Out among the stars

Stashed surreptitiously in the programming of a PBS affiliate near you is five of the wierdest minutes of science you are likely to see on TV. And I mean that in a good way. I think.

The host, creator, and motive force behind these minutes is one Jack Horkheimer. He is really, really pumped to point out to you all the interesting cosmic phenomena you can see from your backyard. (The fact that it was initially called "The Star Hustler" led many to believe it was breaking new and daring ground for naked eye astronomy. Alas.)

Now, I like a good - or even passable - program on stars and shit. I've been known to say up to watch Astrophysics 101 telecourses. But something about this show is...queer.

Jack has always had, shall we say, a distinctive presence. Yet lately I feel like he's sliding perilously near parody. Not of himself. Rather some ungodly hybrid of Andy Rooney and Rip Taylor.

Maybe it's the voice. Maybe it's the "hair". But I half expect him, legs dangling from the low-res rings of Saturn, to toss shiny confetti at the camera and crow "Woo-hoo! Perseids!", then slip in a cranky aside about how "planetariums are too darn cold," before signing off with a snarling "Keep looking up. Until that arthritis gets you."