Amazon's latest comedy effort, "Jury Duty," an orchestrated prank on one unsuspecting idiot, is by far the worst premise for a fake documentary since "The Swiss Spaghetti Harvest," that only a James Marsden fan could fall for it. He's Ronald Gladden, which is, in fact, his name, and it's the best joke in this one-joke series.

Pranking innocent victims for comedy gold began first on radio, before taking up residence on television, at various times for over five decades, thank you Allan Funt. The idea was clever sixty years ago and succeeded because its premise was fundamental, as long as everyone involved, including the audience, was in on the joke, except, of course, the stooge. The difference, however, between those former pranks and the one executed over eight episodes in this series, is that the mark in this con isn't just the butt of the joke, but the butt.

That trapped-in-a-nuthouse expression on Gladden's face isn't quite the same naïveté of those who were caught on candid camera in the past, because what happed to them could have happened to anyone watching at home. Antics of that type had not yet reached its saturation point in American life. Now the country is awash in it, that everything is fair game, from the courthouse to the White House.

So it is at Gladden's expense, and only his, for all involved are paid actors, that merriment ensues, merriment of performers, not audience members (those with functioning brain cells). Not to give the series more credit than it deserves, as a sociological experiment, "Jury Duty" demonstrates the gullibility of Gladden's generation, inbred and raised on lame humor, that such far-fetched, idiotic behavior as that of the hoaxers passes for normal.

The horror, the horror of this fact is that nothing too extreme in these proceedings, nothing too absurd, implausible, or preposterous registers for an instant in Gladden's conscious mind, nothing triggers, not even the slightest fraction of doubt in his thinking brain, not a second, not a flash of clarity, that maybe, just possibly, this courtroom of errors is a put-on, a spoof, a con.

Despite all that, in the final episode, stupidity is rewarded, as the teetering-on-senility judge straight out of central casting turns mawkish and benevolent, declaring Gladden a "hero" (for blind allegiance to crackpots and a minor celebrity), boosting his self-esteem, valued at one-hundred grand, before taxes. That's how America gets things done.

How sad for Gladden and those of his generation, and anyone who thinks this series qualifies as entertainment, not that anyone would notice.