Noun:
An abstract idea; a general notion.
A plan or intention; a conception.
In television, that word is ordinarily defined as whatever premise a particular show offers the viewer.
Admittedly, while, theoretically, all television shows have a premise, the sometimes glaring inevitability is that some shows do not.
Unless you stretch the point.
Beyond what you learned in high school was the maximum amount of stretching possible in any universe we know to exist.
For example...if asked, how would you define the premise of "Jersey Shore"?
Or, stretching the point even past existing physical laws, "Keeping Up With The Kardashians"?
The more clever and/or devious among us could, of course, play the circular logic card here.
The premise of these shows, and others like them, being that they have no discernible premise.
A 21st Century spin on the whole "show about nothing" concept that Seinfeld and company milked and mined so successfully.
But that undeniably smacks of the "I meant to do that" school of rationalizing falling flat on our asses.
The paradox being, of course, that "Seinfeld" was a fictional "show about nothing" while Snooki and Kourtney and Kim (oh, my..) are, in fact, actual shows about nothing.
Meanwhile, back at the flat screen.
Historically, the most successful shows in television have been, in fact, less about premise than about performance, less about concept than about connection.
In television comedy, for example, think about iconic programs and their "premise".
"I Love Lucy'...a bandleader and his wife live in an apartment.
"The Andy Griffith Show"...a small town sheriff and his family live in a small town.
"The Dick Van Dyke Show"...a TV writer and his family live in suburbia.
"The Mary Tyler Moore Show"...a TV producer lives in an apartment.
"Happy Days"...a hardware store owner and his family live in 50's suburbia.
"Cheers"...a group of people hang out in a bar.
"Frasier"...a radio psychiatrist lives in a swanky apartment with his father.
"Friends"...a bunch of friends hang out together in a coffee shop.
Sensing a pattern here?
Can't imagine any of those "taglines" impressing any network executive sufficiently to insure a sale.
Russell Dalrymple, maybe. (Obscure, but trivially delightful, historic TV reference).
The aforementioned shows, though, all, in their execution, shared two common qualities.
Common qualities, that ironically, are very uncommon in the big picture of what makes its way to our big home screens.
Qualities, I think, that this program offers up in spades.
Apologists and/or advocates of other currently successful sitcoms like "Two and Half Men", for example, will offer them up as programs worthy of inclusion on any list of seminal sitcoms.
Insert short, sharp sound of annoying buzzer here.
"Ohhh, I'm sorry, that's incorrect...thanks for playing our game and what do we have for our contestants, Johnny...?"
Here's the subtle, but key, difference.
"Two and Half Men" is funny.
People have been laughing at gas passing and wink-wink sexual double entendre's for generations now.
And "funny" is, in fairness to Kutcher and Cryer and Sheen (oh, my...), one of the two aforementioned qualities all iconic comedies share.
But, to put it simply and, arguably, arrogantly, any fool can get a laugh by cutting the cheese or referencing the rumpy pumpy.
That might make the situation funny.
But it doesn't make it smart.
"The Big Bang Theory", like the best of television comedy throughout the generations, never settles for the easy laugh.
The writers and the wonderfully diverse cast obviously work hard to make it look easy.
That's smart.
And funny.
What a concept.
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