A reader:

John—Oh, it’s even worse than you think. On my last lengthy stay in England, in 2003, I was struck by the apparently universal appeal of that horrible Friends program. Everybody I encountered went zombie the second that revolting theme music sounded on the telly, and remained catatonic, mesmerized, until the show was over. When I say ‘everybody’, I mean graybeards and grandmas down to sleek, well-groomed proto-yuppies (the ones with the Blackberrys) and—worst of all—the children, the children.

Good grief! How do I feel about that? Terrible! How do you feel about how I feel? Sympathetic! How does she feel about how he feels about my feelings about….