“Quit being a little bitch.” These immortal words are spoken to Ryan Atwood, the protagonist of Fox's newest teen opus, The O.C. , by his hoodlum brother as the duo boost a car in the opening moments of the premiere episode. I offer these words as well to the numerous critics who didn't immediately recognize The O.C. as the brilliant trash that it is. This show dares to ask the important questions, like "What if scientists were able to combine the DNA of Brandon Walsh and Dylan McKay into one person?" That person would, of course, be fish-out-of-water-but-still-badass Ryan, who steps into the glitzy world of Newport Beach and uses his 90210 super-genes to immediately identify his Kelly Taylor, rich girl Marissa. She, in turn, combines several Taylor Traumas into one episode, including substance abuse, a criminal dad and having to pull off a fashion show for charity. Unfortunately, Ryan's McKay Moments evoke more Dana Carvey's SNL send-up of the early '90s answer to James Dean than Luke Perry's actual character. You'll notice I'm not focusing on the adult characters, like Peter Gallagher's heart-of-gold lawyer, or Tate Donovan's troubled white-collar criminal (though I will say Donovan does his best work here since Love Potion No. 9). Let's not even discuss Ryan's mom, who apparently watched a lot of COPS to prepare for her role as the ultimate white-trash cliche. The O.C. tries to give its adults as much of a life as their party-animal spawn, but I refuse to pay attention. This show needs to be all about the kids, specifically Gallagher's "nerdy" son, Seth. Um, casting? When will TV learn that taking a hot guy and making him mumble a lot does not a Rainman make? Let's get Seth a speech therapist so I can understand some of his lines, borrow a few more gems from the 90210 teen-angst catalog and really get this show rolling. That's how it should be done in Orange County.

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