Mention the name Dr. Phil and the bile rises to my nostrils — I dislike the man with a passion. Why? Who knows! Maybe in a former life he tried to curb my spending habit.

He is, to the best of my knowledge, one of the few people in the world who has a solid grasp on the obvious. His understanding of how humans operate versus how they should operate is pretty much always on the money. So why do I hate him so? Oh, that’s right, I remember now.

Three little words. He is RUDE.

Maybe he needs to be snert and churlish to get his message across. Maybe he likes belittling the most pompous blowhards on earth. Rearranging an adult’s thinking patterns is complicated business — for him, and possibly for his vict…er…guests, bludgeoning makes perfect sense.

But my diva senses prickled when I watched his show in its first season. I’ve not fully tuned in since, which is a shame, because the man otherwise makes tremendous sense. To tell you the truth, some of the most satisfying learning experiences I’ve had with any television show have been in the last five minutes of his episodes.

The last five minutes.

I can do without the sob stories, the horrid home videos, the aim-and-shoot-at-point-blank-range. Just give me the summation at the end of the segment. I’ll learn my lesson without having to suffer through the preceding ninteen minutes.

But if you’re the type that enjoys knowing you’re not nearly as wretched as the other people on his show, feel free to tune in. I’ll be out back writing another ascerbic entry for this site. Don’t forget to call for me, though, during the final commercial break.