There was a point last summer that I swore off cop shows. My wife and I were in the middle of Brooklyn Nine-Nine because we just wanted to watch something that we didn’t have to put too much thought into — until, all of a sudden, we were thinking about it too much. Given everything I was seeing in real life, I didn’t want to watch police shows.

Except Columbo. I’d normally feel bad about being a hypocrite, but as I found out, I was far from the only one with a jones for spending roughly 74 to 100 minutes of my day watching a rich person commit a crime, then watching Peter Falk slowly break down the person who did it.