The 10 Worst Shows Of 2015

Despite a stellar cast featuring Steve Coogan, Bradley Whitford, Ellen Barkin and Kathryn Hahn, Showtime's "comedy" about an insufferable ad exec conflicted by a mid-life crisis was consistently smug — and proud of it. Perhaps the biggest mistake of all was moving forward without Phillip Seymour Hoffman, though he couldn't have done much to elevate such dreck. 

When it comes to ABC's long-running reality dating series, half the fun of watching — nay, 75 percent of it — comes in the form of catty contestants who aren't afraid to throw each other under the bus if it means getting that final rose. That wasn't the case with The Bachelorette's 11th season, which turned into an endless, uninteresting face-off between Nick Viall and Shawn Booth. Neither suitor was particularly compelling to watch, and Kaitlyn Bristowe's "accidental" Snapchat photos, which revealed Shawn as the winner weeks in advance, made the entire cycle a bore to behold.

This dud of a sudser was set in the current day — not that you'd know that from its ridiculous laundromat dreams and shantytown, which couldn't have felt less contemporary. North Dakota may have struck it rich with the oil boom, but the wannabe Dallas drama came up empty.

How much cash did TNT shell out to Sharon Stone for starring in this dreary drama about a vice president who discovers in her first day on the job that her main responsibility is teaming up with her butler and one hot, ass-kicking operative to execute off-the-books missions around the globe? Hopefully, a new summer home or an additional wing on her mansion was worth suffering through leaden action sequences, clunky dialogue and absurd gaps in logic.

Fox placed its summer hopes on this cataclysmically stupid series in which celebrities arrived at the doors of "unsuspecting" Americans to play games, win prizes and (in the process) make host Ryan Seacrest an even wealthier and inescapable figure. Honestly, having Jehovah's Witnesses ring your doorbell at 7 am would be more welcome — and entertaining — than this Hindenburg-level disaster, which only lasted two episodes.

Premiering on a Friday in April wasn't the only thing that kept The Messengers from achieving greatness. The supernatural drama was plagued by all sorts of problems during its 13-episode run, including awkward pacing, an overly melodramatic plot and a major identity crisis. (The network didn't want to market it as a religious-themed show, but considering it was literally about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, why couldn't they just call a spade a spade?) It was enough to make your head — or at least your face — spin.

On paper, this Ellen Degeneres-produced groaner about a guy who artificially inseminates his lesbian BFF, only to find himself married to a buxom, British stranger five minutes later — wacky! — felt more like a sitcom-spoof poster you'd see hanging on the wall at 30 Rock than a real series. And yet, it aired for six desperately strained episodes — before stars Elisha Cuthbert and Nick Zano (and all of America) were freed from its prison of clichés.

Tell us again why we should care that a really pervy town official who worked for an even pervier group of high-powered men had his eyes burned out of his skull? Or why three cops — plus a mobster who speaks like an oracle — are the saddest human beings that ever walked the planet? Or why we had to sit through the most awkward father-son bonding heretofore captured on film? Or why that orgy scene was even necessary? Or why a series so sharp and stunning in its first season became a hackneyed punchline in its second? The best way to sum up our disappointment in the HBO drama's second iteration is by quoting Frank Semyon himself: "It's like blue balls. In your heart."

If we were to rank the 2015-16 freshman series by vaguest titles, Truth Be Told would surely top the list. Too bad we can't turn back the clock to a time when the NBC sitcom was nothing more than a nebulous idea in our minds — rather than an aggressively unfunny explosion of jokes about boobs, lube and black penises — punctuated by an obnoxious laugh track. Truth be told, we saw this series' shortened episode order coming a mile away.

The following things were actually spotted in Under the Dome's third and final season: Goo-filled cocoons, a radioactive egg, and an alien-possessed Marg Helgenberger seducing the barely legal Junior. Given the CBS drama's waning ratings, it seemed pretty likely that Season 3 would be its last — but rather than address its many unanswered questions (what did it mean if Julia was the monarch?!), the series introduced wacky, convoluted storylines that barely kept us intrigued. After investing three consecutive summers in the Stephen King adaptation, what a crisp slap it was to have that dome removed and learn it hadn't been covering a sumptuous feast, but merely a pile of excrement.