West Wing promises to be the height of somber and serious drama compared to the offal heading our way in the form of “Mr. Sterling.” “Mister” — get it? As in Mister Smith, who went to Washington. “Sterling” as in “Sterling” silver, which is what his heart must be made of beneath that broad hunky expanse of man-chest (Prediction: we see the Senator with his shirt off within the first three episodes). Put the two together and it equals a weekly sprinkler system of crap. From the promos alone, the schtick seems to be that Mr. Sterling looks like Warren Beatty (before Beatty needed diamond-cutter lighting to prevent his forhead from looking like Oklahoma with a hairline), talks like John McCain channelling Oprah Winfrey and votes like Paul Wellstone. We already know he’ll be an independent and that he likes to march with farm-workers. But, unlike most senators, he’s actually willing to talk to them! Bless his heart. Maybe it’s the soy milk in my veins or the nitrogen bubbles in my brain, but I think this may be the show most in need of the regular intrusion of Monty Python-esque bloodthirsty pirates to slaughter everyone in the room.