Of course, I could lose weight just by eating small packets of food of dubious texture. NutriSystem can be delivered right to my door, with a promise of a free week somewhere in my distant future. Weight loss appears to be a huge infomercial generator. I imagine a nation of chunky (oops, I mean “fluffy”) people like myself tossing and turning in the dead of night, when we flip a channel and are accosted by the promise of what could be.

In addition to door-to-door diets, I could also elect to lose weight by choosing from any number of DVD workouts, including the salsa workout or yoga booty ballet. Or I could tone my body a la Christie Brinkley and her Total Gym Workout. Christie is my age and she looks damn good, but I doubt a workout machine is going to help me get her body. Heck, even a plastic surgeon can’t work that kind of magic.

For every glossy, well-produced infomercial begging for attention, there are reasons enough not to purchase the product. Have acne? Get Proactive! (Or, how about wash your face on a regular basis and stop eating junk food?) Got an attic full of stuff and need money? Get a CD on how to make money on eBay. (Or teach yourself for nothing. It’s not hard. Even a dummy like me could figure it out.)

Infomercials are the snake oil salesmen of this century. They prey on our fears of being fat or staying poor, and lay out glistening paths to the quick way out of your situation. My hope is that people are sensible enough to know they can’t get thin or rich instantly. If I've learned anything at all from living, nothing is ever free or easy. Everything in life takes a certain amount of hard work and more than enough perseverance.

I have to admit I was once bitten by the infomercial bug. It was one of those long, cold winters, and I had a craving for grilled food. We couldn’t find the grill under two feet of snow. There he was one night, Ron Popeil in all his energetic glory, replete with his rotisserie chicken that was glistening moistly in the bright lights of the studio. Overcome by his relentless hawking, and in a weak moment, I bought a Ronco Rotisserie. “Set it and forget it!” I still have it. It cooks great chicken.