44 I CHRONICLESnwill consider myself kidnapped. “Nobody’sntrying to kidnap you, sir,” thenstewardess reassures me. “Look, theynare only trying to do their job,” says andynamic executive in the next seat,n”Go ahead and sit down.” I insist on anwritten acknowledgment of my letternby the crew. The plane returns tonthe gate. A hundred businessmen unbuckle.nTELEVISIONnA Week in the Life:nA TV Diarynby Janet Scott BarlownYou are what you eat. Up to a point, Intend to believe that maxim. Because Inam unwilling to apply it to my ownnlife, I also tend to resent it. The foodnpolice are everywhere, and the hardernthey work, the less there is to eat. Forninstance, if you should eat an ordinarynhot dog, you could be dead by morning.nFoodwise, the concept of the aimlessnpleasure is all but extinct.nThe body and the mind are onenorganism. I tend to believe that too.nWhich means that you are not onlynwhat you eat, you are also (oh, thenresponsibility) what you read, dance to,nand watch on the tube. Garbage in,ngarbage out, right? The food police arenmatched in their zeal only by thencultural watchdogs, the folks who samplenPeople magazine every week innorder to report that yes, it’s still full ofnempty calories. But critics save theirnloudest warnings and deepest disdainnfor television, the sludge of Americannentertainment, cholesterol for thenNext day, with Albion, here callednZoar, ever nearer, I notice two newsnitems. Donald Trump had cautiouslynpraised Gorbachev and got invited tonbuild a hotel complex in Moscow.nMalcolm Forbes also praised Gorbachev,nbut without any reservations,nand got nothing, apparently, in return.nWhere is justice? What will become ofnyou, Sodom?nVITAL SIGNSnmind. Beware: Television programmingnis low-level, inane, witless. Watchnenough of it and you will clog yournbrain forever, never to have anothernmeaningful thought.nWhat, you might ask, is the bigndeal? Most people work hard, and ifnthey want to spend two hours in thenevening eating potato chips and watchingnsituation comedies, who’s to saynthey should be spooning yogurt andnviewing PBS documentaries instead?nUntil recently I had no personal answernto that question. While I likenpotato chips, I have not watchednprime-time series television in a verynlong time. This was not a deliberatendecision; I did not cut down on TV fornhealth reasons, so to speak. What happenednwas, I forgot it was there. Andntime flies, you know? The next thing Inknew, I was the only person aroundnwho had never seen Dallas or Moonlightingnor Family Ties. Completelynout of the mainstream, I had spentnyears enjoying a rather strange televisionndiet of sports, old movies, news,nand TV evangelists.nIn an attempt to find out why millionsnof Americans like what so manyncritics despise, I decided to spend onenweek watching the prime-time entertainmentnofferings of the major net­nnnAnd when the morning arose, thennthe angels hastened me saying. Arise,ntake thy wife, lest thou be consumed innthe iniquity of the city. And the sunnwas risen upon the earth when I enterednZoar.nAndrei Navrozov is poetry editor fornChronicles.nworks. What the heck. I’ve eaten hotndogs, and I’m still here to talk about it.nSince I had almost no current frame ofnreference, all programs were selectednat random and viewed (at least for anwhile) with an open mind. Herewith antelevision diary for the week of Septembern13-19.nSUNDAY—False start. I watch thenCincinnati Bengals play the Colts innthe afternoon. This exhausts me, becausenthe Bengals always look likenthey’re about to lose, even when theynwin (which they do, by a mere twonpoints). No more TV today.nMONDAY —The choice is betweennCagney and Lacey and thenBears-Giants game on Monday NightnFootball. What can I say? I was bornnand raised in Chicago. And the Bearsnsmear the Giants.nTUESDAY—This is like trying tonlose weight. Tomorrow . . . Ill startntomorrow. My intention is to watchnMoonlighting, a hit show that’s beennhyped with adjectives like “clever,”n”witty,” and “fresh.” But I am undonenby the prospect of seeing on my ownntelevision what I have seen on magazinencovers for a full year: the smirkynface of Bruce Willis and the pseudosultrynface of Cybill Shepherd. Besides,nI’ve already found a ball game. Cubsn