Who could ever forget Norman Borden, the Mormon Doorman, or "C'mon, Kamal, c'mere"--absolutely classic. And that delicious Suzanne Pleshette.

Roger Moore, before he became a shallow and smarmy James Bond, deftly and oh so suavely taking the fight to the bad guys.

One of the brightest and most selfless things ABC and Big Television ever did. I still remember these songs and their lessons, and now my kids are learning them as well.

Hey, the racially integrated team actually does work, with no-nonsense Robert Culp being terse and cool, and a young Bill Cosby keeping it real.

Spawn of Pufnstuf, with its unattractive characters, both the creatures as well as the actors.

Almost sickeningly vivid colors, wide open spaces, some fussin' and fightin', and the occasional killing, but never ever any blood.

The Honeymooners go undead, sort of, and we all get a lesson on what it means to be different, and tolerant, and uh, monster-acceptive.

As a child I saw the disturbing portrayals of three dysfunctional, angry, frustrated grownup men constantly assaulting one another; it was only after I grew up myself that I found the humor.

A stomping great theme song, excellent duds and masks, that great vehicle, and the kickass exotic gyrations of an emerging Bruce Lee.

The sitcom expresses the emergence of the American counterculture, indirectly, in a manner a lot more surreptitious and sneaky than most all of us could grasp.

Revolutionary, groundbreaking, brave, honest, etc. Hell, even 9-year-old me could tell it was seriously different TV, and that Archie Bunker was a racist prick.

Sortin' junk, dodging The Man, and taking it as it comes in an unpleasant, dusty early 70s L.A.

America emerges from the 50s, and it's all about making money. That, and the unspoken yet obviouis utter despair of Rob's work, with the boss's tyranny, the pressure, the cramped conditions, the fear.