Except for one thing...

What was interesting to me was that a survey about how "most Americans" feel about racism and minorities didn't include responses from Asian-Americans.

They're not minorities? They don't have views on racism?

Asian-Americans and Pacific Islanders make up only about 5 percent of the population, so by default maybe they lie outside the strict definition of "most Americans." But the poll was culling a variety of racial attitudes, and it managed to include views of racism against whites. You'd think if the survey had room to include views on the pervasive systemic oppression whites suffer through (now go back and read that sentence sarcastically), they'd take the time to chat up an Asian or two.

But why didn't they? And why don't we hear more about and from Asians when it comes to race in America? Are Asians the new Invisible Man -- there but not there? In some ways, yeah. Blacks and whites are always carping about the metrics of racism. And any conversation about immigration reform is immediately flipped into a referendum on Hispanics.

But Asians rarely seem to weigh in on, or have their rallying cause, with regard to race in America.

I haven't had the time to do a full scientific study, but the couple of Asian-Americans I talked with -- I know how that sounds, but, hey, that's a couple more than USA Today/Gallup bothered to talk with -- said that mostly they don't care to talk about race. Instead, they tend to have a "go along to get along" attitude.

This propensity to be cool is often misconstrued as the "Asian as the model minority" stereotype. And it is, in fact, just that -- a stereotype. That's not to imply that Asians are somehow bad folks, but that -- just as is every other minority -- they are regular folks. But we can't know that if every time opinions are sought out, they are passed over.

Clearly, not all Asians are comfortable just "being cool" about issues. And Asian-centric political action may be a more recognizable movement in coming elections.

Their opinions getting left out of one of any number of surveys on race may seem like a small thing. Maybe it is. But I think if we're really going to have an Obamaian dialogue on race in America, then we've got to have the widest dialogue possible and not just hear from the traditional "big three."

Now, that would be a poll that might fall outside of the Things We Already Know category.

Give me any of that over John McCain's low: the Britney/Paris/Obama ad. And I don't mean low as in low-class, cheap shot and underhanded. I mean low as in: "I pay you guys all that money, and this is the best you can come up with?"

The best political ads have always had text and subtext; the obvious and the arcane. The obvious text of B/P/O is: Would you all stop loving this guy so much, please?! The whole ad seems like an open admission by Camp McCain that, yes, Barack Obama is young and hip and cool, and our guy has trouble ripping songs onto his iPod unless his grandkids are around to help him.

But the subtext is where the ad doesn't even get going. Contrast it with the infamous Willie Horton ads. The subtext there was: Watch out! Mike Dukakis is gonna let dark-skinned people break into your houses and deflower your ivory wives and daughters.

But the most fear the B/P/O ad can monger is: Watch out! These guys are going to get all the good tables at Le Bernardin, and you know I got knocked down five spots on the list to get my new Ferrari California because of one of them.

The ad openly admits what we already know: that Obama is a superstar. And no matter what other racial difficulties America may have, it's got no problem with its superstars of color: Tiger or Denzel or Will Smith or Michael Jordan, for whom the phrase "I want to have his baby" was created. It's like a teenage girl Camp McCain has basically taped a Tiger Beat poster of Obama to the wall of America's bedroom so that we may now all sit, stare and coo, "Isn't he dreamy?"

But this lameness is not limited to McCain. To this day, the only argument against Obama that critics can seem to come up with involves admitting he's better than them -- though they certainly season it with some racism. You know, he's that lucky black man who actually appeals to the populace. He's that elitist who got himself off food stamps and into Harvard. He's the arrogant guy who would hang out at country clubs ... if he wasn't so busy playing pickup games of basketball.

McCain's ad comes off as if he were saying, "He's like a wealthy heiress, and I know 'cause I got me one!"

While some take offense to the ad, not me, baby. Oh, happy day when the enemies of ascendancy have got to confess that people of color rock. The only thing that's going to make me happier is when Camp McCain runs the Bea Arthur/Jack Klugman ad announcing that uncool is the new cool.

Mark Whitaker will replace the late Tim Russert as Washington bureau chief for NBC News.

Courtesy NBC Universal

What an odd, (slightly) happy confluence of events. On Monday, an Arizona State University study was released that found only "about 13 percent of the Washington daily newspaper press corps are journalists of color."

That means the majority of what you read coming out of Washington is filtered through the perceptions of white males. In these days when no one really believes that news organizations are truly "fair and balanced" with regard to their political bias, why should we believe that they are any more fair and balanced with regard to their perspective when journalists of color are essentially segregated out of the newsroom? If you don't believe me, take a look at a Web site devoted to news of minority interest. How many of these stories were given prominence in your paper?

Bias. And believe it; bias is at play every time someone decides what goes above the fold, or below it. What goes on Page One and what gets play after the jump. I have written elsewhere on the long, ugly history of segregation in the supposedly liberal newsrooms.

I can tell you from personal experience it gets a little tiring having to make the rounds on cable shows to explain "what's up with black folks."

On the upside, on the same day the ASU report was released, it was announced that Mark Whitaker would replace the late and, I can say from personal experience, gentlemanly Tim Russert as Washington bureau chief for NBC News. Whitaker, who is biracial, comes to the job with a hot resume.

According to a 2005 article by Howard Kurtz at The Washington Post, "Whitaker joined Newsweek as an intern in 1977 with impeccable credentials. Harvard graduate. Oxford student. Next came the globe-trotting: Stringer in San Francisco, Boston, Washington, London and Paris. Then he began his climb up the corporate ladder, from business editor to assistant managing editor to managing editor to the top job." After eight years as editor at Newsweek, Whitaker joined NBC News as their No. 2 executive last year.

Hiring one guy, or in this case moving one guy a little further up the ladder, doesn't make for a sea change. But if we've learned anything this past political season, with such a diverse field of individuals running for the highest office in the land, it's a bit sad there isn't a similarly diverse group of journalists who are reporting on them.

Thousands of iPhone enthusiasts stood in line for hours to purchase the new Apple iPhone 3G in July. Above, customers wait at an Apple Store in midtown Manhattan.

Mario Tama/Getty Images

Got your new Apple 3G iPhone? If you've tried to get one, you've shared the collective pain of a lot of Apple customers. Having been an early adopter of the iPhone v. 1, I wasn't planning on getting a new phone until, in a Freudian slip, I lost my old phone just five days before the iPhone 3G launch.

Five long, lonely days that I had to live without a iPhone and the world learned to try — TRY — and live without me. Surprisingly, we did well apart from one another.

But absence and fondness and all that ...

So then Friday, July 11, arrives. iPhone 3G launch day. Lots of lines and few phones. No phones, really. Remember just a year ago when you could walk into an Apple store, buy a phone, go home and activate it on your own? Apparently that was too easy and non-time-consuming for Apple.

This go 'round Apple's having you do ALL the set-up in store, which means actually getting the phone in your hand takes forever. Forever and a day when you take into account Apple launched millions of phones for tens of thousands of customers to buy at hundreds of stores around the world.

What were the odds that Apple's server would crash harder than (insert coked-up teen pop culture celebrity here)? So, thousands stood in line for hours and got no phone. Or, if they did get a phone, it was temporarily useless. Add to that a buggy iPhone app store that was early on prone to crashing, a buggy MobileMe Exchange-like system that was early on prone to crashing, iPhones sold out everywhere, people still standing in lines going into the third week of the iPhone invasion ... (Personally, I got my phone with no waiting in line thanks to a level of chicanery I have not employed since graduating with honors from NYU.)

You've gotta wonder if Apple is losing some of its user-friendly charm.

Hardly.

When it comes to the full digital media experience, still nobody can compete with Apple. Anybody own a Zune? Any digital stores ready to take a run at the iTunes mountain? And that AppleTV "hobby" is about the best one going since the Sultan of Brunei started collecting Ferraris. Bottom line, it's still real good in MacVille.

Good...

But better if they could get back to the days when their end-to-end experience really worked end-to-end.

Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake, before things went wrong at the Super Bowl, Feb. 1, 2004.

Jeff Haynes/AFP/Getty Images

So, a Philly appeals court has tossed out the $550,000 indecency fine the FCC hit up CBS with after Janet Jackson's "wardrobe malfunction" during the halftime of the 2004 Super Bowl.

Good.

I never thought the affair was indecent as much as it was unfortunate.

Unfortunate as in: "Unfortunately I wasn't actually watching when Ms. Jackson flashed her headlights."

Honestly, I never quite understood the outrage. Mostly because there wasn't any actual outrage as much as there was some manufactured outrage from -- according to CBS -- "form letters generated by well-organized single-interest groups."

Seriously, in the middle of a bunch of homo-erotic male on male violence garnished with barely-clad cheerleaders and accessorized with ads to aid both erectile dysfunction and frequent urination, it's hard to get bent out of shape over a little flesh.

And Janet Jackson flesh no less.

JANET JACKSON!

But the way I see it, when a woman -- literally -- takes her sexuality in her hands, men tend to get offended by it. "How dare you exploit yourself! We were gonna do that!"

Personally, I don't care who does the exploiting as long as it gets done.

More importantly, this is a real victory for CBS. Yeah, they broadcast the halftime show, but they can't control what happens and shouldn't be punished when what happens doesn't happen according to script. If one of the ballplayers had gotten his pants ripped off in the middle of a play, is that CBS's fault? It should not have taken years for this matter to be resolved, but then the fine should not have been levied in the first place. The whole mess is one of the remaining fiascoes of the Michael Powell Chairmanship, which will go down, even among conservatives, as the worst in FCC history.

So, cheers CBS and Janet Jackson. Now that this is all behind us, let's do it again sometime.

Well, to be honest... I'm a Wildstorm kinda guy.

In the interest of full and fair disclosure, I write for Wildstorm. But even if I didn't, I'd love what they do.

No, seriously, I'd love their stuff.

Wildstorm is what you'd call a boutique publisher, a relatively small operation that puts out just a handful of titles. Their marquee hero group is called The Authority -- "good-guy" superhumans who take the job of saving the planet literally and set themselves up as benevolent dictators: "Hey, rouge nation, you want to start a war? Get set for an invasion from The Authority." I can't say the allegory to any current political situation is direct, but it does the job of answering the question: What would happen if superheroes became more proactive rather than reactive, and does might really make right?

The other Wildstorm title you have to check out is Planetary. The best, most simple way to describe this amazingly written Warren Ellis/John Cassaday series is calling it a super-powered X-Files -- heroes taking on myths and legends of the world. Except that the series takes some kind of turn and something happens and to this day I'm not exactly sure what except that it's brilliant. Planetary only ran for about 26 issues with a few specials, but ask your local comic shop dealer about it. They can hook you up.

Throw in other titles like Astro City and Stormwatch, and bottom line, Wildstorm's got some of the most creative talent and best editors working today.

By the way, a few years back Wildstorm was bought by DC Comics, though DC seems, for the most part, to have done an admirable job of leaving editorial control to the Wildstorm folks. So, truth be told, maybe that does make me a DC person at heart.

The Belgians own Bud. What's next?

Jeff Roberson/AP

As a native of Milwaukee, Wis. -- the beer capital of America -- and as a former employee of the Miller Brewing Co., I think I can unilaterally declare I have a unique perspective on InBev (could it sound more Belgian?) buying up Anheuser-Busch (could it sound more American? I mean, really, for this piece I wish it sounded more American).
Satirical, hyperbolic headlines aside -- and apart from my belief that guys named some variation of Bush always end up smelling like a rose -- the $52 billion InBev/AB deal, while massive, is about the least consequential thing going on in the world that doesn't involve the Jonas Brothers.

Seriously, does it matter who's "controlling" -- the media's throwing around that word a lot -- the beer Bubba chugs while he's getting sloshed at the infield of a NASCAR ... race, meet, game ... whatever it's called while screaming, "I love you, Travis Kvapil! I loooove you!" And, no, I'm not an arrogant elitist.

Still, the mortgage crisis continues. The war in Afghanistan is heating up. Favre may come back to the Pack. But with all that going on how much you wanna bet the day won't pass before some junior representative from Missouri introduces a non-binding resolution condemning the sale of our good American beer to those Belgians. Were they even in the Coalition of the Willing, or did they just let us go off and fight the War on Terror(ism) while they plotted to make an international beer run.

Again, satire.

Except for that non-binding resolution part.

I swear by my flag lapel pin somebody's gonna make this deal into a populist war cry, mount up some Clydesdale and ride to economic war to protect "the little guy" from having his brew stolen. I can imagine Lou Dobbs slipping into his chain mail now.

It ain't pretty.

Now, AB isn't the first major American brewery to get snatched up by "foreigners." Over the years Miller's been swapped around like an empty can among South African Breweries before finally teaming up with some Canadians to form a joint venture called MillerCoors. Now, recall ... this past July 4th, was your patriotic binging at all affected by this multinational distribution of booze power, or did you just come around to an all-American Mother of all Hangovers?

So, go on Mr. Small District government representative. Go on and get your 15 minutes of C-SPAN fame blustering on this one. But save your truly righteous indignation for something worthy of ... getting indignant about.

One day they will come for our Lunesta. That is when we will have to stand and fight.

Sen. Barack Obama (left) and the Rev. Jesse Jackson, in happier times, attend an event in Chicago on Jan. 15, 2007.

Charles Rex Arbogast/AP

Jesse Jackson's ridiculous comments about Barack Obama "talking down" to black people -- as opposed to Jackson's totally reprehensible comments insinuating violence being committed against Obama (click here to see the video) -- are only the latest in a litany of derisive remarks directed at Obama from stalwarts of the left.

Ralph Nader and Geraldine Ferraro and Al Sharpton and Bob Johnson and Stanley Crouch and South Carolina State Sen. Robert Ford have all maligned Obama as being everything from a "lucky" black man to not being black enough. While it's never a shock when operatives of the far, far right have trouble with a person of color achieving stature (though I do believe they play ball better with those in the fold), what a long, strange trip this campaign season has been watching so-called liberals fumble the hot potato that is Barack Obama.

Why? Why is Obama of such consternation to the Old Schoolers?

For one, Obama and his candidacy challenge the liberal establishment. By not miring himself in the politics of handouts, Obama elevates blacks above and beyond a herd that was fed the grain of entitlements in exchange for votes. In addition to extolling blacks to take more personal responsibility (a position a Pew research study finds the majority of black Americans hold), Obama has also questioned race-based affirmative action and understands -- again, as the majority of black Americans do -- that what's good for the country is good for all of us. To Jackson, that's "talking down" to blacks. To Nader, that's "talking white." But to the tens of millions of Americans who helped Obama clinch the nomination (as opposed to Jackson and Nader, who have yet to win an election), Obama is simply talking to America.

Moreover, what scares the Old Schoolers is that Obama's potential election takes away the victim stick they use to flog their diminishing relevance. Obama as president would be empirical evidence that while there are and probably always will be racists in America, America is no longer a racist nation. There are a lot of liberals who've made good bank stretching out the "you done me wrong, now gimme something" politics of the '60s well into the new millennium.

Obama wants change.

And change for the Old Schoolers ain't a good thing.

Mike Myers stars in The Love Guru.

Paramount Pictures

If everybody loves a lover, how come there's so much hate floating around for Mike Myers' not-even-opened-yet new film The Love Guru? The fear from some in the Hindu community is that the film is nothing but a collection of tired stereotypes about their faith.

If you've seen the trailer, you get the concern. Long hair? Check. Brightly colored clothes? Check. Hippie sensibility that makes the Grateful Dead look like Republican lobbyists? Check.

Despite all that, the film certainly isn't as offensive as it could be. Myers doesn't play a Near Easterner, but rather a white guy who was raised in the Near East. Naturally, he becomes an accent-laden dispenser of Hindu-like philosophy because that's all the Near East has to offer. This, in some ways, is progress from the character -- or caricature -- Hrundi V. Bakshi, played by Peter Sellers in the 1968 film The Party. Maybe even a step beyond Sir Ben Kingsley playing Gandhi. But is that enough to keep The Love Guru from being offensive?

The answer to that depends on whether the film is funny. Insightful funny would be nice. Clever funny. But if we learned anything from Borat -- or, more rightly, Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan -- there's nothing like a busted gut to make one kick their PC-ness to the curb.

But the bigger issue with The Love Guru isn't whether it mocks or traffics in stereotypes -- most comedies do -- but rather that there's nothing for it to stand in relief against. Other than Kumar escaping from Gitmo with Harold, The Love Guru is probably going to be the only "mainstream" Near Easterner Hollywood introduces us to this year. And it's when we get only one type of image that the image becomes a stereotype -- not doctors or lawyers or folks just trying to find money enough in their household budget to pay for gas, but rather high-toned philosophers in Nehru jackets. If it's played smartly -- which ultimately The Love Guru might be -- I think we can take that. But while you're at it, Hollywood, give us some variations on the theme, as well.

You may not know it, but June 12th is day of great historical significance.

Forty-one years ago, the Green Bay Packers were the first Super Bowl victors, the Jimi Hendrix Experience released its debut album, the Beatles put out a little thing called Sergeant Pepper, and interracial couples could still not legally marry in 16 of 50 of these United States.

Hence, the significance of June 12th. Loving Day is a little observed, but considerable day of remembrance -- particularly for those with some connection to an interracial relationship, as Loving Day marks the end of one of the last "slave laws" that remained on the books in many Southern states.

Loving Day is not named for the emotion of loving, but, fittingly, for Richard Loving and his wife Mildred. Richard was white, and Mildred was black and when they were married in 1958, their home state of Virginia was one of those 16 that considered the two of them being together just plain criminal.

For a lot of you youngsters raised in a multi-cultural society, I'm sure it's hard to believe people could get so bent they'd actually write laws restricting affairs of the heart. But interracial marriage - miscegenation is the pejorative - was once a severely odious concept. In 1912, Congressman Seaborn Roddenbery of Georgia tried to introduce an amendment to the Constitution banning such unions. To his colleagues in Congress he lectured:

"It is contrary and averse to every sentiment of pure American spirit. It is contrary and averse to the very principles of a pure Saxon government. It is subversive of social peace. ... No more voracious parasite ever sucked at the heart of pure society and moral status than the one which welcomes or recognizes everywhere the sacred ties of wedlock between Africa and America."

Then, as now, a particular ilk of politician tried to make bank using relationships between consenting adults as a wedge issues. Substitute "Africa and America" in the previous with "same sex couples" and you get my drift.

The Lovings spent time in jail for the high crime of being married to each other, were forced to move from Virginia. Then, on June 12 of 1967, the U.S. Supreme Court overturned the Lovings' criminal convictions and struck down all laws against interracial marriage.

Now, 41 years later, there's something like 4.3 million mixed-marriage couples in the United States.

Though their only desire was to spend a lifetime together, it was not meant to be for the Lovings. Richard was killed in a 1975 car accident. Mildred passed away May 2nd of this year.

Well, they're together again now.

For the millions of mixed race couples and their families, this Loving Day is one to be particularly celebrated. It arrives on the heels of history, and is personified in Barack Obama's candidacy. Forty-one years after the laws were struck down - just 41 years. And now the son of a relationship once considered contrary to "every sentiment of pure American spirit" is one step removed from the American people placing him into the highest office in the land.

The town still hasn't recovered from the ill-conceived 100-day writers' strike. There was a shortened regular broadcast television season. No pilot season. And the creeping hegemony of reality TV continues, which means fewer jobs for traditional craftspersons. Network television viewership sank about 15 percent, and there's already a de facto movie strike happening. Studios aren't green-lighting any new films until the actors' contract situation is resolved.

The fact that AFTRA — the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists, a smaller guild that reps about 40,000 actors — was able to hammer out a new contract with the producers in the last two weeks doesn't offer much sunshine. There's some bad blood and bruised egos between SAG and AFTRA, and the fear is AFTRA's public display of lucidity will make SAG all the more recalcitrant.

However, with both AFTRA and the DGA — the Directors Guild of America — demonstrating through their successful contract negotiations that reasonable people can come to sensible conclusions, there's hope that the leadership of SAG can act the part of adults and actually negotiate a deal.

Among the things the groups want to change is a provision that bars prospective white parents from undergoing any race-oriented training that's different from what any other prospective parent would receive.

Perhaps the single most important thing for a child is to be with a loving, supportive family. And all things being equal, any child of any race should be placed with any qualified parents without restriction or special conditions.

But all things are not always equal.

I would never advocate prohibiting transracial adoptions. Black kids in foster care already have a significantly harder time finding homes than children of other races. But in the case of white parents/black children, the MEPA provision against race-oriented training's gotta go.

White folks, no matter how well-meaning or open-minded, have no true idea what it's like to be black in America. That's not a slam against white people or an accusation of latent bigotry. But the fact is that we all live in an Anglo-dominated society. From the moment we switch on the morning happy-chat shows until we fade to the stale jokes of the late-nite laughers, our news, our information, our assessments, are delivered through the filter of Anglo perspective. Be it liberal or conservative, it's still monochromatic. People of color grow up steeped in "white" culture. The reverse is not true. And, no, listening to hip-hop on the way to work does not count as immersion. Most whites will never know, experience or fully understand the myriad of preconceptions or gentle indignities that people of color have to deal with near daily. And that's prior to getting hit with full-on bigotry. Being of color in America by no means amounts to a constant barrage of negativity. However, unlike being white, being of color means one's race is a constant issue. How to handle it is an experience that is best learned practically, passed from a parent who's lived it to a child who's living it. It is not an experience gained merely by watching the boxed set of Eyes on the Prize (though you should watch it anyway). Short of that, some actual training would be useful. Anyone who believes otherwise is just displaying arrogance.

I would think, at the very least, trained and qualified parents of black children could be established as mentors. This would also help the adoptive parents build a "go to" support group for when their children do have questions and issues.

No doubt the policy barring the training was born of some kind of political correctness. But like most political correctness, it's Pollyanish.

Parents who engage in transracial adoptions are clearly committed, brave and, above all, loving. They should be fully prepared as well.

Former NBA player Charles Barkley arrives at the opening of Jay-Z's 40/40 Club in Las Vegas in December.

Ethan Miller/Getty Images

It happens like clockwork. A racehorse gets put down after having been riding-cropped into running so hard it breaks both its ankles, and all the sob sisters out there want to shut down the whole family-fun sport of horse racing.

And every time a cigar-chomping ex-NBA star gets nearly brought up on felony charges because he fails to pay the $400,000 gambling debt he racked up in Vegas over two days, the moral wet blankets start whining about the ills of the professional gaming industry — and please, people, get it right: It's GAMING, not GAMBLING.

I'll be straight with you: I like gaming. I game a lot. And same as with hot wings and adult Internet entertainment, I can't imagine life without the gaming industry. I might add that I once had the opportunity to game with Charles Barkley — that is to say, I had some action going on the green felt at the same time he did — and I can safely say one bad Barkley doesn't spoil gaming for everybody. If I had a nickel for every time I was a little slow paying off a marker ... well, I'd play penny slots and win the money back. And $400,000 to a guy like Barkley? That's pocket change. He's already admitted to losing close to $10 million at the tables, which, if those stories about Bill Bennett are true, barely puts Barkley in that league of pathological gamblers.

Gamers. I mean pathological gamers.

And the whole concept of pathological — uncontrollable, addicted — gaming is little better than legend anyway. Just check out the American Gaming Association Web site. They give you the unvarnished truth about gaming, the way only a gaming industry trade group can. By their reckoning, only a lousy 1 percent of the population can be classified as Level 3 — pathological — gamers. Are we going to let a few Level 3s ruin it for the rest of us?

And, really, how sure can we be that those Level 3s are truly "pathological"? A study published in the Journal of Clinical Psychiatry in 2005 found that "Pathological gambling is highly comorbid with substance use, mood, anxiety, and personality disorders, suggesting that treatment for one condition should involve assessments and possible concomitant treatment for comorbid conditions."

Comorbid. They exist at the same time. Need I say more?

So I say to Sir Charles, keep doing what you're doing. And while you're at it, lay a bet for me.

Actress Holly Hunter of TNT's Saving Grace rehearses her portion of the Turner Entertainment Upfront presentation in New York on Wednesday.

Richard Drew/AP

It's Upfront season! That wonderful, magical time of year when the television broadcasters show their wares for next fall to all the Madison Avenue advertisers, set their ad rates and rake in their billions. A little more than $9 billion by the collective networks last year.

The Upfronts are kinda an entertainment-centric affair, but like Fashion Week and Internet hoaxes over the years, they've taken on a life of their own: big parties, paparazzi, live blogging from bloggheads ...

But all that sybaritism is in the past.

This year, the Upfronts are a very subdued affair. It reflects the rather somber state of post-writers' strike Hollywood, which — much like post-war Europe — is struggling back to some kind of normality. Because of the strike, few pilot episodes of new shows were filmed, so there's little to "dog and pony" for the advertisers. In place of lavish, star-studded presentations held at SRO venues like Radio City Music Hall, there are smallish events one observer compared to a trade show-like expo. One network's presentation consisted of the titles — just the titles — of potential — yes, potential — new shows flashed on a movie screen with slight descriptions of what the show may or may not be if it's ever filmed.

Imagine trying to figure what cut of your ad budget you're going to allocate to a network based on that.

The ABC network's basically not even bothering with new shows this fall. It's only premiering two shows: one an Americanized version of the Brit dramedy Life on Mars; the other a reality/game show.

And if you're thinking things in TV Land can't get much worse, they're about to. While real Hollywood — the "working stiffs" rather than the high-paid celebs — are still trying to dig out from under the writers' strike, the community is staring down a June 30 work stoppage by the guild representing the actors.

Tokyo, say hello to Godzilla.

What does this mean for you? Maybe no new fall TV season at all. At least not with scripted shows starring professional talent. So, all those reality shows, YouTube clips and oldies you were digging on iTunes? Bookmark 'em, 'cause you may be getting re-familiar with them come September.

Mildred Loving and her husband, Richard, shown in 1965, challenged Virginia's ban on interracial marriages.

AP

Mildred Loving passed away with little notice last Friday. You may not know her name, but Mrs. Loving was a civil rights activist. Like many who played a role in the civil rights movement — Emmett Till, Rosa Parks — Mrs. Loving wasn't looking to change the world by her actions. All she was looking to do was be married to her husband, Richard. Richard was white, and Mildred was black and when they were married in 1958, interracial marriage — "miscegenation" is the pejorative — was against the law in their home state of Virginia, as well as 16 other states.

Interracial marriage was once a concept so odious that in 1912, Rep. Seaborn Roddenbery of Georgia tried to introduce an amendment to the Constitution banning such unions. To his colleagues in Congress he lectured, according to the Chicago Daily Tribune:

"It is contrary and averse to every sentiment of pure American spirit. It is contrary and averse to the very principles of a pure Saxon government. It is subversive of social peace. ... No more voracious parasite ever sucked at the heart of pure society and moral status than the one which welcomes or recognizes everywhere the sacred ties of wedlock between Africa and America."

Aren't you glad we're living in a time when politicians don't use relationships between consenting adults as wedge issues?

I digress.

The Lovings spent time in jail for the high crime of being married to each other, were forced to move from Virginia...

Then, in June of 1967, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld the Lovings' ACLU-supported challenge to the Virginia law banning interracial marriages.

Forty years later, there's something like 4.3 million mixed-marriage couples in the United States. Never mind the number of people legally allowed to love as they please, Mildred Loving never thought she personally had done anything special. "It was God's work," she told the Associated Press in an interview last year.

Though their only desire was to be together, it was not meant to be for the Lovings. Richard was killed in a 1975 car accident.

Well, they're together again now.

It's a pity that unlike Mildred, Richard Loving could not live to see the son of a relationship once considered contrary to "every sentiment of pure American spirit" one step removed from the highest office in the land.