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Like Peter Chattaway on film, I am more comfortable writing about my favorite programs of 1999 than holding forth on what's best. While coping with a temporarily bi-metropolis marriage, I have watched far more TV in the last quarter of 1999 than, oh, since about 1988. This list notwithstanding, my Lent probably will be TV-free.

After enduring more than a year of gloomy and misanthropic predictions about the Y2K bug, what better antidote could we have asked for than round-the-clock live coverage of this worldwide celebration? (Congratulations to Australia, Egypt, and France for the most eye-popping displays.) For the trolls who spent New Year's Eve oiling shotguns in the fluorescent glow of their disaster-proof bunkers, don't worry: you can still buy a highlights video and watch it on your Y2K-compliant VCRs.

This comedy recycles plot themes (the follies of lying, the slapstick of hubris) even more often than the many Star Trek spinoffs. Still, it offers the witty scripts and brisk directing we can expect from any show that attracts James L. Brooks. Star Kelsey Grammer combines the dulcet tones of Orson Welles with the comic timing of Jack Benney—and manages to ridicule most of the Seven Deadly Sins.

"The Simpsons" is an especially rich pleasure because I took a few years to grasp its importance. Both shows from Life in Hell cartoonist Matt Groening regularly barbecue every American sacred cow, including popular culture and New Age aphorisms. Both also pay more attention to Christianity than most other network hits combined.

Like "The Simpsons," "King of the Hill" dares to portray a churchgoing family, and it puts a human face on American suburbia. Beneath its often biting jokes lies one of the sweetest-natured programs on TV. Considering that creator Mike Judge first gave the world Beavis & Butthead, this show represents nearly miraculous artistic growth.

What TV season would be complete without at least one hospital drama? "E.R." has been the best since it first went up against "Chicago Hope," although in 2000 it should face serious competition from Stephen Bochco's latest creation, "City of Angels." "E.R." has survived a few major changes in its ensemble cast—and week after week, it tells gritty, believable stories about a downtown Chicago emergency room.

The son of novelist Paul Theroux cut his teeth as one of the scattered correspondents who lasted more than a few months on Michael Moore's aggressive "TV Nation." "Weird Weekends" imitates the quirky topics and ersatz cinema verite of "TV Nation," but without the excessive cynicism. Louis Theroux seems to like people—even nutty and aggravating people—more than Michael Moore ever did, and it shows.

TV shows for insomniacs have always occupied a parallel universe—one of greater experimental freedom and, for 25 years now, live rock and roll. Yes, of course David Letterman drives barely funny routines into the ground (enough with the two sycophantic models, already!) and "Saturday Night Live" was uneven at best in 1999. Still, both shows continue to highlight some of the best live music on television, and when SNL aims its satire at both the right and (too rarely) the left, it's very funny (consider the Gap parodies featuring imitations of Bill and Hillary Clinton, Monica Lewinsky, and Kenneth Starr).

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January (Web-only) 2000, Vol. 44