9.19.97

And so passes the last week of re-runs. Suck in those guts, grab your joysticks and get ready. Brooke Shields' unibrow aside, it's gonna be a wild ride. Our impressions of a final Thursday night in purgatory:

A Kantian categorical imperative? Let's hope NBC's next season of "Must-See TV" doesn't get any "Mustier." Geez. Is it our imagination, or is 3rd Rock from the Sun just not that funny? Really. Who here thinks John Lithgow makes a better schizophrenic villain or cross-dressing transsexual than he does a bumbling alien High Commander? Unfortunately, NBC Thursday's lone bright spot, Seinfeld, continues its downward spiral and last night, once again, forced us to watch syndicated reruns to get our Kramer fix. Get it through your thick skulls. George is not paralyzed.

Two Degrees of Separation? Linda Hamilton, the oh-so-buff slayer of time-traveling cyborgs, showed up on Frasier ---as a haggard-looking cellist---and in Skinemax's screening of Terminator. In an even more amazing coincidence, she was having really bad hair days on both shoots (despite their being filmed over 12 years apart). Vidal Sasson is evidently trapped beneath Oprah's tremendously large assets, and can't get up.

TV's version of Face Off? In the battle of washed-up tube-veterans, CBS's Diagnosis Murder is the hands-down winner. Angie Dickinson and Dick Van Dyke: together! But removing Dickinson's "Pepper Johnson" persona from the mausoleum is just plain cruel. The woman must be at least 65, and she's looking...well, tighter than Tupperware. Call off the plastic surgeons boys, she's had enough.

Edward R. Murrow makes like a Tilt-A-Whirl in his grave? 48 Hours did a story on "road rage"; the highlight of the piece was the crossbow and arrow used by one poor sufferer to squelch his overwhelming feelings of "avenue inadequacies." On the continuing "Princess Diana" front, 20/20 presented an inside look into Diana's "personal nightmare" by interviewing her trusted bulimia advisor. Oh, and then they did a thing on how your balls jiggle when you ride a bike, so you're probably gonna be sterile. What better way to end the summer?

Aw, what the hell. Keep jigglin', friends.