It happens daily outside the TV studios: as in a dockworkers' shapeup, prospective audiences are sorted and herded into queues. After a long, foot-shifting delay, they are shuffled inside for another wait, told to douse their cigarettes and keep the chatter down. Invariably, they are disappointed by the cramped studios, the tawdry sets, the cameras and microphones that block their view. Scrunched into their seats with their Macy's shopping bags, surrounded by strangers, discomfited in the glare of overhead floodlights, studio audiences radiate a mood that is, as Mike Douglas puts...
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