Based on a quick look at prime-time television, the number of 15-year-old boys living in houses full of women has increased dramatically in the past few years. This follows the recent trend of befuddled single dads raising numerous daughters and the smaller, but still important, rash of those same men marrying their housekeepers for green card reasons.

Instead of creating funny TV shows, Hollywood gives us a stream of wacky premises fleshed out with over-the-top characters. Never mind jokes based on the actual absurdities of life, we get manufactured situations involving two divorced couples living in the same house as their exes, along with a midget, a French-speaking grizzly bear and Frank Stallion.

If television reflects real life, then America has become a land of wacky mismatched households with outrageous neighbors. Normal family units no longer exist, and in their place, we have a collection of misfits spouting lame catchphrases.

Additionally, while most of the "four friends doing nothing," "Seinfeld" ripoffs got canceled, every new sitcom still has either a bumbling Kramer character or a bellowing Frank Costanza knock-off. One buffoon who smashes into doors every couple of decades seems like more than enough, yet we now have dozens of them.

Only television executives could watch a show as brilliantly written as "Seinfeld" and conclude that it works because a man falling down is funny. That's like attributing the success of Star Wars to Lando Calrisian or the dominance of McDonalds to the Filet O' Fish.

It's also surprising that none of these TV honchos understands the rule that the best humor often works because of moderation. A pie in Richard Nixon's face makes you laugh; 12 pies in Richard Nixon's face gets repetitive and seems a little mean.

TV has, however, taught me that most journalists make a lot more money than I do. Brooke Shields, a mere writer for a regional magazine (normal salary $25-35,000 a year) has a new outfit every scene and an apartment that makes where I live look like a paper bag.

Perhaps, rather than asking for a raise, I'll give up working entirely, or at least trade in my career for menial labor. TV has shown me that despite what statistics say, most twenty-something people without jobs make more money than professional women in their thirties, and 23-year-olds who work at the local Java Shack can afford luxurious Manhattan apartments. At the same time, lawyers, judges, veterinarians and other highly skilled workers earn so little that they have to move in with their parents-perhaps it has something to do with inflation.

Despite the promise the new Fall season brings, I've seen very few shows worth watching. Many of this year's sitcoms look suspiciously like last year's sitcoms.

I'm convinced some of them just switched networks, got new theme songs and perhaps even more unbelievable neighbors. It seems sad that TV people have such a diverse collection of oddballs living nearby, while I have to settle for an old lady and an apartment that smells vaguely of onions.