Hollywood Makes Noah's Ark: The Original Love Boat.

It's really too bad this movie isn't coming out in time to battle that annual bloodbath, the war on Christmas. Some really huge oars could come in super handy in spanking back the secular happy holiday heathens. Better late than never, I suppose.

The official trailer of "Noah" was released Thursday. Here, have a look see:

Could Hollywood have picked a more rugged, yet virtuous, yet foxy slab of fillet manyon to portray the six-hundred-year-old dry land seafarer than Russell Crowe?

No way. The guy barely looks 480, which apparently back then was the new 350. Plus, the dude had three kids after age 500, and this is way prior to the nurturing palm of four-hour pharma.

And Anthony Hopkins as Methuselah? Brilliant. In this flick, he wields his evil freely; no need to slurp his human sweetbreads and Chianti through this oppressive apparatus:

According to Genesis, Chapter 5, here's how the whole thing started:

The Lord saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time. The Lord regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled. So the Lord said, “I will wipe from the face of the earth the human race I have created—and with them the animals, the birds and the creatures that move along the ground—for I regret that I have made them.” But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord.

Until I read this, I hadn't realized that God actually experienced buyer's remorse twice. The first time, Adam and Eve had barely exchanged phone numbers before she screwed everything up with what became known in Eden as "The Dangling Nectarine Affair." I know, right? Freaking women. I could be sipping a mojito, naked by the pool, if it weren't for that ditzy skirt.

Leave it to a man, Noah, to cut our losses and gain a smidge of political capital with the big guy. If it weren't for this righteous bro, we wouldn't have been allowed to continue our suffering for millennia to come. Please find a time in your busy day to thank our man, Noah.

Will the mega studios tackle any other of antiquity's historical events? I hope so. They've already nailed The Ten Commandments, employing every aspiring Caucasian actor in the process while perfecting the art of spray bottle bronzing. For Hollywood's followup, Chuck Heston, after being offered the role of John the Baptist, told director Goerge Stevens, "Goddammit, George! I'm freaking Moses! If I'm not cast as JC, this script better be the greatest f*cking story ever told." 

The rest is history, except for the "f" word. The Greatest Story Ever Told, released in 1965, was nominated for five Oscars, propelled to greatness by Pat Boone's riveting performance as a celestial being at Jesus' tomb. Just call him angel…of the hairpiece, angel.

A dark side exists, however, to these Hollywood sagas of real men executing God's blueprints. Naturally, anytime these amoral liberals get their fingers in the money pie, they'll pursue the booty at all costs. We, as the pious messengers of the word, must remain ever vigilant in rejecting the snake oil of blasphemy.

I hold aloft the robust souls who risked public scorn to speak out against the popular Harry Potter series as blasphemous drivel. What an abomination it is to pollute our children with stories of other children who selflessly defend their families and friends against the dark lord.

It's a twisted message they send, and I truly hope Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson enjoy the worldly goods they've accumulated on this big blue marble, since they don't allow carry-ons on Hell Airways.

What's that you say? Emma Watson is also in Noah's Ark, playing the role of Noah's adopted daughter Ila?

God bless her. She's obviously repented.

Hollywood's Land of MIsfit Toys.

Remember Chuck, the older brother on Happy Days? You don't? That's probably because he only appeared in a handful of Season One episodes and then vaporized into the hazy post-high school brother who never was. Chuck didn't even show his toe-headed self on subsequent Happy Days holiday specials where everyone comes home. He must have gotten himself messed up with drugs or was sent to Nam or something.

Television casting is an ever-morphing amoeba; always has been. 

How about when Partridge Family drummer Chris, a dark complected, brown-haired lad transformed into yellowy blond Chris for Season Two? Why did it even matter? Those kids didn't play the instruments anyway, and if anyone screamed to be replaced, it was the little one,Tracy, whose jerky tambourine demonstrated the musical prowess of a young Linda McCartney.

Here are a couple shots from the pilot episode of Leave it to Beaver. If your facial recognition skills seemed to have failed you, fear not. The original Ward Cleaver was some guy named Casey Adams. The first Wally was a kid by the name of Paul Sullivan. Wow, Pete Best has nothin' on those poor sods, getting replaced by Hugh Beaumont and Tony Dow after one episode. That must have been rough for those guys, sitting on the sidelines while The Beav and Company rocketed to pop icon status for the next half century.

When we welcomed The Brady Bunch into our homes that fall of 1969, it didn't take long at all for Robert Reed and Florence Henderson to light up our tubes with raw sexual energy. Those two appeared born to play Mike and Carol Brady, especially when they were in their pajama-clad foxiest. 

But did you know that Joyce Bulifant from the Mary Tyler Moore Show and Gene Hackman had originally been penciled in to play the very Brady parents? I'll admit, Gene Hackman might have turned a few heads with his puka shell necklace and manfro, but not nearly to the level of Robert Reed, especially back lit in the soft sunsets of Waikiki.

Yet even America's favorite white family had a nosy neighbor named Nielson to spar with, especially when Bobby and Cindy grew up enough to start looking like Rob and Candy. Enter Oliver, the newest, cutest ratings magnet to stuff his Dorothy Hamill bowl cut into the Brady split level.

Not sure Oliver helped steady the foundering comedy; he may have actually tainted its fragile chemistry.

During my prime TV watching years, a couple of shows experienced fairly sizable cast turnover. After Three's Company captured lightning in a bottle with Jack, Chrissie, Janet and Mr. Roper, the show's potency leeched into the slog when Suzaane Somers was swapped with Jinelee Harrison and Mr. Roper was succeeded by Mr. Farley, played by Don Knotts. 

But when Farrah Fawcett turned in her badge and bikini to Charlie after a contract dispute, that hit home. I was fifteen years old and had just been given my brother's old TV when he went to college. It was one of those big console sets, black and white, and it was mine. I guess you could say that Tuesday nights were my "date night" with Charlie's Angels. Jill, Sabrina and Kelly materialized in my room at eight o'clock and filled my musty teenage lair with their silky presence for the next forty-two minutes. 

It always seemed to go so fast, and yet somehow, I had plenty of time.

I don't pay much attention to many TV shows now, especially network stuff. An obvious example of current day high-profile actor replacement is the whole Two-and-a-Half Men situation, where Ashton Kutcher surfaced in the wake of Charlie Sheen's toxic jetsam. I've heard the show's not as good now. 

This one is my favorite. In 1968, Chirstina Crawford, daughter of faded Hollywood starlet Joan Crawford, had been playing the role of 28-year-old Joan Borman Kane on the daytime soap, The Secret Storm. While recovering from surgery, Christina's role was filled by her wonderfully versatile mommy dearest, John Crawford. 

Here's a typical example of the elder Crawfords's ability to take the audience by the hair and flog it with the wire coat hanger of thespianic genius. Let's face it—she looked every bit the part of a 28-year-old—who'd been smoking and drinking nonstop for the past fifty years. Masterful.

Regrettably, there are two other categories that come to mind. The first is the list of actors and actresses who died during filming and hence necessitated quick and tasteful decisions by network creative staff, people like Corey Monteith in Glee, John Ritter in 8 Simple Rules and Phil Hartman of Saturday Night Live and The Simpsons. All so sad.

And lastly a group exists which is best illustrated by the Bewitched, Darrin Stephens tag team of Dick York and Dick Sargent. No one even seemed to care that Darrin was played by a different guy. It was kind of like when your roommate comes home with a twelve pack of Bud Light and you really wanted Coors Light but it's cool because at least your roomy bought the right cigarettes.