Millionare Wannabes

By TAD BARTIMUS

It's hard to remember when Regis Philbin wasn't in our living room.

"Are we eating at the table tonight?"

"Heck no, 'Millionaire' is on. Get out the TV trays."

This conversation is repeated -- uh hum - millions of times on Sunday nights, Tuesday nights, Wednesday nights, Thursday nights and Friday nights during this "sweeps" period. Regis is with us in the living room so often I feel like I ought to give him a plate of food, too. And that's not even counting his mornings with Kathi Lee.

America is again besotted with a television program. "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" is the latest network hula hoop, one of those idiot box phenomenon that started back in the 1950s with Jack Benny and moved on to Jack Paar, Ed Sullivan, I Love Lucy and The Honeymooners. Next came the sitcom in our national embrace; when All In The Family, M*A*S*H and Cheers were on, not much homework or housework, or even snoozing in the recliner, got done. Monday Night Football had its heyday, too, as did Jerry Seinfeld. For a while, David Letterman was the hottest act on the tube. Now its N.Y.P.D. Blue, ER, Ally McBeal and The Sopranos.

But not since the $64,000 Question and Vanna White's number turning have our brain cells been so tickled by a quiz show. So "Who Wants to be a Millionaire"? Apparently we all do, if only from the comfort of our easy chairs. We can't resist watching John and Jane Does from Woodchuck, Wherever, sit in the hot seat and, blinded by Regis's shiny silk ties, struggle to remember who Ginger Spice married.

Huh? Well, nobody said the questions were relevant. The $100 openers are mostly easy -- what color is a STOP sign? Is corn or squash in succotash? Moving up the money ladder gets tougher, but in a non-traditional way. If you're a national spelling bee champion or a Jeopardy buff, you could stall out early on 'Millionaire.'

In fact, if we need proof that "a little knowledge is a dangerous thing" this TV show is it. "Millionaire" also reveals the widening gap between a traditional liberal arts education and the cerebral database of today's internet hip-hop popular culture crowd. Contestants over 35 usually know the capital of South Dakota, those under 35 don't. Instead, they're experts on Pokemon and Britney Spears. Rudy Reber, a middle-aged telemarketer from Virginia, lost when he couldn't identify the director of a Michael Jackson video.

Thanks to Philbin's enthusiastic good humor and the eager charm of the "just plain folks" contestants, we're learning each other's trivia. Even better, we're having fun. When was the last time you watched television and had fun? We smile at Regis in spite of ourselves. We root for the college professor and the secretary and the medical student sweating under the lights. We fantasize along with them about how we'd spend the money. When they win, we cheer; when they lose, we wince.

Quiz shows have been around since radio days, so why has this show caught our national imagination? Because it dangles the promise of that magic number: ONE MILLION DOLLARS! Remember watching "The Millionaire" and wondering if John Beresford Tipton would knock on our door? We've been subliminally dreaming of a million-dollar windfall most of our lives!

Okay, so pretend you're a 'Millionaire' wannabe winging your way to New York City, praying you'll get a chance to be asked, "Is that your final answer?" You've sat in front of your TV tray and answered, correctly, that "accelerator" is another name for "gas pedal." You think you're ready for prime time.

But can you name all three of Marilyn Monroe's husbands? If not, you'd better make more popcorn, settle back in your recliner and give Regis a pass.

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