How about a morning news program for the sullen and sleepy?

Which is why it’s so remarkable that these networks are missing a potential gold mine in what they air. These shows offer a morning filled with the sheer pleasure of the early hour: their promos feature huge smiles, chuckles, laughter, people who couldn’t be happier as the day begins.

But is this how the day really begins for most of us here on Planet Earth?

As you drag yourself out of bed, confront the missing toothpaste, try to put together one kid’s science project, search for your last clean shirt, remember to bring the car in for a balky brake, have a frank and open exchange of views with your other kid about lunch—or as you just try to follow the current chaos of the news, from trade wars to assorted disasters—how eager are you to tune into a television show where impeccably groomed, bright-eyed, hail-fellow-well-met personalities beckon you to celebrate the day?

Me neither.

Maybe that’s why the three morning shows have recently drawn a cumulative weekly audience of no more than about seven and a half million viewers. With some 315 million Americans living in homes with TVs, there is clearly a huge market inefficiency here that is waiting for a visionary network TV executive to fill.

How? With a morning program that fearlessly embraces the morning misanthropy that defines the emotional state of so many of us; that provides an offering that lets us embrace the sour spirit with which we begin the day.

Start with the opening. The title of the program should convey the mood, something like “Is It Really Time to Get Up Again?" Instead of upbeat music, begin with Irving Berlin’s classic song, “Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning," played as a dirge.

Every aspect of the broadcast would reflect its understanding of the viewer’s emotional state. It would provide “cheer" by highlighting the worst weather and the worst traffic jams around the country. Its interviews with celebrities would be provocative, even combative—“What besides money persuaded you to make that last picture?"—which might perversely tempt A-listers to participate. Even the time checks should embrace the mood. (“It’s seven minutes past the hour, and you’re probably already running late.")

Indeed, such a broadcast would unapologetically confirm the pervasive sense that so many of us greet the day with: not only is the glass half-empty, but what’s in the glass is probably tainted. One section, “Fall From Grace," would highlight the professional or personal embarrassments of the rich and famous. A version of CNN’s “Crossfire" would employ a rotating crew of acid-tongued commentators to face off by pointing out the most egregious face plants of their ideological adversaries.

Even the more personal, “self-help" segments would be true to the program’s cynical spirit, featuring “news you can use" items like “the five ailments you can most credibly use to claim a sick day." During holidays, it would air features like: “How to Persuade Your House Guests to Leave Early."

Would such a program be a tough sell for advertisers? On the contrary. Look at any evening newscast, and you will see that almost every ad is for some kind of medicine to heal ailments from head to toe, with stops along the way for every organ in between. A program that draws people who are in distress from their very first conscious moments is the most fertile ground imaginable for such products.

No television network has had the backbone to try this approach. But riches await the brave programmer who finally appeals to us—the vast sullen majority.

Jeff Greenfield is an author and television journalist who has been a correspondent and analyst for CBS, ABC, PBS and CNN.