Samantha Bee is the only woman with a late-night show. Here’s how she plans to make it count.

Samantha Bee is the only woman with a late-night show. Here’s how she plans to make it count.

Samantha Bee didn’t always want her own late-night show, but she wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity once it arose. At a recent press event for Full Frontal with Samantha Bee , which debuts February 8 on TBS, Bee recalled through a broad smile the day when TBS asked whether she might like to host her own satirical series.



Airplane! Discussion with Creators

Airplane!’s Creators Reveal the Origins of ‘Don’t Call Me Shirley’

There are few movies as quotable as the 1980 disaster-movie parody Airplane! – and of the movie’s many memorable gags, arguably the most enduring is the moment when reluctant pilot Ted Striker (Robert Hays) tells Dr. Rumack (Leslie Nielsen), “Surely you can’t be serious,” and Rumack replies, “I am serious – and don’t call me Shirley.”


On the list of TV shows that I’ve stumbled into with my roommate after too much wine (Person of Interest, Between, NCIS, Private Practice, One Tree Hill, Law & Order: SVU, Scandal, CSI: NY et al), iZombie has proved the most interesting.

From Wikipedia:

Seattle medical resident Olivia “Liv” Moore is turned into a zombie while attending a boat party. To cope with her new appetite for brains, Liv takes a job at the King County morgue and shares her secret with her boss, Dr. Ravi Chakrabarti. In order for Liv to survive, Ravi encourages her to eat the brains of murder victims whose bodies are delivered to the morgue. Whenever she eats a victim’s brain, Liv temporarily inherits some of their personality traits. She also experiences flashbacks which often give her clues as to the nature of the murder. Liv uses this new ability to help the Seattle Police Department solve crimes, passing herself off as a psychic consultant.

As someone who’s generally lukewarm-to-indifferent toward zombie stuff, I was surprised at how hungrily my brains greeted this cerebral(ish) mélange of the humerus and the meningeal. That is to say, I rather enjoyed it.

I was going to start by mentioning that I often find the dialogue in the show a bit too cute, but I think my gripe might largely be confined to Liv’s fiancé Major. Yes, “Major”: a name that only a performer in a self-parodying gay porn film would assume. He’s tall, stubbily handsome, quick-witted, omni-supportive, and doesn’t appear to have a life or any interests of his own outside of Liv. So, perfect, I suppose. But, he’s not a major part of the first two episodes, thankfully.

Then, there’s a lot of dialogue I think is great. How’d Ravi grow suspicious of Liv’s (lack of) vivacity? Well, he left her in charge of a gang-banger shooting victim one night who had to be reopened when an investigating detective needed more information. Ravi did the reopening and rhetorically asks Liv, “What was he missing?”
Liv: “A strong male role model.”
Ravi: “And half a pound of brain.”
Me: “Heh.”

My most serious criticism stemming from the first two episodes comes from this:


In episode two, an artist is murdered. Detective Babineaux says early on that it’s always the wife. Liv doesn’t believe him. Well, it turns out it was the wife all along. To the show’s credit, I didn’t really care who done it. However, I do care about logical fallacies and the hasty generalization’s my bête noire.

Like the curious TV judge who’s just heard an emphatic objection from the prosecution, I’m interested enough in the emotional realism and characterizations that I overlook the zombies and cautiously reply, “sustained” to the whole show. When it continues to delight me, am I then demanding too much that it also not try to make me dumber by feeding me spoiled offal?

Well, no. There’s too much damned TV out there in general to give everyone a free pass. And, this is serious!

So, let’s begin with a great idiom: “All generalizations are false, including this one.” Take a minute and internalize that if you haven’t already. Now, let’s return to our faulty premise: “All murdered people who were married were killed by their spouse.” Is this not clearly suspect?

Well, without scouring the ‘net all day, I found reality to be pretty different: “About 11 percent of murder victims between 1976 and 2002 were killed by their spouses or lovers, according to the U.S. Department of Justice.” (Granted this is now 14-year-old info, but could it really have changed that drastically?)

Obviously, not everyone is as demanding as I am about such things, but iZombie isn’t the stoned surfers you don’t demand much from because you don’t expect much from them; iZombie, like its protagonist, is an overachiever. So, overachieve, damn it!

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For others who like sprinkled-in pop culture references: “Going all George Romero,” “Miss Cleo,” and “Cagney and Pasty” were all welcome for me.

No offense to being stoned or going surfing.