…TV viewing is good for the brain. Now stop your anti-pop elitist whining already.

And if you don’t like what’s on TV, go out and make some of your own.

…not included on the station’s website, claims Seattle’s second (and Portland’s first) in the number of unmarried living-together couples. The news item claims one in four Seatown pairs haven’t bothered to get the legal certificate of wedlock, compared with one in ten nationally. The station didn’t say whether the region’s lousy economy (which causes folks to delay or forego all sorts of commitments) might have something to do with it.

…continues abroad.

Last year, we praised Britain’s ITV network for its heritage of decentralized and impermanent authority. Historically, ITV was “owned” by a regulatory commission, which licensed local network-affiliate stations for multi-year contracts that weren’t always renewed. The local stations produced the shows and sold the ads, under the regulator’s heavy guidelines. The bigger-market stations (including the two that split the London franchise by days of the week) had more opportunities to put shows into the network schedule. But no one company controlled the network or its schedule.

The result was a diffuse system with different “voices” and different ideas on what would make a good and/or popular show. It brought forth countless small-screen classics; including Coronation Street, The Avengers, Ready Steady Go!, The Saint, Thunderbirds, The Prisoner, The Muppet Show, This Is Tom Jones, Upstairs Downstairs, Benny Hill, Danger Mouse, Brideshead Revisited, Inspector Morse, and the original versions of Three’s Company and Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.

That all began to change in the Thatcher years. The 11 ITV stations in England and Wales got bought up by two companies. Now those two are merging, forming a behemoth that will control half the UK’s TV ad revenues–at least until “synergy”-obsessed mismanagement drives more viewers to other broadcast, cable, and satellite outlets.

By the way, if you click on the above link and you live in the US or Canada, you’re commiting some kind of intellectual-property crime. To which I naturally say go for it. (Another item about the story is at this link.)

The Seahawks predictably lost on Monday Night Football. As part of the show, ABC paid to have its logo painted onto the infield of an empty Safeco Field, a painful reminder of the Mariners’ failure to make the baseball postseason. That failure has prompted M’s manager Lou Piniella, catalyst of everything the team’s ever accomplished, to quit. And the team that snuck ahead of the M’s to win the AL Wild Card slot won the league penant, setting up an (ugh! double ugh!) all-California World Series.

The Jewish Federation of Greater Seattle canceled a fundraising appearance by Leonard Nimoy, after federation bigwigs discovered the retired actor and cult legend had just created a book of photos combining nekkid ladies with Jewish religious iconography. (The two great tastes that taste great together!) Instead, Nimoy will appear at a local Jewish congregation the next day, Oct. 24. Of course, this won’t be the first time he’s gone against Federation directives. (I know, I had to say it…)

…of an attempt to make a TV series visiting America’s most wonderful and wacky attractions. Alas, now I can’t see some of the places the show would’ve gone to; particularly the many defunct second-string theme parks of Florida.

…one you can only play once a year. It involves the Oregon State-USC football game. There’s only one rule: Down your drink whenever an announcer says anything to the efffect of “the Trojans are deep in Beaver territory.”

…the two most bizarre spectacle on yesterday’s all-day, almost-every-channel memorial marathon. The No. 1 most bizarre sight was eminently predictable: The merchandising of gaudy flag-ribbon trinkets, bald-eagle collector plates and such on the shopping channels. The No. 2 most bizarre spectacle was much more unexpected: ESPN senior announcer Chris Berman reciting from the Gettysburg Address between inninngs of a Yankees-Red Sox baseball game.

CONTINUING MY TOUR of local appearances by national game-show producers, I stood in line for nearly three hours on Wednesday to attend the Seattle auditions for the new syndicated version of Who Wants to be a Millionaire. It all took place in the unfinished second phase of KOMO-TV’s new building, under the scary 30-foot-high grins of new Millionaire host Meredith Viera and new Pyramid host Donny Osmond. (The long “blemish” on Viera’s face in the above picture is the Space Needle’s reflection.)

Once we finally got inside, the 250 applicants in our group (one of four groups that day) were herded into a big unfinished room on the main floor. Among too-few folding chairs, big flat-screen monitors blared promos for the station’s new fall shows for an hour.

Finally we were herded into unfinished elevator cars up to another big unfinished room on the fourth floor. We were handed No. 2 pencils, small sheets of cardboard, and fill-in-the-tiny-squares data-processing slips familiar to anyone who’s voted in certain jurisdictions or taken certain public-school standardized tests.

We had 30 multiple-choice trivia questions to answer in 12 minutes. Only those who scored above an unmentioned threshhold were to be kept around for in-person interviews (where the production staff would presumably weed out candidates lacking in hot looks, perky personalities, or the correct demographics.)

Your former professional trivia writer failed to make the first cut. Perhaps if I’d previously boned up on Henry VIII’s wives or Argentinian geography, but oh well… Back to worrying about the daily bills like most of the rest of you.

…of the umpteen-dozen unexpected joys of cable TV. AT&T Broadband just added three additional Fox Sports Net channels, re-purposing sports programming intended for FSN’s 16 or so regional branches. Right now, I’m watching a minor-league baseball game involving the Brooklyn Cyclones, the team that’s boldly brought the pro game back to a borough still mourning the Dodgers’ move to LA 45 seasons ago. Besides shots of the Cyclones’ courageous game play and their handsome-intimate new Coney Island stadium, the telecast is full of commercials for local Brooklyn businesses. There’s a horseradish maker, a lobster restaurant, a lock-and-key store, even a cement contractor! Thanks to cable, these tiny family firms can televisually strut their stuff, and this non-customer 3,000 miles away can admire the utterly charming 30-second end results.

This same set of channels also brings me FSN’s Detroit Sports Report, which is actually produced in Bellevue, WA by Fox’s Northwest Sports Report team—same announcers, same set, same everything. I wonder if any Tigers fans ever wonder why Bill Wixey & co. have probably never been personally seen within 1,600 miles of Comerica Park.

(Too bad AT&T still won’t give me the Boomerang (classic made-for-TV animation), Showtime Beyond (young filmmakers), or ABC SoapNet channels.)

The venerable game show shot fifteen episodes over three days at Seattle’s Washingotn State Convention and Trade Center. (The show was there previously in 1995; in between came that little World Trade Organization conference you might have read about.)

(The 30 total Wheel shows shot in Seattle over these two visits account for 29.5 more episodes than Frasier ever shot here, and 30 more than Dark Angel did.)

I’d neglected to write in for tix. But the will-call desk provided me with an unused VIP ticket, which meant I got to sit in an aisle seat only 10 rows back of the puzzle board (a relatively privileged spot among the nearly 2,000 seats).

As has been the show’s recent norm, it built a very elaborate set, complete with a 12-foot neon-lit Space Needle, representations of the Pacific Science Center, the Pike Place Market, and real Seatown skyscrapers, and a little monorail wheeling back and forth throughout the shows.

They also didn’t skimp on the technical element. There were five regular studio cameras, two Steadicams, and three crane cameras (all Sony, of course), plus an elaborate studio-audience lighting rig.

As they’d done in the show’s ‘95 visit, the University of Washington marching band and cheerleaders performed throughout the shows and breaks.

(Game show trivia note #1: Former Win, Lose, or Draw host Robb Weller is often credited with having invented the “Wave” cheer when he was on the UW cheer squad.)

Wheel announcer Charlie O’Donnell looked every bit the distinguished aging lounge singer in his blue blazer and white hair and goatee. His audience warm-up act was smooth, understated, and thoroughly professional. He told a few pleasant jokes, chitchatted with KOMO-TV news personalities, and got the audience’s energy level up with some well-timed calls for applause (supposedly to be used as “sweetener” over any edits).

(Game show trivia note #2: Noting that he’d been an announcer on the original American Bandstand, O’Donnell asked everyone to watch for the forthcoming NBC family-nostalgia show American Dreams, in which O’Donnell will be impersonated by Match Game ‘99 host Michael Burger.)

The shows I saw were episodes #4 and #5 of College Week, with fresh-faced, perky, campus-logo-sweatshirt-clad undergrads—four from the UW, one from Washington State, one from Western Washington U. About five minutes before the shows’ openings, the players taped their screeching “Hi! I’m __!” proclamations, which were then edited into the shows themselves. (Presumably this was done so, if one of the players had trouble remembering her own name, she could do a retake without stopping the momentum of the main program.)

Then at 7:30 (an hour after the hall’s doors opened and three hours after some spectators started lining up), O’Donnell crooned: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Wheel of Fortune episode R-3467, recorded on eight-ten-oh-two, for airing on eleven-fourteen-oh-two.” Five seconds later, the big-screen monitors burst forth with a quick-cut montage of your standard touristy Seattle shots (fish throwing, coffee, microbrew beer taps, Safeco Field, and the UW campus). A UW cheerleader introduced the stars of the show, who made their usual entrance and went straight into the business at hand.

Ms. White, I’m proud to say, is just-as-lovely-in-person and an inspiration to all us 44-year-olds. Mr. Sajak’s role on the show has been reduced to that of a hard-nosed boss, pushing the proceedings to keep up with the sped-up pace instituted to accommodate additional commercials and local-news promos. Each show contained three “toss-up” games, three regular games, one “final spin” game, and a bonus round, plus a full compliment of prize and promotional-consideration plugs and Vanna-travelogue spots before the breaks. The stars addressed the studio audience twice per episode—during the first break and after the end. No, they didn’t say anything memorable.

There was just enough time between the two shows to run to the restrooms (no, I couldn’t resist the urge to shout “I’ll take a P, Pat!” along the way) while O’Donnell answered audience questions. (I didn’t get to ask whatever happened to the dreaded used-letter board.)

Then everything happened a second time. As for game-play spoilers, I’ll simply tell you that a couple of huge jackpots were squandered on wrong letter choices, and one episode concluded with the winning of a Nissan SUV.

For reasons known only to the producers, the first two commercial breaks on each show went by in almost “real time.” But there were long tape stopdowns for the third and fourth breaks (before and after the stars’ very brief closing remarks).

Shortly after 9 p.m., the last episode ended. O’Donnell thanked the audience and advised them to drive safely. As almost 2,000 people exited the huge room as briskly as almost 2,000 people could, a PA announcer called for the crew to be back and ready to work by 10:30 the following morning.

Just before the four flights of escalators back down to Pike Street, a horde of perky temp workers shoved WOF mouse pads and American Airlines packaged-tour promo brochures at any spectator willing to receive them. I’ve got four of the mouse pads now. Even though I’m only using a laptop these days.

WHILE I’VE SEEN all but one of TV Guide’s “50 Best TV Shows of All Time,” I’ve seen only 32 of the shows on the mag’s worst-ever list. I don’t know if that means anything.

…at their advertised uses, but those “diet belts” on TV infomercials turn out to be great vibrators.

AUTHOR KEVIN PHILLIPS has a simple theory for all the corporate scandals: When the rich get too rich, you end up with “a taste for speculation and highly developed sense of “gimme” that winds up jeopardizing both the American economy and the vitality of the American democracy.”

…to Rosemary Clooney–singer, actress, aunt of Batman, mother of Twin Peaks’ Agent Rosenfield, and ex-wife of Cyrano de Bergerac.

This summer marks the 10th anniversary of the movie Singles, writer-director Cameron Crowe’s light-‘n’-fluffy love letter to Seattle and the striving, sincere young adults therein.

At the time of its release, it was the victim of a Warner Bros. marketing campaign that emphasized the suddenly-hot local bands in its audio background (the soundtrack CD came out months before the film did), rather than the characters or plot(s). When it turned out to be a frothy tale of six dating-scene survivors, only one of whom was a musician, certain audience expectations were shattered. Nevertheless, it had a respectable theatrical run and remains a decent-selling video title.

It’s also the rumored unofficial inspiration for the Warner-produced sitcom Friends. (Check-list the similarities: A sextet of dreamy looking young Caucasians, representing a variety of serious and artistic careers, all of whom hang out at the same coffeehouse, most of whom live in the same apartment building that inexplicably has a couch in its front courtyard, and who head into and out of assorted romantic entanglements, sometimes with one another.)

According to the “grunge” stereotype popular in the national media of the film’s time, young Seattlites (especially those involved in the rock scene) were alleged to be listless, rootless, directionless slackers. Crowe saw something quite different: Aware, ambitious moral-decision-makers who want to take charge of their lives, to make a difference in the world and to experience ultra-ecstatic true love, but who are (to varying degrees) thwarted by an urban society that wants to stick them into confining, unfulfilling roles.

Campbell Scott (the film’s real male lead) plays a state transportation planner who’s staked his whole up-n’-coming career on a proposed elevated-rail project he calls the Supertrain, bound to resolve rush-hour jams, slow down suburban sprawl, and create a more Euro-like urban community. (Any similarity to currently hyped elevated-transit proposals is purely coincidental.)

Scott’s main affection object, played by Kyra Sedgwick, has some not-completely-identified job trying to stop water pollution.

And Matt Dillon’s messy-haired musician character is shown by film’s end to be the most courageous of the lot. He systematically, indefatigably works on getting his girlfriend bac, just as he works on getting his musical career off the ground. His no-compromise stance toward realizing his dreams makes him a heroic ideal to which the other characters can only try to emulate.

That said, Singles remains a fairly dumb film. The gag scenes and plot complications are way too predictable. The drab lines and situations given to the characters mirror the drab life-destinies they’re trying to escape. But it gives its characters far more dignity than so many later mating-n’-dating comedies.

And, of course, local viewers l love the many geographic inaccuracies (Sheila Kelley’s character bicycles from south Lake Union across the Fremont Bridge and into the Pike Place Market in successive shots), the now-gone sites (RKCNDY), and the now-gone cameo players (Wayne Cody, Layne Staley).