Today, entertainment is a communal event, even when we are alone. We watch a tense episode of The Last of Us on the TV while scrolling X (formerly Twitter) on our phones to see the memes roll in live. We pause Succession to text a friend a reaction GIF.
Ten years ago, Friday nights were defined by whatever was on the three major networks. Today, we suffer from "paralysis of choice." Netflix, TikTok, YouTube, Spotify, Twitch, and a dozen streaming services are all screaming for our attention simultaneously. TrueAnal.20.10.21.Ashley.Lane.Loves.Anal.XXX.72...
We have seen fans harass directors because a movie didn't go the way they wanted (looking at you, Star Wars fandom). We see people adopt the speaking patterns of streamers or characters to the point where they lose their own voice. Today, entertainment is a communal event, even when
We have realized that watching a Real Housewives reunion requires just as much emotional intelligence (tracking alliances, grudges, and gaslighting) as watching Killers of the Flower Moon . Pop music is no less "art" than classical. Ten years ago, Friday nights were defined by
We are living in the golden age of too much .
So, keep streaming. Keep scrolling. Keep debating who would win in a fight between a Marvel hero and a Jedi.
This has splintered popular culture. We no longer have five major celebrities; we have thousands of micro-celebrities. The "Watercooler Moment"—where everyone at the office watched the same broadcast last night—is dead. In its place are thousands of passionate, specific sub-communities on Discord and Reddit. Perhaps the best development in modern entertainment is the death of "highbrow vs. lowbrow."