Making a record: people, let me tell you, it's hard work . . . people.  As any of those Beatles studio diaries can tell you, there is almost no time to watch TV.  I missed almost all of February and March programming, and a bit of April, too.  Now I'm back on the couch, cramming it all in my view-hole, and it's NBA Playoff time!  It's always super-sweet to be rooting against the Miami Heat, or really, against Pat Riley and Alonzo Mourning (I have no beef with Flash, Glove, or Big Aristotle).  Seeing them melt down in Game 4 of the first round against the plucky Bulls was fantastic, bringing back cherished memories of those playoff battles against the Knicks: Charles Oakley fucking shit up, John Starks flipping off Heat fans as they threw loose change at him, and the courtside ejection of Jimmy Buffet.  Will somebody please swat the hated Lakers?  Honestly, who besides Jack Nicholson, rape enthusiasts and Luke Walton's frat brothers (same thing?) can take pride in that team?  Kobe Bryant is the Tom Cruise of the NBA—do you know anyone who's standing up and cheering for Mission: Impossible III?  No, you don't.  I'm rooting for the Nets and the Clippers, even if it means happiness for Billy Crystal.  Mark Jackson and Marv Albert have been great on the mic, as they have been all year for the Nets, and the TNT crew is always on fire.  I've even come to like Bill Walton despite my dad's long-standing distrust of him.  Right this moment, ABC is busy thawing out Brent Musburger's disembodied head for the finals.  I love this game!

(Click the remote control to continue.)