As a matter of critical consensus, CBS’s The Good Wife is the best drama on network television, but this particular television critic tends to find himself doing something else when it’s on, whenever that is. In fact, he has not regularly tuned into a CBS show for pleasure since, like, Murphy Brown, and thus approaches the CBS upfront with an academic attitude that enables him to marvel academically at the juggernaut of the Tiffany Network. When Nina Tassler, the network’s president of entertainment, touted her line-up as “television’s best schedule,” there was little to say other than yes, and wow, and Sam Malone is on CSI these days? Nice gig.

The day after George Zimmerman killed Trayvon Martin, his family doctor diagnosed him with a broken nose, two black eyes, and two lacerations on the back of his head. The attorney for Martin’s family questioned the doctor’s findings, noting that medical personnel “didn't even put a Band-Aid” on Zimmerman’s head on the night of the shooting. Is there ever a good reason to use a small adhesive bandage?

BALTIMORE—Leslie Lopes-Ruffin turned on the projector and pointed it high on the classroom wall. “We pointed it at a sheet last time,” she explained, “and people couldn’t see it.” The slideshow began, right next to a poster of President Obama, listing his accomplishments and famous quotes.

I predict that The Dictator (Paramount) is the movie that will siphon off the casual Sacha Baron Cohen fans from the hardcore ones. People who spent the fall of 2006 quoting lines from Borat about “making sexytime,” then found themselves laughing hollowly through the singing-penis scene in Brüno, may decide they’re through with the boundary-ignoring British comedian after this half political farce, half romantic comedy. For one thing, the stunt aspect of those first two films is absent for the first time. The Dictator is a fully scripted comedy (the screenplay is by Baron Cohen, Alec Berg, David Mandel, and Jeff Schaffer) with none of its star’s signature ambushes of unsuspecting public figures. This robs the movie of that anarchic, anything-could-happen energy that animated the first two features.

The news this week that a federal appeals court has refused to block a lower court ruling requiring the disclosure of more funders of campaign ads has campaign finance reformers tasting their first victory in a long time. “It's the first major breakthrough in overcoming the massive amounts of secret contributions that are flowing into federal elections," Fred Wertheimer of Democracy 21 told the Los Angeles Times. But don’t expect to see Karl Rove’s Rolodex just yet. Crossroads GPS and other groups have found that raising money from donors who don’t want to be disclosed is good for business, and they’ve got a few ways to keep the unlimited money poured into campaigns secret yet. And before you get too excited it’s worth considering that the Supreme Court could well help them keep their secrets in 2012, even though the court has so far been a big supporter of disclosure laws.

When male teachers sext or have sex with their students, nobody laughs. When female teachers do this, the titters don’t stop. Fictional examples: Skins, Big Love, and many more. Real-life example: this wink-wink blog post about Gabriela Compton, a 21-year-old (former) middle-school teacher’s aide in Phoenix, Ariz. Compton sent a 14-year-old boy at her school a picture of herself topless. He sexted back a photo of a penis he’d found on the Internet. A few sexts later, Compton found herself accused of having sex with the boy in the back of her van. A 13-year-old went to the police and said he’d sexted with Compton, too, and she reportedly admitted to that and the sex, too. She was charged with three counts of sexual abuse, three counts of sexual abuse with a minor, and one other related count. Altogether the charges carried a maximum sentence of 39 years in prison. In March, she pled guilty to the sexual abuse counts—and got a sentence of lifetime probation. She’ll have to register as a sex offender, but she won’t go to prison.

When I say that the Univision upfront was the best show that media buyers are likely to see to this week, I am including actual television programs among the competition. Tuesday at the New Amsterdam Theatre, near the start of its festive display of pan-American salesmanship, the Spanish-language titan marshaled impressive statistics and marched out network alumna Sofia Vergara to do some winsome shtick. It ended the presentation with a song-and-dance number. This is in itself no big deal; many a network will hire a multi-Grammy winner to croon its clients out of the door with a stripped-down number or bring on a house-made singing-contest winner to keep them alert. Univision raised the bar by delivering Shakira with eight back-up dancers, a full band, and indoor fireworks.

The New Yorker’s Jeffrey Toobin this week revealed  juicy bits from the Supreme Court’s deliberations as it considered Citizens United, the thunderous case in which the court allowed corporations and unions to spend unlimited sums on candidate elections, paving the way for big-spending super PACs. Toobin told of a secret draft Citizens United dissent by Justice David Souter that has never been released—a draft that Souter, who has since retired, should now make public.

Here’s a scene in my house: My almost 9-year-old is on the Internet doing something or other, and I am not standing over her shoulder or otherwise monitoring her.

At last night’s Clio Awards—the ad world’s annual fete—host Joan Rivers immediately won my affection when she opened with a grisly joke about an ad campaign I’ve come to despise. “I want to welcome most of you here tonight,” Rivers croaked to the assembled crowd of advertising executives. “But not the people responsible for the E*Trade Baby. You can go fuck yourselves. Where is Casey Anthony when you need her?”