Growing up I had a best friend with multiple personalities. Three to be exact. Four if you counted PBS. I no more watched PBS as a youngster, though, than I watched my sister take a shower. Therefore, my best friend, my television, had three personalities: CBS, NBC, and ABC. And, reluctantly, admittedly, O.K. the occasional peep at PBS -- just to see how the programs were developing.While my school compatriots experienced life through school dances, P.E. locker room chats, and lunch-room-salisbury-steak-canterbury-tales, I feasted on the Brady Bunch, pork chops and apple sauce. My first love was Jan Brady. She was the middle child. I am the middle child. She heard voices in her head. I didn't (YES YOU DID) No. (YES. VOICES) I need a commercial break.My Bologna has a first name. It's Oscar. My bologna has a second name, it's Meyer. I love to eat it every day, and if you ask me I'll just say, cause Oscar Meyer has a way with bologna. How's that?At fourteen I called the Coast Guard and told them they needed to find an uncharted desert isle where seven stranded castaways were living without a boat, a plane, a motor car, or a single luxury. They gave me the three hour run around, yes, the three hour run around and said they would send a kamikaze pilot to check out all uncharted desert isles.I named my cat Mr. Ed, of course, but he couldn't talk, I guess his voice was hoarse. I went to college and tried to get smart, but my test scores were nowhere near 99's or 86's. School was chaos. I loved Lucy, but, just like everybody else, she loved Raymond. "Lucy, I'm home," one day I yelled -- to no reply. She had moved out, taken the Taxi and Mr. Ed, and moved to a studio on Melrose. Return address unknown. Zip code 90210. Breast Implants. No more happy days.Is it no wonder I started to drink coffee, talk backwards, eat cherry pie and hang out with midgets when Twin Peaks was all the rage. I lynched the idea of becoming an FBI agent although the thought did bob around in my head.When my best friend, my television, decided to get back to nature and discover the last frontier with Northern Exposure, I moved to Alaska and lived in a tent. I became, like Chris, a radio DJ. He read from Robert Frost. I was nipped by Jack Frost and Jack Daniels. With only four hours of daylight during the winter months, the weak succumbed to depression. The strong? We became alcoholics. Cheers. It was time to find some new friends.Recently, I met a girl and she looks absolutely nothing like Jennifer Aniston, but her hair does. "I'm mad about you," I said to her. Then she said to me, "I want a dancing baby, like on Ally McBeal." I have a feeling she won't be around next season. Her subscription to my TV Guide is about to be canceled.As for my sitcom, my story, my mini-series. You can tune in next week.Same bat time. Same bat adventure. Same bat coffee shop. Same bat bar. Same bat channel.