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Reed Diamond, Moon Bloodgood, Kevin McKidd and Gretchen Egolf in “Journeyman.”

Time travel series tend to fall into formula pretty quickly, held captive by their premises, but given some solid writing, a great cast and an internal logic system that keeps everything from going kablooey, these shows can remain entertaining and find audience larger than an average night on Sci-Fi Channel.

Based on the pilot, which premiered Monday after “Heroes” on NBC, “Journeyman” is just such an animal.  Dan Vasser (Kevin McKidd of “Rome”) is a newspaper reporter in San Francisco who suddenly finds himself unstuck in time, disappearing without any warning and showing up on random days from the past 20 years. In the course of blasting in and out of the present, he discovers threads of information about the people he encounters on these trips, and is able to shift history for the better.

In the pilot episode, the assumption on the part of his wife (Gretchen Egolf), his editor (Brian Howe) and his brother (Reed Diamond of “Homicide: Life on the Street”) is that he is either insane or has relapsed into a drug problem that plagued him in the past, one probably spurred by the death of Livia (Moon Bloodgood), his fiance who (presumably) died in a plane crash nine years ago. But Livia is not just showing up in these fugues — she seems to have a key role in Dan’s transportation through time.

As I said, such an enterprise could have gotten ripe and cheesy, but “Journeyman” works because the actors are selling it. McKidd and Egolf have great chemistry, so time will tell if the series will hold up. “Medium” started out promisingly, but it quickly fell into a skull-numbing formula. “Journeyman” will make it if the central mystery of Dan’s strange ability/affliction continues to hum in the background.

Kaley Cuoco and Jim Parsons in “The Big Bang Theory” 

Following the success of “The Office” and “The 40-Year-Old Virgin,” studios and show developers moved fast to exploit a rising tide of geek chic — witness the arrival of both NBC’s nerdcore spy dramedy “Chuck” and CBS’ “The Big Bang Theory,” a four-camera laugh-tracker about hyper-intellectual superdork roommates who suddenly have a hottie of exceedingly ordinary intelligence move in across the hall.

While I admire series creator Chuck Lorre’s pugnaciousness and willingness to blow up bridges in the industry, I’m less a fan of his aggressive sit-com style, and “The Big Bang Theory” is a zero-subtlety enterprise. Lead characters Sheldon (Jim Parsons) and Leonard (Johnny Galecki of “Roseanne,” an Ur-Lorre production) are so off-the-charts in their geekdom that it goes well beyond believability.

Cuoco works mainly as the generic object of desire/fear, but the dynamic between Sheldon and Leonard is more like an old married couple than two straight male university researchers. Lorre gets the feelings of inadequacy, but these guys seem to love polynomial equations far more than girls. Leonard’s lust for Cuoco’s Penny just seems to happen because Lorre deemed it so — not because of any real impulse or attraction.

Also, at the risk of sounding like my mother, “The Big Bang Theory” has the loudest laugh track I have heard in ages. I’m not emphatically opposed to four-camera laugh-track comedies when they are done properly — “How I Met Your Mother” is a prime example of a traditional sit-com that works, mainly because its characters have layers and subtlety and also appear to be communicating with one another. “The Big Bang Theory” could develop into that, but right now it’s just people detonating one-liners at 120 decibels.

8:01 pm “It’s Britney, B—h.” Not to go all Perez/Egotastic/The Superficial on you, but when you’re going to wear an outfit designed to fit a Bratz doll, you might want to start the Pilates regimen earlier. Okay, that’s that. “Gimmie More” is not what most people would characterize as a first-rate comeback single, and this routine was like a sluggish version of something she would have done at the VMAs about six years ago, but it will probably be a decent temporary band aid for all the career damage. I think I would have waited a while, eaten some vegetables and tried something in February at the Grammys.

8:04 pm “She is amazing. I mean, she is 25 years old, and already she has accomplished everything she is going to accomplish in her life.” — Sarah Silverman.

8:05 pm I don’t even know if I can do justice to what Silverman just did given the Family Viewing Time standards of this live blog. Go to YouTube, boys and girls, but check with Mommy and Daddy to make sure it’s OK. Suffice to say, it was on the order of the “Miracle of Birth” segment of “The Meaning of Life,” done with facial puppetry.

8:08 pm Alicia Keys has a deer caught in the headlights moment while talking about behind-the-scenes parties. Granted, an immaculately made-up and radiant blinded deer, but a blinded deer, nevertheless.

8:11 pm Nicole “Not Ready For Prime Time” Scherzinger and Eve present “Monster Single of the Year.” Avril Lavigne’s “Girlfriend,” “Fall Out Boy’s “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs,” Rihanna’s “Umbrella,” Lil’ Mama’s “Lip Gloss,” Mims’ “This is Why I’m Hot,” Plain White T’s “Hey There Delilah,” Shop Boyz, “Party Like a Rock Star,” Daughtry’s “Home,” T-Pain and Yung Joc’s “Buy You a Drank,” and Timbaland and Keri Hilson’s “The Way I Are.” And the winner is…

Rihanna, like there was any question-estion-estion.

8:15 pm Kanye does “Stronger.” Personally, I think this fits his standard mode of dropping an underperforming single as the first out of the gate before releasing something that makes everyone’s brain explode. Nice Daft Punk sample, though.

8:21 pm Akon rocks “Smack That” with Mark Ronson’s soultastic horns. Could have stood to hear the entire thing, which marks a first with me and Akon.

8:23 pm Robin “Alan” Thicke and Jennifer Hudson announce noms for “Quadruple Threat” award: Beyonce (singer, dancer, actor, clothing line), Bono (singer, social activist, guest editor, eco entrepreneur [Wha?], Jay-Z (rapper, producer, CEO/business man, clothing line), Justin Timberlake (singer/dancer, actor, clothing line [was that a triple? does singer/dancer count as one?]), Kanye West (rapper/producer, social activist, clothing line).

And the winner is …

JT, who challenged MTV to “play more videos.” Now, that’s social activism!

8:33 pm Kanye and 50 Cent take the stage together and face off a la the Rolling Stone cover. Ever have the feeling you’re being jerked around by a hype machine? Nah, me neither. They announce “Most Earth Shattering Collaboration: Akon feat. Eminem, “Smack That,” Beyonce and Shakira, “Beautiful Liar,” Gwen Stefani feat. Akon, “The Sweet Escape,” Timber feat. Timba, “SexyBack,” U2 feat. Green Day, “The Saints Are Coming.” And the winner is …

Beyonce/Shakira, but the only thing earth-shattering about the collabo is that you couldn’t tell their vocals apart.

8:36 pm Adam Levine of Maroon 5 takes his spot with Ronson and the horns. Why is this guy always better working with people other than his own band, and isn’t he the guy who persuaded Juliet to go to the island on “Lost”?

Okay, so Adam Levine and Nestor Carbonell, separated at birth?

8:45 pm Chris Brown does his Usher Raymond imitation, which was kind of a Michael Jackson imitation.

8:47 pm Rihanna upstages Brown with a rocked-out “Umbrella.” Brown then starts dancing to — oooh, snap! — “Billie Jean.”

8:54 pm Seth Rogen and Tulsa’s Bill Hader roll out the choices for Best New Artist, which you are supposed to vote for by texting. The choices are Amy Winehouse, Lily Allen, Gym Class Heroes, Carrie Underwood and Peter Bjorn and John. My wife would vote for Wino, I would vote for (guess who?), and I think the Staticblog rabble goes for PBJ, though the rest of the state goes for the Checotah Wonder.

8:56 pm The cast of “The Hills” announces Male Artist of the Year: Akon, Robin “Alan” Thicke, T.I, JT or Kanye West. And the winner is …

JT, who once again, tells MTV to play more videos. “We don’t want to watch ‘The Simpsons’ on reality television.” What does that mean? I mean, I’ll side with him on the Ashlee/Jessica debate, but let’s see what really happens when people stop acting cell-animated and start acting real.

9:06 pm My CBGB nemesis, Shia LaBeouf, announces the title of the new Indy movie: “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull,” then announces Female Artist of the Year noms: Beyonce, Fergie, Nelly Furtado, Rihanna and Wino. And the winner is …

Fergie, who I uploaded as a thumbnail because I just can’t take it. I could take Wino on sheer drunken talent or Rihanna on aesthetics, but this is the kind of thing that makes people hate pop music in general and MTV in particular.

9:10 pm Kanye party continues, now with a pair of white Ray-Ban knockoffs obviously stolen from Flavor Flav. Like the quiet storm grooves, though.

9:18 pm Timbaland serves as opening act for Linkin Park, and suddenly it is 2000 again. Next up, throw your red ballcaps in the air for the Bizkit!

9:23 pm Vince and E announce Best Group noms: Fall Out Boy, Gym Class Heroes (who never met an interpolation they didn’t like), Linkin Park, Maroon 5 and the White Stripes. Not that I spend my days and nights politicking for My Chemical Romance, but what gives? And the winner is …

FOB. Patrick Stump, don’t go changin’. Blender, get that cover on the presses!

9:31 pm Rihanna duets with the Stump on “Shut Up and Drive.” Now the song doesn’t sound quite as much like something Robert John “Mutt” Lange coughed up for Shania, which she, in turn, passed off to a budding R&B starlet.

9:33 pm Nelly, of the St. Louis Nellies, introduces Alicia Keys, who seriously looks like she’s joining Earth Wind and Fire on the casino circuit. I don’t like it when parents put those headbands on infants, and I don’t like it when they put them on full-grown pop stars, either. With all those jewels on her eyelashes, Keys’ levator palpebrae superiorises are going to be ripped! Also, Keys takes the first step to rehabbing George Michael’s career by segueing into “Freedom ‘90.” And we didn’t even have to ask.

9:44 pm Jamie Foxx and Jennifer Garner. Foxx spends a great deal of time babbling about Garner. He finally allows her to talk before going forward with the Best New Artist announcement. To recap: Lily, PBJ, Gym Class Appropriators, Wino and Carrie “A Louisville Slugger” Underwood. And the winner is … and keep in mind, this is being voted on by MTV viewers …

Gym Class Heroes. I knew there was a reason Scott Shattuck and I used to purposely get hit during dodgeball and sat on the sidelines and analyzed the “white album.” It’s because of people like that.

9:49 pm Miss Teen South Carolina proves she can sort of read a self-deprecating joke. Sort of.

9:56 pm Mary J. Blige, quite possibly the most talented person to take the stage the entire evening, does not perform. Instead, she introduces Dr. Dre. “‘Detox’ baby, it’s coming,” Dre says, referring to the “Chinese Democracy” of hip-hop albums. So Blige introduces Dre, and Dre introduces the Video of the Year noms, to wit: Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable” (which was unremarkable), Justice’s “D.A.N.C.E.,” which is my choice mainly because it rocks socks and will send Kanye stumbling into the desert on an impromptu vision quest if it wins, Rihanna feat. Jay-Z’s “Umbrella,” JT’s “What Comes Around,” Kanye’s “Stronger” and Wino’s “Rehab.” And the winner is …

Rihanna feat. Jay-Z.

10:05 pm Nelly Furtado takes the stage with her freshly bleached follicles, completing her apparent transformation into Madge circa “True Blue,” and it becomes the Tim/Tim show.

My back hurts, I’ve run out of Rihanna photos, and the show’s over. Go home.

Chances are, most Staticblog readers will claim to be reading Moliere tonight, orwatching a DVD of a classic Norman Lear sit-com, or they’ll really be watching HBO’s highbrow sex soap “Tell Me You Love Me” coupled with the much anticipated return of “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” That’s just fine, kids — it really is — I’ll just be here, camped out on the couch and enduring the two-hour desperation spectacle that is the “2007 MTV Video Music Awards.”

And no,  I don’t have a bad attitude. I am completely at your service tonight. So come around in 50 minutes to this space. We will have bright, sparkling, snarky fun with this business. I only hope I don’t have to see much of Sway after the bore-me-to-tears pre-show: I have the suspicion that Sway doesn’t really have dreadlocks under that enormous cap, and that he is, in fact, smuggling a smoked ham or a goiter under the thing.

So come back at 8. We’ll have a big sarcastic blast.

UPDATE: Nicole Scherzinger, the lead pseudo-singer for the Pussycat Dolls, is doing one of the worst lip-synch performances I’ve seen this century. If you release a solo album ostensibly to prove your talent, you should not come off like the Victoria’s Secret version of the Numa Numa kid from YouTube. No wonder she didn’t make the main show.

Staticblog readers who are in bands, beware and take your vitamins. According to Professor Mark Bellis of John Moores University in Liverpool, the first five years after the initial blush of success could derail your plans for AARP membership.

From The Guardian: 

“Professor Bellis and his team analysed the careers of 1,064 artists who had made it into a catalogue of the 1,000 best albums of all time, as voted for by a poll of more than 200,000 people in 2000. Of these, 100 had died by 2005 - 9.6% of the men and 7.3% of the women. Accidents (16), drug/alcohol overdose (19) and the less rock’n'roll cancer (20) were the top three causes of death, with suicide (3), drug/alcohol related accidents (4) and violence (6) lower down the list. The mysterious “other” category (10) presumably included only truly original exits such as those of the ill-fated Spinal Tap drummers in the spoof rockumentary who variously vacated their stool after a bizarre gardening accident, on-stage spontaneous combustion and choking on someone else’s vomit.”

Of course, many of the people I know who are in bands jog regularly, have even tempers and are kind to small animals and children. But, the threat is there: get some platinum under your belt, and all of a sudden you’re having a Tanqueray breakfast at the Tropicana and Nicole Ritchie is your designated driver.