On April 30, 1998, viewers of most local Los Angeles TV stations were treated to something just a bit different: a live suicide, which pre-empted scheduled programming.

That's right. In the middle of afternoon drive time, Daniel V. Jones set his truck on fire, and ran out, his body smoking. Soon after, he returned to the truck for his shotgun. He carried it over to the side of the freeway overpass, bent over, put the barrel to his head, and pulled the trigger. The cameras stayed with it to show his head blowing up, with all the glop pouring out, as he lay on the pavement. He left his dog to die in the burning truck.

Of course, there was plenty of immediate reaction. The stations apologized for showing the event, while still defending the public's right to know. After all, it WAS news in that nearly 300,000 motorists were affected by the freeway gridlock--or so the broadcasters said.

Many callers on talk radio complained that children's shows were pre-empted in favor of this story, and youngsters could witness the grisly event. Other callers said that they were both repulsed and fascinated by the violent scene.

Pundits decried the lack of journalism on television news. They complained that sensational pictures are the norm--in an effort to boost ratings.

Let's analyze this. Journalism is "the collection and editing of material of current interest for presentation through news media." By this definition, what's the problem? We can take issue with the editing, I suppose, but the sensationalistic trend is hardly new. During the 1960's we got to observe some of the most violent combat scenes of the Vietnam war, on a nightly basis, courtesy of such programs as "The CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite."

Would anyone argue that the esteemed Cronkite was not a journalist?

What about violence on TV? Violence (and sex, for that matter) have ALWAYS been a staple of media, going back to at least the Greek tragedies. Why? Because we humans are fascinated with anything that has to do with sex and death. I mean, that's pretty basic stuff, right?

Thus, whether the purveyor is looking for TV ratings, or the owner of the Globe Theatre wants to fill the seats, he will use these tried and true themes. This is a surprise?

Now, what about the person involved in this specific event? People die every day. Jones merely chose to perform his suicide in a public forum. Does that make his death any more special than that of the teenage girl who takes an overdose because she doesn't get asked out to the prom?

By the same token, why was the death of Princess Diana worth such an outpouring of public grief?

Life CAN be tragic. It's not perfect down here, nor will it ever be, no matter how much the Humanists protest.

Perhaps the issue is that people can't distinguish between real life and the entertainment media anymore. How many of those Diana mourners felt that they "knew" her when they had only seen her image countless times? Don't forget that people used to write to actors such as Robert Young (Marcus Welby, MD) for medical advice and Shirley Booth (Hazel) for recipes.

It's not that news has "become" entertainment. That happened before Ed Murrow left CBS in 1961. The truth is that thanks to technological improvements, and deterioration in critical thinking skills, everything has become entertainment. Or, better yet: Entertainment has become everything.