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Bubble Rap
The “King of Hot Tubs” shares some steamy tales.
-Debra Auspitz

Icepack
-A.D. Amorosi

June 12-18, 2003

naked city

boxscore

Rating the week in TV.

Testing, Testing...

Fox has done it. One more show to make everyone feel bad about themselves. Leeza Gibbons and Mark L. Walberg took a hiatus from whatever it is they do to host this live and "unprecedented" national IQ test called Test the Nation. They dug up some "celebrities": Dr. Drew Pinsky, Heidi Fleiss, Estelle Harris (George Costanza’s mom), Michael Johnson and two people nobody ever heard of to take the test along with America. Bodybuilders, blonds, students, teachers, construction workers and scientists rounded out the stereotyped studio audience on a show that thought the burning question was whether men were smarter than women. Philly averaged 109, losing out to Mensa mecca Chantilly, Va.’s 138. Well, maybe Philadelphians were doing something smarter than watching a glorified SAT test on TV. Maybe.-Lori Hill

The Dead Only Quickly Decay

So Lisa's dead, Russell and Olivier have vanished off the face of the earth and Ruth up and married that guy from Babe. Questions? As was apparent from the first episode of Six Feet Under's third season, this year's theme was stasis: living death, if you will. David and Keith, Nate and Lisa, Rico and Vanessa, all stuck in long-term relationships that were beginning to gnaw at their own boundaries, with Ruth getting desperate to break out of her rut and Claire straining for adulthood. Less of nutty Brenda and her festival-of-pain family, which can only be a good thing, too much domestic squabbling by a factor of 10. Granted, repetition is one of the hardest tests of a relationship, but getting it across on TV without feeling we've been there, fought over that, is no small task, and apparently one too big for Six Feet's writers. Don't get me wrong: Anything that forces Nate to stare into the howling vortex of approaching middle age is a good thing, and it was nice to see David slip off the straight and narrow path, if only for a quickie. But the show seems to be gnawing at its own boundaries after a mere 39 episodes, unsure whether to find new things to say or find new ways to say the same things. If The Sopranos is any gauge, season four is the bellwether for HBO serials, so cross your fingers and pick out a nice black suit. -Sam Adams

Dumb and Dumberer

The less said about this year's MTV movie awards, the better. Stifler and Timberlake were just, well, not funny (especially the "Ambiguously Gay Duo"-esque cartoon sequences) and the whole ordeal lacked its usual luster (and what was up with sourpuss Kirsten Dunst?). Better to skip the reruns of that Ashton Kutcher/P. Diddy love-fest and catch up with the latest batch of socially inept crybabies living it up in a way-too-nice maison on Real World: Paris. OK, maybe better to skip MTV altogether this summer -- except, of course, for Punk'd. -Debra Auspitz
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