If you still think Alec Baldwin is a talented actor, and lest you retain some of the glow from the memory of his enjoyable role as Jack Donaghy on "30 Rock," let him disabuse you of that feeling. Yup, in this week's "as told to" cover story in the new biweekly New York magazine, the Angry One feels compelled to offer 5,000 words of sadly delusional self 'splainin.

Appointment binge-watching? That would seem to be a contradiction in terms, but it absolutely describes what happened last weekend, when Netflix unleashed all 13 episodes of Season Two of "House of Cards." The scheduling of the Valentine's release, on the Friday evening leading into President's Weekend, was diabolically clever, almost like something from the fevered brain of Frank Underwood himself.

For Valentine's Day, I'm fantasizing about receiving a huge, closet-sized, stuffed bear getting dragged into my apartment by my love interest as he makes lewd jokes about his penis size and winks to an unseen bro about "getting lucky." Boy, will my friends be jealous!

The Super Bowl opened with a lavishly fur-coated Joe Namath (in a world full of PETA) screwing up the coin toss. That act proved strangely prophetic.

This year, I am encouraged that a new mini-trend might be on the horizon. Yup, we might have finally reached so low that the standard lowest-common-denominator approach has outlived its shelf life.

Intuit -- isn't that the company that supplies software for migratory Arctic peoples? Or am I thinking of Intel? Wrong again? Anyway, you must have intuited by now that the financial accounting software maker (which actually produces Quicken and TurboTax) will advertise on the Super Bowl.

Chris Christie has in the past famously criticized Snooki and the other stars of "Jersey Shore" for reflecting badly on the state. But who'd have thought that lane closures on a bridge could become such an object of national fascination that an assemblyman from Sayreville, N.J. could precede Robert Gates as a guest on "Face The Nation"?

The singing mom who opens this (new) Old Spice commercial is so grotesquely invasive and overbearing that she spies on her adolescent son from behind his bedroom door and then drags herself behind his car, grabbing his rear bumper, riding the highway atop her plastic laundry basket like a deranged witch. With the comically uninviting tag line "Smellcome to Manhood," this spot positions the Old Spice spray to be a bar mitzvah in a bottle. As the song puts it, the stuff "sprays a man on my son."