Lionehl Hahn | Abaca Press | MCT

Conan O’Brien arrives at the 55th annual Emmy Award show in Los Angeles on Sept. 21, 2003.

In the premier, Conan is on the line with an NBC executive, who tells the talk-show host that he has to move “The Tonight Show” to 12:05. Conan’s reaction is priceless (“Go to hell!”) and self-knowing (“What can they do to me?” he says as he reclines back in his chair), but as Conan leaves a surprisingly dingy NBC parking lot, he’s shot up “Godfather”-style.

He’s put in a full-body cast. The good news is he’ll live. The bad news is he’ll never work in a network television again. From there, Conan tries his hand at being a Burger King cashier, a stand-up comedian/birthday clown and a mad man from the ’60s, complete with a guest-appearance from a surly Don Draper. But nothing fits.

When he’s at his last rung, Larry King, Conan’s guardian angel, pulls him back from the edge and gives him two words: “basic cable.” TBS makes Conan an offer he can’t refuse (a piece of paper with “Much Less” written on it), and that’s how Conan O’Brien’s “Conan” is born.

The cold open was winky, wacky and sophomoric all at once—the perfect Conan video. In comparison, the rest of the episode felt a little flat. That’s not to say that it was bad. The fact that NBC is apparently pulling lottery balls out of the Masturbating Bears sack is both sad and hilarious, and Conan killed when he summed up all of the news he’d missed in one topical joke (“Then I realized that’s like trying to keep an Icelandic volcano from wearing Lady Gaga’s meat dress while a trapped Chilean miner cleans up the BP oil spill, comma Brett Favre’s penis.”).

It’s just that once you got past the highlights, “Conan” felt like your standard talk show. You could argue that’s the point. “Conan” is supposed to be a comforting return to normalcy for Conan and his fans. But after the first episode, I was left wanting more Conan, less Seth Rogen and less Lea Michele. Either way, it was nice to have him back. B+

Moldy monologues
Conan took a stab at more traditional monologues his second night, and just like old times, they weren’t his strong suit.

“Apple just launched its online store in China. That’s right, Apple says this is an exciting opportunity to sell iPods to the very kids who make them” got pity laughs. Conan was at his best when he left the script and a) mocked his audience, b) mocked himself or c) did the string dance. Otherwise, his monologues would have been completely skip-able. C

Bits and pieces
Conan’s comedy bits are what separate him from the pack. As mentioned earlier, his cold open had me in hysterics, and the rest of his skits were similarly inspired. A trip to Conan’s censor left viewers wondering what sexual act a “Tokyo Sandblaster” was supposed to be. Conan and Andy’s local news roundup was spot-on (“There was a fire in a crappy part of time…and an animal did something hilarious.”). Plus it had the unintentionally hilarious factor, since Andy’s green shirt caught the green screen image behind him, which made him look like a news anchor ghost. A+

Celebs and musical performances
Seth Rogen was Conan’s first guest, and he looked scared and/or high, which wasn’t as entertaining to watch as you might think. Jack McBrayer (“30 Rock”) feigned discomfort in front of his old boss, and Julie Bowen’s (“Modern Family”) bare legs compelled Conan to give an adolescent’s leap of sexual frustration. Tom Hanks stole the show, however. The man who coined the nickname “Coco” was given a hero’s welcome. First he was interviewed, and then he was splashed by a whale. Awesome.

On the musical side of things, Jack White and Conan rocked out to “20 Flight Rock” in the first episode, and that’s all you need to know. Really awesome. A

Now that you’ve been utterly convinced, please direct your attention to either “Freaks and Geeks” or “Undeclared.” They’re among the best shows to last only one season, and, more importantly, they’re both on YouTube. If you’re a true champion, you could even finish both in about 24 hours. But for those of you with sleep schedules and/or social lives, here’s a quick way to decide where to start.

“Freaks and Geeks”

Smile, it’s picture day! Be sure to crank out a half smile before the camera flashes and whisks you away. And, yes, that is Joan Jett yelling, and no, she doesn’t give a damn about her bad reputation, and neither does James Franco, Jason Segel, Seth Rogen, or any of the Apatow club members who first appear in this high school masterpiece. It stars the lovely Linda Cardellini as Lindsay Weir, the goody-two-shoes mathlete who dons an army jacket and tries to position herself as one of the freaks. They smoke behind dumpsters, talking about Jimmy Page while air-drumming to Rush, and ooze nostalgia for the late ’70s that even someone barely born in the ’80s can succumb to.

As Lindsay descends into the land of the underachievers, bucking the advice of her balding ex-hippie guidance counselor, the earnestness of her plot becomes sidetracked by the geeks. Lindsay’s brother Sam and his cripplingly uncool friends tackle freshman year, evading mandatory post-gym showers, and discovering and then being scarred by first encounters with pornography and other hopefully semi-autobiographical misadventures that echo both the humor and the heart of “The 40 Year Old Virgin.”

Best part: Lindsay’s stuck-in-the-mud dad trying to be scary. “You know, I had a friend who used to smoke. You know what he’s doing now? He’s dead!…Let’s go dig him up now and see how cool he looks.”

And then, seconds later: “There was a girl in our school who experimented in premarital sex. You know what she did on graduation day? Died!”

“Undeclared”

So maybe “Freaks and Geeks” lays it on too heavy for you—you have your own problems; you can’t cringe at every misgiving that comes to screen, after all. So you might try “Undeclared,” an earnest college comedy that is, perhaps, the most accurate representation of your college experience. It follows Steven Karp, his suitemates and a rotating cast of other floormates as they explore the proclivities of freshman year, with the added terror of Steven’s recently divorced dad consistently stopping by unannounced—the sort of thing that makes you glad Washington University is 1,000 miles away from home.

Together, they make the same mistakes that all of us have, tracing over familiar plotlines (parents weekend, work-study, pledging) with the same crises of immaturity that, according to Apatow’s movies, don’t actually go away until you’ve impregnated someone, or been diagnosed with cancer, or anything else that’s caused you to stop being nice and start getting real.

Steven’s suitemates consist of Seth Rogen (actually of college age at the time); Lloyd, his sexiling British roommate; and Marshall, a goofy slob who, even after two months here, already seems too familiar. Through a wonderful balance of tenderly designed characters and college-necessitated absurdity, “Undeclared” makes Animal House-ian antics seem within reach, enabled by absurd cameos: Jason Segel plays an obsessive boyfriend who manages a Kinko’s-type copy store, Adam Sandler plays himself touring a college circuit, and Will Ferrell plays a ghostwriter with a speed problem.

Best part: A prank war with an RA leads to a hallway slip-and-slide. It’ll only take you a couple of minutes to realize how feasible this actually is…and how much more everyone would like you if you actually did this. I mean, really, all you need is tarp and laundry detergent.