This week, I thought I would provide a little theater for you, my readers — an excerpt from a spine-chilling novel on which I have been working. Attend:

“Had the former Hall of Fame athlete — whose physical gifts, talent, and competitiveness had earned him national championships, individual honors, and the admiration of millions — arrived at so low a point in his life that he was prepared to commit an act of pure, unadulterated savagery?

‘She’s in there,’ he thought, as he padded softly outside of the window. He’d followed her, wondered about the man whose company she now shared. Did his blood boil as he stalked his former lover, partner and friend? ‘She is still my wife!’ his injured pride screamed at him.

Like a modern Faulknerian tragic figure, did he see with impotent fury — the cuckold, the chump, the fool — and in the well-worn way of least imaginative revenge, would he only be satisfied with her blood and that of her presumed lover? How else could there be justice for her betrayal and peace in his heart?

For some time now, he had been torn between feelings of desperation — longing for her forgiveness, acceptance and love, a return to happier times between them — and the rage that came up like summer vomit, the mocking demons that insisted she pay the penalty for her treachery.

She had revealed to the world his horrible secret: It was possible to wish oneself forever out of his bed, his arms, and his life. What did that say about his manhood? Unclenching his fists, he methodically donned a pair of leather gloves, brandished his weapon, and headed for the door.”

Another novel on which I’ve been working involves a beautiful princess whose death is blamed on reporters who force her chauffeur to drive too fast while whisking her and her wealthy boyfriend to his countryside villa.

Yet another involves two brothers who are so brutalized by their parents that in order to escape future abuse they plan and execute two grisly murders.

There’s another about the mysterious circumstances surrounding the tragic death of a beautiful child model.

And yet another about a politician who has an extramarital affair and lies about it. This one features a semen stain on a dress and also has a good deal of political intrigue as the schemes, evasions, and dirty tricks of partisan politicians provide a lively backdrop to the sordid sexual affair.

Okay, so you’ve figured out my little ruse. None of the preceding scenarios have anything to do with my personal writing projects — rather, they have all been borrowed from the front pages of America’s newspapers over the past few years.

Many of you recognized each of these references instantly. Upon the mention of these stories, we are able to immediately supply detailed information (gloves which we can call by their brand name, the name of the foreign press corps, the ransom note that might have been written by the girl’s own parents, etc., etc., etc.).

We have even formed strong opinions about these cases, on which we would act if there were some means available to do so.

However, these are not cases which require our action. They require only our attention. Our subscription. Our ratings.

These cases are filled with conjecture and hearsay, and they owe their success as headliners to the presence of seamy drama that can be found in each of them.

Was Jon-Benet sexually molested? Were Nicole and Ron having a sexual relationship? What kind of sex did Bill and Monica have? Inquiring minds want to know.

Now, I would like to ask some other questions: Why is it that in Southern California more money is being spent on the construction of new prisons than new housing?

Why is it that in Burma, the democratically-elected president is held at bay by the military faction which will not release its control of the Burmese people or its political prisoners?

Why is it that leaders of the cause of freedom are being kidnapped in Mexico City, where people are making the first serious efforts toward government reform in decades, but where the court system will not protect confidentiality of sources?

Why is it that in Phoenix, Ariz., a vote is held in which the public overwhelmingly rejects a $300 million dollar tax to fund a private business consortium’s monetary endeavor — and then is forced to pay the tax anyway (I believe that’s called “taxation without representation,” which at one point in our country’s history resulted in the dumping of some perfectly good tea and considerable violence)?

Why is it that in the “land of the free” our lawmakers seek to imprison a person for damaging a piece of cloth? Aren’t there enough political prisoners in the world?

Last question: Why is it that we know so many answers to the first set of questions — about O.J. and Monica and Diana and their ilk — and almost nothing about the second set of questions, the answers to which are likely to have far greater effect on our lives?

Short answer: Pulp fiction. But I remind you: “The price of freedom is vigilance,” not entertainment.

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James O’Donnell is a graduate student in painting, drawing and printmaking from Mesa, Ariz.