Blogsmith, the software that we write TV Squad on, keeps a running tally of how many words we've written for the site. I can therefore tell you with precision that since I was hired in November of '06, I've written exactly 169,676 words of news, reviews, and opinion. While I'd like to think that most of those 169,676 words were entertaining, I have no illusions about whether or not they were helpful. My future brother-in-law is a surgeon; his job helps people. I write reviews of The Office.

That changes today. Last night, as I was drifting to sleep, I happened upon an idea that will not only make television better, it's something that we can all start doing right now. My idea, after the jump....

Here is an unimpeachable truth: anyone who wants to be president probably shouldn't be president. If you spend $400,000,000 for a $400,000 a year job, you're either stupid or corrupt or (most likely) both. In an ideal world, a presidential hopeful accepts the nomination with reluctance, George Washington style.

It's with this in mind that I'd like to start a movement to draft the one man who I think can turn this country around. The one man who has the credibility and the credentials to unite a society fractured by war and recession. The one man who connects with young and old; gay and straight; really, really gay and butchy gay. That's right, I'd like to nominate Simon Cowell for president.

On the Jackassworld website, they have a "feature" called the "AlphaPoo". This is a collection of 26 pictures of... er, human poo... that resembles the alphabet. I don't bring this up because it's clever (in fact, if there is a bright center of clever in the universe, the AlphaPoo is the idea farthest from it); I bring it up because writing this feature about Jackass reminded me of poo. Specifically, poo that you want to come out but won't.

See, almost four weeks ago, I was sent to MTV Studios to cover the 24 hour Jackass "takeover" of the network to celebrate the premiere of Jackassworld. I figured that I would write up a few hundred words the next day and everyone would be happy. Instead, this article has festered in the bowels of my brain for almost a month. Enough is enough. I've taken some mental Metamucil (i.e. Scotch) and I'm just going to let it rip...

Like a lot of writers, I have an idea folder (it's manila, but I have it covered in puffy rainbow and unicorn stickers, so it's beautiful). As each week progresses, I jot down all my ideas -- for columns, for stand-up bits, for ransom notes -- and at the end of that week, I take stock of my creative output.

This week, I noticed that there were a lot of ideas that I wanted to share, but that weren't quite big enough for a full TV 101 column. I attached them to the end of my last column in a section called "Dribs and Drabs." It was a good thought, except that it took an already bloated piece (my writing makes the Unabomber's manifesto look like a dream of concise thought) and puffed it up into a 3000 word monstrosity. My editor suggested I break up the Dribs and Drabs section into its own piece, and that, dear readers, is what I did. Dribs and Drabs, after the jump...

I'm not going to argue with Mr. Klosterman. I admire him so much that for a short while, I thought he was my own Tyler Durden (all the ways I wish I could be -- that's Chuck). If we are, however, to take Klosterman's argument as truth -- that Puck and Pedro realizing the cameras were on them was the TV equivalent of Skynet becoming self-aware and destroying humanity -- we must then look to the second season of the show as the moment when Miles Dyson started working for Cyberdyne. That is, the seeds for television's unraveling were sown not during the third season of The Real World, but during the second. As 2008 is the 15th anniversary of The Real World: Los Angeles, I thought it might be a good idea to take a look back at how it managed to ruin everything...

Do you remember coming back from your first semester at college and running into a kid you used to go to high school with who decided to use college as an excuse to totally reinvent him or herself? Like he was the class dork and in three months he's all of a sudden a death-metal anarchist? Or she dated the basketball team (the varsity, junior varsity, AND the freshmen) and now she dresses like Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman?

There was always something disturbing about it. Not so much that they had changed -- everyone has a right to change -- but because what they now were was different from the template you had made for them. When the universe doesn't act like you expect it to, you get uneasy; it's a natural reaction. I couldn't help but feel that way this week, when I watched A&E's new show Parking Wars.

I write the introductions to my articles after I write the articles themselves. This is because I find the introductions the hardest part and, remembering the advice I got from the introduction to the S.A.T.s, when I run into a problem I can't easily solve, it's a good idea for me to go to the next question and return later.

This introduction, however, was easy to write. That's because my wife wrote it for me. She read the column and then turned to me and said, "Wow, you're gonna get crucified for this." I asked her, "Worse than my Simpsons essay?" She said, "The reaction to this will make the Simpsons essay look like a fawning Office review. I agree with it, and I'm sure a lot of other people will as well, but the ones that don't... Wow, they are just gonna hate you!" So, uh, thanks honey. Now, on to the crucifying...

Here's what you need to know to understand why I'm writing this column.

1) Last Sunday, I liveblogged the Emmys for TV Squad.

2) During the Emmys, Sally Field decided to make her feelings about war known. She said, "If mothers ruled the world, then we'd stop this G*dd*mn war."

3) AOL, TV Squad's parent site, decided to link to my liveblog under a question asking their readers to "sound off" about what Sally said.

4) Every single comment that is posted on something I've written here at TV Squad is sent to me as an email.

5) AOL has a lot of readers. Not that TV Squad is any slouch, but holy Jeebus, my inbox was stretched to the breaking point.

Try this experiment: mention The Simpsons anywhere and see how long it takes for someone to say, "Oh, right, The Simpsons, yeah, they were good for the first ten seasons, but after that, they just got SO UNFUNNY! I don't know why people watch anymore!"

Since Fox decided to release a Simpsons movie (apparently under the radar -- I mean if you're going to release a movie, you should at least market it! you know?), I've been hearing that sentiment approximately once every thirty-four seconds. It annoys me every time I hear it, but it wasn't until today that I realized exactly why this was so.

It's because the people expressing it are confusing their ignorant negativity for intelligent commentary.

When I was in college I heard my favorite author of all time, Kurt Vonnegut, give a speech that included a quaint (and wrongheaded) defense of snail mail. He went on and on about the wonderfulness of buying a stamp and putting pen to paper -- all that stuff that makes sense when you're dealing with your thirtieth Erectile Dysfunction spam of the day, but which falls apart the second you want to send a picture of your cool new scar to all of your friends at once (or similarly important things).

Well, here I am at thirty about to do what Vonnegut did at my college. A silly and wrongheaded argument for something that I know in my heart we're all better without. I always knew I'd follow in Vonnegut's footsteps as a writer...

Being a married man, I look at pretty girls a lot like diabetics look at chocolate cake: delicious but deadly. That doesn't stop me from looking, though -- a lot. In fact, a quick read of my history as a blogger here at TV Squad reveals so many references to how hot different girls on television are I'm surprised that I haven't been protested by the National Organization of Women.

That's why I'm so surprised that I'm writing this particular blog. All of my history and biology point to me absolutely loving the RGX Body Spray Girl. I don't though. I can't stand her.

So, this feature has been gone a long long time. If you're one of my nearly four or so fans, you've probably been beside yourself with grief.

Well grieve yourselves no longer. TV 101 is back from its long hiatus.

Where was I? Well, my college stand-up tour this spring was a little more successful than I (or my agent or my wife or any of my friends) could have possibly predicted and I spent the last four months getting an intimate tour of every medium-priced hotel in the Midwest.

As a traveler and TV watcher, I've returned from my road-trip with some observations about what hotels can do to make our lives (as television viewers) a bit nicer...

Like a lot of men who fancy themselves hyper-intelligent social critics (and judging from the comments of this and other boards, that group pretty much includes every single male user of the internet) I not only love the character of House, I want to be him.

Seriously, if I were watching this show in my more impressionable years, there's a good chance I'd be going to school with a cane/concert t-shirt/sports jacket combination tomorrow. (Interesting side note: I was not popular in high school).

The House character is great. So great, actually, that he's destroying the TV show House.

Hey, did you hear? Anna Nicole Smith died and there's a fight over her corpse. Also, there's genocide in Darfur, quite possibly because of something Howard K. Stern said.

Over the last two weeks, I've been subjected to a rash of televised news about fluffy non-stories that I didn't care about. I bemoaned the state of American News Television and nodded knowingly when SNL (such a satire, that SNL) ran a skit that said the same thing.

Except here's the thing: I did sorta care about Anna Nicole Smith. And yes, I cared more about her than the genocide in Darfur. Does that make me a classless, shortsighted, anti-intellectual? Yep. It also makes me an American.

Well, folks, I'm happy to say that you're here for the birth of something new. Unlike a human birth, though, there's no viscous discharge or long and grueling lawsuits over paternity. No, unlike a human birth, this is something to be celebrated!

That's right, you're here for the joyous birth of a new feature here at TV Squad: TV 101.

Just what is TV 101? Well, you're going to have to follow me over the jump to find out...