Thursday April 13, 2017

Last night's Tribal Council was arguably the most insane I've ever seen.  To recap, "Zeke Smith — returning for his second appearance in two seasons — was outed by a fellow contestant as transgender. In the [below] exclusive column for The Hollywood Reporter, Zeke  — one of very few players in show history to compete on back-to-back seasons — shares his side of the journey, his experience as a trans man, the reasons why he pursued Survivor, the thrill of that adventure, and what it was like on the night he was outed on national television — and how he powered through it."

Hulu has renewed The Path for a 3rd season.

SyFy has renewed The Magicians for a 3rd season.

E! arranged The Arrangement for a 2nd season.

Rest in peace Charlie Murphy.

This 13 Reasons Why theory actually makes a lot of sense.  Don't click if you haven't finished all 13 episodes.

The highest paid television actors in 2016.

Vin Diesel was not supposed to be in The Fast And The Furious.  His character was originally supposed to be played by Justified's Timothy Olyphant.

"United Talent Agency has hired top experts to investigate a hack that compromised its email systems, a high-ranking insider told TheWrap. Investigators from outside the Hollywood talent firm are looking into the source of a malware attack that made email unavailable at UTA’s Beverly Hills headquarters Tuesday, and disrupted the firm and other companies that deal with it, the insider said. One key question is whether UTA was deliberately targeted, and if so, why."  I can probably give you half a dozen reasons why, if not more!

More photos from season 5 of Orange Is The New Black.

The Goldbergs has been sold into syndication.

I could not resist posting this: "The victory lap for the 2016 World Series champion Chicago Cubs continues.

"Star players Kris Bryant and Jake Arrieta, along with NBC Sports' Mike Tirico, are set to appear in the season five finale of Chicago Fire, The Hollywood Reporter has learned.

"In the episode, a young Cubs fan is in a serious car accident and rescued by the Chicago Fire crew. The boy is injured, and to make matters worse, his irreplaceable Cubs baseball card collection burns in the fire. Fireman Christopher Hermann (David Eigenberg) makes a valiant effort to cheer up the boy, and gives him an experience he will never forget.

"Airing May 16, the episode will feature a special appearance by the Cubs' World Series trophy.

"Bryant and Arrieta are the latest Windy City stars to appear on the NBC drama, which is shot in Chicago. The pilot episode featured a special guest appearance by Mayor Rahm Emanuel.

"In addition to bringing home the Cubs' first World Series victory in 108 years, the Cubs' championship brought blockbuster ratings last fall. The series, against the Cleveland Indians, famously went to a rain-delayed Game 7, which pulled in more than 40 million viewers. Game 7 now ranks as the most-watched game in 25 years."

Here's the article penned by Survivor's Zeke, in its entirety.  I recommend reading it.  It's lengthy, but powerful.  "I’m not wild about you knowing that I’m trans. An odd sentiment, I realize, for someone who signed up for two seasons of the CBS reality giant, Survivor. See, when I got on a plane to Fiji last March, I expected to get voted out third. I’d return home, laugh at my misadventure, and go about my life, casually trans in the same way that Zac Efron is casually Jewish.

But that’s not what happened. I ended up being pretty good at Survivor. I was invited back immediately for an all-star season, during the course of which I was maliciously outed by a former local network news anchor. What a summer!

After 34 seasons, Survivor is far from the cute little social experiment it began as in the summer of 2000. Yes, castaways still sleep in the dirt and eat only what can be scrounged around the island, primarily coconut. Coconut, by the way, is a natural laxative. Deep into the 39-day adventure, players reach a crossroads where they must decide between starving or eating a handful of coconut and enduring severe gastrointestinal distress. There’s no bathroom. There’s no toilet paper. If anything needs cleaning, it gets cleaned with sand and saltwater.

But, the harsh elements merely play backdrop to a complex game of social politics dominated by secret alliances, hidden advantages and each cutthroat player’s ability to befriend and betray any who stand in their way.

The world possesses no greater test of wit and grit than Survivor … at least that’s what I believe, but I’m a pretty ridiculous individual, which is why, when seeking to radically change my life and test the depths of my manhood, I picked a reality show instead of something actually noble, like joining the Peace Corps. And it is in that same spirit of ridiculousness that I honestly tell you I would not change a single element of the story I’m about to relay, for I loved my adventure and cannot wait to embark upon the next.

Growing up, I set big lofty goals — Broadway, a high school debate championships, Harvard — and pursued them doggedly. While my peers in Oklahoma were content to follow the path set for them, I forged my own, leaping from boulder to boulder with no regard for what was expected of me. I leapt fueled solely by my belief in myself, because, well, nobody liked me very much. I leapt fearlessly, until ... I crashed.

The double whammy of major depression and transitioning blasted away my confidence. The failure I experienced made me doubt everything I once believed to be true about myself. I stopped dreaming. I stopped leaping. I found it difficult enough to simply put one foot in front of the other.

This happened to be the moment in my life when I began watching Survivor.

So significant was the experience that I remember where I watched Episode 1 of Survivor: Cook Islands; I remember the date, May 2, 2010; I remember distinctly Jeff Probst’s opening line, “You are watching 20 Americans begin an adventure that will forever change their lives.” I was hooked.

Transitioning created the opportunity to remake myself — to really consider and construct the man I wanted to be. Whether I was conscious of it or not, "Survivor player" became part of the remodel blue prints. Suddenly, I found myself drawn to engage in challenging social situations, run obstacle races, and backpack the Grand Canyon. None of which were ventures I’d have chosen earlier in my life. But there was this pesky little voice in the back of my mind persistently whispering, “Survivor,” so I created these challenges — quizzes, I suppose, to acquire the fortitude necessary to play the game.

I lost many from my life when I transitioned. Most were supportive in theory, but distanced themselves, unsure and a little weirded out by the process. On the whole, the world doesn’t treat trans people with much kindness. Even those who aren’t outwardly hateful crinkle their noses at you. When enough people crinkle their noses at you, you begin to think you stink.

I began connecting with others in a meaningful way around the same time that my being trans stopped being a readily known fact about me. After graduating and moving to New York, no one knew me or saw me as anything other than Zeke, which was tremendously liberating — my whole life, I desired my manhood to be known without question or qualification.

Many gay people consider coming out a moment of liberation, because sharing their sexual orientation with the world causes them to be seen more authentically. Often, the opposite is true for trans people. When we share our gender history, many see us less authentically — doubting, probing or denying our identities.

As someone who is not readily perceived to be trans, I possess a great deal of privilege, both because I can control — well, used to control — who knows my gender history, and also because I don’t experience the same type of discrimination, or even violence, that more visible trans people face — especially trans women of color.  

A person’s gender history is private information and it is up to them, and only them, when, how, and to whom they choose to disclose that information. Keeping your gender history private is not the same as a gay person being "in the closet." The only people who need to know are medical professionals and naked fun time friends.

There’s no playbook for being trans. You make it up as you go along, and I struggled with finding the right time to disclose my gender history to those close to me. What was appropriate? A week? A month? My gut would tell me to fill someone in, but then panic would wash over me. What if that person told other people?

My biggest concern was that if people knew, their opinion of me would change. I feared if I let anyone too close, they’d smell my stench and not want to be my friend anymore. Better to have acquaintances than no one at all. So I held them at arm’s length.

Honestly, I held the world at arm’s length. I came to fear discomfort and risk taking on the off chance that I might fail again. I never resumed leaping. I followed the path of least resistance, telling myself I would amount to something someday, just not today. Until one day I realized that if the somedays didn’t start becoming todays, I’d run out of days.

If the first chapter of the Zeke book of my life is about rebuilding from failure, I was well rebuilt. However, the structure’s sturdiness needed to be tested, because until it was, I would never definitively know if I was the man I believed myself to be. On a hot night in the summer of 2015, I pondered what this test might be. The answer appeared instantly, for it had been the constant in this chapter: Survivor.

I applied. I didn’t discuss my trans status in my initial video because I wanted the show to desire me as a game player and an eccentric storyteller, not as “The First Trans Survivor Player.” They did. Casting called back two hours later, and I began to panic.

I’d chosen to test myself in a tremendously public way. The results of the test wouldn’t be discreetly mailed back to me, they’d be broadcast to the entire world. I threw myself into preparation. There was no room for failure.

I lifted weights in the morning, swam at night, and in between acclimated to the heat in the sauna while reading books on mental toughness techniques utilized by endurance athletes. I ordered a bundle of bamboo poles and practiced making fire on the roof of my apartment building. I gave up caffeine and booze. I solved puzzles and tied and untied knots. I listened to Hamilton. A lot. I was not throwing away my shot.

The reality of playing Survivor terrified me, but I resolved that nothing would stand between me and the island. So I woke up every morning and told myself I would win. I faked confidence, hoping that when the day finally came to be dropped on a beach and meet the dashingly dimpled host and executive producer, Jeff Probst, I’d finally believe it.

The moment I put that buff, the official Survivor player uniform, on my head, my confidence became real. I knew I’d conquer whatever the game might throw at me. I was free. Now I could just play.  

My rookie season, Survivor: Millennials vs. Gen X, instantly proved challenging. No one on my tribe of freewheeling Millennials had any idea how — or willingness to — build a shelter. The first night we huddled together in the mud as the Fijian skies dumped buckets of rain upon us. But I went to be challenged. I loved it. Not even Beyoncé herself could’ve tempted me out of the rain and mud and back into my soft Brooklyn bed.

All my preparation paid off: I made fire with bamboo — I made a fire by rubbing two damn sticks together. I excelled in challenges, proving myself adept in the water and a master at puzzles.

Strategically, I initially found myself the low man on the totem pole. I very easily could’ve been voted out third, but I managed to form strong relationships, maneuver other players to my will, and climbed my way to the top of the pack.

I impressed the hell out of myself. I couldn’t believe how well I was doing. Put under Survivor’s high stakes, I got out of my own way and allowed myself to be the man I always hoped I would be.

Playing Survivor well means knowing when to play fast and when to play slow, but deep into the game I was having so much fun playing fast that I laid on the gas. My prowess became undeniable and, as is the fate of most who are considered the leading threat to win, I was voted out.

Jeff Probst looked me square in the eyes and snuffed my torch, extinguishing my life in the game. Twenty minutes later, before I could scarf a cheeseburger or peel off my rotting boxers, Probst asked if I was up for doing it all over again ... in two weeks … alongside some of the game’s best players“I’m your guy,” I told Probst.

I was initially drawn to play in order to prove myself a cunning strategist worthy of a rare and highly coveted chance to one day return to the game. I’d made such a believer out of Probst that my second shot came immediately, which meant that I was every bit the player I’d dreamed I’d be. I cannot think of a time in my life when I was happier, more fulfilled, and more at peace with myself. I was living, finally. Why stop now?

Playing with rookies was one thing, but playing alongside my Survivor heroes in a season called Survivor: Game Changers was quite another. It was like waking up in Westeros, Lord Zeke of the Mustache Lands, fighting to claim the Iron Throne. But instead of flying dragons with Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, I trailed Ozzy, Master of Spear Fishing, out to the reef, dove down and watched him catch fish. Tai, the Chicken Whisperer, and I killed three chickens together. Debbie, the Woman with an Infinite Number of Jobs, told me about all of her jobs.

I’d been charmed by my cast mates’ quirks and touched by their stories. There’s no one whose journey resonated with me more than former local network news anchor Jeff Varner. Walking into the season, his story was that he’d played twice and never made the jury, the Survivor equivalent of making the playoffs. This was Varner’s third shot and likely his last. If he didn’t make the jury, he’d forever be remembered as the only three-time player to never do so.

To his credit, Varner received some bad breaks during his first two seasons, and in Game Changers, bad luck befell him once again. The numbers were not in his favor, but they were in mine, and I was excited to be on a tribe with him. I wanted the jury for him. I wanted to be the guy who made it happen.

Varner and I connected quickly. Events in his life back home drew him to seek an understanding of gay people’s place in Christianity. I studied religion in college, focusing specifically on LGBTQ people and the Bible. Though I’m not particularly religious, I feel passionately that people of faith should not be denied religious ritual or spiritual community because of their sexual orientation or gender identity, and shared what I’d learned with Varner over long conversations on the beach.

I saw a pain, a brokenness in his eyes that felt all too familiar — a longing for the spotlight, but a desire to remain unseen. Though Varner has been openly gay for many years, he chose not to discuss his sexual orientation during his first two stints on the show. Beyond his charm and charisma, I thought I recognized a deep-seated insecurity and self-loathing, a glimpse at who I could become were I not careful.

All Varner had to do was make it until tomorrow and he’d get his jury seat. But he wasn’t going to. Our tribe proved unable to unscramble a word, metamorphosis, losing the Immunity Challenge and sending us to Tribal Council. Everyone’s best move was unquestionably to get rid of Varner.

My heart broke for him. I mulled over all the scenarios to save him, but each required me to significantly jeopardize my position. As much as I felt for the man, I wasn’t giving up my dream for his.

You never want a player to know they’re going home, because they might get desperate and go nuclear, douse the fire or pour out the rice. But my heart overrode my head when I sat down with him that afternoon. I told him he was going home. I thought he deserved to know it would be his last day on the beach.

Tribal Council throws the question of life and death into stark relief. One member of the tribe must be sacrificed each visit. Players ask each other: which one of us do we kill tonight? Fire, the flame of your torch, represents your life. When Probst snuffs that flame, your life is over. You exit to the left, into the darkness, what I called The Abyss. The rest of the tribe exits to the right, back to camp with a renewed lease on life.

Clearly, the stakes are not actually life and death. We’re a group of adults playing a very expensive game of make believe. But, despite all its deprivations, your Survivor life can be superior to your regular life. 

I remember walking into Tribal Council that night. I remember the smell of the kerosene in our torches. I remember the smug smirk on his face and the gleam in his eye when he turned to me and snarled, “Why haven’t you told anyone that you’re transgender?”

The lights magnified in brightness. The cameras, though 30 feet away, suddenly felt inches from my face. All sound faded. Something primal deep inside me screamed: run. I lost control of my body, my legs bounced up and down uncontrollably, willing me to flee, but the rest of me sat dead as stone. To my left was The Abyss. I could’ve made a clean break for it, but I knew there was no running from what had happened. Cameras would follow me, if not that night, then eventually. Running was not an option. So I sat blank, almost in a trance, unaware of what happened around me, trying to form a plan.

Survivor had spun out of control. That’s the risk you take when you dance in the ethical borderlands, where you’ll betray a friend, swear on your mother, and lie to a priest all before you eat whatever meager crumbs count as breakfast. In Survivor, much is permissible which is typically objectionable, but there are limits, as there should be on a family-friendly reality show on network television.

It’s one thing to lie about someone sneaking off at night to search for hidden advantages. It is quite another to incense bigotry toward a marginalized minority.

Responsibility fell upon my shoulders to right the ship that had blown perilously far off course. I could let this be one of the worst moments of my life or one of the greatest. If I set the tone, everyone would follow. The power was in my hands.

I told myself, “Dude, you resolved to never stop playing. Buck up and make this OK.”

I am forever grateful that Probst gave me time to collect myself. Were I in the hands of a lesser leader, I’m sure questions would’ve been peppered my way before I was ready to receive them. I could not have responded in the manner in which I did had he not held the wheel while I got my bearings.

I tuned back in to the conversation and found chaos — tears, yelling, anger, but mostly confusion. I needed to calm everyone down. My chance to re-enter appeared — an opportunity to provide clarification. I spoke as calmly as I possibly could. Each word came slowly. Typically, my brain races far ahead of my ability to form words, but then it trudged, carefully selecting its path. My right leg settled down, but my left still jittered.

I took solace in my tribemates. They defended me passionately. Even Probst, the most neutral of arbiters, had my back. My left leg settled, and with it the group. Tears dried, voices lowered, and the attention turned to me to make sense of what happened. I didn’t know what to say.

Months before I plotted how I’d respond in case of such a disaster scenario, but those words were written a lifetime ago and nowhere in mind. I groped for direction, talking to kill time. Then, a single word appeared, the word I couldn’t find earlier in the day, the word that encapsulated my 50-plus days on the island: metamorphosis. Everything clicked. I sat up straight. My mind revved back up to full speed. As I spoke, l locked eyes with Probst, and he nodded along with me, as if to say, “Yes, yes, you’ve got it.” The ship was out of rough waters and back into placid seas.

I knew that Varner’s actions, though targeted at me, had nothing to do with me and everything to do with him. His terrible utterances were not an effect of my actions, but a reflection of his own personal maladies.

But in calling me deceptive, Varner invoked one of the most odious stereotypes of transgender people, a stereotype that is often used as an excuse for violence and even murder. In proclaiming “Zeke is not the guy you think he is” and that “there is deception on levels y’all don’t understand,” Varner is saying that I’m not really a man and that simply living as my authentic self is a nefarious trick. In reality, by being Zeke the dude, I am being my most honest self — as is every other transgender person going about their daily lives.

I don’t believe Varner hates trans people, just as I don’t believe conservative politicians who attack trans people actually care where we use the bathroom. For both, trans people make easy targets for those looking to invoke prejudice in order to win votes. Thankfully, my tribemates rebuffed his hateful tactics. After 18 days starving and competing with me, they knew exactly the man I am, and after that Tribal Council, we all knew exactly the man Varner is.

I looked to Varner, now the one hunched and quivering, and contemplated the backlash he would face. When he said what he said, he changed both of our lives forever. When he pulled me in for a hug, I felt compelled to reciprocate, both as a sign that I was willing to forgive him and that the shots he had fired missed.

But, if we’re being perfectly honest with one another, I’ve struggled with that forgiveness in the months following. I can’t foresee us sipping martinis together in Fire Island. While I can reconcile the personal slight of him outing me, I continue to be troubled by his willingness to deploy such a dangerous stereotype on a global platform.

But forgiveness does not require friendship. Forgiveness does not require forgetting or excusing his actions. Forgiveness requires hope. Hope that he understands the injury he caused and does not inflict it upon others. Hope that whatever torments his soul will plague him no more. I have hope for Jeff Varner. I just choose to hope from afar, thank you very much.

To adventure is to invite hazard into your life. The thrill of adventure comes from accepting this risk, and the reward from confronting whatever might be thrown at you. But you cannot control the hazards you face, be they repeated misfortune or the harmful actions of others. You can only control how you respond. It’s up to you to decide whether the hazard will define you or you will define the hazard.

At the conclusion of Tribal, Jeff Varner’s torch was snuffed. He walked into the darkness, and the rest of us headed back to camp.

There’s no special dispensation for a traumatic Tribal. No chocolate chip cookies. No phone call home. Just the dirt and the hunger and the honor of another day playing the world’s greatest game."

Amen.

From The New York Post, "Chelsea Handler’s Netflix talk show, Chelsea, returns Friday — with some big changes in store.

"Gone are the three 30-minute shows that aired last season each Wednesday through Friday. They’ve been replaced by one 60-minute episode airing each Friday, allowing Handler more time to cover specific topics and to incorporate her worldwide travels into each hour.

"Handler, 42, talked to The Post about the challenges she faced in the premiere season of Chelsea, and about her hopes for Season 2:

You’re going to a Friday-only show. What wasn’t working last season?

My main issue was that when I wanted to delve into a topic — climate change or gender disparity — I just wasn’t getting enough time to do it. I said to Netflix, “I just need more time to delve into topics I care about. I want the show to have serious and silly moments, to be funny and stupid, and I just don’t think 30 minutes is enough.” It felt too harried for me, kind of all over the map, and I wanted it to be more centralized. They discussed maybe doing a 90-minute episode on Friday nights, because it’s their biggest viewing night. We decided on an hour. It was totally mutual; nobody has ever decided anything for me in my career but me. I love the travel component and love going to places they’ve allowed me to go — India, England, Wales, Paris; we get to really go into some s- -t, and with 30 episodes I’m able to have themes. So I’m feeling pretty good about this.

Did you pay attention to what the critics were saying when the show launched last year?

Oh yeah, the premiere was a disaster, but there were many reasons for that. It was a terrible beginning for the show but I found my way — I always do, and eventually I land on my feet. I never had something so rough getting off the ground. The important thing is to be happy as a performer. It’s hard to not be getting good reviews, hard to have people saying [the show] sucks, and it’s especially hard when you believe that’s true — and for a month or two in the beginning, I did [believe that]. I didn’t find my footing for about eight weeks. I talked to my executive producer and she said, “The great thing people like about you is that you don’t give a s–t about what anybody thinks and you’re holding on way too tight to this. You have to let go.” And I did.

What have you learned in your journey as a talk show host, first on E! and now on Netflix?

I’m 42 now, and I was like 31 when I started my first show [on E!]. You grow up and different things matter. Right now there’s a lot of stuff going on that’s really upsetting, destructive and hateful. I’ve been bitching and moaning my whole career and I finally have something to actually harness that toward. Now I feel purposeful. I can make a difference — I can start a women’s march, I can help Syrian refugee families. I always wanted to be a good person but now I can put my money where my mouth is and use the show as a platform for specific purposes — to be a rallying cry to support women, minorities and the LGBT community. Before it was fun being famous. Now it’s more serious. I want people to depend on me for something."

Better Call Saul dropped the premiere episode from its third season Monday, and the show’s standout actress, Rhea Seehorn, stopped by The [Los Angeles] Times’ video studio to discuss — at least as much as she could, given the secrecy that shrouds the show — what we can expect in the coming weeks.

"One of the main sources of tension this season centers on when Bob Odenkirk’s Jimmy McGill will lose his moral compass and transform into the Saul Goodman viewers know from “Breaking Bad” — and whether he might take his professional and personal partner, Seehorn’s Kim Wexler, along with him for the ride. (Stay strong, Kim!)

"Seehorn was understandably coy responding to comments from the show’s creators — Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould. Does Kim, as Gould says, enjoy a 'walk on the wild side'? Depends on how you define 'wild.' Will we learn more, as Gilligan suggests, about Kim’s back story this season and maybe why she wears that Kansas City Royals T-shirt? Possibly. Maybe she just has a thing for pine tar and George Brett.

"Seehorn spoke about shifting ethics and 'coloring outside the lines,' but says the bigger question for Kim has always been the idea of 'good and bad not being the same as legal and illegal.'

“'It’s much easier for her to keep things black and white, but she clearly lives in the gray area,' Seehorn says, smiling her approval. 'Reckoning with that is tough for her.'

"Seehorn also spoke about why Kim was obsessing over that semicolon in the third season premiere, the reasons behind Kim’s messy office and apartment, and her advice to the writers on those season-opening, black-and-white scenes with Jimmy/Saul (and now Gene) working at the shopping mall Cinnabon.

“'They should just pan back and right next to Cinnabon is a Claire’s Accessories and Kim works there with her own comb-over and mustache and some sad apron,' Seehorn says.

"Maybe by Season 8? Or perhaps a Saul sequel? We’d tune in, that’s for sure.

You can watch the full interview here.

Per Deadline, "Pop continues its push into original scripted programming. The cable network, owned jointly by CBS and Lionsgate, is expanding its original slate with three new scripted series, including its first drama, Pop president Brad Schwartz announced this week at the 2017-2018 upfront presentation to advertisers.

"The offerings, aimed at what Pop brass dubbed the “modern grown-up” demo of post-Millennials, include Clique, a one-hour drama series in the risqué vein of such Shondaland series as Scandal and How To Get Away With Murder; CollegeHumor comedy Hot Date (watch a trailer below), executive produced by Will Arnett; and comedy Swedish Dicks, Private Investigators, starring Peter Stormare and features Keanu Reeves. They will join the upcoming fourth season of Pop’s flagship comedy Schitt’s Creek, starring Eugene Levy, Catherine O’Hara and Chris Elliott, and second season of Nightcap, a behind-the-scenes comedy set at a late-night talk show.

"Pop also has nabbed exclusive rights to the full, 331-episode, 15-year run of ER. The hospital drama, which made stars of George Clooney and Julianna Margulies, quietly launched on Pop two weeks ago and has been delivering strong ratings. Additionally, Pop unveiled nine new scripted and unscripted projects in development from Sarah Jessica Parker, Krysten Ritter, Mary McCormack, Rashida Jones and Kate Walsh, among others.

“'Pop continues to defy industry trends with consistent year-over-year growth in all areas of our business and a line-up of premium content featuring award-winning talent in front of and behind the camera,' Schwartz told advertisers and industry journalists in a series of one-on-one presentations this week in New York.

"Michael DuPont, EVP for ad sales, said that Pop has added 58 new national advertisers, expanded its distribution on traditional cable and over-the-top platforms, and drove double digit growth in viewership among A18-49 (+21%) and W25-54 (+13%), according to Nielsen (Total Day, L+7).

"NEW SERIES

• HOT DATE created in partnership with digital powerhouse CollegeHumor and its studio, Big Breakfast (Adam Ruins Everything) and executive produced by Will Arnett’s Electric Avenue Productions (Gong ShowFlaked), Principato-Young Entertainment and Big Breakfast, the half-hour scripted comedy stars Emily Axford and Brian K. Murphy and will premiere in Fall 2017.

• CLIQUE is a primetime drama series from the creative team behind the cult hit Skins. The show brings childhood soulmates Georgia (Aisling Franciosi, The Fall) and Holly (Synnove Karlsen) to a university, where Georgia gets drawn into an elite clique of alpha girls led by mysterious professor Jude Monroe (Louise Brealey, Sherlock). Created and executive produced by Jess Britain with executive producer Bryan Elsley.

• SWEDISH DICKS, PRIVATE INVESTIGATORS stars Peter Stormare (John Wick: Chapter 2Fargo), Johan Glans and featuring Keanu Reeves (The Matrix franchise) in a single camera comedy from Lionsgate and Viaplay about an aging ex-stuntman stuck in the past and an overly optimistic Swedish DJ stuck in the digital world. Together they get unstuck by forming the private detective firm Swedish Dicks – solving some of the strangest and wildest cases LA has ever seen. Season one will premiere with 10 episodes in Fall 2017 featuring guest stars Traci Lords, Anthony Lapaglia, Eric Roberts and Margaret Cho. Season two begins production this summer.

IN DEVELOPMENT (SCRIPTED)

• LET’S GET PHYSICAL is a comedy centered on the 1980s world of aerobics produced by Ben and Dan Newmark of Grandma’s House Entertainment and Connor Pritchard’s Inside Center Productions (Workaholics).

• KISS & CRY is a soapy-drama set in the high-stakes world of competitive figure skating written by Samantha Stratton (Search Party) and produced by Safehouse Pictures’ Tory Tunnell and Joby Harold (UndergroundKing Arthur: Legend of the Sword).

• THE DEMONS OF DORIAN GUNN. Shocked to discover he’s from a long line of “demon hunters,” disgraced New York socialite Dorian Gunn unwillingly abandons his life of leisure to protect humanity from monsters as they emerge from the gates of hell. Written by Evan Greenspoon and Brandon Scott Jones and executive produced by Tony Hernandez and Lilly Burns of JAX Media.

• IT’S A DATE, produced by Sarah Jessica Parker and Alison Benson’s Pretty Matches and Laura Waters’ Princess Pictures, is an irreverent comedy anthology about the pursuit of love.

• PEACHES was born a boy but had to be raised as a girl after his parents lost a pie-eating contest wager – and the only way for them to keep him was to hide his gender. Written by Barry Safchik and Michael Platt (Grace and FrankieWeeds) and produced by Michael Rosenberg’s Rosey TV (Hung) with global independent studio Entertainment One (You Me Her).

• THE NEW AND IMPROVED PIXIE WEXLER follows Pixie Wexler, former child commercial star now fresh out of grad school and embarking on her career as a copy writer a Chicago ad agency. Written by John Montgomery and produced by Mark Teitelbaum of Teitelbaum Artists Group, Bill D’Elia and John Montgomery.

• TWO PRINCES is a contemporary comedic fairytale in which Prince Charming leaves Cinderella behind in Fantasyland and winds up in present day Venice Beach,  written by Jay Baxter and Shaun Zaken; production company TBA.

IN DEVELOPMENT (UNSCRIPTED)

• GET IN MY VAN is a talk-travel show hosted by Kate Walsh (Private Practice,Grey’s Anatomy) and her best friend comedian Arden Myrin (Shameless,), as they travel the country in their pimped-out RV meeting real people and celebrity friends. Produced by Magical Elves.

• YOU TAKE MY POINT. In partnership with Rashida Jones (Parks and Recreation) and Matador (Lip Sync Battle), this unconventional pop culture panel show is hosted by Mary McCormack (DivorceHouse of Lies) from the comfort of her own Hollywood Hills living room."

"Tig Notaro is breaking her silence about Louis C.K.'s recent Saturday Night Live appearance.

"The Louie star raised eyebrows when he appeared in a sketch that many believed strongly resembled Notaro's short film Clown Service.

"'It has been impossible for me to ignore the cacophony of voices reaching out personally and publicly about the potential plagiarizing of my film Clown Service (a film that I screened at Largo in Los Angeles for over a year and it premiered at Vulture's Comedy Festival in NYC as well as numerous film festivals around the country and I am currently screening on my national tour). While I don't know how all this actually happened, I did find it extremely disappointing,' Notaro said in a statement obtained by The Hollywood Reporter.

"'Here is what I can tell you: First off, I have recently learned that a writer/director who was fully aware of Clown Service when I was making it, actually worked on Louis C.K.'s clown sketch that is in question.'

"Norato wrote, directed and stars in the short, which premiered in 2015. One day after the sketch in question premiered on Saturday Night Live, and questions about the similarity between SNL's Birthday Clown and Clown Service, heated up, Notaro posted the short on her Facebook page. Notaro noted she is currently on a nationwide tour where she is screening the short.

"Although Notaro said in her statement that she and Louis C.K. have not talked in more than a year, the latter serves as an exec producer on her Amazon comedy One Mississippi which is returning for a second season. The two have collaborated several times before. Back in 2015, C.K. began selling Notaro's famed 2015 Largo stand-up set on his website. At the time, he called the set, in which she opened up about her battle with breast cancer, 'masterful.' Portions of the proceeds from the set went to charities associated with fighting breast cancer.

"Watch Notaro's short here."

Per AdAge, "FANG (Facebook, Amazon, Netflix, Google/YouTube) is about to take a huge bite out of traditional network TV (ABC, NBC, CBS and Fox), and the media business will never be the same.

"To understand the profound implications of the recently announced NFL on Amazon Prime or YouTube TV, it may help to understand the economic engine that drives traditional commercial television.

"The goal of the commercial TV business is to package a specific, targeted audience and sell it to the highest bidder. The more precise the targeting, the higher the fee; the bigger the targeted audience, the bigger the fee.

TV is data-poor

Because the broadcast television industry is data poor (it only offers metrics about itself), this model has never been a complete solution for brand or lifestyle advertisers. In practice, an advertiser needs to translate ratings and demographic information from Nielsen into knowledge and insights it can link to its key performance indicators (KPIs). Because content is distributed across so many non-TV platforms, this process gets more difficult every day. How effective was your broadcast TV buy? Was there an increase in sales that could be attributed to it? Could we have spent this portion of our advertising budget differently?

FANG is data-rich

There are four data sets that help define each of us: attention, consumption, passion and intention. While traditional broadcast TV tries to measure or attribute some of these to TV viewership, FANG has actionable data that drives KPIs.

Facebook knows what you are paying attention to. You post and share the things you care about, and your Facebook profile makes your attention actionable.

Amazon knows what you consume and what you're thinking about consuming. If you've bought it or are planning to buy it, Amazon knows it and can act on that data.

Netflix knows your passions. You demonstrate how you can be reached on an emotional level every time you watch a video. Netflix knows more about the kind of entertainment that ignites your passions than you do. It continually acts on that data.

Google/YouTube knows your intentions. You never intend to go to Google and stay there; you search for what you intend to do. Your Google profile indicates, with a very high degree of accuracy, what you are likely to do in the near-term future. This is some of the clearest, most actionable data in the world.

We'll still have four major networks, just not the familiar four

People often reminisce about the "good ol' days" when there were four major networks: ABC, NBC, CBS and Fox. We are transitioning to a world where there will still be four networks, just not the four networks you're used to. FANG is delivering actionable data to advertisers in ways that traditional broadcasters simply can't.

The power of Amazon Prime to a fast-moving consumer goods company may be less significant than the power of Amazon Prime to a consumer electronics manufacturer, but Amazon is becoming a complete solution for all types of b-to-c -- and many types of b-to-b -- advertisers. Its size, scale and efficacy are truly stunning.

If YouTube TV and other over-the-top skinny bundles start to get traction, we are going to see a dramatic shift toward the data-rich, brand-safe, internet giants. (Yes, Facebook and Google will deal with their current content adjacency and brand safety problems, and you will forget they had them.) FANG will not be alone. Apple is going to get into this game, and there are international powerhouses like Alibaba and QQ that are already well on their way.

What does this really mean?

For today: Advertisers are spending, traditional networks are making money and all of this sounds like stuff you've heard before. But we're only talking about timing. Traditional (linear) TV audiences are declining at a significant rate, and they are practically aged out of key demographics. Cable customers are also declining. So, the question is when this shift will make a difference, not if.

For consumers: More choice, more fun. Consumers don't care about content transport mechanisms or broadcast business models, they just want their content.

For advertisers: Brands have never wanted to buy CPMs (cost per thousand impressions) or GRPs (gross rating points); they want to sell stuff. The data-rich FANG and other tech giants are offering data that can be turned directly into sales.

For networks: It's just a matter of time before media without actionable data will be impossible to monetize. Can traditional TV catch up? Adapt or die!"