Dr. Phil's old-school, blame-the-individual approach to behavioral ails absolves viewers from looking at the ugly fissures in American society as a whole.

If there is any guilty pleasure more delightfully mundane than the double-dip of playing hooky from work and taking in an afternoon episode of Dr. Phil, I have yet to discover it. Truly, the man is all things too all people -- broad shouldered and overtly manly, charmingly southern yet somehow affably patrician, shockingly blunt yet delightfully helpful. Yes, the "tell-it-like-it-is," "get real" Doc is my favourite talking head, dropped in our living rooms by the golden talons of Oprah herself, his ring of receding hair a crown signifying both wisdom and omnipotence.

Though he first appeared on Oprah in 1998 (following his involvement in her legal battle with Texas cattlemen), the Good Doctor has, in fact, only had his own syndicated eponymous program since 2002. Think about that: ubiquity in less than five years. My kingdom for a talk show. Guiltily yet frequently, I've watched him since then, baffled by my interest but not alone. Along with middle America, I tune in to Dr. Phil with many others who should know better: friends who hate TV, educated, media-savvy colleagues -- hell even my own mother, who despite a psych degree, admits to watching with her hands over her eyes. But this week, I'm tuning out for good.

Like others, I blanched at his show originally. Dr. Phil McGraw's social-Darwinist, ostensibly behaviorist psychology, was premised on the fact (few of us remember this, now) that too many families get divorced. There seemed to be something stiflingly right wing about him and his show, preaching predominately old-fashioned family values to white, upper-middle-class housewives. And the show has, as R. Danielle Egan and Read More

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