ANOTHER WEEKEND SPENT in bed watching television and feeling sickish. I watched so much TV I started to think the TV was talking to me, enumerating my every fault, pointing out my moral defects and character flaws, my incapacity for taking up a lifestyle of healthful foods and regular exercise appropriate to someone my age, the moth holes in my once best sweater, and the reasons I’m a bad son. I interpolate this commentary through the nonstop chatter provided by the wronged and wayward women on the Lifetime Movie Network, through George Sanders and Bette Davis’s repartee in All About Eve, through