Lewis Black is an acquired taste as a comedian, to be certain; choppy and spastic, his delivery is a deal-breaker to some. But the man is also a fount of sometimes eloquently perverse rage, so it makes for a good fit, casting him as the emcee/arbiter of taste and decency in a mock-procedural show of his own creation.

That’s basically the premise of Comedy Central’s Root of All Evil — a send-up of both our tabloid-happy culture and seemingly never-ending national love affair with celebrity judges. Each half-hour episode finds Black sitting in judgment in a sort of death-match, oratorical vote-off between two things that either get his nose in a twit or are somehow generally regarded as societal ills (e.g., “Weed vs. Beer“). A rotating panel of fellow comedians like Andrew Daly, Paul Thompkins, Kathleen Madigan, Greg Giraldo, Patton Oswalt and Andy Kindler serve as advocates on behalf of one of the topics, and argue the case before “Judge” Black and a studio audience sitting in the round.

When the show is “on,” it’s very funny; Giraldo opines that Tila Tequila has “a braided vagina,” and goes on to assert that “she achieved the impossible — she dumbed down MTV.” (VH-1, really, but I’ll let it  slide.) “I watched her show for five minutes and now it burns when I pee,” Giraldo rants, eventually winning his argument. Other times, though, the banter and ad hominem attacks between comedians just seem like leftover material from an all-star roast, as when Giraldo notes that Oswalt “can flail his little fetus arms about,” and Oswalt responds in kind by calling Giraldo “a bird-faced 10-year-old boy with clamidia and a spray tan.” Diversionary bits like this runs counter to the cultural-critique premise of the show, which is its strongest mooring; otherwise we’re just watching a joke-off, the Frankensteinian mash-up of a couple different stand-up acts into one 30-minute show.

The first season release of Root of All Evil comes housed in a regular Amray plastic case, presented in 1.33:1 full screen. Supplemental extras consist of three minutes of interviews with the show’s comedian lawyers, and a piddly 90-second interview with Black, who incredulously recounts how an audience member asked him if “the show was real,” as if somehow an air-quote judgment against Oprah Winfrey or Paris Hilton could be enforced. There are also some post-show interviews (send-ups of those outros on The People’s Court, when courtroom winners and losers reflect on the verdict), and a three-minute, black-and-white spoof about legal proceedings and the show. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C+ (Show) C+ (Disc)