After a relentless quest to discover the true definition of art, I stumbled upon that priceless, coveted answer while combing the pages of the New York Times:

"I have a general rule that I follow--anything that I can do isn't art."

--RUDY GIULIANI, criticizing an exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum of Art that includes a statue of the Virgin Mary covered in elephant dung

In other news...

THEY ALL WANT TO BE MILLIONAIRES

Regis Philbin's "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" started off slowly this summer but quickly built steam--and within weeks was pummeling its way to the top of the Nielsen's ratings. I, as always, was skeptical, but this was some seriously addictive television. Finally a game show that didn't reward you with a new dinette set or a cheesy trip to Las Palmas. This was a diabolically simple challenge (and a fair one at that)--a tortuous series of questions that required a cool blend of skill, strategy and luck. And best of all, we could play along at home. The downside? ABC only scheduled it as a two week filler. They'll bring it back for November sweeps, of course, but the other networks will throw everything but the kitchen sink into the mix in order to capitalize on Game Show Mania. Want to know how desperate NBC is? They're pulling "Twenty One"--yup, the game show documented in Quiz Show that was infamously fixed--as a ratings gimmick. Let's hope that they don't get Kathie Lee to host that one.

GARTH'S GIMMICK

The cowboy needs to chill out. Once upon a time, Garth Brooks was a Cinderfella, the epitome of the rags-to-riches superstar tale--and a stellar example of perservering talent. He rose to the top of the industry, was a crossover megastar and completely owned country music. But of course, these things go to one's head and Garth hasn't quite recovered. The country music world, it seems, is just too small a microcosm for his ambition. He conquered the charts, so what's the obvious next step? To rule history. Now, Brooks has his sights set on breaking the Beatles all-time sales record and he's obsessed. Just look at the way he's been dumping on the market recently. First, he released a greatest hits album--even though he's been around for less than a decade. Then came the double-CD package last year which was a double gimmick--two CDs at a low price so that Soundscan would register two purchases for every one. Oh, and lest we forget, the double CD was available in six (!) different collectible editions (did he really think that his fans would by 12 CDs??). But the latest attempt is perhaps the most pathetic; in his effort to transcend country, he's evolved into --gasp!--a macho rock star. Portraying "Chris Gaines," Brooks is hoping the novelty of a dye job and a funky goatee will have the masses running to the nearest Virgin Megastore. The reviews certainly aren't going to attract them--critics have been brutal. He'll learn a lesson the hard way--no one likes a gloat. Once we know he's out to set records, we'll try our best to stop him. It's the American way. Build someone up. Break them down once they start anticipating the finish line.

POK-WHO?

At first I thought it would just go away--like Tickle Me Elmo and other such kiddy fads. But oh no, this one has gotten out of control. What the hell is Pokmon? Why is it infiltrating school cafeterias, slumber parties, Saturday morning television and (very soon) movie theatres? Our crack team will dive inside the insidious world of the Japanimation dinos (or whatever they are) and surface with a report in the near future.

A 'STIRRING' SURPRISE

As I told you last week, our team of writers hit the Boston premiere and afterparty for The Minus Man hoping to find the "next big thing." Forget that. The movie was an unqualified disaster (see page 6). To clear the memory, I went to see The Sixth Sense again--surprise, surprise, it was sold out--so I settled for tickets to the Kevin Bacon scream-fest Stir of Echoes. I have no idea how this one slipped through the cracks. Without a doubt, it's the scariest thing I've seen since the old-time psycho-horror flicks (Exorcist, Psycho, Rosemary's Baby, etc.). Bacon plays a working stiff who dares one of his wife's friends to hypnotize him. It turns out to be a costly move--he finds himself hallucinating 24/7, besieged by images of ghosts. Sounds hokey, but The Sixth Sense is fluff next to this one. Just try to keep your eyes open the whole time. I dare you.

TREND-O-RAMA

Trying to figure out fashion at Harvard is like trying to figure out what the "three meats" are in the dining hall's "three meat lasagna." It's a big mish-mash of good, bad and often ugly. It's like any normal school--only with a lot more prepsters and Gucci-lovers. But a friend of mine--a "proven" trendsetter (remember Hypercolor? That was all her. Cavariccis? Yup, those too.)--last week discovered the ultimate in cool. It has all the potential of a "crossover"--an unlikely bridge over the oh-so-wide gap between the flannel wearers and the Polo-loyal, between DHAs and Banana Republic. The trendiness began when she saw a member of the Harvard Snowboarding Club sauntering down Mt. Auburn Street with a bright yellow (gold? orange? it's an indescribable hybrid) t-shirt punctuated with red and blue lettering. She bought one off him on the spot (luckily, he had a few for sale; she would have given up her first-born for it, I'm sure). The buzz started building. Next day, I see six people wearing it in Lowell. Two days later, I see at least a dozen supposed "Snowboarding Club members" in the yard. It's the rage--get one while it's still in style (or in stock).

Questions? Comments? E-mail schainan@fas.