The great David Frost once said “Television is an invention that permits you to be entertained in your living room by people you wouldn’t have in your home.” After recently completing all five seasons of HBO’s The Wire, the same goes for places you wouldn’t want to call home.

Throughout all of my television watching endeavors, I’ve never seen a more ambitious, realistic, patiently-written, and better collectively acted series.  From beginning to end, creator David Simon challenged the standard conventions of the medium by consciously producing a work that cared more about being sociologically important than culturally relevant.

Despite never winning any Emmy Awards during its 2002-2008 run (the show only received two writing nominations during this period), The Wire is regarded by many critics as one of the greatest TV dramas of all time. Contrary to most scripted programs, David Simon’s series avoids a glamorous central setting (New York, Los Angeles, Miami, etc.) and instead focuses on the struggling port city of Baltimore.

To most outsiders, Baltimore is best known for its beautiful harbor, Cal Ripken Jr, and as Bradley Cooper so eloquently put it in Wedding Crashers, “CRABCAKES AND FOOTBALL!” With other neighboring cities and districts receiving more tourist and media attention (like our nation’s capital), it’s easy to misunderstand and overlook Baltimore’s true, tormented identity. The Wire represents a bold effort to illuminate the greed, chaos, and corruption that have consumed this forgotten city for years.

In addition to its unconventional location, The Wire’s relatively unknown cast also helps distance the series from more traditional dramas. The city itself, is essentially the star of the show, as Baltimore is never overshadowed by the actors portraying its inhabitants (the same cannot be said of the CSI locales).  Still, the diverse and talented ensemble makes its mark.

Characters like Detective Jimmy McNulty (Dominic West), Robin Hood-like gangster Omar Little (Michael K. Williams) and junkie Reginald “Bubbles” Cousins (Andre Royo) resonate because they are raw and believable, not because they are likeable. McNulty, surely one of the most interesting (and flawed) TV cops in history, makes Dennis Franz’s NYPD Blue protagonist seem like a mormon.

While McNulty is usually the smartest guy in the room, he has no problem acknowledging this with an authority-challenging addiction only matched by another to Jameson Whiskey. While he’s not as dirty as Michael Chiklis’s Vic Mackey on The Shield, McNulty shares his ability to circumvent rules and manipulate others into following his lead (often unknowingly). Still, his superiors concede that he is perhaps the city’s most intuitive lawman.

During my Wire experience, I couldn’t help but see parallels between McNulty and the series as a whole. Both are in-your-face renegades that are surrounded (for the most part) by inferior company. Neither The Wire or its lead character were highly decorated, but both ironically stand out for the very reasons they couldn’t be publically honored. Just as McNulty watches conservative, less competent officers rise up the departmental ranks, The Wire got spurned by supporters of  more universally-appealing (and commercially viable) programs that played by the rules.

While many of the show’s core themes and main characters remain, each of The Wire’s seasons highlight different underlying forces contributing to many of the city’s problems (urban drug trafficking, labor shortages on the docks, policymaking conflicts, educational shortcomings, and vanishing journalistic integrity are some of the primary subjects explored). This helps paint a comprehensive and frightening picture of a population killing itself  from within.

I believe each Wire season is better than the preceding one. As our exploration of Baltimore widens, our understanding of the characters (both good and bad) also grows deeper. By examining the flaws within the city’s public school system (Season 4), we begin to understand how neglected students enter “The Game” and begin to follow the paths of violent criminal leaders like drug kingpin Avon Barksdale (Wood Harris). Our close observation of a hostile mayoral campaign (Seasons 3 & 4) helps explain why certain issues are buried behind others that can help generate more votes.

Individual greed inhibits collective growth, and this fact is painfully articulated by countless Wire characters. David Simon & Co. do an excellent job of asserting that they’re very few differences between drug addicts,ambitious politicians, weasel criminal defense attorneys, business savvy gangsters, and crime statistic-altering police leaders. Nobody is truly innocent.

As an aspiring writer, I appreciated Season 5 most because of its concentration on the influence of The Baltimore Sun. Much of the season dealt with a clash between an old school news editor named Gus Haynes (Clark Johnson) and journalist Scott Templeton. (Thomas McCarthy). Haynes believes Templeton is fabricating stories to better his career, and alienates himself while pursuing the truth. In an age where important facts are constantly being obscured, we need more series like The Wire to shed light on what others are too busy or ignorant to understand.

Perhaps the most famous quote from this groundbreaking series is “A man’s gotta have a code.” Whether cop, con, supplier, buyer, reporter, or bystander, one must have a fundamental grasp of morality to get by. No series in television history has provided us with a more stark and eye-opening reminder of this than The Wire.

It’s funny how Survivor, one of the smartest programs in television history, has paradoxically contributed to cultural and intellectual regression in America. After concluding its twentieth season several weeks ago (that’s right…there have been twenty “sole” survivors), the groundbreaking show that ushered in the reality TV era is still going strong.

While ratings aren’t quite what they used to be, reality mogul Mark Burnett’s series will be back for another season with no end date in sight. Survivor was once my favorite TV show (I religiously followed seasons 1-5), and its “Outwit, Outplay, Outlast” concept was revolutionary. In addition to being a unique game show, Survivor pioneered showcasing unscripted human drama in the form of a contained social experiment on TV.

The show has been a unique examination of human physicality, philosophy, and morality. Intense “immunity challenges,” revealing side interviews and “Tribal Council” voting patterns reflect the measures individuals will take in order to carry on. Survivor has also shown how self-preservation can often be achieved through maintaining strong relationships with others. Past winners, such as the premiere season’s Richard Hatch, proved that forming and manipulating voting alliances with rival castaways can help one contend for the $1 million prize. Other successful contestants, such as Survivor: Africa winner Ethan Zohn, contrarily thrived by being more well-liked, despite being a physical threat (he was a former professional soccer player).

Long before LOST, we had had this "Hatch."

What makes Survivor most interesting, however, is that it is often anti-Darwinistic. Being the strongest, smartest, and most-well adapted candidate DOES NOT ensure winning the game  (blending in and getting lucky can help more), and this counters most competitions’ established conventions. Survivor: Marquesas winner Vecepia Towery demonstrated this by simply flying under the radar to take home the title.

Survivor still has a large fan base because it manages to stay fresh. Because there is no right way to play the game, each season unfolds differently. The introduction of new, exotic locales also keeps viewers intrigued. Still, with the show still airing, it’s easy to overlook its historical legacy.

No television show shaped the medium and society more in my lifetime than Survivor. After becoming a national phenomenon in 2000, the program spawned the creation of other quality reality shows like The Amazing Race (2001-present), Big Brother (2000-present), and other Burnett works like The Apprentice (2004-present) and the underrated Contender (2005-present). While these have succeeded in following Survivor’s lead, they’ve also contributed to programming changes that have made America dumber.

The emergence of intelligent, thought-provoking reality television inevitably led to an abundance of mindless, thought-inhibiting shows in the years that followed. For every show like Survivor today, there are 4 or 5 Real Housewives or Jersey Shores (although I did favorably write about the MTV hit here, “The Situation” certainly hasn’t symbolized progression in American television).

Without Survivor, John & Kate would probably still be married and more importantly, anonymous. Kim Kardashian’s on screen performances would’ve ended with Ray-J in 2007,  and Clay Aiken’s singing career would have been dead long before it was well, dead. Brett Michaels would just be a washed-up Bon Jovi, and Elisabeth Hasselbeck (a Survivor: Australia contestant) would still be leaning on the right…just not of Joy Behar on The View.

Television's biggest Bum.

While Survivor has always maintained high production value, most of its reality followers are cheap imitations. The genre has become characterized by fast and easy development, making scripted shows seem more complex and less desirable to cost-conscious networks. Although there are many brilliant dramas and comedies on air today, more could succeed with fewer reality programs hogging scarce time slots.

Reality TV is here to stay. The masses love observing everyday people (and B-list celebs) in the limelight. While I’m not sure why, I can only hope the genre improves by paying homage to its early influences and the show that has quite literally Outwitted, Outplayed, and Outlasted all others of its kind.

**Spoiler Alert**

After awaking this morning with a serious LOST hangover, I’ve done a lot of reflecting on last night’s finale and the entire six season journey. I’m now at peace with a story that was ultimately about individuals finding just that.

Last night, Christian Shephard explained to his son that the castaways needed each other “to remember” and to “let go.” The finale served the same purpose. It was designed to make us recall and appreciate our flawed heroes’ endeavors, while also helping us move on (to a television world without ABC’s greatest dramatic triumph).

The Benjamin Linus farewell was my favorite scene of the finale, and one of the most meaningful LOST moments we’ve ever seen. Seeing Linus understand that he was always meant to be a “Richard” (and not a “Jacob”) was a beautiful way to complete this legendary TV character’s story arch. By not joining the “Others” (this time, meaning Jack, Hurley, Sayid, Kate, etc.) inside the church, Ben reveals that he is not YET able to move past his life’s primary burden—a misguided sense of purpose. While LOST is technically complete, the story continues on, as Locke’s forgiveness and Hugo’s approval will help Ben along his new journey towards solace.

#2

I’ll never forget last night. LOST truly is (I use present tense because it will always stay with me) a once-in-a-lifetime experience that ended without compromising itself. I believe in this story more than ever before, and have “faith” that one day most fans will too. I also have faith that there will never again be a show quite like it.

(*Spoiler alert*)

My favorite story is now complete. Well, kinda.

After six groundbreaking television seasons, our generation’s Odyssey reached its emotional conclusion tonight. Staying true to its thematic and esoteric self, LOST ended exactly where it started—literally and figuratively.

No LOST finale could possibly please everyone. With all of the show’s character developments, plot complexities, time-shifting, allegorical undertones, and narrative structure changes, lead writers Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse had the near impossible task of trying to satisfy their loyal (and patient) audience with both meaningful answers and an overall sense of closure.

Still, after concluding tonight’s series finale just minutes ago, it occurred to me that the latter has always been most important.

Like Dr. Jack Shephard (both on and off “The Island”), I felt an overwhelming sense of closure in the final moments of LOST. While I also shared the hero’s confusion about exactly what was unfolding, the end of TV’s greatest epic re-enforced the story’s fundamental theme—the uncertainty of life, death, and everything in between.

FOUND.

At its core, LOST is simply a tale about a man struggling to bury his father. Viewing the show through this analytical lens, Jack’s just trying to bury his past. He is not the only character to possess this goal. In fact, pretty much every hero (and villain…think “Man in Black”) on LOST had their own unique “father” to bury, but it was impossible for them to individually “let go” until they ultimately found each other.

Tonight’s closing chapter beautifully made this point. Regardless, I’m sure that many will express discontent towards the finale’s direction. Unfortunately, ambiguity often breeds resentment from the instant gratification-loving masses (think…The Sopranos), and I doubt all die-hard fans will appreciate having to interpret the show’s ending on their own (or with the help of blogger nerds like yours truly).

This is where John Locke’s “Man of Science, Man of Faith” philosophy comes into play. I’ve always believed that in addition to describing LOST characters, this perspective can be applied to fans as well. On one end of the spectrum, you can view LOST scientifically, by constantly digging for answers and logical explanations to the unknown. The opposite approach requires suspending doubt while demonstrating appreciation for a television experience greater than the sum of its parts. That’s me. A real ”Fan of Faith.”

"See you in another life, brotha"

When we look back on LOST, we’ll see that the show worked because of the way it engaged the audience. For six years, viewers were essentially stranded with the castaways on The Island, as we learned only when they did. Kate, Sawyer, Hurley, and Co. shared our same questions, making  plot revelations memorable and mutually rewarding (whether happily or tragically). It’s only fitting that the show concluded in this same spirit.

Christian Shephard telling Jack that “everyone dies sometime” will always stick with me. It displays the true genius of LOST, and how it managed to go full circle. It was Jack, after all, who famously stated the words “Live Together, Die Alone.”

Sure, there’s a lot us viewers will never uncover. And sadly, many of our beloved heroes died alone. Nevertheless, they will always Live Together in our hearts.

If the rumors are true, Charlie Sheen has finished taping his final episode of Two and a Half Men. While many suspect contractual issues are driving Carlos Irwin Estevez (Sheen’s birth name) away from the hit CBS sitcom, it’s likely that the star’s recent legal, marital, and substance abuse troubles are major factors in his shocking departure.

Despite not being a regular viewer of “Men,” I do believe it’s the best traditional comedy on television. The show thrives because of its slight variation from a simple and effective TV formula (it’s basically The Odd Couple + a fat kid) and because of the believability of Sheen’s role.  The former Platoon and Wall Street icon essentially plays his irresponsible, binge-drinking, womanizing self on the program, making his character (who just so happens to also be named Charlie) and the show more genuine than most other modern sitcoms.

America adores Two and a Half Men primarily because Americans love Charlie Sheen (sorry, Angus…you’re not a cute little boy anymore). But what is it that makes this royal fuck-up so damn popular? After reflecting on Sheen’s body of work, the answer became clearer to me. Whether portraying a detained druggie in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, a “Wild Thing” in Major League, or corrupt market player Bud Fox in Oliver Stone’s finest work, Sheen is inherently likeable.

Sex, Drugs, & Sheen.

We all know Charlie Sheen is flawed. Hell, he  has a “sober coach,” accidentally shot actress Kelly Preston, reportedly threatened his current spouse with a knife, and recently woke up to a phone call from OnStar reporting that his car was found in flames at the bottom of a California cliff.

Sheen is so fascinating because all of his memorable characters embody many of his own flaws. Sheen must have taken Gordon Gekko’s legendary “Greed is Good” speech to heart, as he has always lived a life of excess (drugs, women, etc.) that would be considered tragic for most stars. For Sheen, however, this ride has been viewed as normal and strangely acceptable.

We love Charlie Sheen like a crazy cousin, or that fraternity brother who never seems to grow any closer to graduating. He reminds us that the problems in our lives are petty in comparison to the issues this train wreck endures, and somehow always overcomes (with a smile on).

Can Two and a Half Men survive without America’s favorite derelict? Unlikely. Sheen is one-of-a-kind. Not even the introduction of an Uncle Emilio character (Estevez is Sheen’s brother) or Jon Creyer acting twice as flamboyant could help replace this show’s most essential ingredient.

If Sheen decides to walk away, America will miss television’s top leading man. I guess all I can say is “sorry, Charlie.”