In the heat of August, they came to the Westin Galleria -- well over a thousand people enduring the heat in order to get a shot at being on the quiz show Who Wants to Be a Millionaire
. Once inside, they were given a 35-question multiple-choice test and 12 minutes to finish it. Maybe a quarter of the people in the room passed; little did those savvy Houstonians know the existentialist abyss they were soon to face. Hustled off to another room, they were given a personal questionnaire: hobbies, job, etc. -- the usual. And then, staring up at them like a .44 Magnum between the eyes, the killer question of all. The question that could invoke only helplessness and inadequacy. The question that laid bare just how empty your life was. All this from one seemingly innocent query: "What would Regis find fascinating about you?" Sure, some confident, if deluded, folks easily whipped out an answer. The rest were left to stare blankly at the page, frozen by the sudden realization that their lives -- such as they were -- had not been lived up to Philbinesque standards.