In which I lose my sense of humor

ok, another post on TV, but only marginally, I promise (and yes, I watched Glee--wheee! I love the Bieste). There is a new show on right after Glee called Raising Hope. Did you watch it? It's by the same guy who created My Name is Earl, so it's whitetrashfastic and really funny...unless you're me and can't get past your own hangups and take the jokes. The basic premise (and I am not giving anything away here, all this happens in the first five minutes): a loser guy in a WT family gets a serial murderer pregnant after an unexpected one-night stand, she has the baby in prison and shortly thereafter gets the electric chair. And they show it--the electric chair and her jerking death with the baby watching--HA HA HA HA HA, you with me? And then so the guy has to take the baby home and figure out how to take care of it with his unsupportive family. In just the first episode, (in addition to watching her mother die) the baby: gets thrown around the backseat of a car and gets projectile vomited on. Twice. I don't think I am far enough away from baby-rearing to enjoy this show, yall. The guy runs off to go get papertowels to clean the vomit off the baby and all I can think is: YOU LEFT AN INFANT ON TOP OF A DRESSER. IT'S GOING TO ROLL OFF AND GET A CONCUSSION. And the thing of it is, I know it's kinda funny and I sorta laugh... nervously--heh heh, oh look at that, Child Endangerment: it's HIGH-LARIOUS.. But mostly, I wince. Next thing you know, I'm going to turn in that b***ch Dora to the PETA Police. She isn't very nice to that monkey, you know.