Every Fall when the new television season is rolled out, I invariably become emotionally involved in those series which are yanked by their networks after only a few episodes. I have an uncanny ability to pick the losers, probably due to the fact that I am drawn to bad television like a roving wolf to a rotting carcass, the smell of dead flesh too irresistible to ignore. Last season it was a show about a species of alien lizards poised to take over the world, our only hope being the intelligent, witty maneuvers of a large-breasted scientist who spent much of the series running around in a wet t-shirt. That one lasted 15 episodes, and although I didn’t see the ending I’m hoping that the buxom scientist saved the world with a computer hard drive as her dripping, tousled hair draped over her heaving, impenetrable chest. Up and down. Up and down.