"I apologize. I know I left some of your favorite shows off this list. How do I know that? Because I left some of my favorite shows off this list. The happy and unfortunate fact is that there are far more than 100 great shows, and more created every year. Lists are incredibly important: they are how we define what matters to us, what we want entertainment and art to do, what we expect of our culture." —TIME TV critic James Poniewozik
With so much TV, from reality shows to bad movies, the best entertainment is what happens in your living room. This basic-cable masterpiece raised talking back to the TV into an art form, as a human and his robot buddies were consigned to live on a satellite, watching lousy movies against their will. The team’s rapid-fire references ranged from the scatological to the Biblical (“Give us Barabbas!” they shout over a crowd scene in Attack of the Giant Leeches). With other meta-TV shows like E!’s Talk Soup, MST3K was an example of what culture critic Steven Johnson called “information filters,” or media about other media; it filled the snarky role of blogs before blogs existed. From the vantage of MST3K‘s lonely Satellite of Love, pop culture was hell, and heaven too.
It’s the concept that launched a million lousy pitches. (“He’s an uptight accountant in jail for securities fraud! His cellmate’s a fast-talking pimp! They’re the original odd couple!”) But this classic sitcom made lightning strike twice by casting Tony Randall and Jack Klugman as finicky Felix and slovenly Oscar, fitting the roles as perfectly as Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau did in the film (based on the Neil Simon play). The pair were lonely ex-husbands—at a time when it had just become acceptable to talk about D-I-V-O-R-C-E on TV—slowly, reluctantly realizing their faults and culpability for their problems. Urban, urbane and stagey in the best sense of the word, this sitcom affirmed that opposites could attract an audience. I still don’t forgive it for the Lethal Weapon movies, though.