Psych

I didn’t think I was psychic until I watched Psych and found that I could foresee every plot twist and every crime’s solution. On the one hand, this makes the show a real confidence booster, because I’m really stupid when it comes to solving mysteries; on the other, it means that Psych is extremely predictable.

Predictable and — how’s this for dual disincentives? — led by an incredibly unappealing character named Shawn Spencer (James Roday), one of those TV creations who sport permanent three-day stubble and don casual wear that’s too expensive for a guy who’s supposed to be a loser (just ask his policeman dad, played with fine asperity by Corbin Bernsen). Still, every woman around thinks he’s a devilishly sexy little scamp.

Actually, more scam than scamp, Shawn has been trained since boyhood by his cop pop to notice everything around him (we see flashbacks in which Dad asks Shawn to close his eyes and tell him how many people in the room are wearing hats, along with other fun games that would drive a normal kid to grow up and become a postal postal worker). As a result of this drilling, Shawn can pick up clues faster than normal detectives. He convinces a Santa Barbara police division that he’s a psychic; they hire him to solve crimes. He starts a business with his friend (poor West Winged Dulé Hill, in another thankless second-banana role) called… wait, don’t think hard, you know it…Psych. Better show title? Monk for Morons.