The long rumored black hole of suck has finally been located in Scranton, PA

What fresh hell is it where The Office and Glee decide to cross-promote in order to create a perfect storm of overrated, emperor's new clothes television? You combine two overhyped shows with limited range and undeserved fan frenzy in a move tantamount to when Lex Luthor and Brainiac would pool their resources and team up against Superman. I suppose it could be worse: they could have thrown in Rubicon, a show that apparently I'm "not intelligent enough to appreciate," but thankfully AMC saw the light, pulled the plug and promised to give us more meth-synthesizing chemistry teachers and Zombies. Either way, I'm getting away from the thesis statement of this five paragraph essay: Glee must die and the soil of musical television will be salted by a latter day, media savvy version of William Tecumseh Sherman.

I decided to watch Glee last week since GQ told me that most of the actresses were sluts, and that's a big prerequisite for any television program that I view. Anyway, I was stunned that half of the show's script pages read "Then they sing *insert song from Rocky Horror here*. Don't get me wrong: I love Rocky Horror. It combines my two favorite things: Meat Loaf and Tim Curry (which begs the question: is there a Thai/BBQ fusion restaurant that offers a meat loaf curry?). For some reason, you also have the part of Dr. Frankenfurter played by the overweight black chick (based on the novel Push by Sapphire).

The other 40% of the show, allegedly "original," is nothing more than melodramatic, high functioning Asperger's, on-the-nose dialogue that sets up the musical numbers. The remaining 10% of the episode is as follows: "I'm Jane Lynch! Sadly, teenagers don't know my work from Christopher Guest movies so I'm going to rehash my character from "Best in Show" while wearing a jumpsuit and yelling! Something brusque and off color! Bah Humbug! Pop culture reference! Degrade the nerds!"

All the while, I'm asking myself, "Why do people watch this crap?" and "What happened to the sluts?"

I enjoyed the first half of the first season, back when it was about high school outcasts who happened to sing. I finally drew the line when, in the hours before regionals, the johnny come lately, rhythmically challenged quarterback consoles his teacher with, "Mr. Shuester, you can't always get what you want."

5....4...3...2...1...

"I know! We'll sing the Rolling Stones!"

Sorry, Glee, but that song is immediately disqualified because of its association with the Big Chill.

A co-worker of mine once remarked: "My TiVo cut out and I missed the last two minutes of Glee. What did I miss?" Here's what you missed: they sang an upbeat pop song that avowed their determination to good ideals. It ends with Mr. Shuester smiling, possibly wiping away a tear of pride.

God bless Mindy Kaling and Creed Bratton for trying their hardest to make light of this abomination last night on "The Office." Creed recaps the show's finale: "Finn and Puck came to an agreement and the solo is now a duet!" Sadly, their commentary was like the final transmission of a doomed ship passing into a singularity. Anything they say is overwhelmed and trapped by the giant black hole of suck that is season 7 of The Office.

Around season three, the show turned away from its BBC roots and became less understated and opted for louder, high concept episodes. Instead of "it's casino night," the show became "Michael organizes a fun run to defeat rabies." It worked for a while, giving us some great episodes. I'm particularly fond of the Joss Whedon directed "Business School" where Michael was able to be both a buffoon and a hopeless romantic with regards to becoming obsolete in the business world. But now, the show's sense of humor relies entirely on Michael Scott's social ignorance and abrasive personality.

Ricky Gervais's David Brent relied on set pieces that were so embarrassing, it was painful to watch. Michael Scott isn't a train wreck. He's the reason that the inventor Elias F. Sony Jr. invented the fast forward button on your remote. Michael's sheer motivation is mindbogglingly insane, and the lack of a foundation ruins the humor. Take the Halloween episode, where Michael attempts to punish Darryl for having a good idea. Or last season when he reneged on a promise to pay for the college education of an entire high school class.

This last episode saw Michael ruining a Glee watching party thrown by Gabe (played with the weaselly perfection we saw from Zach Woods in "In the Loop"), because he is jealous. Compare this to season two when Michael felt left out for not being invited to Jim's BBQ. You have ego taking over, meaning that you can't root for the oafish Michael. He's no longer your own boss that you find annoying because of his motivational techniques: he's just a played out character who resorts to passive aggression for laughs.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that The Simpsons peaked around Season 11 with the Funzo episode. It was solid around season 12 (Homer as the mayor of New Springfield), decent in season 15 (the Evita episode), hit a new low in seasons 17 and 18 (Marge as a carpenter? seriously?), came back slightly in season 20 (Homer and Ned as bounty hunters) and is currently decent Sunday night viewing. It might be a far cry from the good old days of Homer vs. The Eighteenth Amendment, but it took fifteen years for Springfield to become played out. The Office lasted four. It took Glee until its fourteenth episode.

Last night, you had a strange, Hamletic play-within-a-play with the equally painful The Office channelling the pointlessly upbeat Glee. The over-saturated, saccharine result is the same as when Obama preached the virtues of any Democratic candidate on the 2010 election trail.

Nevermind the bollocks,

Max