Wendy Williams -- New daytime talk show a 'hot mess'

This is what happens when stay-at-home TV culture spends a couple of decades insisting that inside each of us is a diva. "The Wendy Williams Show" is an exploration of narcissistic divadom gone haywire. She wants to talk about everything at once: her child's homework, Whitney Houston's approaching comeback album, Michael Jackson's death, her dress, other TV shows she watches ("Bridezillas," "Real Housewives of . . . "), the vase of flowers on the table, a recent barbecue party she hosted, her wig, the pretty lights, the mother of actress and singer Vanessa Williams (no relation) sitting in the front row of the audience, and on and on. Wendy cannot shut up long enough to figure out what she's talking about.

Vanessa Williams, the show's only guest yesterday (there was no time for anyone else; this show is way too busy), came on to promote her new album. Eventually she got to sing, but not without a lot of Wendy Williams's nonsense chatter. "Let's talk about you," Wendy finally said, at which point Vanessa should have died laughing.

So what should be on daytime television instead? I heard a kernel of something interesting in Wendy Williams's rambling: At the end of every school year, she takes one of those big Nike shoeboxes from her husband's recent purchases and fills it with her son's schoolwork. She just finished the box from third grade. I would watch a show about that. It would be really calm and it would raise and answer questions about schools, curricula, what she thinks about what her son is learning. She could have education experts on, or her own former teachers. It could be shot in her suburban living room. She wouldn't have to wear a big wig; there would not be disco balls hanging from the ceiling. It would be a no-diva zone. I would watch that, if I had a broken leg or some other reason to be stuck at home, and couldn't reach the remote. Instead, Wendy Williams has added noise on top of noise.