Karen Cartwright imagines herself in a shimmering white dress, center stage, belting out that ultimate dreamer’s song, “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” She stretches her hands above her head, ever so dramatically, because she’s really into this performance – she isn’t just singing these words, she’s feeling them. She closes her eyes. Oh, yeah. She’s all up inside this song and we immediately understand the subtext here: these lyrics have been etched into her heart since she was a small girl, head already full of big city hopes and dreams about makin’ it. A cell phone rings, jolting Karen back to reality. She’s in a small room – far from the spotlight- auditioning for some jaded folks who somehow can’t see that she’s from Iowa and that she has aspirations! How wide-eyed does a girl have to be before someone gives her a leading role in a Broadway musical, yo?

American Idol is all about regular people with unexpected talent, yearning for stardom. (Well, it used to be. Now, according to the most recent promos, it’s all about kids falling off of stages.) Katherine McPhee is an American Idol runner-up, so I guess she’s suited for this Karen part on Smash, NBC’s much-hyped drama about the creation of a musical based on the life of Marilyn Monroe. McPhee’s Karen has a fresh-faced charm about her, the kind of girl you’d maybe instinctively root for, and the character’s Midwestern origins are, I believe, supposed to make her that much more appealing. The people in that region of the U.S. dream harder than the rest of us, right?

So much about Smash works: creator Theresa Rebeck knows how to write for an ensemble (unlike Glee’s Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, and Ian Brennan); the original songs give me the chills (“Let Me Be Your Star,” specifically); there’s a fun, believable tension between Jack Davenport who plays the Marilyn musical’s surly director and actual Broadway actor Christian Borle, here, playing one of the musical’s writers. But this “small town girl tackles The Big Apple” thread is just too easy. Really, it’s so predictable and tropey that I’m forced to assume that Karen who, in the pilot episode, auditions for the role of Marilyn and gets a callback after an appropriately beautiful rendition of Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful,” isn’t going to wind up with the part. Otherwise the character is just horribly conceived. Right now, everything about her, from her unassuming origins, to her too-perfect boyfriend, to her parents who don’t totally support her, to her gumption in the face of repeated rejection, seems ripped straight from some “Idiot’s Guide to Emotionally Manipulating Audiences with Stock Characters” or, I don’t know, The Devil Wears Prada. It’s still early days for Smash, but starting off so prosaic seems an odd choice when you consider that musical TV shows are so polarizing – corniness being one of the usual criticisms.

More interesting than Karen, but still not totally original for anyone who has seen A Chorus Line, is Ivy Lynn (Megan Hilty), a curvy, blonde, seasoned actress, desperate for a lead part and Karen’s main competition for the Marilyn role. Ivy is brassy, her singing voice is stout, she’s sexy where Karen is cute. She’s a villain, if only because she poses a threat to the lovely, small town girl and her dreams. But what about Ivy’s dreams? When she phones home, excited about her Marilyn callback, her mother doesn’t seem to give a crap and steers the conversation to news about a relative who’s attending night school. All the exuberance in Ivy’s body drains as she feigns interest in whatever the hell her mom is talking about. Ivy’s had some success and Karen hasn’t, but Ivy’s the tragic figure, the one we should care about.

Rebeck has created this complex character in Ivy – the character’s confidence is a mask for her true frailty – and it seems like she’s being presented as someone we should see as a viable contender, not just for the role of Marilyn but for our affections. Yet, we’re never really able to root for her because Karen, her competitor, doesn’t have any faults. When womanizing director Derek summons Karen to his apartment and tells her to show him that she can be Marilyn (wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more), she puts on one of his button-down shirts, sings “Happy Birthday, Mr. President,” but, of course, doesn’t sleep with him. It isn’t that I’d prefer her to succumb to this kind of casting couch situation (especially since her boyfriend is a total dream) but it’s simply one more example of why, as a viewer, you can’t help but want her to win. Things shouldn’t be so clean-cut, they can’t be.

If we’re talking symbolism, then Karen is supposed to represent Marilyn Monroe during her dark-haired, relatively innocent Norma Jeane days, while Ivy Lynn, who’s name is somewhat reminiscent of the icon’s, is Marilyn in her “candle in the wind” period. But even the young Marilyn wasn’t the unabashed, one-note Pollyanna that Karen is. How is she the real underdog?

Man, of all the bowls, the Super Bowl is probably the most egotistical. Super Bowl? Pshaw. More like the Not-Super Bowl. Yeah, I said it. First played in 1967, the Super Bowl was the brainchild of some guys who loved football almost as much as they loved Roman numerals (Super Bowl XL was the year that it was at its t-shirt-sizey-ist). The “big game” marks the end of the NFL season and this is apparently a “big deal” – Super Bowl XLV was the most watched television broadcast in America last year.

But if you ask me – and maybe you aren’t asking me, but let’s just pretend you are  the only bowl worth watching this weekend is the Puppy Bowl VII – Animal Planet’s annual Yule Log-esque special, featuring roughly (or, ahem, ruffly) two hours of adorable puppies playing on a model football stadium replete with chew toys and water bowls. Yep, water bowls. So that’s two bowls you’re getting for the price of one. Already, I think you’re starting to see why the Puppy Bowl is better than whatever’s happening in Indianapolis this Sunday.

1. Puppies play for the love of the game, not for the money.

Do you know how much money New England Patriots wide receiver Wes Welker makes annually? I don’t. But I’m guessing it’s a lot. Do you know how much Baskin the 15-week-old Jack Russell/Pug mix will be paid this weekend for running up and down the Animal Planet Stadium gridiron? Nothing. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. There aren’t any signing bonuses or workout bonuses or contract negotiations in the National Puppy League. The Puppy Bowl is pure – it’s all about fun.

2. You don’t have to worry about missing the play of the game.

Inevitably, while watching the Super Bowl, you’ll have to step away from the TV for a second to go to the bathroom or grab a drink or work on your taxes and in doing this, you risk missing whichever moment eventually becomes synonymous with this year’s game. Yeah, they’ll replay it, but that just isn’t the same as watching it in real time. Leave during the commercial break, and you risk missing some great ad that everyone will be discussing for the rest of the evening. Check Hulu to watch the ad online, and once again, you risk missing that astounding play. With the Puppy Bowl, there’s a nice equilibrium – no one minute of the game is more or less important than the next because it’s just puppies running around, barking at each other, and gnawing on chew toys. This is stress-free viewing, people. There’s absolutely no reason for you to pull a Tycho Brahe (you can go pee whenever you want) or a Willie Nelson (you can do your taxes whenever you want).

3. There’s no kicking game.

Everyone hates the kicker, right? Well, there are no kickers in the Puppy Bowl, only lickers. Get it? ‘Cause they’re dogs…and they lick things…including their junk.

4. The half-time show.

This year Madonna will be performing during the Super Bowl half-time show. Do you know what’s more entertaining than Madonna? At this point, almost everything but kittens in particular. Puppy Bowl’s half-time show is a bunch of kittens standing on a play structure, looking sort of terrified but also very adorable.

5. The puppies are adoptable.

All Puppy Bowl participants are shelter dogs and can be adopted, while you aren’t usually allowed to adopt professional football players.

6. Puppies don’t wear helmets so you can actually see what they look like and what they look like is freakin’ cute.

Does anyone really know what Tom Brady looks like? Sure, we’re occasionally shown footage or photos of a blond man who is allegedly the Patriots’ quarterback, but with that helmet on during the game, who can be certain. Puppy Bowl participants don’t wear helmets because the whole affair is a lot less dangerous and tons fluffier than football (a full contact sport reported to cause brain injury) so there’s no questioning their identities. And, most importantly, the lack of face obstructing headgear allows us all to totally drink in the preciousness of these little dogs. We can see those big ol’ glassy eyes, those floppy ears, those teeny wet noses. Does Eli Manning have a wet nose? Probably. But it isn’t nearly as cute as the one on 10-week-old Rat Terrier Joni.

Extra Point: Sometimes the puppies pee on the AstroTurf.

And because you don’t have to clean it up, it’s funny.

Consider reading more Channel Guide as the game-winning field goal of your Internet consumption

In the soaringly earnest but effective Touch, Kiefer Sutherland barks so many of his lines with the strained desperation of an exhausted man who’s just barely keeping it together. He’s shouldering a tremendous weight and no one around him is sensitive to his plight. But then, he doesn’t really expect them to be. Best known as badass Jack Bauer, here, a more vulnerable Sutherland is Martin Bohm, widowed father of a mute, emotionally challenged boy and the nucleus of this ambitious Fox drama by Heroes creator Tim Kring.

Jake (David Mazouz), Martin’s son, won’t allow anyone to touch him and spends his days obsessively scribbling numbers in a notebook or fiddling with discarded cell phones, while his father spends the majority of his time trying to find a way—any way at all—to communicate with him. When a social worker decides that Jake should be placed in a facility (he’s been climbing cell phone towers), Martin becomes so fiercely determined to understand his son, that he googles “mutism + cell phones.” (Is this really the first time that he’s done this?) His “research” brings him to Arthur Teller (Danny Glover), an expert on kids who have the ability to perceive seemingly hidden patterns in numbers.

Apparently, Jake can see all of the ratios and numerical strings that tether every life on the planet together. He understands the link between the past, present, and future, essentially giving him the ability to predict events. Teller tells Martin that Jake is trying to connect people and that, as the boy’s father, it’s his job, “his fate, his destiny” to help. In the first episode, or “preview event” as it was dubbed by the hype men over at Fox (the show’s first season won’t actually begin until March), the lives of a Londoner, a young boy from Baghdad, an Irish singer, and a Japanese woman all become entwined.

Touch is like Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Babel but without any of the subtlety. The show’s message—we’re all interconnected and can impact each other’s lives in powerful ways—is right there on the surface. In fact, it’s explicitly stated several times. Touch’s most glaring fault is that it isn’t as imaginative as it should be. Kring is so concerned with the scope of the series—developing this poignant, wide-reaching narrative—that he seems to have forgotten to create believable, multi-dimensional characters. Obviously the disparate people from around the globe being brought together by Jake’s beautiful mind, aren’t supposed to be totally fleshed out but, at least in this first episode, their stories aren’t just abridged, they’re oversimplified and stereotypical. Yup, the Japanese woman, a prostitute, does wear a school girl outfit. Even Teller, who will be a recurring character, is flat. He walks around his cluttered house in a robe, he has a cat and an unkempt yard, he says things like “Fibonacci sequence.” He’s one of those eccentric guys, operating on the fringes of academia, that we, as people who watch movies and TV, instinctively know have all the answers. When Martin goes to see him he says, “let me guess, your kid keeps climbing a cell tower,” and really drives home that trope.

Fortunately, Touch works better when it focuses on Martin and Jake. We are supposed to be touched by the way that this boy who doesn’t like to be touched is touching the lives of people who need to be touched (and I will admit that that drama did stir up some emotions for me, albeit in a superficial, Hallmark greeting card commercial way), but what’s actually touch— err…moving about this series is the relationship between its two protagonists. When Martin, who has clearly devoted his entire life to his son, is forced to temporarily relinquish custody of Jake, his desperation, his helplessness is palpable—this is the core of the show and what makes it worth watching.

Click here, get more Channel Guide

The premise of the new CBS sitcom ¡Rob! is only interesting if you’ve never heard of Fools Rush In or Guess Who or the Meet the Parents trilogy or perhaps if these are the only movies that you’ve ever truly enjoyed. After a six-week courtship, Rob (Rob Schneider) has eloped with Maggie (Claudia Bassols), having never met her mother and father. Being introduced to the in-laws under these circumstances would probably be distressing for most people but it is particularly so here because Maggie is Mexican-American and Rob…isn’t. Awk-ward! What’s worse, Rob is apparently unable to have a normal conversation with someone whose ethnic background is different than his. “I’m a huge fan of Mexican culture,” he says, trying to endear himself to his father-in-law Fernando (Cheech Marin). He continues: “This dip is excellent. I believe it’s called guacamole.” Was this the kind of woo he was pitching when he first met Maggie?

Unlike so many people, I’m not predisposed to thinking that everything with Rob Schneider’s name attached to it is bound to be crap. My sense of humor was formed while watching mid-‘90s Saturday Night Live—I was that weird 10-year-old, entertaining (aka annoying) everyone with her Richmeister “makin’ copies” routine—and, as a result, I have an odd kind of allegiance to Schneider who got his start on the show. (Yeah, I did actually pay actual money to see both Deuce Bigalow movies in the theater, so if you’re looking for someone to blame for the longevity of Schneider’s career, I’m perfectly comfortable with you looking this way. But then, of course, you should  look over at Adam Sandler because he probably played a much larger role.) I’m incapable of simply dismissing him or his work—I give everything he does a chance—and despite its inane punctuation, ¡Rob! (which, I’ll just be referring to as Rob, from here on out, if that’s OK with you) was no exception.

Here’s the thing: Rob isn’t horrible. Or at least it’s no worse than Rules of Engagement, which is on hiatus until Rob finishes its 8-episode order. But it isn’t great either. It’s the kind of uninspired, middle-of-the road fare that it isn’t uncommon to see on CBS. If Schneider didn’t have such a questionable record and high profile, Rob would have immediately been on track to follow in the barely perceptible footsteps of past CBS comedies like Yes, Dear and Still Standing—you know, somehow lasting for years without anyone noticing. This show’s biggest problem, then, is that its producers are apparently content with it being not un-entertaining—that is to say, they’re fine with easy laughs and forced jokes.

Fish out of water Rob has only been in his in-laws’ house mere minutes before he finds himself in a compromising position with his wife’s abuelita. Him: pants around his ankles. Her: bent provocatively over a bed and wailing. (Ah, so this is the sort of cross-cultural, exclamatory situation that the show’s title alluded to.) The pair wound up this way after a bit of slapstick resembling a Rube Goldberg machine in its complexity and involving toppled votive candles. “There’s a simple explanation,” Rob (or I suppose now unequivocally ¡Rob!) says after his wife and her parents run to investigate the commotion. “I poured hot wax on my genitals.” This is hysterical, the laugh track assures us.

Rob is all premise and no character development. There’s no substance. I can’t for the life of me figure out why Maggie would want to marry Rob, especially after only six weeks, when his defining traits seem to be his knack for always saying or doing the wrong thing and total befuddlement when faced with a culture that is not his own. “So, Selena. That was sad huh?” Rob says, struggling for conversation with his in-laws. I get the humor and would be willing to accept it if this man had indeed never had any real contact with Mexican-Americans or if he was just a jerk, but that doesn’t seem to be the case, so his lack of social grace makes no sense. HBO’s Curb Your Enthusiasm, like Rob, revolves around its protagonist’s constant faux pas. But Larry David’s character has been clearly delineated from episode one. The situations on that show are contrived (as really any situation in any comedy is) but as a viewer you can understand how someone as contrary as David would alienate almost everyone he comes in contact with. What’s Rob’s excuse? If this series does continue beyond its 8-episode order—and that does seem likely since its ratings are fairly solid, so far—the goal should be to achieve some kind of depth. Rob doesn’t have to be super deep or poignant or anything—this is Schneider we’re talking about—but it should be more than just a parade of caricatures.

Click here for more Channel Guide

The Gods at ABC have smiled down upon us. In what seems like the first logical thing done in the 2012 midseason, the Disney network has cancelled the insufferable Work It, the Bosom Buddies­-style “comedy” about two men who cross-dress to get a job in pharmaceutical sales. While this news is a triumph on its own, it paved the way for another exciting revelation – a Valentine’s Day premiere date for cult favorite Cougar Town. Praise Big Carl! The return of this Bill Lawrence comedy is some of the most exciting news since, well, the cancellation of Work It. This comedy, premiering in 2009 after Modern Family, is a wine-soaked, sun-bathed Golden Girls of the new age; a poorly-named glimpse at the lives of the Sex and the City gals, had they headed to suburbia. They do everything wrong – handling everyday situations as inappropriately as the Seinfeld gang; acting sometimes as selfishly as those deplorable Paddy’s Pub managers over on It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia – but these characters are strangely endearing in a way that’s perhaps amplified by chardonnay.

Now, I’m not claiming that Cougar Town is the highbrowiest of programs. Heck, its (admittedly horrible) name is derived from a term coined by the Kardashian generation. Yes, Courtney Cox has indulged in so much botox that her Monica Gellar qualities are almost unrecognizable, and her voice can be a little grating. No, you certainly won’t get any intellectual benefit from it, a la Mad Men, or Breaking Bad, or Homeland. I’ll reiterate: Emmy worthy, this ain’t.

But it’s one of the best things on television, and you should give it a chance. Here’s why:

1. Busy Phillips

The world has been seriously lacking in Kim Kelly since the cancellation of Dawson’s Creek, and Bill Lawrence changed that. Sure, we can thank Michelle Williams for making Busy a regular fixture of awards season, but thankfully the enjoyment continues into primetime. On Freaks and Geeks, she was crass, she was mean, she was a bad influence. But we loved her. This go ‘round, she’s Laurie Keller, the ditzy, boozy, personal assistant to Courtney Cox’s Jules.

2. Ian Gomez and Brian Van Holt

Or, as they’re known around the neighborhood, Andy and Bobby. These two idiots are like the Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb of this leisurely Floridian town. They have a mutual manchild-dom that only the other can fully appreciate. Andy serves as wingman, caddy, and basic admirer to Bobby, his only outlet from sometimes ball-busting wife Ellie. In fact, “he loves his wife, almost as much as he loves his coffee. And he loves his coffee almost as much as he loves hanging with Bobby.”

3. Penny Can!

“If the penny goes in the can, you get a point. If it doesn’t, you don’t. First team to 1000 points wins.” And it’s as simple as that. Yep, mindless games are a fixture of Cougar Town, and the cul-de-sac gang gets more than a little cutthroat. If you’re just as ruthless, you can even play online.

4. Crossovers and Cameos

When the fall (and later, midseason) lineup was revealed, and Cougar Town was nowhere to be found, fans were up in arms about the lack of penny can gracing the small screen. So what did creator Bill Lawrence do? He took his characters elsewhere, infusing them into shows across the board – from Grey’s Anatomy to The Middle to Private Practice to Happy Endings and even NBC’s cult favorite, Community. And what does a good TV nerd love more than some meme convergence? Nothing, I tell you. Nothing.

5. Bill Lawrence

Say what you will about Scrubs – that it stayed past its prime; that it was kitschy and lame; that it featured far too much Zach Braff – and I’m likely to agree with you. But what it lacked in depth, it made up for in spunk, and that’s courtesy of showrunner Bill Lawrence. He brings to life a distinct quirkiness in both shows, which if applied to many others, would translate to televised nails on a chalkboard. Remember Scrubs’ tall doctor? What about Rowdy? Or Elliot’s neuroses – so present they could have had top billing? All of Lawrence’s quirks have been bottled up and sprinkled all over Cougar Town, including the presence of his wife, Christa Miller.

Maybe those aren’t reasons enough to sway you to tune in when the show returns February 14th, and I’ve exhausted the past several hundred words reminding myself why I love it – but I hope you’ll at least give it a shot. I know I’ll be there, giant glass of vino in hand, practicing my mad penny can skills.

Reading more Channel Guide rots your brain

When we first see our frowzy anti-hero, he’s alone, smoking, pacing back and forth in the men’s room of an upscale New York restaurant, rehearsing…something.  “You’re amazing, a goddess, a gift from on high.” Is it a poem? A marriage proposal? Has he finally found a love so powerful and true that it’s remedied his hitherto cankered existence? No, of course not. Later, face-to-face with the delusional woman who somehow didn’t see this coming, he finishes the thought. “You deserve the white dress and the happy ending. I’m just not the guy to give it to you.”  Hank Moody is the same man he’s been since day one—insincere, kind of a jerk, closetful of black clothes.

Season five of Californication picks up two years after the events of season four (hey, I guess the world doesn’t end in 2012). Karen (Natasha McElhone) is now married and apparently happy about it; Charlie (Evan Handler) and Marcy (Pamela Aldon) still aren’t together but have a two-year-old son (the kid hasn’t started talking yet which may or may not have something to do with the fact that both of his parents are apt to have sex in places where it’s quite easy to stumble upon them); Becca (Madeleine Martin) is in college, dating an arrogantly suave, younger version of her dad (who didn’t see that coming?); and Hank still hasn’t shaved.

After breaking up with his New York girlfriend, Hank gets news of a business opportunity back in California and decides to lay low for a while and return to L.A.—the ex-girlfriend has a key to his apartment and hell hath no fury like a 110 lb. woman scorned. But before he hops on the plane, he snaps a picture of himself in front of a bookstore display of his novel. Both Hank and this bookstore that somehow still exists are anachronisms—defiantly unaffected by the changing world.

For the past four seasons Hank’s stasis, his inability to grow or simply have some kind of significant realization that might even just slightly alter the way he saw the world, seemed more like a plot device than a character trait—if Hank is always this radical, chain smoking, commitment-phobe then this series about a radical, chain-smoking, commitment-phobe is able to continue. (Could we call the show “Californication” if Hank and Karen married and moved back to New York for good? Where’s the Cali? Where’s the fornication?) But this season, everyone else is moving forward without Hank and that contrast—inert Hank vs. the transforming collective—is actually kind of tragic and interesting.

Unfortunately, series creator Tom Kapinos has taken Hank’s “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks” mantra to heart and seems to be using the adage to justify writing that isn’t as imaginative as it should be. When Hank arrives in L.A., he meets up with a rap mogul, Samurai Apocalypse (RZA). The rapper wants to act and asks Hank to write a screenplay for him. In a twist that surely surprised no one, Samurai Apocalypse’s girlfriend Kali (get it? ‘Cause this show takes place in California?), played by Meagan Good, just happens to be the same woman Hank was smooching on the plane ride back to L.A. Doesn’t this feel a lot like season one where Hank sleeps with Mia and later finds out that she just happens to be the 16-year-old daughter of Karen’s fiancé?

David Duchovny is Californication’s saving grace. Even when you can spot a plot twist a mile a way (though it made absolutely no sense, didn’t you just know that Hank’s ex was going to burn down his apartment?), Duchovny—the man, the myth, the monotone—is at least fun to watch. Hank Moody wrote a book called God Hates Us All, he says things like “thanks, homes, much appreesh,” his last name is Moody. Duchovny’s perfect, acerbic delivery makes all of this seem ironic and therefore bearable.

There’s always more Channel Guide

So what will we have to look forward to (or to run away from) in our TV Guide in the coming weeks? Sure, PBS will kick off the second season of critical and ratings darling Downton Abbey January 8th, while NBC’s 30 Rock is back January 12th. Cee-Lo Green will once again be gracing our television screens with The Voice’s post-Superbowl premiere, and Timothy Olyphant will be emanating his rugged swagger on Justified once more, as the lawman drama kicks off its third season January 17th. But what of the newly minted TV fare? Here are a few of the networks’ latest offerings worth considering, and a few that your mom will probably love.

The Good

The Firm, NBC

The Pitch: A legal thriller that follows the best-selling novel by John Grisham, 10 years after the conclusion of the film. Stars the underrated Josh Lucas.

Why it’s worth checking out: Lucas has potential to lead a series, especially in this role originated by Tom Cruise, and John Grisham (hackneyed as many perceive him) has put his support behind the adaptation.

Alcatraz, FOX

The Pitch: A suspense-thriller about the shocking reappearance of the prison’s most notorious inmates, 50 years after they vanished.

Why it’s worth checking out: Hurley! From Lost! Who doesn’t love Hurley? Plus, J.J. Abrams has attached his name to the project, so we can expect a departure from our everyday sci-fi fare.

Luck, HBO

The Pitch: Dustin Hoffman helms this inside look at the dark and dirty world of horse racing.

Why it’s worth checking out: It comes from Deadwood creator David Milch, who’s unique brand of storytelling made that show a critical darling. Plus, with a cast list that includes Denis Farina, Michael Gabon, and Nick Nolte, it’s bound to at least build upon Boardwalk Empire’s streak of crime drama success.

Smash, NBC

The Pitch: While this Broadway drama sounds a little cheesy out of the gate, the buzz surrounding it is pretty difficult to ignore.

Why it’s worth checking out: Listen, even the hippest of girls out there (sorry, guys) can admit to liking Center Stage at one point or another, and this isn’t far from it. American Idol alum Katharine McPhee makes her TV debut, and the cast also includes Uma Thurman, which is beyond random. Plus, NBC clearly has enough faith in the show to premiere it near the Super Bowl, so it has potential to hit it big.

House of Lies, Showtime

The Pitch: Don Cheadle and Kristen Bell lead a group of con artists hell-bent on targeting corporate fat cats.

Why it’s worth checking out: It’s a comedy! With Don Cheadle! Plus, television has been depressingly Kristen Bell-less since the cancellations of both Veronica Mars and Party Down. Double-plus, any show that adds Parks and Recreation standout Jean-Ralphio to its cast is A-okay with me.

The Maybes

The River, ABC

The Pitch: A prime time horror jaunt from the creator of Paranormal Activity that has a crew searching for a rescue team after some harrowing footage is found.

Why I’m skeptical: As previous attempts at prime time scare have gone a little down the deep end (American Horror Story), this has the potential to either be horribly frightening, or reek of fail.

Don’t Trust the B**** in Apt. 23, ABC

The Pitch: A woman from the country relocates to New York City and moves in with a raucous party girl.

Why I’m skeptical: Krysten Ritter is funny, and underrated to boot, but there’s one thing keeping me from overwhelming excitement on this one, and that thing is a one James Van Der Beek. Dawson Ritter stars as himself, which is meta in a Matt Leblanc Episodes way, so I’m willing to at least give it a chance.

The Finder, FOX

The Pitch: A Bones spinoff about a man (Geoff Stults) who has a gift for locating people and things.

Why I’m skeptical: Who really wanted a Bones spinoff?

The Ugly

Work It, ABC

The Abomination: Two men dress as women to get jobs.

Why I’m disappointed that this is a show: Clearly this gem was envisioned following those oh-so-progressive Tim Allen Last Man Standing meetings. Those who watch How I Met Your Mother may remember Ben Koldyke as Robin’s boyfriend Don. Well, Don is back, and starring in a Bosom Buddies-style hate crime of a television show.

Rob, CBS

The Pitch: Rob Schneider stars as a newlywed dealing with his Mexican-American wife’s family. Oh, that doesn’t sound vaguely racist.

Why I’m disappointed this is a show: It brings Rob Schneider back into our lives.

Napoleon Dynamite, FOX

The Pitch: An animated take on the 2003 cult film.

Why I’m disappointed this is a show: I loved this film as much as the next person, but do we really need to revisit this almost 10 years after the fact?

So there you have it, my two cents for your perhaps sparser midseason TV schedule. What are you looking forward to, or looking forward to making fun of, on the new schedule?

Stare mindlessly into your television and then read more Channel Guide

Because it’s Saturday, we’re talking television. That’s when Amber Humphrey publishes her weekly entry of Channel Guide, our twice-weekly column on all things television. But there’s something else at work this week. It might be Saturday, but it’s also the final day of the year. And what better way to send off our coverage of television in the year 2011 than with a list of the shows that we loved most dearly. In order to do so, Channel Guiders Amber Humphrey and Mikela Floyd each contributed their picks for the five best shows of the year, in no particular order. In keeping with our ’11 Best’ theme for the Year in Review, FSR Publisher and closet television fanatic (don’t tell movies, we don’t want them to be jealous) Neil Miller throws in one final pick with his own best show of the year. All powers combined, they have unleashed our list of the 11 Best TV Shows of 2011.

Friday Night Lights

Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t stop crying. Listen, you guys. I was initially reluctant to open my heart to the citizens of Dillon, TX – fearful that their high school goings-on would be all-too-similar to my own adolescent experience in the South. Once I finally got around to watching this on Netflix in early 2011, it took me only a few months to power through 4 seasons of what I can only describe as the most humanly real television show in decades. And while the rough-and-tumble kids of East Dillon (spoiler alert for you FNL newbs, sorry) were hard to embrace at first, by the fifth and final season, I wept along with the best of them as we said goodbye to Tami, Eric, Matty, and the whole gang. Texas forever. - Mikela Floyd

Raising Hope

You know how they say that you only find true love when you aren’t looking for it? Well, if I’d had the energy to reach for the remote control and change the channel after Glee that fateful Tuesday night in 2010, I may have never met and subsequently fallen in love with the Chance family. The show’s second season has been as consistently funny as its first—not since Shakespeare have malapropisms been used so brilliantly. Raising Hope may pull you in with its quirk but this underrated gem has heart, and that’s what keeps you watching every week. There’s also a really cute baby, which doesn’t hurt.  - Amber Humphrey

Game of Thrones

Yep, I’m gonna go ahead and beat a dead horse with this one, but in the words of Parks and Rec’s own Ben Wyatt – “It’s a crossover hit!” This seemed to be 2011′s “water cooler” show, and I drank the George R. R. Martin Kool-Aid in a big way. I read the book before diving into the show, which often results in the inevitable argument of authenticity. However, this human/fantasy hybrid is as true to the source material as they come. - Mikela Floyd

Fringe

The fourth season of Fringe has been suspenseful and episodes like “One Night in October” prove that this high concept science-fiction series is as poignant and emotionally affecting as any drama currently on the air. John Noble is a wonder—his Walter Bishop is by turns heartbreaking and hilarious. (How many alternate versions of a character does a man have to portray before he gets a little Emmy recognition?) Each new season of Fringe is better than the one that came before it; this year has been no exception.  - Amber Humphrey

Downton Abbey

Good God, is this show wonderful. This British drama came stateside in January, and I never looked back. It combines incest, class struggles, period costumes, and sex-related deaths – all required characteristics of winning TV in this viewer’s mind. OK, not really – but this tale of a British Abbey and its inhabitants of all classes is as intoxicating as the wine the servants get accused of stealing. - Mikela Floyd

Enlightened

Amy Jellicoe is probably the most annoying character on TV today (she’s far more annoying than that skeevy cook on2 Broke Girls or that kid who’s always whining about his girlfriend on Terra Nova). She’s relentless, says things that are ripped straight from New Age self-help books, she’s the kind of person you’d dread being in the same room with. But Amy is also one of the most complex and expertly rendered characters on TV. In an instant she can shift from hippie dippy spiritualism to cursing someone out. She’s human and, just like an actual human, isn’t always (or even usually) likable. Enlightened is one of this year’s best series because it’s well-written and the actors are all excellent (Luke Wilson in particular deserves some credit), but mainly because it’s unique and unsettling in that way that avant-garde art is. Enlightened isn’t easily digested and I kind of love that.  - Amber Humphrey

Happy Endings

I’m not shy about my love for this tale of late twenty somethings who in their own ways are as uniquely neurotic as I often realize myself to be. It’s a-mah-zing. There’s fearful spinster Penny, filter-less and abrasive Max (who will get a tattoo on his body to save money on a 99 cent food item, and also has some of the best one-liners on TV today), neurotic and aloof Jane, her husband Brad, sister alex, and Dave – Alex’s former fiancé. These people go through everyday situations with what will never be constituted as grace, but they do it together. One minute, they’re eating free seafood in plush bathrobes; the next screaming, vomiting, crying, and generally reacting poorly to a potentially life-threatening situation. But don’t worry, they’ll still browse pay per view after. These are my people. - Mikela Floyd

Torchwood: Miracle Day

You many not see this one on many (or any other) year-end lists but there wasn’t anything that I was more addicted to in 2011. Torchwood: Miracle Day was engrossing, smart, and managed to maintain the integrity of the series despite the introduction of several new American characters. Though some people were critical of its lack of an alien menace, I actually applaud the decision. In the past, Captain Jack has stood toe-to-to with the biggest, baddest extraterrestrial villains, so if the show was ever going to progress, it was essential that he and the rest of the crew be challenged in a completely different way. Miracle Day also highlighted how badass Gwen Cooper is. She’s one of the greatest sci-fi heroines of our time and it’s always going to be exciting to watch her do just about anything—I wouldn’t hesitate to tune in for Torchwood: Gwen Eats Some French Fries or Torchwood: Gwen Buys Paper Towels.  - Amber Humphrey

Parks and Recreation

Remember Season 1 of this “Office Spinoff”? The one where we all cringed and worried that the mockumentary-style of TV had “jumped the shark”? Well, with the roll that this show has been on this season, it’s time to give Pawnee the benefit of the doubt. To quote from innumerable television-centric voices, this show has really “come into its own,” and how. If the addition of a surprisingly hilarious Rob Lowe weren’t enough, they threw in the (until-recently) television-doomed Adam Scott, a personal favorite. That’s not even the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the number of ways this show has become appointment viewing. Parks and Rec is like a weekly meme factory, adding yet another layer with which to connect to the characters – Treat yo self! Tom Haverfoods! Anything Ron Swanson! The internet has given us many gifts this year, many Pawnee-related. More than that, it warms my heart on a weekly basis, and I hope that never stops. Now, if you need me, I’ll be treatin’ myself into the new year. - Mikela Floyd

Boardwalk Empire

Boardwalk Empire has been solid since day one. The storytelling is beautifully textured, riveting, bold, and it’s the only series to have ever moved me with its technical virtuosity—the editing is amazing. The first season set us firmly and satisfyingly in the era—familiarizing us with the people, the politics, the bootlegging, and teetotalism of 1920s Atlantic City. But this year was filled with so many “what the eff” moments that the wait from week to week was totally unbearable. Incest, infidelity, polio—there was no telling what was going to happen next. The jaw-dropping dénouement just showed that we’ve barely scratched the surface of the Nucky Thompson saga. - Amber Humphrey

Sons of Anarchy

As the editor and final contributor of this piece, I had the luxury of looking over the entire list assembled by the ever-wonderful Mikela and Amber and think, “what one show can I add to this list?” Several shows instantly sprung to mind. The likes of Breaking Bad, with its fantastic fourth season cutting through the middle of 2011 like a knife. And Doctor Who, which continues to be sensational. Or how about BBC’s Sherlock, one of the great miniseries events we’ve seen in a long, long time. That said, none of those won like Kurt Sutter’s constant climax of a show in Sons of Anarchy. It’s fourth season was a roller-coaster of violence, grease and deception. It was perhaps the best written, best acted, most deviously fun and outright entertaining show that aired in all of 2011. And even though we chose not to put any particular order to this list, it feels right to end with the gentlemen of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club Redwood Originals. - Neil Miller

For more of the best and worst of the year, check out the rest of our 2011 Year in Review.

So when it came time to think of what aspect of 2011’s television offerings I would break down for your perusal, a nagging feeling piqued in the back of my mind – a lot of what’s on television should no longer be on television. And I’m not just talking about shows like Grey’s Anatomy, Desperate Housewives, or any other number of programs that have worn out their proverbial welcome in the Neilsen households of America. No, I’m referring specifically to the handful of TV shows that chose 2011 as the year to hammer that final nail in the coffin of television irrelevancy. Just what, pray tell, are these shows that I’ve deemed no longer worthy of filling my DVR?

Read on, and when preparing the hate mail, remember that Mikela has one A, not two.

Glee

When Glee had its late spring preview in 2009 (which, I’ll note, was on my birthday – a win-win!), I was sold. It had pretty much everything that I love. Misfit teens? Check. Karaoke-style impromptu jams? Check. Journey? Check. An adult figure clearly a graduate of the Timberlakean school of black-white-guy soul singing? Double-check. At first, this show was so overwhelmingly charming; it felt hard to stomach (but in a good way.) It captured the awkwardness of teendom with a finesse only previously possessed by Judd Apatow in his brief turns on television (RIP, Freaks and Geeks & Undeclared, you left us too soon). And any show that can give Jane Lynch a primetime vehicle with which to showcase her talent deserves praise for that alone.

However, when you take a mid-season break that’s more than 3 months long, you’re bound to lose some steam, and that’s exactly what happened. When Glee returned in April of 2010, it wasn’t the same, even though most of us kept watching. What’s on now (from what I surmise, I fully admit that I’ve stopped watching the show) is a different animal altogether. Gone are the quirky storylines about teacher-populated a-capella groups, and in their place are preachy tales that make the show less about its characters, and more about its agenda. Additionally, the characters have moved ever so dramatically away from what they once were, and that I just cannot abide. Also gone are the fun, iPod playlist-esque song choices; replaced now by devoted theme episodes so creatively stretched to include the music that they seem more like an hour-long presentation of music videos (the Britney Spears episode, anyone?). I blame Ryan Murphy, ever the victim of his own creative megalomania.

Dexter

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. This is a show that elicits an overwhelmingly strong reaction out of people. People don’t just like Dexter. They LOVE Dexter, in an “OMG DID YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENED ON DEXTER??!?!” sort of way. It’s a thing. I’m guilty of this, too – so entranced by Michael C. Hall’s ability to transform from the awkward and emotionally tortured David Fisher of Six Feet Under to the even more emotionally tortured Dexter Morgan that I plowed through the first two seasons on DVD in an embarrassingly small number of days. I even subscribed to Showtime so I could keep up with what he, Deb (easily one of TV’s least likable characters), Batista, Laguerta, and even Rita were up to. The roster of guest stars only fed the already deafening buzz surrounding this show. I mean, John Lithgow? His portrayal of the Trinity Killer STILL gives me nightmares, a feat only achieved previously by the one-armed man being hunted by Harrison Ford in The Fugitive. Dude freaked me out, you guys.

So you can imagine the pain exuding from my fingertips as I express my realization that this show is so far past its prime now that it hurts to even admit. As if it were not awkward enough for us as an omnipresent audience to watch leads Michael C. Hall and Jennifer Carpenter portray siblings on-screen, while going through a marriage then a divorce off-screen, the writers have decided that, oh, yeah, this makes sense as a plot point. And while Dexter lost his best shot at normalcy with Rita (spoiler alert, but if you don’t know this by now, you’re doing the internet wrong), is he so whacked out that we’re supposed to believe that even he thinks it’s socially acceptable to be fielding doe-eyes from his adopted sister? I’m gonna go with no.

The Walking Dead

Oh, I know what you’re thinking. “This show again?!” Bear with me. When this gruesome Zombiepacalypse fell upon us in 2010, I was all over it. Who wasn’t? If you couldn’t talk about it on November 1^st, you were pretty much deemed socially unacceptable in conversation. Just saying. Sure, the show was a bit of a reverse slow burn – starting out with a bang, sustaining on a whimper, and ending once again, with a bang (both literal and metaphorical – zing!).

However, it was an interesting enough concept that when season 2 premiered nearly a year later, it was welcomed with a record tune-in for AMC. Well, color us disappointed. Over the course of a lackluster season, the characters emerged as some of TV’s least likable people. Don’t believe me? Check out my character annoyance index. Plus, not nearly enough people get eaten. It’s a zombie show, AMC, we don’t expect everyone to make it in the end. Liven it up a little.

True Blood

Many would contend one of two things – 1) this show jumped the shark long ago, or 2) there needs to be a shark established, in order for a show to jump it. I know it’s not exactly highbrow television, but this campy vampire saga has sucked me in since day one, and I’ve been able to forgive a lot of its shortcomings – the meat statue; Sookie; Tara; Tommy Mickens. This season, however? Sorry, Alan Ball. You lost me.

I could almost give it a pass, based on the sheer adorable-ness of Eric Northman, amnesiac, but when you throw in Werepanthers, Petunia Dursley as a possessed witch, and Andy Bellefleur’s inexplicable splendor in the grass with Sookie’s Fairy Godmother, yeah I’m done. There are too many cooks in True Blood’s mythical creature kitchen, so I’m going to go ahead and step out.

The Office

Again, I can hear the groans now – “this show hasn’t been good in years.” I disagree. Sure, not every episode can be as winning as “Benihana Christmas,” and I don’t know that I’ve ever laughed as hard as when Michael Scott ran over Meredith in the parking lot, but Dunder Mifflin was still having its moments up until recently. When Pam and Jim got married, I cried. When the gang walked down the aisle spoofing the Youtube wedding gag? I laughed. When Holly assumed Kevin was mentally challenged? That’s comedy, folks.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and I fear we’re nearing that point. With the departure of Steve Carell’s Michael Scott, so should have come the departure of this show as a whole, because things just aren’t working out. Funny and aloof as he may be, Andy “Nard Dog” Bernard simply isn’t a strong enough character to anchor this office, and the pranking of Jim vs. Dwight has worn thin. Poor Pam just seems to be pregnant all the time, and James Spader’s Robert California has moved past intriguing and into dick-ish territory. It’s time, Office writers. Let’s give Mindy Kaling the freedom to pursue other projects, shall we?

There it is, your weekly installment of curmudgeonly corner. What do you think about what’s on TV right now? Did I miss any shows that are living out their golden years less-than-gracefully? We should just put them in a TV show retirement home. It’s what they’d want.

Don’t touch that dial, and read more Channel Guide

This year, the Dexter writing staff chucked subtlety out of the window and decided instead to pound us all over the head with their theme: religion. Baby Harrison begins attending a Catholic preschool, prompting Dexter to compare “The Code” to the precepts of Christianity. Meanwhile, criminal turned minister Brother Sam (Mos Def) befriends Dexter, introducing a light into his life that temporarily neutralizes his “Dark Passenger.” And then, of course, there’s this season’s main baddie(s), the Doomsday Killer(s)—whose deceased victims are placed into elaborate tableaus that allude to passages from the Book of Revelation. At some point Dexter, who believes that he’s justified in killing killers, was probably going to have to contemplate religion but the way that Christianity was interwoven throughout this season just felt oppressive and contrived—how fortuitous it was that Harrison should be enrolled in Catholic school right when the DDK murders start.

But maybe I’m just being nitpicky. The theme was definitely overwrought, but perhaps can be forgiven because without it, we may have never known how truly creepy Colin Hanks is. In a Shyamalanian twist, we learn that the DDK murders are being carried out by Travis Marshall (Hanks) alone. Marshall’s mentor, Professor Gellar (Edward James Olmos), who we are initially led to believe is pushing Marshall to kill against his will, was dead the whole time—Gellar, like Dexter’s dad Harry, was only a subconscious projection. This role gave Hanks the opportunity to showcase his talents, I think, for the first time. Hanks begins the season timid and ends it with the kind of loony self-assuredness of a true sociopath. His transformation is so seamless that from here on out, he will no longer be known simply as Tom Hanks’ son. He’ll be Tom Hanks’ son who played that crazy guy on that season of Dexter where Deb fell in love with her brother.

Oh yeah, Deb is in love with her brother. Ugh. Yes, I understand that Dexter is adopted, so they aren’t related by blood, but still, ugh. I don’t want to get into all of the minutiae of incest—what constitutes incest, what doesn’t—but Deb’s romantic feelings for her brother are disturbing. At the same time, this development is far more shocking and compelling than the final minute of the season where Deb witnesses Dexter killing Marshall because that was always going to happen—the series has been pointing toward that moment since it began. Yeah, I gasped while watching Deb watch Dexter but who really believes that she’s going to turn in her brother? I can’t say that I’m a fan of the direction that Deb’s character has taken but I more interested to find out how her feelings for Dexter are going to play out next year than I am to see how she deals with learning that he’s a killer—though, I suppose the two things will develop concurrently.

In general, this season wasn’t horrible—Dexter dancing at his high school reunion was pretty great and Marshall’s “I see dead people” moment genuinely caught me off guard—but it wasn’t the best. My biggest gripe was that the writers tried to cover too much territory—there were callbacks to seasons 1 and 4, all the DDK and Brother Sam stuff, Quinn was spiraling out of control, interns were stealing prosthetic limbs, Deb was having wet dreams about her brother. Even though season 5 didn’t end with some exciting cliffhanger, I appreciate how focused it was in comparison to this season.

 Stray Thoughts

• Did you notice how quickly Hanks’ character painted that extremely detailed mural? You know the one with Dexter’s perfectly rendered face right in the center of it?
• I’ve never really cared for LaGuerta but I didn’t think that she was evil until this season.
• I still don’t understand what was up with Louis, Masuka’s second intern. I can appreciate the mystery surrounding him and what he drew on that prosthetic, but I wish that we could have gotten just a little bit more information about him.
• Man, there are a ton of serial killers in Miami.

Napoleon Dynamite

Though the film no longer stirs up the kind of powerful emotions it once did – I seldom draw ligers in the margins of my notebook paper these days – I’m intrigued by this animated series based on the 2004 cult hit. Launching on January 15 as part of Fox’s animation domination line-up, Napoleon Dynamite will no doubt give us some insight into everything left unanswered by the film. Does Deb’s mom really go to college? Exactly how deep does Kip’s love for technology run? What’s life like under the Pedro administration? We’ve passed the point of Napoleon Dynamite oversaturation (the incessant quoting has stopped, Hot Topic has removed their Nessie shirts from the shelves), so this is probably the ideal time for this show to air – we can be nostalgic about these characters at this point (well, sort of). Husband-and-wife filmmakers Jared and Jerusha Hess haven’t had much critical success since their Sundance debut, but their brand of oddball humor is perfectly suited for animation.

Key & Peele

Since Chappelle’s Show’s odd, abrupt end in 2006, Comedy Central has been unable to find another sketch show as audacious or beloved – the astoundingly unfunny Mind of Mencia was their earliest, most feeble, and totally transparent attempt to replicate the success they’d had with Dave Chappelle. But Key & Peele, set to start January 31, may just turn things around. MADtv alums Keegan-Michael Key and Jordon Peele, both trained at the Second City, obviously know how to work and thrive within this format. Whenever I think about the possibilities here, my mind immediately flashes to this great MADtv sketch where Peele angrily picks apart a little kid’s YouTube video for its inaccurate description of the Star Wars saga. After watching that sketch, all I could say to myself was, “Yes! Someone finally has the guts to take 6-year-olds to task on all of their B.S.” It’s going to be fun to see what the two comedians produce given the freedom that comes with having their own show.

Smash

What impresses me most when it comes to this series about makin’ it on Broadway is that a five-minute preview clip featuring former American Idol contestant Katherine McPhee belting out Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful” nearly brought me to tears (damn you, Aguilera and the unholy grasp that that inspirational song has on my heart). Originally touted as “Glee for adults,” the only thing this series appears to have in common with that increasingly boring Fox comedy is that there’s music in both of them – though, even in that regard the two shows differ, as Smash will include original songs by the Tony and Grammy Award-winning composers of Hairspray. The series, which begins airing on NBC starting February 12, chronicles the creation of a musical about Marilyn Monroe. McPhee and Broadway actress Megan Hilty play the two young actresses vying for the lead role. I’m a fierce musical theater fan and am obviously excited about this show on that level but I’m an even fiercer Anjelica Huston fan – she plays one of the Marilyn musical’s producers. Huston could star in a Mind of Mencia reboot and I’d watch it.

Angry Boys

Many people would be quick to compare Australian comedian Chris Lilley to Christopher Guest since both men (a) have the same first name, and (b) are pathologically devoted to the improvisational mockumentary. But the most impressive aspect of Lilley’s previous work has been his incredible knack for playing multiple roles in the same series – each character exaggerated yet believably human- and so I’ve always felt that he has more in common with the great Peter Sellers. We Can Be Heroes and Summer Heights High both demonstrated that Lilley is a brilliant, bold satirist and, since hearing about Angry Boys back in May when it aired in Australia, I’ve been anxiously awaiting its arrival stateside. Premiering on HBO January 1, Lilley’s latest mockumentary finds the comedian playing an African-American rapper from Los Angeles and an overbearing Japanese mother, among other characters. Will the social critique be strong enough to justify blackface? I don’t know, but I’m more than willing to find out.

Alcatraz

With better-than-ever Fringe inching closer and closer to cancellation, it’s comforting to know that another J.J. Abrams-produced drama will be premiering on Fox this January. Alcatraz, starring Sam Neill and Lost’s Jorge Garcia, gives the history of America’s most infamous prison a supernatural rewrite. The show’s premise: inmates thought to have been transferred from the prison when it closed actually vanished mysteriously and have now, just as mysteriously, returned almost 50 years later. Alcatraz looks promising and not only because of Abrams’ involvement. The pilot episode (which I saw at San Diego Comic-Con this past July) is elusive enough to keep viewers interested and invested in the story but also makes it seem as though satisfying chunks of the overarching puzzle will be answered each week. Sure, Alcatraz is similar to Fringe – both have a tough, blonde female lead (in this case, Sarah Jones) and both are crime procedural-sci-fi hybrids – but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. (You can look at the two shows in the same way that you look at the catalogue of ’90s Swedish pop group Ace of Base – every one of the group’s songs may sound identical but every one of their songs is also awesome.) Hopefully though, unlike Fringe, this show garners the kind of solid ratings that will keep it off the chopping block.

Peel your eyes away from the idiot box for a moment, and check out our Channel Guide archive.

Netflix

McGreevy will be involved as a writer (alongside writing partner Lee Shipman), but the biggest name attached is executive producer and director Eli Roth who would bring his baseball bat into the mix.

The story is focused on the murder of a young girl who is found ripped up near a steel mill and the two young men trying to solve it. Werewolves are inevitably involved. The big question is whether original programming will help save Netflix. If you’re considering dropping them, are shows like this enough to make you reconsider?

Mad Men

The Big Bang Theory

In the 10^th grade I used to walk around feeling super satisfied with who I was, not because I was particularly popular or smart or cute, but because I knew all of the words to Barenaked Ladies’ pseudo-rap, tongue twister “One Week.” Nowadays, I feel a similar sort of satisfaction whenever I rattle off the lyrics to the band’s “Big Bang Theory Theme.” Since the song chronicles the entire history of Earth in less than 30 seconds, it can be seen as the ultimate expository theme and probably deserves to be grouped with the greats for that fact alone. It’s also really alienating to creationists—something that I’m sure brings a tremendous amount of joy to Stephen Hawking. Any theme that includes the word “autotrophs” is destined to be remembered—it’s easy to imagine a future where this song is used by science and history teachers as a learning tool.

New Girl

Zooey Deschanel’s “Hey Girl” is so deliberately perky that it simultaneously seems to be lampooning the inherent goofiness of sitcom themes and celebrating that semi-ironic love that today’s 20-somethings have for things that are inherently goofy. The song is sweet, the lyrics aren’t at all complicated, and by simply substituting your name for “Jess” (and changing “girl” to “boy” if you happen to be male) you can co-opt it. And isn’t that the dream? Your own personal theme song! The tune is as quirky and light as the series, consciously referencing the bubbly themes from classic working gal sitcoms like The Mary Tyler Moore Show, That Girl, and Laverne & Shirley. The extended version of “Hey Girl” is an actual, bona fide song that can be enjoyed now and forever by fans of Deschanel’s warm, velvety voice even if they don’t appreciate her warm velvety acting on the show.

Two and a Half Men

Whether it’s Ashton Kutcher or Carlos Estevez in the lead role, this show is mediocre. But do you want to know what isn’t mediocre? Yep, you guessed it, barbershop quartet music (or I suppose in this case, barbershop trio music). That sounds really sarcastic but I’m being serious. This so-dumb-it’s-clever homophonic ditty only has two words (I don’t know that woo-ha-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hooooo counts as a word, technically) and it’s that simplicity that gives it legs. Years from now (or maybe even a year from now, fingers crossed), when Two and a Half Men is no longer on the air, people will continue singing this song whenever they reminisce about the series or see a group of men-men-men-men-manly-men doing…something. This most masculine of theme songs was co-written by producer Chuck Lorre who is a paragon when it comes to this stuff: he’s also responsible for the theme to the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles animated series.

Psych

“I Know You Know” by series creator Steve Franks’ band The Friendly Indians sounds a bit like a bad ‘90s era Hootie and the Blowfish song. Save for the “I know, you know” chorus,” the melody isn’t especially memorable and the lyrics are a mouthful. “In between the lines there’s a lot of obscurity, I’m not inclined to resign to maturity. If it’s all right, then you’re all wrong, why bounce around to the same damn song?” What does any of that even mean? It’s like a riddle or something. Franks deserves some credit, though, for making the decision to give Psych a theme at all and for including semi-poetic verses like, “you’d rather run when you can’t crawl.” While “I Know You Know” doesn’t have much appeal for anyone who isn’t a part of the show’s pineapple-loving fanbase, what distinguishes it from the other themes on the list is that several pretty great variations of the song have opened the show throughout its six-season run. There was an a cappella version performed by Boyz II Men, the haunting, slow-paced version by Julee Cruise (who sang “Falling” from Twin Peaks), and a Bollywood version, which is my personal favorite. Franks clearly understands the value of a theme song even if this one isn’t the catchiest.

The Cleveland Show

While the jury is still out when it comes to the merits of this series, the title music is undeniably fun. Composer Walter Murphy (who is famous for his ‘70s disco adaptation of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, “A Fifth of Beethoven”) also created the music for American Dad and Family Guy—Fox’s two other Seth MacFarlane produced animated comedies. I’ve singled out The Cleveland Show theme, though, because I think that it—more than the other two—has the ability to really lodge itself in your skull. After hearing it once, you could wind up absentmindedly singing it for days, which speaks to the sort of love-hate relationship that we have with most of the greatest TV themes.

For more televisionary thoughts, check out the Channel Guide archive.

Episode 7, “Chardee MacDennis: The Game of Games,” is like a microcosm of what’s gone wrong with the series. Following that basic Always Sunny story arc, Charlie, Mac, Dennis, Dee, and Frank decide to play Chardee MacDennis, a mashup of their favorite board games. But with arbitrary rules that find various members of the gang collecting grapes in their mouths Hungry Hungry Hippos style and eating the unmixed ingredients of a cake while locked in a dog crate, everything is confusing and joyless—both for the characters and the viewer. The episode is so self-consciously wacky and disjointed that it’s difficult to care about what’s going on. Ultimately, the plot feels as haphazardly pieced together as the titular game. The gang resort to playing Chardee Mac Dennis because they’ve run out of ideas—they don’t know what to do with themselves—and this aimlessness mirrors what appears to be going on behind the scenes of the show—the writers don’t know what to do with these characters anymore. Instead of striving to top benchmarks like “The Nightman Cometh”—the amazing musical episode that has practically become synonymous with the series—the writers and cast are coasting. The show’s beloved formula now seems formulaic and most of this season has been like a poor imitation of what Always Sunny used to be.

Last season only managed to sporadically match the energy and lowbrow genius of previous years but I completely dismissed this past mediocrity and approached the September premiere with renewed hope and enthusiasm after learning that star and creator Rob McElhenney had gained more than 50 lbs. in preparation for his character’s season 7 flirtation with obesity. McElhenney’s peculiar choice to go semi-Method and not, say, wear a fat suit, was fascinating and certainly pointed to an odd yet commendable level of commitment on his part—this stunt was sure to shake things up and resuscitate the series. Sadly, with the season now winding down, it looks as though that weight gain was nothing more than a smoke screen (or a fat screen, as it were). With the possible exception of “Frank’s Pretty Woman,” the first episode of the season, which features McElhenney carrying garbage bags full of chimichangas around with him and recklessly injecting insulin, this season has been dull and uninspired. If an actor goes to such drastic lengths to push his character in a completely new and exciting direction and it fails, you have to begin to wonder if the show is something that’s worth continuing.

Once a formidable stallion, has Always Sunny’s body quit? Has its bird quit? Is it, unfortunately, no longer legit?

For more from the world of tubes, check out our Channel Guide archive.

Before I jump into the oh-so-inevitable criticism (I promise, I do actually LIKE television), let me preface my musings with this: I LOVED this show when it premiered. Like many other television enthusiasts (read: hermits) I stayed in on Halloween eve, lapping up the undead adventures of Rick Grimes, et. al with an insatiable fervor. Lately, though? I find myself hemming and hawing for ¾ of every hour-long episode about just what causes this show to fail in my eyes — the characters. Sure, there are a few that aren’t entirely detestable, but the majority of the people on The Walking Dead are so deplorable that by the end of each week, you’re praying that they’re the next blue plate special at the zombie café. So while we all begrudgingly ponder what season 2’s conclusion holds, I proudly present my very own Walking Dead Character Annoyance Index. Enjoy.

Rick

Backstory: Sheriff. Likes to wear his uniform as though it is the only clothing available. Woke up from coma in season 1 to discover that the world had gone all undead on everyone’s asses.

Most memorable moment: Single-handedly taking on a zombie swarm on horseback in season 1.

Annoyance level: 3 walkers. Listen, Rick should be everyone’s favorite character. He’s the John Wayne of Zombietown, rolling in with his gold star and leading the pack. However, Rick is one of the worst offenders here, and mainly by no fault of his own. The writers seem to want to make him their golden boy, yet poor Andrew Lincoln is barely even one-note, a lifeless character who seems most comfortable when portraying a man down to a half-pint of blood.

Lori

Backstory: Rick’s wife. Skinny. Frail. Bitchy. Likes plaid.

Most memorable moment: Getting over her believed-to-be-dead husband by screwing his asshat best friend.

Annoyance level: 5 walkers. This woman, you guys. She’s worse than the worst. She’s subterranean bad. She screws the mayor of DoofusTown, and spends the rest of the series treating everyone else like crap. Except for Carl. More on Carl later.

Dale

Backstory: Old guy. Wears hats.

Most memorable moment: Fixing that damn camper every week. Seriously, is this the most poorly functioning recreational vehicle of all time?

Annoyance level: 1 walker. While he serves little purpose other than to hang around and act somewhat judgmental, Dale’s actually one of the least-reprehensible people on the show. He’s the Bob Vila of the zombie nation.

Andrea

Backstory: Blonde, vaguely pretty (but not enough to counteract her insufferable nature).

Most memorable moment: Took sister out after she got bitten by a walker.

Annoyance level: OFF THE CHARTS. There’s something to be said for anchoring your cast with women who make the Sex and the City gals look like the cast of Little Women, but this broad takes the cake. Each week she’s more annoying than the previous, and I for one am just waiting for the day when Dale snaps and pushes her out of the moving Winnebago. Do it, Dale. No one would be sad to see her go.

Glenn

Backstory: Asian. Generally likable. The Hiro Nakamura of TWD.

Most memorable moment: Taking one for the team by being lowered into a swollen zombie-filled well.

Annoyance level: Half a walker. If that! Seriously, who hates Glen?

Shane

Backstory: Sherrif’s deputy. Possessor of physical features that are vaguely Neanderthal. Mayor of DoofusTown.

Most memorable moment: Sacrificing portly Otis to the walkers in order to get the medical supplies necessary to save young Carl.

Annoyance level: 5 walkers. There isn’t much more to say. He killed Otis, his accent is bad, and he pseudo-raped Lori at the CDC. I don’t like him. Done.

Carl

Backstory: Child. Son of Rick and Lori. Goofy looking and Opie-esque.

Most memorable moment: Taking a bullet to the gullet when poor Otis confused him for a deer.

Annoyance level: 3 walkers. Carl should get a pass, because of his age, but I’m not that kind. The kid causes too many problems to let things go.

Daryl

Backstory: Redneck. Brother of meth addict left behind in season 1.

Most memorable moment: Nothing sticks out, but homeboy’s pretty good with some arrows. He’s a regular Legolas of the walker world.

Annoyance level: 1 ½ walkers. I’m not quite sure how it happened, but Daryl really eclipsed some of the others on the likability scale. He’s sweaty, abrasive, and even mildly attractive. Plus, he doesn’t really take any bull, and with these people, that’s almost admirable.

T-Dog

Backstory: Don’t make me say it. OK, fine. Token black guy.

Most memorable moment: Getting all tetanus-y when he got sliced and diced by a stray vehicle.

Annoyance level: 3 walkers. He doesn’t REALLY have enough scenes to warrant his annoyance, but after dissecting these people (see what I did there?) my patience is really wearing thin.

Carol

Backstory: Had a mean and abusive husband. He got his in the end. Quiet, nice enough, has short hair.

Most memorable moment: I just… I can’t really think of one.

Annoyance level: 4 walkers. Given just because she’s a woman on this show. They have no choice but to reek of fail.

With characters like these, it’s no wonder that Sophia ran off and (Spoiler Alert!) crossed over to the dark side. She couldn’t handle these people anymore than I can, and I don’t blame her. Are you willing to overlook the shortcomings of this band of not-so-merry misfits? Fire away!

For more on the world of television, walk lively over to the Channel Guide archives.

The inbred, redneck Heartshe clan is the family at the center of the show. The first episode opens with recently deceased “Boss” Hoss Heartshe—patriarch of Heartshe Holler—bequeathing the town and his fortune to his secret son Hurlan (Oswalt) via video will. Hoss’ “only child,” Hurshe (Schaal), and his “other only child,” Hambrosia (Heather Lawless), are none too thrilled by this slight and will do anything to gain control of the Holler. From here, things get weird. Really weird. Amongst the weirdness: a penis transplant, a pretty explicit brother-sister dalliance that results in a 10-year pregnancy, and a wedding between a man and a glory hole. What elevates these moments from offensive or just plain dumb to hilarious is obviously execution. The writing is droll, boasting memorable tidbits like, “you have always been more than just a henchman to me, you are more like a hench-son” and the performances, all over-the-top, are tempered by the immense amount comedic skill that all of these actors have. (I don’t know if they give out Emmys to actors who star in shows that are less than 12 minutes long, but if they do, Jonathan Hadary deserves a nomination, at the very least, for his portrayal of Hoss. The rise and fall of his voice, his eerie smirk and laugh. The man is beyond talented.)

This being said, I have to confess that I was a bit horrified by this show when I first saw it and very literally stared at the TV screen in disbelief. Strangely though, I wasn’t as horrified by the content as I was by my involuntary reaction to it: I giggled. Somehow the outlandish subject matter, as unsettling as it tends to be, is riveting. Sure, you might need to devote some time to deep introspection when you find yourself chuckling after an incest reference but this show is funny, particularly during its most insane moments, and its writers almost seem to be daring you not to laugh.

So many of Adult Swim’s other live-action series—comedies like Childrens Hospital or NTSF: SD: SUV— are stalled at absurd. That is to say, the writers of these shows seem to be satisfied with jokes that are strange or nonsensical or slightly off kilter for the sake of being strange, nonsensical, and slightly off kilter. There actually isn’t anything wrong with this kind of humor but it also isn’t terribly engaging. What I appreciate most about The Heart, She Holler is that even though it is absurd, it’s almost impossible to have a passive response to it. The show challenges you. I think it’s brilliant but could easily see someone else finding it utterly repulsive (jokes about Bible sex, yes, that’s sex with a Bible, aren’t for everyone). Whether it’s your cup of tea or not, there’s something admirable about a show that refuses to water down its humor, totally disregarding quaintness or accessibility.

For more on the world of television, visit the Channel Guide archive.

In my mind, Tina Fey pioneered the awkward television comedy. Sure, Seinfeld was full of the one of the small screen’s most relatable casts – people who handled everyday life’s uncomfortable encounters with the exact opposite of aplomb. But Tina Fey? She brought a whole new brand of nerd to TV, epitomizing the notion of “letting your freak flag fly.” Liz Lemon, the mumbling, boy blazer-wearing writer averse to “dude stuff” became a champion of awkwardness. More than that, she became a TV character that women who (like Elaine Benes) lacked grace, could relate to. She says the wrong things, she can’t land a man, and her affinity for Mexican junk food is unmatched (why do you think rich 50 is middle class 38? It’s all the preservatives in the Sabor de Soledad).

Lemon’s behavior is often more-than-cringeworthy – a literal lesson in how NOT to conduct the life of a middle-aged woman. Yet for some reason, I love her. I tune in from week-to-week, and often claim her to be my spirit animal – a perfect embodiment of everything I love. With New Girl, Fox seems to be shooting for their own Liz Lemon, albeit 20 years her junior. Jess too struggles with men, and her appreciation for shrunken blazers is just as strong. Yet rather than finding myself relating to her, I can’t help but roll my eyes as her behavior crosses the line from awkwardly adorable into entirely unbelievable. EVERY.SINGLE.WEEK. In fact, her behavior is a veritable checklist of the things that usually cause this embarrassment-phone to shield her eyes. Walking in on her male roommate in the buff prompts her to reveal she’s not comfortable saying the word penis. Getting ready for a wedding? Well it’s time to break out the redneck teeth!

Let me clarify by saying that I don’t hate the show.  In fact, I think that the dynamic amongst the cast members overall is pretty darn charming. It also has to be said that I am one who drank the Zooey Deschanel kool-aid long ago – I own the albums, I love her movies (I’m willing to overlook that time she fictionally broke the heart of my poor little Joseph Gordon-Levitt)- but most often, I defend her in the inevitable conversations detailing her overrated indie status. This show, though? It may just have used up my Deschanel defense, and I’m OK with that.

What’s the problem? Why can’t I just grin and bear it, lapping up Zooey’s primetime debut like the rest of my fellow ladies? Am I judging the former Mrs. Gibbard too harshly? Comment away.

As always, the Channel Guide archives await.

The title is super cryptic so I’ll explain the premise of Ghost Hunters for anyone who has somehow managed to escape its hypnotic appeal: Ghost Hunters is a reality show in which some dudes (Roto-Rooter plumbers turned paranormal experts) hunt ghosts. Really, though, saying that The Atlantic Paranormal Society (or TAPS) “hunt ghosts” makes the series sound a lot more thrilling than it actually is.

The paranormal investigators on Ghost Hunters, just like the paranormal investigators on the Travel Channel’s Ghost Adventures or A&E’s Paranormal State, visit purportedly haunted locations with an arsenal of scientific sounding gizmos (Electromagnetic Field detectors, thermal imaging cameras); the technology lends an air of objectivity to the proceedings. Flying in the face of this objectivity: a typical episode basically just consists of people walking around in the dark, bumping into stuff, flipping out at the slightest little sounds, talking about how they just got the chills, and whispering, “did you hear that?” repeatedly (add a game of “light as a feather, stiff as a board” and you have every sleep-over that I went to in middle school).

There aren’t any ghosts on these shows. There have never been any ghosts on these shows. There will never be any ghosts on these shows. There is absolutely no rational reason why anyone should be watching these shows. Yet, we are watching them. In fact, we’re watching the hell out of them. Ghost Hunters has been airing on the SyFy channel for an astounding seven years.

So, why is a paranormal investigation series in which, arguably, nothing ever happens cancellation-proof? How do we explain our attraction to this genre? On Halloween night while flipping between Ghost Hunters Live on SyFy and the Ghost Adventures movie on the Travel Channel, I arrived at three possible answers to these questions.

1. I know they’re never going to find a ghost but they might find a ghost.

First of all, no they won’t. At least they’ll never be able to collect any evidence that definitively proves the existence of ghosts. (Wouldn’t we have seen the footage on CNN or some other major news network if they had?) This being said, I can still understand and relate to that irrational anticipation and excitement. It’s the same hopeful but ultimately foolhardy logic that prompts us to buy lottery tickets or watch Dinner for Schmucks—we know that it’s going to be a complete, soul-crushing waste but maybe we’ll be pleasantly surprised. Ghost Hunters and Ghost Adventures may not prove the existence of ghosts but the longevity of these shows does prove that we haven’t all been turned into hardened, world-weary skeptics and that, like Fox Mulder, we desperately want to believe. Perhaps that’s something that should be celebrated. On the other hand, they say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. So, there’s that.

2. They’ve totally found ghosts on these shows. 

Now, the other school of thought is that there hasn’t been an episode of Ghost Hunters or Ghost Adventures where there wasn’t some kind of paranormal activity. Changes in temperature, unexplained noises, garbled “spirit voice” recordings, and orbs of light witnessed in photographs and video footage, are more than enough proof for most viewers, completely justifying the continuation of this genre now and forever. There’s no rationalizing or arguing with that kind of unshakable belief. Just don’t show one of those grainy, night vision videos to a Eureka fan. They’ve suffered enough.

3. Paranormal investigators have abnormally high levels of charisma. Fact: the primary ingredient in AXE Body Spray is essence of ghost hunter.

A couple of years ago, I went to Dragon*Con in Atlanta and the Ghost Hunters panel was packed. While walking around the convention floor, I saw a family—all wearing Ghost Hunters t-shirts—carrying around some fancy plaque with “TAPS” inscribed on it that I can only assume they’d planned on presenting to the show’s eponymous ghost hunters. I personally feel that Grant and Jason, the two lead investigators, are completely devoid of personality. But clearly, I’m in the minority. Sure, these shows appeal to a niche audience but they are an incredibly devoted and apparently large niche. Viewers relate to these investigators on some level. They like them. It’s fitting that a reality show about the intangible should be appealing for a reason that is as unquantifiable as the charisma of its stars.

For more from the world of television, be sure to stay tuned to the Channel Guide Archives.

Something’s happening on network television, and it’s conjuring some pretty serious childhood flashbacks. That’s right, TV’s got a pretty big mean streak these days, and it’s got me feeling like my weekly viewing habits are just one televised squabble over the seating arrangements at the cool kids’ table. Sure, there are some notably peppy programs filling my DVR, but for every ‘Steak Me Home Tonight’ sandwich (Happy Endings) and anorexia-stricken stewardess (Pan Am), there are innumerable instances of primetime snark that are getting meaner and meaner.

Now, I’m not one to stray from sarcasm. Heck, it’s one of my favorite pastimes, a language in which I consider myself fluent. But as I watched a recent episode of Community, wherein a random classmate was harshly criticized by the study group (for no reason other than that he wasn’t one of them), I couldn’t help but think- can’t we all just get along? Over on The Office, poor Andy Bernard (finally branch manager) watched new boss Robert California sort the winners of Dunder Mifflin from the losers, (though, with a pool like that, can we really assume that any of them are winners?) while I yearned to give a virtual hug to that veritable island of misfit toys. They are the people person’s paper people, after all. And while Parks and Recreation is a weekly highlight, can’t anyone be nice to Jerry? I mean, poor Jerry.

It’s not just the Peacock Network that’s to blame. CBS breakout hit 2 Broke Girls’ centerpiece is the relationship between the “street smart” (read: abrasive) Max and the newly impoverished Caroline. On a recent episode, as Caroline gets… dirty (there’s horse manure, let’s not get into it) Max’s delight goes past the boundaries of fish-out-of-water humor and straight into cruel territory. It’s funny, but at what cost? Don’t even get me started on the FX lineup, which boasts The League and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. While both shows are irrefutably hilarious, their one-two punch is like a weekly lesson in how to hate your friends.

There are plenty of shows that succeed at getting the laughs without being mean-spirited. On Parks and Recreation (Jerry-bashing as it may be), curmudgeon Ron Swanson can deliver searing put-downs with aplomb, yet his loyal core can’t help but be noticed. Rob Lowe’s Chris Traeger? That guy oozes positivity like sweat after one of his many runs. Over on FOX, the Zooey Deschanel-led The New Girl has “adorkable” (a cringe-worthy adjective) Jess letting her freak flag fly, all while scoring more than a few twee laughs.  On the USA comedy Psych (an underrated gem, IMHO), detective duo Shawn and Gus solve crimes while weaving a tapestry of pop culture references that results in a delightfully hilarious hour of television.

Am I alone in thinking that TV’s gotten a little mean? As viewers, aren’t we likelier to invest in characters that invest in one another, or (gasp) even like each other? The lovable oaf that was Michael Scott kept us watching because even though he was awkward, he was overwhelmingly well intentioned. Have our personalities become so sarcastic that we can’t simply enjoy some lighthearted laughs? I’m not suggesting we all devote ourselves to the laugh tracked-fare enjoyed by our parents – I delight in (and endlessly relate to) the misfortune of Liz Lemon as much as every other lady of my generation – but isn’t it time that we have a little fun? I think so, and if you need me, I’ll be sitting in the fetal position, watching The Wonder Years and remembering when times were just a little less jaded.

Kevin Arnold cures all.

For more from the world of television, be sure to stay tuned to the Channel Guide Archives.

Editor’s Note: After more than a year, Merrill Barr will be leaving the Reject Family and moving on to bigger and better things. We wish him all the best.

And now the series finale of Channel Guide…

Finale. A dangerous word in the world of television. Dangerous because it comes with a hefty amount of baggage for those working on a show that ‘s coming to an end. Everything a series has been working towards, whether serialized or episodic, has to be fulfilled in the finale. And somehow, the writers have the terrible job of making everyone feel like the journey was worth it.

When broken down, there’s really only two things necessary in order to deliver on a good series finale, stability and closure.

Stability refers to where the characters end up. Whether its happily ever after, in the grave, in the after life or on the run, the audience needs to know that however we leave the characters is how they will remain for the remainder of their fictional days. This isn’t to say that the audience needs to know every single detail, but a general idea needs to be available (or at least the tools necessary to draw a conclusion).

For example, the series finale of 24 sees Jack go back on the run, and unless that film ever gets off the ground, we’re safe to assume that he’ll remain on the run for the rest of his life. Where he’ll go, and how long he’ll be there is something for the viewer to figure out, but we know he’s never going home.

Or how about the series finale of Rescue Me? The ending reveals rather brilliantly that the boys of 62 Truck will always and forever be at 62 Truck. The adventures they’ll under take is once again up the viewer, but we know where they’ll be if we were to ever pop out heads into their world again.

And that sense of stability is what leads into the more important and absolutely necessary element of closure.

Every series, even the episodic ones, have questions that are never answered until the very end. And the bad ones are those that forget those questions exist or choose to ignore them. What’s the deal with the Smoking Man? Can Jack ever be happy? Will the detectives of the NYPD ever be able to live a normal life? What is the island? These are a fraction of a fraction of the types of questions that have plagued the television viewers landscape since the medium was first launched in 1928.

It would be to easy to point to a finale like LOST as an example of how not to do it, but it’s also not as much fun. Especially when there are some absolutely brilliant finales throughout the ages that deserve their do.

Ones like the final episode of Six Feet Under. A series in which death was far from a subtle theme, gave the audience the ultimate sense of closure by revealing the death of every one of its characters. Or how about the the finales (when there was one) of any of the Star Trek series? A personal favorite is the one for Voyager. Through some wack-a-do time travel, the Voyager crew makes it home from the delta quadrant safe and sound, with their futures no longer written but sure to take place with their loved ones.

Even more that demand praise:

• M*A*S*H
• The X-Files
• Everybody Loves Raymond
• The Shield
• Seinfeld
• Newhart (which belongs on this list for having giant balls)

These are just some of the amazing series finales and an even smaller fraction of the ones that will be coming down the line. We can only imagine what the likes of Breaking Bad, The Simpsons and South Park will have in store when their final bell rings.

The best series finales aren’t the ones that just end the story. The best are the ones that make the viewer feel something. And the ones that make the viewer look back and know that the ride was worth taking.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a lady named DVR.

THE END

Want to read all the past Channel Guides? Of course you do.

And you can always listen to the latest episode of Merrill’s TV Podcast, The Idiot Boxers with Kevin Carr, on The Fat Guys Network.