Finally wrapped up the second season of FX’s LOUIE this weekend (I’ve been a bit behind, catching up with episodes as they appear on Hulu), and while I won’t go so far to declare it the best show on television, or even the best comedy–my boob-tube habits keep me too far out of the cultural zeitgeist to do such a thing–I will say that it’s my favorite thing on TV. Quite possibly my favorite-ever comedy that doesn’t involve snark-tastic robots with questionable movie tastes.

Much of what I love about the show are the same things that critics and savvy viewers have extolled–the cinematic feel of the show (LOUIE presents a New York that Woody Allen would’ve given us had he been a mean drunk), the writing that effortlessly weaves between clever, biting, unafraid, and nakedly personal, its willingness to be casually surreal. That Louie CK handles the majority of the creative manpower on the show–acting in, writing, editing, directing, and for all I know catering each episode–is impressive in itself, but the consistently excellent results are even more so.

But what I really like about the show is how immensely relateable I find Louie CK’s television version of himself. Be it his awkward relationships with women, his uncomfortable day-to-day dealings with people in general, or his “hey, the world’s fucked, but what’re you gonna do?” attitude, I find myself nodding in agreement at least once per episode. This guy fucking knows me.

Kudos to FX for giving Louie CK the creative freedom to do such a show (I’ll be eternally grateful to the network for THE SHIELD, so this is a nice bonus). Already counting down the days to season three.


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