Dave Ayars

Though Taylor Tomlinson always shines at anything she does, she's given the thankless task of trying to get something funny out of her guests who are mostly not spontaneous wits. After Midnight is the grandchild of the old Hollywood Squares, where there were more celebrity players, and always with a sprinkling of genuine spontaneous wits, like Paul Lynde. (Asked if there was anything special about the water Elizabeth Taylor bathed in, his answer was "Not at first.") Taylor's guests are limited to three and rarely familiar to me, though they are apparently known mostly to a young demographic that follows comics closely. Worse, they seem to be primarily stand-up comics, who as whole have highly work-shopped routines that they hone over months or years in front of audiences in small clubs in the hope of getting their "special." After Midnight throws and hour of made-up "games" at them, and asks them to say something funny about a picture or a quote or both, and whatever and reward points they’re given are based on whoever comes closest to an answer that is mildly funny. After having watched maybe 13 episodes, I haven't laughed out loud yet. It's like hockey or soccer vs. baseball or football. It’s just two hard to score.

It passed the time, fullfilling the low expections for a series that begins with a proposition that's been used before: Internet users asked to condemn with their votes a man alleged to have abused women. (Five million clicks convicts.) The man, by the way, is a physical therapiest hired fulltime at an upscale private school for the soul purpose ot treating the womens' soccer term--???