A month or so ago I finally made the switch from HBO to Showtime…not that it’s a Sophie’s Choice situation where I had to knock out one to choose the other…But, after watching a string of HBO shows that took place in therapists’ offices and depicted people more boring and depressed than myself or anyone I know (not to mention the “educational” historical shows and self-righteous docs), I opted out.

It happened in a circuitous way. One day my DirecTV just conked out for no apparent reason. I spent an hour on the phone with tech support and they finally gave up and told me I’d have to fork over the cash to have one of their service people come and repair my box. After throwing an “I need a man” tantrum (something that women who live in cities highly populated by metrosexuals go through at least once or twice a month) I figured out the problem and fixed it myself. When I called tech support again to tie up loose ends, I explained the whole thing to the lady…including the “I need a man” tantrum and the ultimate sense of victory I experienced upon fixing the glitch myself. Upon hearing this, she replied, “You don’t need a man,” and in a nod to the sisters proceeded to give me three free months of Showtime (as if to say, “you don’t need a man, you just need David Duchovny” or at least that’s how I read it).

Long story longer, I got myself quickly up to speed on his hit show “Californication.” The season premiere episode ran just a few days ago. I was proud to note that they had filmed the party scene in Laurel Canyon, the famed Treehouse (once inhabited by Frank Zappa), if I’m not mistaken. Of course that’s where the sleazy rock n’ roll producer who doesn’t like condoms lives, and that’s where the wild party takes place…because it’s a canyon (insert vulgar joke).

Anyhow, I am trying to enjoy watching this show (although I think “Weeds” is a hell of a lot better). But I think “Californication” is basically “Big’s Revenge.” By that I mean, it’s a reaction to horny hetero men being irritated by the long-standing popularity of “Sex and the City” with its enigmatic and asshole-ish Mr. big character. So let’s write a show about some good old fashioned sleazy pervs (Hank Moody and his agent) and have all sorts of adolescent sex jokes on par with the Dirty Sanchez…blah blah blah. The part that doesn’t work for me (even though, I know it’s a comedy so maybe it doesn’t need to) is believability.

Having lived in L.A. (and New York) I can tell you that there is no way that middle aged novelist Hank Moody would be getting as much instant tail as he is. He’s a writer of books–lowest on the creative totem pole in this town. Now, had they made him a screenwriter (even that’s a stretch) or a producer, an agent, a hot young actor…sure, I could see poon-tang being served up on a tray for him, but middle aged writer…puh-leeze, even John Grisham couldn’t get laid in this town.

This is, by the way coming from a HUGE “X Files” fan who related to the song, “David Duchovny, Why Don’t You Love Me.” He’s still a handsome guy, and I get it, his character’s got gritty charm. But, as one media-savvy friend of mine who works at an ad agency pointed out, David Duchovny needs to work out a little more…he’s hardly the Fox Mulder he once was. Has anyone else noticed that they only use way-above-the-naval naked shots of him? All of this sounds harsh–but I’m betting it wouldn’t if I was talking about some aging female star.

I used to fantasize about Fox Mulder. But since he’s had his Extreme Makeover into Hank Moody, I’m kind of grossed out. Beyond the flabbiness of it all, if his wife or agent says he smells “like pussy” one more time, I’m going to hurl and be thoroughly convinced (as the DirecTV customer support lady was) that I don’t need a man…at least not in this town.

Posted by Shana Ting Lipton