Anyone who knows me knows I love a talk show hosted by an ill-equipped celebrity.  I can still synopsize every episode of "The Magic Hour," may it rest in peace.  So it was with this kind of giddy anticipation I began watching "The Tony Danza Show" sometime last year.  For a while there it totally delivered: the studio audience comprised almost entirely of women from Bensonhurst; the incredibly awkward interview with the now grown-up-and-quite-gay Danny Pintauro; Oven-Cam; nonstop giveaways; Tony breaking his arm during a bit.  Really good stuff.  Or when they surprised Doris Roberts on her birthday with a big cake wheeled out by gyrating muscular hunks wearing skimpy tank tops with life-size iron-ons of her face on them, so it looked like she was crawling out of each of their leather trousers . . . anyway, where was I?  Somewhere along the way, they got their act together just enough to make the show merely boring, and graduated to the ranks of mediocrity, and that's your key to success.  It's not like it's as consistently amazing as "Magic" or unspeakably heinous like "The View," it's just kind of still on and you wonder why.  Why do I feel sort of defeated by this?  Watch, though, when you're really jonesing for that feeling of your brain coming to a grinding halt, or if you're just in the mood for tap-dancing.

(Click the remote control to continue.)