Well, scratch that.

I must admit, I feel a bit guilty about my early support for CBS' new sexed-up 1970s drama "Swingtown," which debuted last Thursday and continues tonight at 10.

Why the guilt, you ask? Could it be the prurient appeal of a show that's about suburban spouse-swappers who shed their polyester pants at the drop of a needle on a Fleetwood Mac album? Or the cheesy, overplayed soundtrack that sounds like a K-Tel or Time-Life compilation on random play? ("Dreeeam-weaver, weaver, weaver ...") Or the over-reliance on '70s cultural references and product placement (Tab cola! Eight-track tapes!) to keep reminding you that, yes, this show is about the '70s?

I have a feeling my reservations may originate from the critical drubbing this series has already received from many quarters. Ah, so what? I'm a rebel. A loner.

Besides, at the wise age of 40-mumble, I can attest that this show gets the much-ridiculed decade about right.

"Swingtown" takes place in 1976, in an affluent suburb of Chicago where upwardly mobile couple Bruce and Susan Miller have just moved across the street from swinging couple Tom and Trina Decker.

The Millers and their two kids leave behind former neighbors and best friends Roger and Janet Thompson, whose adolescent son Rick is best friends with the Millers' son B.J. (they peek at Mr. Thompson's purloined Penthouse magazines together).

Before long, mile-high airline pilot Tom (played to mustachioed perfection by Grant Show of "Melrose Place") and his naughty wife lure the curious Millers into the open-marriage lifestyle, to the horror of prudish Janet (hubby Roger, meanwhile, seems intrigued).

In the first episode's pivotal scene, dissatisfied Susan (played by Molly Parker) pops her first quaalude (hah!) at a swingers' party to celebrate the nation's bicentennial, then smiles like a little wood nymph to rebuff Janet's angry demand to leave this evil place.

For me, that scene really conveys the cheerful amorality of the era, as well as its unsettling conformity.

George Cass of Chapel Hill, however, sees it differently.

"On the basis of the first artless show, I have to give it a thumbs down," he says. "Wife-swapping against a backdrop of the mid-to-late disco '70s seems too narrow a premise for a period series, but it does have a (intentionally?) dated, comic-book shine to it, in line with Hugh Hefner's model of Playboy society. So I doubt that 'Swingtown' will do for the '70s what 'Mad Men' did so masterfully in re-creating Madison Avenue life forms of the '50s."

So what do you think? Does "Swingtown" have a good beat? Is it a dreamboat or a dud? Let me know.

'L&O: CI' twist

The return of "Law & Order: Criminal Intent" on Sunday night was particularly interesting, not only for the cool twist in the middle, but for the eruption of simmering resentment between partners Eames and Goren.

(Warning: If you haven't seen Sunday's "L&O: CI" yet, read no further if you want to avoid spoilers.)

When we left off back in December, when the last new episode was aired on USA, unshaven-and-shaken Detective Bobby Goren (played by the great Vincent D'Onofrio) was wandering the streets of New York after being suspended from the force for faking his way into an upstate New York mental hospital to conduct an unauthorized investigation of patient abuse. (Naturally, it was the perfect opportunity to ponder the state of Goren's mental health.)

In Sunday's episode, Goren hooks up with another suspended cop to work "security" for a drug-dealing crime boss who owns a nightclub as a front.

Halfway through the show, we learn that Goren has contacted his police boss, Capt. Daniel Ross, to set up a sting on the operation, and get Goren back in the department's good graces.

Problem is, no one bothers to tell partner Alexandra Eames (played by Kathryn Erbe), who is investigating the same case, and almost shoots Goren in the process.

"I get it -- you're the genius, and I just carry your water, right?" she blasts him when she learns he was in on the bust the whole time.

That remark brings up the issue of gender equality in the workplace. Here we have Eames, playing by the rules, doing an excellent job, yet constantly overshadowed by a male partner who grabs the spotlight whether he's doing good or bad. Think about it -- how long would Eames last if she acted like Goren?

"Without her there to put a lid on [Goren] a little bit, I think he probably would end up on suspension, nine or 10 months out of the year," observes viewer Phil Zaleskin of Apex, who enjoys "CI" the most out of all the "L&O" versions. "I think that's always been a little bit under the cover there, there's always been a little bit of that 'I'm the woman, and I'm getting [dumped] on out of the deal.' "

It'll be interesting to see how this plays out in the final Goren/Eames episode of season seven on June 22, now that Goren has altered his relationship with the last person who was really on his side.