With the weather as it is, most people love to stay in most evenings and catch up on their favorite shows.

I am no exception to this rule. And with the beginning of the year comes my favorite indulgence, “American Idol.”

To be honest, I think I’m like most people — my official thought is there’s far too much reality TV, intelligent humor has been thrown to the wayside, yada yada yada.

And, like most people, I can’t help but watch reality TV.

On occasion, I’ll flip on an episode of “Elimidate” and enjoy watching self-absorbed girls bicker over a guy, whom they don’t even know or care for, if only to not be eliminated before the others.

Then there’s “American Idol.” I watch the audition episodes on a regular basis.

For you un-savvy TV watchers, the audition episodes at the beginning of each season allow anyone with a vocal box and a lack of shame sing their own horrible rendition of “I Will Always Love You” or “Unbreak My Heart” in front of a panel of judges.

Oh, and those judges!

There’s the shy Paula Abdul, the ever-optimistic Randy Jackson and the man who reminds you most of your disapproving mother, Simon Cowell.

Now going into the fourth season, the three have worked their shtick into a well-oiled machine. They always seem to have snappy one-liners ready to throw out at the worst contestants.

But really, the judges are merely the window dressing to the warm, chewy center of reality goodness. In many ways, the contestants themselves have become their own distorted vision of the American dream.

In the late nineteenth century, there was an author named Horatio Alger who wrote several books. Nearly all were identical in their message — if you work hard enough and save every penny, you can rise from poverty and be a mega-millionaire.

That used to be the American dream. Well, out with old and in with the new.

These days, with corporate conglomeration, business talk of layoffs and “synergy” — whatever that term actually means eludes me — it’s nearly impossible to make millions unless you enjoy scheming the money out of others.

So instead, we got the tube. And with the surge of reality shows over the past few years, everyone has a shot of being that next Richard Hatch, Puck, or next name everyone forgets six months later.

The contestants on “American Idol” must know their chances are slim.

Except for a handful of actual good singers, contestants have to really put on a show.

I watched one girl show up in a choir outfit, only to rip it off and reveal a tight tank top and mini-skirt on underneath. How’s that for imagery?

I think “American Idol” has not only filled my evenings with entertainment, but also taught me valuable tips on mankind.

• If you stick a camera in front of people, they will do almost anything you ask, regardless of the consequences. That allure of lights, glamour and celebrity-dom fills our heads instantly.

• People need to be brought down a peg or two. Some of these “American Idol” contestants, such as a psychic who was too clairvoyant to notice her awful tone, need to be told they suck. Just like that jerk who sits behind you in Economics 101, people with a ballooned ego occasionally have to be popped with a needle.

For these reasons, I watch “American Idol.”

Whether the producers intended it or not, the show has become a mirror in which we can see our society.

How we react when we see ourselves is up to us.