If you’ve just kicked back in a turquoise, tuck-and-roll captain’s chair at the bar, you’ve lucked into a prime spot for viewing the five flat-screens flickering overhead. During a commercial, however, it’s acceptable to swivel around and soak up the rowdy, clubhouse caterwaul hurtling out of the mouths of pizza-and-beer-slurping blue collars. What was that mother-scratching idiot referee thinking? Kobe, come on, get your head out of your ass! Hey Pete, let’s see that champion beagle! At which point the Westminster Dog Show comes on and everyone orders more Macho Nachos.