There was a line at the grocery checkout yesterday morning. I was stuck. Candy bars on one side, tabloids on the other. I found myself staring at the The National Enquirer, The Star, The Sun. What else was I going to do while I waited? Once you've seen one Snickers bar you've seen them all.

Not that I had any idea what I was looking at since I haven't watched television for years. Were those unflattering photographs really today's stars?

What else did I see? The sagging bikini-clad backside of an actress I probably wouldn't recognize if shown her face. Couples whose names were unfamiliar, being spotted with each other, or marrying, or splitting, or thinking of splitting, or having breakdowns over it all. And the famous people who aren't romantically involved, or too fat, or emotionally distraught, are gravely ill, on the verge of death. Well, there, at last, an old actor I've actually heard of, not long for this world, or rather the world these celebrities seem to occupy.

The ancient Greeks had something like our tabloid celebrities. They called them gods. Zeus and the rest of the ancient were beset by the same foibles and appetites as mere mortals but powerful enough to act on their every whim. If only they'd had The Globe back then -- "King Tyndareus' wife Leda was spotted at Club Olympus accompanied by an unidentified bird."

Of course, the ancient Greeks knew who their gods were. Most of the tabloid headlines were just Greek to me. What I miss by not watching television!

The checkout line finally moved. I pushed my cart forward and started unloading tins of cat food onto the conveyor.