The murder case against Robert Blake reminds me of “Celebrity Boxing.” In fact, everything – from the setting sun to the light in a baby's eyes – reminds me of “Celebrity Boxing.” Whether you're talking about the glories of nature or the abasement of second- or third-tier celebrities, observers feel they should make some comment, but can think of nothing.

What's there to say anymore? Celebrities have really, finally gone as far as they can – and I say that not because the Blake case is a new low, but because it isn't. With the O.J. Simpson trial as our template, does anybody not know more or less how this is going to play out?

The lead defense attorney will be some guy who would torture a dog if you paid him enough, or if the “challenge intrigued him.” Blake will vow to find the person who actually murdered both his wife and Nicole Brown Simpson – a serial killer with a grudge against anyone in a really screwed-up marriage with a 1970s action star. And the trial will bring fame and fortune to one of Blake's idiot friends.

Blake's lawyers know the pattern too, which may be why they're fighting so hard to have the trial televised. TV coverage didn't exactly get O.J. invited back to the Playboy mansion once the trial was over. But it did land his lawyers some cushy office space at Court TV.

Of course, some details will vary. Race won't play a factor this time. So if we want to film a crowd celebrating Blake's acquittal, we'll have to find people who identify with him in some other way. That means digging up a significant number of short, weird-looking former child stars who made complete jerks of themselves on the Tonight Show between 1975 and 1978.

But overall, even as we say things such as “Oh my, isn't it all so shocking,” we'll use the same tone of voice as when we say, “Man, the tub really needs to be re-grouted.” We just don't have it in us this time.

How did it come to this? It's not as if celebrities have just now turned into a pack of spoiled but attractive neurotics. The great Greek tragedian Sophocles (circa 496-406 BC) once punched out a photographer who took his picture at the premiere of the movie “Ice Age,” while he was locking lips with TV actress Sarah Michelle Gellar (“Buffy the Vampire Slayer” 1997-present).

Nor have we only recently acquired a taste for watching famous people crash and burn. Before we followed the antics of movie celebrities, we followed the ups and downs of kings and tribal chieftains (as in the play “Oedipus Rex,” written by ancient Greek super-hunk Sophocles, who is rumored to have left Sarah Michelle Gellar for actress Mira Sorvino). And before we followed the ups and downs of tribal chieftains, we were fascinated by Liza Minnelli.

No, if you want to isolate the real problem, I say we blame society – mostly because society isn't here to defend itself. I think society has given us too many celebrities, and now all these poor actors, singers and recently outted ice skaters have to compete for our attention. How can they do it except by embarrassing themselves in larger and more pointless ways?

“I'll go on trial for killing my former wife,” says O.J. Simpson.

“Oh yeah? Well I'll go on trial for killing my current wife,” says Robert Blake.

“Gentlemen, watch closely,” says Pee Wee Herman. “I am about to do something for which a wife is not even required.”

The worst of it is that the celebrity news machinery won't stop, even now that we no longer have any reason to be interested in it. We've got to go through the motions with these celebrities, as if … well, as if we were propping up a bad marriage with them. We're about to get a lot of non-shocking information rammed down our throats: the connections to Christian Brando, Gary Busey and a lonely hearts scam involving prisoners; the mysterious stranger who spied on Blake's home from inside a black four-door pickup just weeks before the murder; and of course, the sad, short life of Robert Blake's wife. Mrs. Robert Blake. Whoever she was.

I know I could look that up. But I want to savor this one last moment, before the trial and the seamless coverage, when I still can't remember her name.