Uncle Mikey is out on "The Family." All the gay guys are out and proud on "Boy Meets Boy." And on "Big Brother 4," Jun is out on a day-pass for the MTV awards. But will she wear her saggy bikini on the red carpet?

Of these three, clearly "Boy" was the most dramatic this week. One of the trio of finalist "mates" is -- don't get the vapors, Mary -- straight. Informed of this twist, James, our 'mo dreamboat, furrowed his brow about one millimeter and sank down telegenically onto one of the groovy mid-century sofas in his spaceship-like Palm Springs house (this place looks like something Maj. Nelson and Jeannie might have settled down in). James' hag, I mean, girlfriend, went into a hetero tizzy over the straight-guy revelation, screeching that it's all her fault for "shoving these guys down your throat." Ahem. Well, not yet, dear. Shoot, these dudes don't even kiss on the lips. I've seen hairdressers greet customers with more tongue.

My guess is the little squinty-eyed guy -- Wade, Wes, Wad, Fess? -- is the un-gay one. Gorgeous Franklin is gay but slutty. James wants him bad but wonders why he's not nellier. Oh, the tangled webs they weave. And for what, a lousy $25K? No parting gifts? Dug the candle explosion though. Make up your own "flamer" joke here.

And back to "The Family" for a tick. Go, Dawn Marie! Or as they pronounce it in Jersey-ese: "Daw-wun, Mah-REE." Next week, Lurch and his kitchen minions reveal that they are the secret "board of trustees." And George Hamilton takes his tan out for martoonis. Smiles, everybody! Da plane! Da plane!

Here's how to bring some life to "For Love or Money 2": Now that it's down to two guys and a gal (she chooses one of them and if he chooses her back, she gets $2 million bucks and can dump him like a bad batch of coleslaw), they should announce ONE OF THE MEN IS GAY! Otherwise, this show will just fizzle down to nothing but ashes and empty wineglasses by the end. Where's the suspense, the heat, the storytelling? Our lady, a stick insect called Erin Brodie, has the type of grating personality and nasal delivery of the pre-pubescent Jan Brady. Erin's only two adjectives are "awesome" and "amaaaaaaazing," used to describe everything from a cup of coffee to the towering majesty of the Northern California Redwoods.

"Erin, what was it like to spend a night in a cave with Osama bin Laden?"

"Awesome. Just amaaaaaaaaazing."

The remaining "Love or Money" victims, er, suitors are the monosyllabically named Wade and Chad. The passionless Rob was sent for a stroll out the front gates of yon mansion for a second time last night. Where, oh, where will this scraggly-haired lunkhead turn up next? "Survivor"? "Elimidate"? Rejected twice on bad reality TV! Next on "Montel"!

If TV gets any more gay, Dan Rather will be "zuzhing" his shirtsleeves to his elbows and Tom Brokaw will be reporting live in a Speedo from Fire Island. Among last week's homo highlights: Chip and Reichen, billed as "married" winners of "The Amazing Race," turn out not to be so married anymore -- but that doesn't mean they won't play the gay couple card in the follow-up interviews. Anderson Cooper, the only "out" news anchor, has his own hour of CNN real estate every night (should we call it "happy hour"?). The Queer Eye Five made over Jay Leno (if only they could give his jokes more style, THEN we'd consider it a successful re-do). All this gay-ocity kinda takes the thrill out of "Will & Grace." Jack McFarland is no longer the gayest thing in primetime. Actually, compared to Anderson Cooper, Jack is Stanley Kowalski.

Elsewhere on the reality front, the kids from Piff Duddy's "Making the Band" are still tossing hissies and dissing the boss. With Mr. Combs pulling the strings, these little hip-hop puppets cry on cue, suck their thumbs and threaten to stalk back to their careers at America's finest fast-food outlets at about the same moment of every episode. Does anyone think this group's recording career will last any longer than, say, O-Town's? Thought not.

So Erin Brodie on "For Love or Money" can look at that oily-haired sleazewad Rob Campos, listen to him say "I'm crazy about you" with less enthusiasm than I use to order a caesar wrap at Schlotzky's and then she KEEPS HIM in the game. Some women redefine "dumb" when it comes to love. If the camera pulled in close-up on Rob's eyes, you'd see the soul of Faust staring back. Have two people ever sold their souls faster for the chance at some filthy luchre?

Yes, of course, they have and they would be called "The Family" on ABC. This is the one where the Joisey clan, who never meet a fractured verb tense they didn't love, are battling against the "secret board of trustees" (the butler, maid and chef) to win a million bucks. This week Uncle Mikey (sporting a tan darker than the crew of the Pequod) got to eat in the dining room, while snarling Aunt Donna had to nosh in the kitchen with the rest of the losers. Highpoint: Aunt Donna in the "driving contest" blindly careering into the wooden platform supporting a waxwork George Hamilton. No, wait! That was the real George! The Botox made it hard to tell if he was frightened, injured or even mildly concerned about possibly being flattened by the poiinty-nosed, money-grubbing schoolbus driver. Yes, in New Jersey Aunt Donna pilots a yellow tube of death. God help the kiddies.

"Boy Meets Boy" is down to its final trio - ONE OF WHOM IS STRAIGHT, promises the generic and utterly superfluous Australian hostess. Let's see, would the straight one be the guy who isn't trying to tonsil-tickle our leading man every five minutes? And doesn't Franklin the "wine steward" look like he's about to pop his cork whenever whatshisname gets within Altoid-sniffing distance of the other guys? In the real world, Franklin is the type with "restraining order" written all over his romantic history -- doncha bet?

Summer's reality shows are winding down like a dimestore clock and only "The Amazing Race" is promising anything close to an alarming ending. Will Chip and Reichen beat those snotty little homophobes from Dallas, Kelly and Jon? Aren't you sorry Kelly didn't crash headfirst while rapelling down the side of that building? This show is crisply, brilliantly edited and still packed with suspense week to week. Still feels must-see to me.

And then there's "Big Brother 4." Has any network ever assembled a more homely bunch of goobers in one place? (Not counting the Country Music Awards.) Does anyone care who actually wins? With the teen-throb handsome Nathan evicted -- how did CBS allow THAT to happen? -- there's nobody left to root for. Where's Bunky when you need him? And why does Julie Chen wear sparkly dust on her shoulders -- or is that brain droppings?

Over on MTV, "The Real World/Paris" ranges from tres jolie to just plain quel tragique these days. The housemates seem to have been drawn from an MTV Identi-Kit -- there's the loudmouth chick, the slutty one, the whiner, the drunk guy with bad hair, the sexually confused black guy, the nearly invisible homo (and he's Irish!) and the all-American boy (in this case, an extremely dull-witted, emotionally needy Southerner named, improbably, Ace). Munching Domino's pizza and McDonald's fries, these kids ignore all that is the City of Lights, preferring to oversleep, hang out in the only bar that will allow MTV's crew inside for taping and make a pigsty out of their lovely chateau. Unless one of these kids slaps another one, gets preggers or falls under the tracks of a Metro, there ain't nothing going to make the finale of this RW memorable.

So hooray to ABC for bringing back "The Family." The Sopranos have nothing on the short-limbed, oily clan from Jersey now squabbling over the $1 million prize. With over-plucked Aunt Donna X'd out of the final picture, Uncle Michael is the only hope for that side. It's up to the cute baldy cousin quietly to outsmart him (that shouldn't be difficult) and make off with the loot. Best moment this week: mulish Dawn Marie shrieking in fear during her "panic attack" in the lifeboat floating in knee-deep water. Drown her! Hit her with the oar like a rogue pod whale! What this show desperately needs is a better butler, say Paul Hogan from "Joe Millionaire."

Somewhere right now, that lunk from "Joe Millionaire" is looking at his own reflection in a car window, pondering the vagaries of short-lived reality show stardom. Zora? Where are you, hon?

Welcome, students, friends and fiends.
Without a TV column to fill these days, I'm launching this weblog to exploit my ongoing relationship with all things media, particularly reality TV.
Visit often. Just don't interrupt me during the "Real World" marathons.

E