Last night NBC brought back that staple of 1990s Sunday morning syndication, "American Gladiators." Whenever I got to skip church (and it wasn't often; I was a choir boy) I'd watch as often as I could, hypnotized by the giddy stupidity of it all (apparently I was also a redneck). Spandex, muscles, and all of the body-slamming my young adolescent mind could take: it was heaven. So I was initially elated to hear about NBC's plans to bring the show back as a prime time project. But then the initial promos started running and I got worried. The costumes were muted, the gladiators themselves seemed bland. It just looked like NBC was taking the whole thing too seriously. And, like, what's to take seriously about "American Gladiators"?

I needn't have worried. The new "Gladiators" is a hoot, bringing back most of the best facets of the original (Hang Tough! The Arsenal! The Eliminator!) and adding legitimately engaging hosts (Hulk Hogan and Laila Ali, in perfect casting). While I remain slightly skeptical of some of the new gladiators (there's no Blazer or Lazer in the bunch), the uncomfortably monochromatic Titan and the ridiculously over-the-top Wolf are genuinely intimidating, and kind of fun to root for.

And I do root for the gladiators in general, because I love seeing the smack-talking dopes that challenge them get thrown around like ragdolls. We got a lot of that in last night's two-hour episode, and it was fantastic. (Upon seeing one poor bastard flipped off The Pyramid and crash down at least four levels, my brother exclaimed "This is my new favorite show!") I cannot bother to remember the names of the cattle that were fed through the shoots last night, but the firefighter from New York was impressive, as was the ballsy lady who won the second hour thanks in part to some pretty amazing moves avoiding the mannish Fury on Hang Tough. I was glad the little spidermonkey dude won for the guys in the second hour, because the boastful putz he was up against was a real chud. And I felt bad for the ex-Marine woman who split her head open while swimming under an iron bar in The Eliminator. She was a tough broad.

But I howled at most of the rest of it. People being battered by huge padded weapons? Check. People getting shot in the ass by a cannon-fired tennis ball going 100 MPH? Check. People clinging on to The Travelator and writhing as their opponents pass them and win the whole thing? Check and double check.

Last night was awesome, and I'm definitely in for tonight's broadcast at its regular time. Ignore the critics who bitch about the vacuity of it all. It's "American Gladiators," not Hercule freaking Poirot. It's supposed to be mindless entertainment for the masses, and with the writers' strike robbing us of so many great shows (I am going through "Office" withdrawal...) we could do a whole lot worse.

Now bring on those skinny jackasses for the public humiliation of their lives. Yeeeeee-haw!