As recently pointed out by Andy Dehnart on his excellent reality TV blog, Realityblurred.com, the undoing of ABC’s recent reality diving show Splash was not the hokiness of its premise; nor the dimness of its celebrity wattage; nor even the egregiously unflattering bathing suits worn by the women.  No, it was the wildly inconsistent scoring of its panel of two judges.

Flipping the channels between network, local and cable news of late can be a confusing undertaking these days. Not just because so much propaganda is being passed off as news and not just because so much “news” is really just so much filler. No, it’s all flawless skin, perfect hair and ultra-platinum teeth of all the anchors and reporters that now report the daily headlines. Assaulted with such physical perfection—men and women—it’s hard to know if you’re actually watching the news or some new fangled thing on the always looks-conscious Bravo.

It has taken a few days, but I have now entered into the acceptance phase of my grief over the fourth season of Arrested Development. There is so much wrong with the new straight-to-Netflix 15 episodes that it’s hard to remember how this seemed like such a good idea only a week ago (and for years prior). In the run up to the all-at-once release of the episodes on May 26 at 3.00am EST, there was much debate about how to watch the episodes. Should viewers watch them in order, out of order, all at once, one a time with some breaks in the middle, etc.? I presently find myself asking a different question: should these episodes even be viewed them at all? The existential question as to whether this season should have ever been attempted is important, but first let’s gets to why the new season is such a disaster.

For one, the feel of the show is completely different from its former self. Jason Bateman’s Michael Bluth was always the lead in the first three seasons and for good reason. He was the dependable good guy who, despite his justified inclination to leave his selfish family behind, always subverted his own happiness for the good of the comically self-absorbed people he felt obligated to protect. Michael tied the bizarre strands of the show together and provided the audience a reliable source through which to experience the funny, but awful things that the people he loved did to each other and to him.

Film critic Tom Shales once referred to a Batman sequel as a “wanging, clanging calliope from hell”. I often get the same impression from television ads, as I fumble for my remote’s ‘mute’ button before the onslaught begins.  Yet every once in a great while, an ad will rise above the white noise and actually transcend the fetid swamp of commercial television. Consider the magical 90 seconds of Oreo’s “Wonderfilled” ad that debuted during a recent episode of Mad Men.

Between the networks and first-run syndication, there are currently 20 daytime talk shows vying for viewers every weekday morning and afternoon. They’re a wide assortment of hosts covering a wide assortment of topics. They range from The View to Jerry Springer to Maury, Dr. Oz, Dr. Phil, Wendy Williams, Steve Wilkos, Jeremy Kyle, The Doctors, Ellen, Rachel Ray, Anderson, The Talk, The Chew, Katie, Steve Harvey, and Live with Kelly and Michael, among others.