It’s 2 am, and I am watching ‘Raines’. It’s not particularly good, but I guess that’s what you expect at that time. Well that, and those call-in quiz shows where people try and guess the top 10 most obscure things you would find in a sock drawer, with little success. I will guiltily admit to sometimes watching them. But I’ve never seen anyone guess a right answer. Ever.  

 The only saving grace of ‘Raines’ is acting legend Jeff Goldblum. Goldblum has acting chops: He has saved the Earth with a Powerbook, beaten off Velociraptors with a stick, and has even broken a guy’s forearm in an arm wrestle. That is epic. It is his trademark dry sarcasm that keeps me from falling asleep, well, that and the cumulative affects of the day’s coffee intake.

"Hi, I'm Jeff Goldblum, and welcome to my crib..."

But even the in presence of Goldblum, I was irked by the premise of the show: A detective solves crimes by talking to the dead victims whose murders he is investigating. Irritating huh? It seems that every channel you turn over to, there is someone communicating with the not-so-alive-anymore…