Much of what you say is an honest reaction to "Babylon 5." It is, largely, a matter of personal taste. It could be that "B5" has an appeal for fans who enjoyed literary science fiction, as opposed to those who only watch TV shows and like bang-'em-ups. Straczynski has always been a didactic writer; look at his graphic novel "Midnight Nation" and how his characters speak. I'm not put off by dialog per se, only how the the actors carry off their characters while speaking it.

But I must argue your contention that TV has "always" been run by suits. It is, and I know, because I work for a TV station. I also worked in public TV, and I have no problem with commercial TV's compromises with sponsors. (The compromises PBS made, on the other hand, were and are far more horrific.)

But these are different suits than the ones that ruled TV in the 1960's. As the megacorps claim more of the industry and competition disappears, they take fewer chances, they hedge their bets, they make shows less individual and their pablum is ground even finer. Rod Serling kept "Twilight Zone" on the air for five years. Nothing as quirky or individual could even get a hearing as a pilot these days.

ABC stations were sent a 50th anniversary poster, with a large "50" made up of pictures from the network's history of shows. The early shows had characters that showed remarkable individuality and distinction, in character, genre and the expressions on the actors. The newer shows were nearly indistinguishable from each other; sitcom casts so identical it was hard to remember the show titles, action and drama actors with the same stoic, not-too-aggrieved expressions.

In 1980 there were something like fifty companies involved in the making of TV shows. Now there are five, who don't feel the need to compete for ideas. In that environment, like in high school, being different can be fatal. It becomes more market-driven. "Ugly Betty" wasn't an original show concept, as mentioned before, but the network wanted something to grab the Hispanic market, no matter how derivative it was. That's the kind of suits running things today.

This much I know; Havrilesky has delivered the death blow to "Heroes." I don't care that she doesn't understand comic books; she hasn't cracked Scott McCloud's "Understanding Comics," neither have a lot of people. (Then she hasn't figured out how doorknobs work, either.) It shouldn't matter. Fiction should stand on its own, no matter what genre.

The show has been moving at a snail's pace, not by comic book standards, but even by soap opera standards. We've seen the people with powers, who are mostly unappealing and not very bright. The Japanese time-warping guy was the most interesting out of the gate, but the Rose and Thorn imitation (the schitzophrenic murdering stripper) has been slowly growing in sympathy. But she won't get to do too much in the three weeks left to the series, before NBC drops the axe.

Because it's impossible to care for these people, more frightened of their new abilities instead of recognizing their incredible utility. And part of it is that there are so many of them. Large "ensemble" casts are really just a way of taking a bunch of characters and throwing them against the refrigerator door to see which ones will stick. There's little vision in these series, little passion or focus in the show's conception, so we get a dozen characters with differing personalities, in the hopes that one of them will become the Fonzie or the Urkel that will make the show popular.

This trope has been used on so many shows ("The Nine," "Six Degrees") that it's clear that no one knows what this year's audience likes, and the business has grown so conservative that everyone's terrified to guess.

Maybe that's the way Havrilesky is, either. We've gone from being chickens to sheep. She seems to be hunting around for the best insulting diminuitive with which to label her readers. I guess next week we'll be Congressional pages or Amish schoolgirls.