Word: channelized
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...magic box, and I was sucked in once again to the wondrous world of "Extreme Sports," "MTV News" and "Scooby Doo" reruns. I felt almost sinful as I settled into my hypnotic televised trance. Equipped with an incredibly responsive remote, I swiftly became King Midas as every channel I clicked revealed yet another golden televised treat for my very own viewing pleasure...
...honeymoon proved to be short-lived. I had just abandoned "The Facts of Life" during a commercial break in hopes of discovering some "Dr. Who" reruns when, after a brief stint channel-surfing, I found myself in the midst of a prostitution sting operation somewhere in southern Florida. Narration was unnecessary as I instantly recognized the genre of the program: it was a "Cops"-type show styled after "NYPD Blue" in a sick rendition of art imitating art imitating life. As usual, the setting was seedy and the cast of characters--from pot-bellied sheriffs to pouty chainsmoking whores--left...
...hooked and sat through a good half-hour of bloodshed, including a "scenes from the next" sequence, even after my supply of jalapeno nachos ran out. As the screen dimmed and the theme for "Rescue 911" cued up, I switched the channel and rose to refill my plate, idly locking the front door and checking the yard for would-be felons on my way to the kitchen...
...publish their efforts on the Net. Whether anyone will look at them is another question. The radical difference between the Internet and other mass media is that while anyone can make a bid for attention at http something or other, there is no central audience regularly tuning to channel 2 or 4 or 7 -- no easy way to command major market share. If websites were channels, there would be tens of millions of them on the Net, which helps explain why every muffler shop, pizzeria and hardware store seems to have one, as well as every crank. And that...
...result sounds a bit like a Broadway show, but one composed by a pop-culture channel surfer on uppers. Jackie is a sweet-toned lyric soprano; Ari, a bass-baritone, is a smarmy lounge lizard (one of his big arias is marked in the score, "Freely sung, a la Dean Martin"). The music they sing jumps joltingly from folk rock to Motown to big-band jazz, all kaleidoscopically orchestrated for a 19-piece pit band with two percussionists. And although the tone is mostly light and lively, an unexpectedly affecting streak of melancholy surfaces whenever Jackie sings of her lost...