Requiescat in pace: "Arrested Development"

When NBC retired "My World and Welcome To It," the series based on the writings of one of my literary heroes, James Thurber, in 1970--after one season, and Emmys for best comedy and best actor--I should have been prepared for this moment.

Sure, you say, I was just a kid in 1970. Kids bounce back. Maybe. After all, when Spy Magazine finally gave up the ghost a quarter century later, it was pretty disappointing, but not that painful. By the end, Spy clearly deserved a good Viking funeral--having been overseen during its final dotage by the Grim Reaper of Humor Publishing himself, Tony Hendra, still apparently recycling lame ideas (like a "guns and sandwiches" theme issue) from his stint at the helm of the by-then-spiraling-downward National Lampoon years before. That was a loss, but I was older, tougher--and it had been lagging for a few years, not untimely pluck'd while it was still funny.

So, a decade later, despite a hard-bitten cynicism and world-weariness born of years of disappointment, I'm taking it rough that FOX is canceling the critically acclaimed "Arrested Development." Thirteen more episodes next season (when they can be bothered to show them) and that's it.

How good is this show? The closed-captioning alone is Must-See TV. Sometimes it's the only way to be sure you really heard what you just heard. Without it you might not get the name of the young lawyer: Bob Loblaw (have a martini and say it three times). Or some of the wicked fun they had with confusions about the name "Lucille"--or several other bizarre family names and nicknames--might shoot right past you. Or that whole bit about the Mexican soap opera star named "Hermano." Or the warp-speed sexual puns. Or--oh hell, just go here.