Why the gimmicks? David Duchovny's unnecessary fake porn addiction

HBO's Sunday night shows are the stuff of TV legend: "The Sopranos," "The Wire," "Six Feet Under," "Rome," and "Deadwood." But HBO hasn’t broadcast anything nearly as good since "The Wire" ended. "True Blood" has potential, though I’ll be really disappointed if the vampires, as they appear to be, are simply a metaphor for people who are open about sex and sexuality.

Showtime stepped into the void with "The L Word" and "Dexter," but I resisted watching either one; the former because I can’t identify with being gay in WeHo (not that there’s anything wrong with it), the latter because a CSI show is a CSI show — even if the main character is a criminologist serial killer — and I’ve had enough of crime scene investigations and their "ghosts in the machine." Showtime did get me with the first season of "Californication," but they just might lose me because of the way they promoted the current season.

The premise has promise. It’s about a writer transplanted from New York, living on the Westside of L.A., and tortured by his quest to re-claim his lost love; finding his failure to deserve her reflected back at him from the bottom of empty glasses of booze and in the eyes of an endless string of attractive, enthusiastic, yet somehow unsatisfying sexual partners.

His first name comes from L.A.’s original Dirty Old Man, Charles Bukowski (known to his friends as "Hank"), so I didn’t mind that they gave him the hacky last name "Moody." I wasn’t even mad that the over/under for good speaking black roles is 1.5 (and the under, as always, is a safe bet), I got sucked in anyway.

But in an attempt to boost the new season’s ratings, Showtime insulted the audience by getting the show’s star, David Duchovny, into the news in a Moody-esque way. It’s a classic Hollywood trick and it’s never believable.

Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn conveniently started an on-set romance, then broke up around the time "The Break Up" came out (as if Jennifer Aniston, who favors the square-jawed white guy, would ever seriously date Vince Vaughn and his chins). Showtime’s Duchovny trick was even lamer. A few weeks before the season premiere, they had him check into rehab — reportedly for addiction to porn. That’s right, porn.

I have a few problems with this story. First, porn isn’t something you "watch," it’s something you "use," and only for a few minutes at a time. I’m sure there are guys who actually sit and watch porn, but none of them played Fox Mulder on "The X Files." Second, David Duchovny has been married to the gorgeous Tea Leoni since 1997.

I know the saying goes that no matter how hot a woman is, somewhere some guy is tired of sleeping with her - but not Tea Leoni.

Duchovny has also reportedly been getting his serve in with a tennis instructor, comparing headshots with a model, sampling the goods of a grocery store clerk, and getting retail therapy from a couple of Rodeo Drive’s finest.

The point being that if you can’t shop, eat, or play tennis without falling into some "strange," you don’t need to use porn, much less watch porn, because you’re getting plenty of the real thing.

The story completely falls apart after he checked out and came home. Was there a joyous reunion with David and Tea re-committing to each other and their family? No. Did they take Madelaine and Kyd to pick out pumpkins at the pumpkin patch? No. Instead, they announced that they’ve been separated for months. To top it all off, it comes out that Tea spent a good part of the summer following Billy Bob Thornton’s band around the country from Memphis to New York City — and it’s just a matter of time before she’s wearing a vial of his blood around her neck.

So what was the point of rehab? The marriage was over. Tea had become a groupie for Billy Bob, so it wasn’t to save his family. With all the women willing to make house calls (or perform iSight shows) for him, there is no way Dave needed porn. The only answer is because Hank Moody and Vincent Chase are competing for the same eyeballs on Sunday nights, and Showtime wanted to give their 40-something writer an edge over HBO’s young, pretty boy actor.

Ironically, there was no need. "Entourage" has turned into a juvenile wish-fulfillment fantasy, while "Californication" still has a chance to skewer showbiz from the inside.