Not for $50 million and a room full of Les Pauls could I tell you how it came to me, but yesterday I found myself thinking about Brion James.

The veteran character actor was ninety-eight shades of awesome. During the 80s, he seemed to be in every other film, always playing a deliciously rough-edged thug or unrefined clod, epitomized in his role as the boorish Detective Kehoe in 48 Hrs. With his sunken eyes, hound dog cheeks and a hanging lower lip, he forged an enduring career with one of the least-attractive faces in Hollywood. Barking in a hoarse drawl with an unremarkable build, he was everything the leading men were not; yet there he was, going toe-to-toe with all of them.

Last week was a momentous one for television. There were the Oscars (most of which I missed). There was the birth of The Office baby (the birth of a baby being the second in the three stages of impending sitcom apocalypse).  And we can’t forget the premiere of Jerry Seinfeld’s Marriage Ref, in which real-life married couples receive advice from such marriage stalwarts as Alec “Thoughtless Little Pig” Baldwin and Madonna “Crazy Arms” Ciccone.

But the real momentous event for me was the 100th episode of Ghost Hunters.