gave us one or two solid indie performances, only to sign on for abominations like Finding Forrester and Josie and the Pussycats , respectively). Perfect the supermodel "wave away the hors d'oeuvres" maneuver with your willowy pals Bridget Hall and Jaime King, along with others you only see near food when their billboard is next to the giant Cup Noodles soup in Times Square. The car to pull up in: Frank Sinatra's metallic-orange Lamborghini Miura , which is on the block today at Christie's -an institution which at one point, we believe, was a serious auction house that sold paintings and stuff.

[Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum, 2 East 91st Street, 6:30 to 9:30 p.m., by invitation only, 212-957-4107; Christie's vintage car exhibition and auction, 30 Rockefeller Plaza, between 49th and 50th streets and Fifth and Sixth avenues, 10 a.m. to 8 p.m., 212-632-3975.]

Wednesday 4th

Rock or Rocca? Oh, dilemmas, dilemmas …. Self magazine-the women's glossy which purports to promote healthy body images for women, then slaps Ed Burns–loving fembot Christy Turlington on every cover-is having a premiere party for VH1's latest Rock Bodies series, which celebrates pop-star physiques. Editor Lucy Danziger, who has secretly curly hair but blow-dries it to be slick and corporate , swings her flaxen mane to the tinkling piano work of Vanessa Carlton. (Memo to Self : Don't you think it's a bit weird that this chick is never in the same place at the same time as Michelle Branch, above? Memo to self: Refill Ativan prescription) …. Meanwhile, bet ya didn't know that The New Yorker's sexy septuagenarian, Lillian Ross, was a Friar! She joins peppery CNN redhead Jeff Greenfield and The Daily Show's dapper Mo Rocca to toast humorist Andy Borowitz and his new book, Who Moved My Soap: The CEO's Guide to Surviving in Prison . "It's sort of a public service," said Mr. Borowitz, a Hah-vahd man. "I had a motivation for doing it, because a lot of these guys are really going up the river and are used to having things done for them and not to them. And I made it really short, because businessmen in general have short attention spans, and in prison you really have to read fast because you never know what's coming at you!" Who's his favorite disgraced C.E.O.? "Dennis Kozlowski -or 'K-Dog,' as I like to call him. K-Dog did everything right in my book. First of all, there was the $6,000 shower curtain he bought , which automatically puts him in my pantheon. Then he married an aerobics instructor and threw her a birthday party in Sardinia , at which Jimmy Buffet played, and which featured an ice statue of Michelangelo's David that pissed vodka. Now that shows a little joie de vivre ." Manhattan party planners, are you taking notes? 'Cause we're slowly dying over here ….

[ Rock Bodies , Splashlight Studios, 535 West 35th Street between 10th and 11th Avenues, 7 p.m., by invitation only; Borowitz book party, the New York Friars Club, 57 East 55th Street, 6:30 to 8:30 p.m., 212-446-5107.]

Mo Rocca's gig as an on-air correspondent for The Daily Show With Jon Stewart might not pay as much as his former job, but at least he can tell his mother about it.

Up until a few months ago, he was making $150 an hour editing Perfect 10: The Connoisseur's Magazine , a soft-core publication that only displays women with natural, unaugmented breasts.

"I quickly became anti-implant myself," said the slight, thin-faced Mr. Rocca, 30.

On The Daily Show , Comedy Central's news send-up, Mr. Rocca profiles eccentrics, from a man obsessed with First Ladies to a Californian who claims to have visited the 16th century in a time machine. Mr. Rocca conceded that his subjects are often unfamiliar with The Daily Show and may not know what they're in for, exactly.

A couple years ago, after a stint in children's television, Mr. Rocca was unemployed and found himself down and out in Los Angeles. When he learned that a rich publisher with a passion for real bosoms–Norm Zadeh, Ph.D., as he calls himself on the masthead–was offering a lot of money for someone to join his magazine, Mr. Rocca's "moral queasiness dissipated immediately."

"He was especially pleased that I went to Harvard, so he made me the grammarian," said Mr. Rocca. "He was obsessed with proper grammar."

Logging 25 hours a week interviewing women about their sex lives, Mr. Rocca paid off his student loans early. He didn't feel dirty–after all, Perfect 10 eschews below-the-waist nudity, and reads more like Playboy than Naughty Neighbors . "My Harvard friends thought it was great, and my feminist women friends are more postfeminist; they thought it empowering in a strange way," he said.

But then Mr. Rocca's children's-TV career restarted in New York, where he began story-editing The Wubbulous World of Dr. Seuss for Nickelodeon. Living a double life was not quite so wubbulous: "I was doing preschool by day and porn by night. I was trying to compartmentalize." The stress proved too great, and television won out over pornography.

Tonight on The Daily Show , Mr. Rocca brings together his two interests as he profiles a 53-year-old archivist for the Library of Congress in Washington who also runs a library of pornography out of the home he shares with his mother. [Comedy Central, 45, 11 P.M.]

Thursday, March 18

Toward the end of '99, there's sure to be a flood of tedious century- and millennium-themed programming. Giving viewers relief from all that, perhaps, will be the editors and writers of The Onion , a satirical newspaper published in Wisconsin (and available on the Web). According to Onion manager David Miner of 3 Arts Entertainment in New York, The Onion is near a deal with NBC to produce a series of specials, the first of which would be called Our Dumb Century . They're talking a fall '99 air date.

As of press time, Onion editor Scott Dikkers was scheduled to have a meeting in New York with Conan O'Brien and his producer, Jeff Ross. The pairing of The Onion and Late Night With Conan O'Brien makes sense: Both have a gleefully absurd take on the world, and Mr. O'Brien is an Onion fan.

In Madison, Wisc., Mr. Dikkers is working on a script to translate the book into TV. "It will compete with the Peter Jennings and Brokaw specials," said Mr. Dikkers.

Whereas programs like The Daily Show With Jon Stewart crack jokes about current events, The Onion fabricates news stories that reflect the world as accurately as real journalism. ("President Feels Nation's Pain, Breasts"; "Perky 'Canada' Has Own Government, Laws"). On April 1, Random House's Three Rivers Crown imprint will publish the first Onion book– Our Dumb Century –which documents the last 100 years as seen on the pages of The Onion . Sample headline from the 40's: "Betty Grable Appointed Head of U.S. Army Special Masturbation Fantasy Squadron."

If Mr. O'Brien teams with The Onion , NBC would likely be more committed to the idea, possibly coughing up a bigger budget for the proposed specials. "If Conan is involved, it changes the equation," said the source close to the NBC negotiations. NBC and the people at Late Night had no comment. Tonight on Late Night : Barbara Walters. [WNBC, 4, 12:30 A.M.]

Friday, March 19

The Fresh Step hoax moved one step closer to reality when MTV got in on the joke.

On the Feb. 23 edition of Total Request Live , Fresh Step stopped by MTV's glassed-in studio in Times Square to chat with host Carson Daly, who introduced them as "a new guy-group sensation." At the end of the interview, the boys sang a snatch of their new song, "Don't Talk to the Hand (Girl, Talk to the Heart)." Sample lyric: "Girl, you're freaky fresher than a fresh work of art!"

If you're a 14-year-old girl and haven't heard of Fresh Step, that's O.K. It's a fake, a deadpan hoax from the writers at Late Show With David Letterman . Rather than crack one-liners about the current boy-band craze that has propelled groups like Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync to stardom, the Late Show writers decided to concoct their own sensation. Fresh Step–also the name of a kitty litter brand–is awful, but in a subtle way. It's too

real to be a typical parody. Which is probably why MTV, the network that has bent over backward for Backstreet Boys et al., went along with the joke. "We treated them like they were any normal, real band that MTV would have on and plug," said Deb Savo, the producer of Total Request Live , who brought the group to MTV after she was pitched by Jill Leiderman, a Late Show producer.

On Total Request Live , the only hint that something was amiss came when Mr. Daly asked the band why they didn't have any fans cheering for them outside the studio. "We're keeping it on the down low," was one band member's response.

The Steppers, by the way, are actors; Three of the five (Jeremy Kushnier, Jamie Gustis, Brad Madison) are cast members of the Broadway show Footloose . In the band, they wear extra-baggy pants and barrettes, and go by the names Corey, Jeremy, Jamie, Brad and D.J. On March 3, their second appearance on Late Show , they performed a complete version of "Don't Talk to the Hand." (Sample lyric No. 2: "I'm full of flavor, just like beef stew.") According to the band, the song comes from the Dimension Films movie Talk to the Hand , starring James van der Beek as a popular high school boy and Sarah Michelle Gellar as the unpopular girl who happens to be hearing-impaired.

Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync are, essentially, manufactured creations, the brainchild of former transportation magnate Louis J. Pearlman and his Orlando hit factory. Which raises a philosophical question about Fresh Step: Just because it happens to be created by comedy writers, does that make it any less real? [WCBS, 2, 11:30 P.M.]

Saturday, March 20

It makes perfect sense that Robert Smigel is developing a show based on "TV Funhouse," his series of animated shorts that has been one of the more consistently funny elements on Saturday Night Live in the past three years. But why is he working for Fox, and not NBC? "NBC passed," said Mr. Smigel. "It's a late-night project, and they already have a zillion things in late night. And it's definitely too racy for prime time."

Mr. Smigel's shorts borrow the static quality of bad children's animation for inspired superhero cartoons like Ambiguously Gay Duo and The X-Presidents , the latter starring Ford, Carter, Reagan and Bush as superhuman crimefighters. Other segments pair recognizable audio tracks, such as CNN broadcasts, with absurdly appropriate visuals, resulting in, for instance, Bob Dole's body falling apart as he speaks.

According to a Fox spokesman, Mr. Smigel's show is in development for the fall season. Mr. Smigel said he has also written a feature film script about the X-Presidents characters and has discussed it with Miramax's Dimension Films.

Mr. Smigel, 38, is a former writer and producer of Late Night With Conan O'Brien . He occasionally returns to the show to "make an idiot out of myself" with his vaguely French dog-puppet character, Triumph, who threatens to "poop on" anyone he doesn't like.

He works out of his Greenwich Village home. "I fax crap out of my house," he said. "By crap, I mean brilliant comedy." [WNBC, 4, 11:30 P.M.]

Sunday, March 21

Despite more than two decades of success as a comedy writer, Bruce Vilanch sometimes can't resist the easy, stupid joke. This, for instance, is how he answers his phone: "Proctology!"

Heh, heh.

But tonight's his big night–his 10th year writing for the Oscars . More precisely, he's writing for host Whoopi Goldberg, his frequent collaborator. (Yeah, that's him in the center left square on Whoopi's Hollywood Squares , where he's head writer–the chubby guy with long frizzy hair, a walking sight gag. "It's my dream gig," he said of the show. "I get to sit in the Paul Lynde bitter queen square and crack wise.")

Any jokes tonight about Elia Kazan, the former name-dropper (to Joe McCarthy) who's receiving a lifetime achievement award? "Any time there's political action in the context of the Oscars, it's funny," Mr. Vilanch said.

Mr. Vilanch will become somewhat of a celebrity himself with the upcoming release of Get Bruce! , a Miramax Films documentary.

For those well versed in television history, Mr. Vilanch will never be forgiven for co-writing one of the great TV atrocities: The Star Wars Holiday Special , a wholly incompetent variety show aired by CBS in 1978 and starring the cast of Star Wars , along with Bea Arthur, Harvey Korman, Art Carney and the Jefferson Starship. With the imminent release of a new Star Wars film, bootleg videotapes of the show are a hot commodity.

"I just saw George Lucas at the Grammys and reminded him of that show," said Mr. Vilanch. He recalled that Mr. Lucas was "absolutely hands-on involved" with the variety show project, and created the story centered around Chewbacca's family. "It wasn't a great idea, because Wookies don't speak English. They basically sound like fat people having orgasms."

Mr. Vilanch bought a copy of the video a few months ago from a collector, and could not sit through it. "We didn't think it was a bad idea at the time," he said. "We didn't realize Lucas had in Star Wars something that was biblical, that a generation would refer to as if it was the Holy Grail." [WABC, 7, 8:30 P.M.]

Monday, March 22

On this edition of True Hollywood Story , Kristy McNichol addresses why she bowed out of the series Empty Nest in 1992–a perplexing career move that plagued historians for seven grueling, angst-filled years. Now the healing can begin. [E!, 24, 8 P.M.]

Tuesday, March 23

Title of the week: Jack Horkheimer: Star Gazer . [WNYE, 25, 1:40 P.M.]

Peter Bogdanovich's Movie of the Week

The name for probably my favorite movie genre, screwball comedy–essentially romantic farce–was coined, it seems, from the original Variety review of Carole Lombard's dizzy performance in the utterly delightful 1936 Depression-era comedy directed with consummate savoir-faire by Gregory La Cava, My Man Godfrey [Saturday, March 20, Turner Classic Movies, 82, 6 A.M.; also on videocassette] . Said the trade paper's critic, accurately: "Lombard has played screwball dames before, but none so screwy as this one." Two years earlier, Howard Hawks had started Lombard as an out-there comedienne, with John Barrymore, in the backstage classic, Twentieth Century , but in My Man Godfrey she conclusively immortalized herself as the gorgeous queen of madcap.

Playing the younger daughter in a wealthy, eccentric East Side family, Lombard sets off on a Park Avenue treasure hunt, trying to best her older, saner sister (Gail Patrick) and her quite loony mother (Alice Brady) by bringing in the most difficult treasure required, a real live "forgotten man," the 30's term for a down-and-out member of the homeless. The ugly irony of rich people playing games with the poor is not lost on La Cava, and the darker social aspect of this often satirical, witty piece is never totally out of sight.

The hobo Lombard brings home is done with graceful, charming dignity by William Powell (who, earlier in the decade, had been married to Lombard for two years) and both he and his ex-wife received Oscar nominations for best actor and actress. The simple plot–cleverly adapted by Morrie Ryskind from Eric Hatch's novel (screenplay also nominated)–is that Lombard convinces her long-suffering father (Eugene Pallette in an archetypal basso profundo performance) to hire Godfrey (Powell) as their live-in butler, not least because she has romantic stirrings for him, hence the triple-entendre of the title: prize, butler, lover. Godfrey, of course, does more than his job and teaches the entire family some basic lessons about life, before a slight cop-out reveals that he's not really a bum after all.

The most delicious subplot has to do with the relationship between the mother (a hilarious turn by Brady, who received an Academy Award nomination for best supporting actress) and her "cultured" gigolo, a Russian pianist-artiste-charlatan (the outrageously funny Mischa Auer, who was nominated as best supporting actor); his sulks and posturing moments are among the picture's best. Of course, La Cava's impeccable direction (also recognized with an Oscar nomination) keeps everything going in exactly the right tempo, together with a slight detachment that makes it all the more sophisticated and resonant. Not surprising from this underrated filmmaker who did W.C. Fields' best silent picture, So's Your Old Man (1926), as well as the superb show-business comedy-drama Stage Door (1937), along with a number of other likable, affecting works throughout the 20's and 30's.

But Lombard's wacky, touching energy and joie de vivre here at age 28 is what gives My Man Godfrey its most indelible impression. That she was killed in a plane crash only six years later–at the height of her career, having just shot Ernst Lubitsch's anti-Nazi comedy classic, To Be or Not to Be (1942)–is still hard to reconcile, giving all the greater poignancy to that old phrase about the good dying young.