Christopher Lawrence

Toby Young wants you to know he’s sorry. Really sorry. Like somewhere between “Honey, I swear I didn’t know she was your sister” and “Honey, I accidentally killed a drifter.”

The cable landscape can be confusing for even the savviest of viewers.

You won’t see this on CNN, but the world’s top scientists are quietly assembling, crossing political divides and international borders, to confront the greatest menace mankind has ever seen. They’ll enlist only the bravest volunteers, all experts in their chosen fields — think “Armageddon,” just less Michael Bay-ish — in a last-ditch attempt to save humanity. Their mission: Travel back in time to January 2003 and shut down “The Surreal Life” before it gets on the air.

A ghost, a vampire and a werewolf walk into a bar.

He has a World Series ring, a Super Bowl ring, two Olympic medals and he’s gone through more title belts than he can remember. But Rick Harrison has never been on a Wheaties box, never had to gulp raw eggs Rocky-style, and the closest he came to breaking a sweat to get them was reaching for his wallet.

She’s stolen priceless works of art, a jury trial and a room full of orphans. She’s stolen the Hope Diamond and put it back, all because she was bored. And she’s stolen — cue the schmaltz in three … two … one — the hearts of viewers.

Meaghan Martin is one good Nickelodeon appearance away from cornering the market on tweens.

A co-worker has been telling me for weeks now that I don’t write enough about things women like. But, really, if I had even the foggiest notion of what women like, I might not spend this much time in front of a TV.

Despite what you might have heard, the sitcom isn’t dead.

I always assumed Disney’s young stars were grown in a lab.