Must-See TV No Longer an Oxymoron?
Walrus Comix' Brant Miles runs down the best of the best for you

Sure, you could ignore your moral prerogative to ruthlessly mock the hordes of bleating sheep that obsess over karaoke contestants who'd under normal circumstances have to resort to blowing the manager at your local mall's Food Court to get a gig and invest some time in lending your personal ratings share to original small screen programming, but with the end of the writers' strike and the promise of returning shows and worthy midseason additions, why the fuck would you want to? Unless your idea of captivating fare is watching no talent assclowns fulfill their empty desire for undeserved stardom in an ever expanding and ever embarrassing spectrum of douchebaggery, there is an interesting palette from which to draw upon more substantial means of entertainment courtesy of your very own television. Slumming is always an option, but these shows demonstrate the welcome presence of a few pearls among the swine:

In Treatment: HBO shakes off its post-Sopranos slumber with a riveting adaptation of an Israeli series that follows the psychological machinations that envelop Gabriel Byrne's good doctor as he attempts to minister to himself, his patients, and his family with decidedly murky results. Four recurring patients make up his docket Monday through Thursday with the last weekday being reserved for his strained relationship with his one-time mentor (Dianne Wiest). Produced by the same Mark Wahlberg-led production team that backs Entourage, the series offers it regulars plenty of challenging fare while confining the action primarily to couch and chair based face-offs. Watching Byrne peel the layers off as he is bombarded on all sides by emotional stimuli while attempting to maintain a delicate balance constituted of clinical detachment and genuine empathy is truly a remarkable exercise, even if it seems like an exercise in futility for the psychotherapist himself. Emotional trauma is always cool when it belongs to someone else, though, isn't it? Now if we could just get a companion piece for Dr. Melfi.

30 Rock: What happens when a show is a million times better than the show on which it's based? Nevermind, as all that really matters here is that you know that Tina Fey, Alec Baldwin, and Tracy Morgan have emerged from their debut season funnier and more subversive than ever. Whereas SNL has been reduced to one-legged fart jokes, 30 Rock demonstrates the kind of comedic gold that results when able-minded writers hook up with able-bodied performers. Baldwin has taken his "coffee is for closers" spiel from Glengarry Glen Ross and distilled his inner corporate ruthlessness, while Fey offers herself up as the sacrificial lamb to his lion with invariably hilarious results. Morgan helps the cast get away with some seriously politically incorrect musings, yet it never feels as if the show goes for the cheap laugh. Even when the comedy is ostensibly broad, there seems to always be a cerebral subtext that only reinforces the laugh factor. What other "sitcom" can pull cameos from the likes of Isabella Rossellini, Will Arnett, Edie Falco, and the O.G. of must-see himself, Jerry Seinfeld?

Jericho: After years of being subjected to the ways in which his appearance and career trajectory were inversely proportional to Johnny Depp, Skeet Ulrich has finally found a vehicle that allows him to shine on his own terms. Jericho ponders the possibilities that follow a nuclear attack on American soil, as it imagines a fractured nation reeling from a postapocalyptic malaise in which the bad guys are nowhere near as readily identified as they are felt around every bend in the disjointed road. Initially cancelled by the brilliant minds at CBS that launched Kid Nation in its stead, the show was resuscitated due to a fan campaign that was mad as hell and not going to take it anymore and thus showered the offices of the assholes responsible for that Survivor shit with enough protein to make Peter North blush in the way of a couple of tons of peanuts. The show is sporadically bogged down by the occasional romantic entanglement, but it primarily revolves around the cutthroat nature of a world in which up not only becomes down but simply ceases to exist. Ulrich masterfully underplays the lead as an erstwhile antihero thrust into a leadership role, and Lennie James might be the most kick-ass badass on television as he plays a former government operative (the kind whose fingerprints are unregistered) who's as good with his brain as he is with his hands when it comes to truly "surviving".

Breaking Bad: As Mad Men begins production on its second season, AMC has cemented its status as a heavyweight contender when it comes to providing primetime with thought-provoking fare courtesy of its latest offering, Breaking Bad. Bryan Cranston plays a man that coulda been a contenda but now finds himself so cheated by life that he isn't even afforded a proper midlife crisis before being confronted with his impending mortality due to terminal lung cancer. With a baby on the way and a revolving door of debt about to slam tightly in his face, he makes the logical career move from chemistry teacher to meth cooker extraordinaire. Set against the backdrop of the American southwest and buoyed by Cranston's performance alongside a capable ensemble, Breaking Bad shines the light on the life of man whose subjugation is only alleviated by the onset of imminent death. The show applies some seriously black humor (such as the kind helmer Vince Gilligan showcased on The X-Files) to heartbreaking circumstances, and Cranston's portrayal is all the more effective for the restraint he employs. Make no mistake, though….this guy make have come in like a lamb, but he's set on going out a lion.

Law and Order: You may have heard of Dick Wolf's little vanity project abot "the police who investigate crime and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders" before, but it's nice to see the original still kicking and getting a jolt courtesy of some cast additions in its 43rd season. With Fred Thompson vacating his spot on the show to make an abortive presidential run, Sam Waterston's Jack McCoy, still full of piss, vinegar, and plenty of righteous indignation (not to mention his signature effervescent hairline), finds himself manning the D.A. chair. Taking his spot on the floor is Linus Roache, who brings a slightly less scrupulous approach to the position, along with some bulldog variety charisma behind an icy exterior. While the show is unfortunately saying goodbye to Jesse L. Martin in the coming weeks, the detective side of the L&O street has received a boost from the inclusion of Jeremy Sisto, whose deadpan demeanor and hangdog delivery bring to mind a younger Lennie Briscoe. It will be interesting to see how Anthony Anderson segues into the space hastened by Martin's departure, but Wolf should be commended for livening up the granddaddy of all procedurals. The show has taken a backseat in recent years to its own progeny, the more sensational Criminal Intent and S.V.U., but this season has gone a long way to reestablishing the original as the flagship of the franchise. Law and Order may not be new, but it's once again fresh.

Pushing Daisies: Syrupy? Check. Sweet? Check. Overtly romantic? Definitely. A guy who reanimates corpses with one touch to quiz them about their untimely deaths before dropping them back into the ether with another touch a minute later? Fuck yeah! Pushing Daisies is the kind of show that sounds like a total disaster on paper, yet the idea of a piemaker with the gift/curse of the power of reanimation (and subsequent deanimation) and the frivolity that ensues when he brings a childhood sweetheart back to life is seamlessly translated to the screen in ABC's crime procedural cum fairy tale. This show is a rare example whereby conceptualization is trumped by execution, and the show's success begins with Lee Pace's depiction of the unassuming piemaker (Ned) with the alternately green and black thumb. The writing is clever without veering into Junoesque overkill, and the ways in which the reunited lovebirds navigate around the dilemma that is the realization that the piemaker will kill his girlfriend with a single touch makes the average couple's struggles with foreplay seem pretty trite. Pushing Daisies is overtly whimsical, but it's presented in a Tim Burton kind of way that enhances the overall proceedings. It also functions as one of the few shows on television that has truly taken advantage of the HD revolution with the kind of lush cinematography normally reserved for high end big screen exploits.

The Office: Whereas its Thursday counterpart My Name Is Earl started with a bang and has since let a few whimpers go, The Office has continued to find awkward hilarity in the shortcomings of others. Though the third season got off to a bit of an uneven start, Michael Scott (Steve Carell) and the rest of his dysfunctional corporate lot had found their groove again before the interruptus visited upon them by the writers' strike. Watching Carell communicate the tightrope act his character engages in as a result of his mancrush gone awry on his now boss Ryan and his real crush gone awry on his former boss Jan makes for some seriously uncomfortable moments of silence sprinkled among some manic outbursts of laughter. It takes a special kind of talent to sell lines like "They hang from m'lady's chest" (Michael explaining his pet name for Jan's breasts in a taped boardroom deposition), and Carell continues to propel his character into the kind of rarified comedic air inhabited by the likes of George Constanza in the canon of social miscreants. The Office boasts the doubleshot of an established centerpiece star and an ensemble that proves captivating outside of his shadow. Aligned with often brilliant writing, it's a potent mix that's hard to beat but not swallow. That's what she said…