Something is clearly very, very wrong in turn-of-the-century America. For instance, sparea thought for the millions of Americans who might try to take stock of the sisterhood's predicament on women's day today. A First Lady's political ambitions, they will note, may finally be realised as her popularity ratings soar for the first time not because she is unusually intelligent and worthy, but because she heroically stood by her husband as he unblinkingly stained not just a young intern's blue dress but also his legacy. Yet, in a strange way, this new round in the Monica saga does have its healthy fallouts. For over a year now, while indulging in a tabloidish binge, Americans have been left extremely bewildered and disturbed as a president's indiscretions became a weighty matter of state and opinion poll companies called on them day in and day out to balance his morality against his handling of the economy. With the impeachment over and Ken Starr's near pornographic report replaced by a pulp bestseller by Princess Diana's confidant, the story has somewhat been restored to its rightful status of puregossip. ``Somewhat'' because there has been the attendant spectacle of the leader of the world's only superpower having to play the magnanimous estranged lover and publicly reply to the interview and tell Monica he wishes her well.

However, make no mistake, this new bout of Monica madness is ultimately a comment on the medium. Even as the former intern mouthed inanities like ``I have this tendency to want people to like me'', the TV broadcaster was raking in $800,000 for each 30-second advertisement slot. And was it well orchestrated! Monica just had to dwell on her thong underwear, and a lingerie ad followed; she simply had to refer to her weight problems, and a fast food chain advised viewers to ``stop crying, start eating''; interviewer Barbara Walters merely had to hold up the copy of Leaves of Grass presented to Monica by her former lover, and Amazon.com had record orders for Walt Whitman's classic. Viewers are entitled to echo Monica's now famous line on the interview: ``I felt dirty, I felt used.''