Now that we've learned Jennifer Aniston is on board at Dirt to play the rival to Courteney Cox's Lucy Spiller – and engage in a LESBIAN KISS with her! – it's becoming quite hard to find just one example to illustrate how the show manages to shark jump in each episode. We're at the point where it's happening multiple times per show. You know what other primetime drama exerts that feeling? Lost. And what a boring maze of exhausted plot apexes that series has become.

In this week's episode alone, we've got equal parts necrophilia, foot fetishist, little girl walking in on her father's suicide, and masturbation (well, two parts masturbation). In the end, we're left with the type of cocktail where you swore the bartender put lemon juice in there instead of vermouth.

That said, at least one of our anonymous Tabloiders is enjoying the sauce. And who are our Tabloiders once again? Well, they'd lose their jobs if we told you, but rest assured, these are top-level folks who know that no real-life tabloid editor would lack so much tact she'd hurl insults at her mother. In public.

Says Tabloider No. 1:

I don’t usually pay attention to that alphabet soup of parental guidance ratings the networks are obligated to announce, but last night’s episode of “Dirt” definitely merited a warning or two.

The show lived up to its title by opening with an explicit bit of necrophilia — and before the hour was over, we were treated to two scenes of masturbation (one interrupted by that ultimate of buzzkillers, the call from Mom), a foot fetishist overcome by a reporter’s size 8 Kate Spade pumps, and a dead woman giving birth to a litter of kittens. (Yes, you read that right.)

And that’s just the editorial staff. It’s a wonder they found the time to put out a magazine. There was something about a dead rapper and a closeted right-wing actor (yawn), but the point of last night’s show seemed to be that magazine editors are despicable people who clearly know no boundaries, sexual or otherwise.

It’s getting a bit tiresome that the editor-in-chief, Lucy Spiller (played by Courteney Cox), is an irredeemable bitch who’ll happily trample whoever’s in her path, be it her mother, her brother, her staff, a waitress, and, naturally, her assistant.

A sample bit of dialogue:

Assistant: Here’s your coffee.

Lucy (sneering at the mug): That’s not Spanish leather. That’s rawhide. Use the color chip until you get it right.

Admittedly, a subplot attempted to explain why Lucy’s soul is so tortured — turns out she was the one who found her father’s body when he hung himself 25 years ago. So Daddy’s little girl worked up quite a bit of outrage at her mother’s planned remarriage: “She’s getting married on the anniversary of dad’s death. How sick is that?”

This from a woman who puts on the cover of her magazine a photo of a dead man’s decapitated head floating in a jar (giving new meaning to the term head shot).

In what was intended to be a motivational speech to a struggling reporter, Lucy snapped, “The story didn’t call for balls. It called for brains. Don’t confuse the two.”

That’s a lesson the show needs to learn.

Says Tabloider No. 2:

Oh, the shame tabloid-ers must endure to impress our boss and get the story! Don reminds us of the cost of our profession as he is so wracked with guilt over the suicide of a young actress that he hallucinates a relationship with her to alleviate his pain. His depression-induced fantasy affair harkened the tender compassion of dysfunctional love not seen since Cage & Shue in Leaving Las Vegas. Why, oh why did the writers have to (re-)kill her off? They were at once the funniest and most touching part of the show. He chose a life of bland, Mindsoft-induced zombieism and a box of cats over this beautiful idyll? Really? They absolutely need to bring her back; maybe when he sleeps with another girl and the cat jumps on the bed, she can suddenly replace whomever he's schtupping. I mean, great romances like that one don't come along often.

But I digress. When Don, in a tell-tale head moment, finally tracks down the decapitated dome of missing rap star "Aundre G", he is too conflicted to just get the shot and stops to "chat" with the disembodied deceased. One of the most insightful parts of the show is how the utter depravity of Don's work, blended with his own depression and creativity forces him to "connect" more deeply with his subjects.

Of course, Don isn’t the only one who feels a moral conflict. The creepy Dr. Stomach-Stapler hotel scene was priceless, if somewhat disconcerting. First, it raised the ethical dilemma for a young, ambitious reporter of trading a foot-job for valuable info, although it would have been tougher call if not for the "no-touching" rule. And as slimy and skeevy as this guy was, a shoe-fetish is actually fairly low on the creep-o-meter for sexual quirks. Part of me couldn't help but wonder if all guys, on some level, don't have a bit of Dr. Stapler in them. Except for the part where he apologized afterward. I mean, who does that?

And no show would be complete without its Lucy Spiller moments. But this time there's a twist. In between barking at assistants and dressing down reporters, she actually shows remorse over her dead father, and a twinge of hurt when her brother wont reveal his latest love. So what that she sublimates these feelings by sabotaging her mother's wedding and siccing Don and his camera on her brother. This is hard proof that really is a heart in there somewhere!

I just wonder why she didn't also immediately put a tail on her mother's new beau — or at least do some digging if she was so upset about them marrying so soon. And the real Bonnie would never have issued such a cheap, tactless rant at her mother's wedding. In private, sure, but in public, she'd have much more likely delivered something upbeat and only slightly snarky — enough to irk her mother, but not enough to make her look utterly demonic to the other party guests. An artfully loaded remark about motherhood and remembering the past is much more her style. And a quip about how her new "stepfather" could avoid the pitfalls faced by her mom's previous husbands would've nailed it. (And perhaps she’s such a cut-throat editor because she may be responsible for her father’s suicide? I guess we’ll have to stay tuned.) No, no, no — her mother's coldness ("Why don't you try being a mother?") is the reason behind the suicide and her demeanor. Sorry.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have the whole Sid & Nancy-lite of the actor and actress couple. Sid & Nancy because of the drugs and malaise, "lite" because its without any of the cursing, violence or entertainment value. They're not even part of the company, so remind me, why should we care about them?

Finally, my own bias aside, this feels like a show that's starting to find its legs. Still a bit rough on the edges, but even first season Seinfelds seem corny looking back. People should give this show a chance. I even exposed it to a straight male friend not in the business, who enjoyed learning what "pollywagging" is, and who also promised he’d watch again if I agreed to pretend to be interested in the Super Bowl.