Even with a basic plot in each episode, Program is a pretty loose collection of jokes, some of which are repurposed from Silverman's stand-up act. She certainly doesn't pull back on the aggressively offensive stance of her comedy, and even ups the ante with some of the events on the show (in the first episode, her character has sex with God). But as many comedians, from the mediocre to the brilliant, have learned over the years, a stand-up comedy persona doesn't always translate well to a sitcom persona, at least not without some tweaking.
Silverman's stage persona is off-putting but successful, because her jokes challenge accepted notions about race and gender. Part of the enjoyment of watching Silverman onstage comes from knowing that she can't possibly believe the things she says; if she did, she'd be a reprehensible human being. But the problem with Program is that Silverman's reprehensible stage persona is incarnated in a character who then interacts with other, generally nice and likeable characters, thus transforming from someone viewed at an ironic distance into someone you'd just like to slap around a little.
There's a way to build a successful show around characters who are bad people—FX's It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia is the pinnacle of comedy about appealing assholes. The trick is to wrap the unpleasant behavior in a charming character, but Silverman's trademark faux-naïve, baby-voiced delivery sounds so insincere that it's hard to find her character believable, let alone appealing.
Not that there isn't humor to be found in the way the monumentally insensitive and selfish Silverman character interacts with her world—but shoehorned into a narrative structure, the limitations of Silverman's comedy become all too obvious, and the show loses any sort of cohesion. It's sometimes very funny, but it's just as often irritating and repetitive, something that Silverman will have to overcome if she's ever going to move beyond stand-up.