Imagine yourself home on your couch, contractually obligated to remain in front of your satellite-rigged television for a period of seven days, at the end of which you will produce a funny but penetrating account of your journey -- a virtual one -- through the strange and culturally revealing landscape of the 200-channel universe. Bill Brownstein did just that. The author of the riotous Sex Carnival charts his week as a couch potato in his latest odyssey, Down the Tube. With a cynical eye and relentless wit, Brownstein meditates on such important questions as: Should Pamela Anderson sue the doctor who botched her breast reduction? Are those people on Springer for real? Hey, do they still play reruns of The Waltons?
