Ah, the good intentions that pave America's eight-lane freeway to Hell. We meant to buy an ad in the January Bicycle Retailer & Industry News We intended to buy a sensible auto until gas prices took a Greg Louganis. And on New Year's Day, we resolved to lose that unsightly flab, if only we could purchase the appropriate technology, as seen on TV, recommended by chiseled hot-bodies, for no money down and easy monthly payments.

  But it's easier to sink back into the La-Z-Boy, rip open another sack of pork rinds and goggle at the Bowflex commercial between snippets of "Battlebots." "Wow, look at the hooters on . . . whoops, that's a dude. You can tell by the shaved head."

  And anyway, what heterosexual male outside prison wants to look like the Bowflex androids? To go from having bigger, flabbier hooters than the wife to having bigger, firmer hooters than the wife? People would talk.

  Fat Versus Phat. We have become a nation of extremes, if a recent bout of flu-related TV-watching is any indication, and I'm not talking about Demublican versus Republicrat here. I'm talking about those who fear physical activity will kill them versus those who don't care whether it does, as long as it happens on TV.

  Case in point: Your average Rosie O'Donnell lookalike thinks pedal-pushers are what she needs a tire iron to squeeze into for her thrice-daily raid on the Twinkie rack at 7-Eleven.

  Conversely, some frisky young daredevils are so appalled at the oleaginous sight of the citizenry oozing about like some Ridley Scott remake of "The Blob" that they long for an early death. This is the only explanation for acts of self-immolation like street luge, skeleton and MTV's "Jackass," the most aptly named work of popular culture since Al Franken's "Rush Limbaugh is a Big Fat Idiot."

  As Seen on TV! Where lies the middle ground between slow death and divine wind? Certainly not on TV, high priest of the lowest common denominator. TV wants you just healthy enough to be able to squeeze out the door to buy stuff. And with the gradual fusion of televised and online shopping, soon even that limited physical activity will seem as outmoded, unnecessary and laughable as the U.S. Constitution does to John Ashcroft.

  The American dream home will become an AOL-branded, Freightliner-sized SUV, with extensible waldoes to pay the man and collect the burgers, toilets for seats, and LCD "windows" that look like the redesign of CNN's "Headline News."

  Hey, you'd rather look at Paula Zahn than the real world, anyway. You've seen one skinny homeless guy riding a rusty bike to the plasma center, you've seen 'em all.

  Weight-Loss Machinery With A View. Skinny guy. Bicycles. You'd think some fat boy's 40-watt forebrain would power up between bites of Jared Fogle's favorite Subway gut-bomb. Bicycles appear rarely on TV, but when they do, the people riding them appear to be healthy, happy, fun-loving folk who lack the cartoon-superhero physiques of the Bowflex muscleheads, but nevertheless can slip into a pair of relaxed-fit jeans without first spraying themselves with Pam, or WD-40.

  Trouble is, those ads are not selling bicycles. They're selling Travelocity trips to Maui, Subaru Foresters, or Advil for the tiny minority that overdoes it in the saddle instead of at the dinner table.

  Maybe the bike industry needs its own TV commercial. It would have to be sponsored by a consortium of companies, since no single outfit can afford to put an ad for its missing customers on the side of a milk carton, much less on "Battlebots." The ad could refer viewers to an informative web site or 800 number to give them the pitch and put them in touch with their local retailers.

  What the hell; show the rubes a little cleavage. You just know someone is buying all those Ab Energizers, a weight-loss system that would be familiar to many deceased graduates of Sing Sing, who did indeed lose measurable mass after just one smoky session in Mr. Edison's easy chair.

  Nah. Who are we kidding? Even if it did work, all the bikes we sold would just wind up at the yard sales in February with Snickers prints all over them. We're probably better off just doing what we're doing now.

  Uh, what exactly is it that we're doing now?

• A drastically shortened version of this screed appeared in Bicycle Retailer & Industry News.