In England, the person who reports the news on TV is not called an "anchorman" or "anchorwoman" or even an "anchorperson." He or she is called something much more practical and accurate.

He/she is called a "newsreader."

Or a "presenter."

Because that's what they are. Most of the time, they sit behind a desk, pancake makeup and tie in place, with a stack of notes for a prop, and read from a Teleprompter. In the simplest terms, they read stories to us, like Mister Rogers, without the smile. Most of them don't even write the stories they read.

So when the recent fuss was made over Katie Couric's "historic" decision to become the first network solo female anchorperson, and whether America was ready for this, and whether a woman was up for this, and whether we could take her seriously because she once wore SpongeBob Squarepants on her morning show, I had just one question:

Who cares?

Why are they making such a big deal about who reads the news to the four or five people who still gather around the TV each evening to watch network news? And why are they paying her $15 million to do this? (Sheesh, and people complain about what athletes make?)

Couric is not breaking the four-minute mile or stepping onto the moon or curing cancer. She's reading the news. We're not talking about Madame Curie or Amelia Earhart here.

Women have been reading the news for years. Do Connie Chung, Jessica Savitch and Barbara Walters ring a bell? They were all pretty much disasters, as far as the networks were concerned, but they did read the news on TV, and the world didn't come to an end.

Yet everyone from Gloria Steinem to Walter Cronkite weighed in on Couric's announced move from a fluffy morning show to a hard-news evening show. You'd have thought she just announced she was going to run for president.

I don't have a problem with Couric reading the news, although, if someone asked, I probably would have cast my vote for Tina Fey, Robin Williams or Bill Murray. (OK, I'd go for Penelope Cruz and Leticia Casta, too, because I like my news with a foreign accent.)

What I do have a problem with is turning newsreaders into celebrities. Somewhere, sometime, somehow news anchors became celebs, a combination of our national sage and a movie star. It probably started with the revered, avuncular Cronkite, who exuded warmth and wisdom, and continued in rocky fashion with Rather, who conveyed all the personal charm of a Doberman.

Not that it should matter (they're