The new TV philosophy seems to be "If a story is worth doing, it's worth doing nonstop."

Two days after Michael Jackson died, TV's obsession with all things Jacko had already grown so relentless that I was curled up on the couch, whimpering, "Make it stop."

Fat chance. It just went on and on. And on.

Remarkably, all the various TV outlets kept branding their blanket coverage (pun intended) as "news," which it stopped being about an hour after Jackson's death was confirmed.

Of course, when you extend a story indefinitely, the content gets awfully thin. Essentially, we were immersed in two weeks of endless contradictory rumors, speculation, and hearsay wrapped around every frame of archival Jackson footage producers could get their talons on. Oh, well. Have to fill airtime somehow.

One enterprising infotainment show even had a correspondent reporting in from a helicopter. Sure, scramble the choppers. Because nothing says "scintillating" like aerial footage of Forest Lawn Cemetery.

You know the circus has come to town when, in the same morning on The Early Show, Harry Smith is desperately pumping Lou Ferrigno and Mary Hart for their Jackson memories. Hey, how about the maitre d' at the Polo Lounge? I think Michael ate there once.

Diane Sawyer may have hit a career nadir on Good Morning America when she confronted that trollish dermatologist with reports that he is the biological father of Jackson's children. His response: "To the best of my knowledge, I am not." What does that mean? You have some sperm that's unaccounted for?

Call it a comeback. Suddenly Diane Dimond was on TV more than Regis Philbin. Initially, the former Hard Copy harpy was regurgitating Jackson scandal tidbits for anyone with a microphone. By the time of the funeral, she had grown so indispensable she was cohosting Entertainment Tonight.

In what has been the most surreal two weeks in TV history, the hands-down weirdest thing was when Elizabeth Taylor posted on Twitter her reasons for not attending the memorial. Wait. Elizabeth Taylor is on Twitter? How about that?

The polls are still open. The response to last week's column about the worst TV shows of all time (check it out at http://go.philly.com/dod704) was so enthusiastic and interesting that I'm planning to share some of your suggestions next week when I have a little more elbow room.

This means you have another week to get in your votes. What's it going to be, folks? The Gong Show? It's a Living? Jerry Springer? Pick your poison.

On a roll. ABC Family is having itself quite a summer, launching one promising series after another. First, there was Make It or Break It, a nimble drama about Olympic-hopeful gymnasts.

This week, the channel rolled out the immensely entertaining 10 Things I Hate About You, a witty remake of the 1999 film about high schoolers.

My favorite moment in the pilot came when the teenage social butterfly snapped off the radio in her sister's car, saying, "No more NPR. It's giving me menopause."

(Memo to self: Here's a good column topic, 10 Things I Hate About NPR.)

Later this month, ABC Family will trot out a sitcom, Ruby & the Rockits, with a cast that includes (are you ready?) onetime poster boy David Cassidy. Everyone else on The Partridge Family has gotten a comeback opportunity. Why not David?

Trivia treat: The Ruby & the Rockits pilot is directed by Ted Wass, who once played the father on Blossom.

Use a quill. This week on Weeds, Andy was trying to persuade Nancy to run away. She wondered just how she would say goodbye to Ignacio, her lethal narcotrafficante lover.

"Leave him a note," suggested Andy. "Like in olden times."

Contact staff writer David Hiltbrand at 215-854-4552 or dhiltbrand@phillynews.com. Read his recent work at http://go.philly.com/ daveondemand.