The first warning shot came with WWE. Not the wrestling itself—that was a sacred institution of sweat and theater—but the way it warped the American psyche. The masses, bloated on beer and potato chips, swallowed the kayfabe like it was gospel, cheering for cartoon villains while the world burned outside their double-wide trailers. Meanwhile, I laughed. Why not? I had a cushy job and a career trajectory straighter than a televangelist’s tie.

But then came The Jerry Springer Show—a mutant carnival of screaming, chair-throwing subhumans—broadcast into every living room like some CIA psy-op designed to shatter dignity at the molecular level. I rolled my eyes. My prospects were still good. I had faith.

Then Survivor hit the airwaves: a corporate gladiator arena for the economically stable, training viewers to stab each other in the back for a shot at a million-dollar payday. This was no accident. It was a blueprint, a cultural beta test for a society about to be gutted by layoffs and turned into gig workers. I laughed nervously. The writing was on the wall.

American Idol wasn’t about singing. It was about marketing a sob story. Every audition became a miniature tale of hardship and triumph—engineered, scripted, and sold. I shrugged. My career was wobbling but still standing.

Then came the Kardashians, a family engineered in the devil’s laboratory. They weren’t people—they were brands, living advertisements for unattainable wealth, surgically enhanced bodies, and the glorification of self-interest. I rolled my eyes again, but it felt hollow. My job wasn’t cushy anymore, and career prospects were starting to look like ghosts in a fog.

The Bachelor, 90 Day Fiancé, TikTok challenges—each new iteration pushed us further into the abyss. Contestants sold their dignity for fleeting fame. Viewers soaked it up, learning that everything, even love, was just another transaction. I groaned and laughed bitterly, clocking in at two jobs with 0.1 career prospects.

And then the AI influencers arrived. No souls, no flaws, just pixel-perfect personas selling happiness, beauty, and salvation for the low price of everything you’ve got. By then, I wasn’t laughing or groaning—I was too busy working three jobs for a chatbot boss that didn’t exist.

The Corporate Plan for Mass Stupidity

If you wanted to hoover profits and crush the human spirit in the most efficient way possible, you’d give the people reality TV. Forget scripted dramas or educational programming—those cost too much. No, you’d serve up a smorgasbord of cheap sensationalism and let the masses gorge themselves into oblivion. It’s not entertainment. It’s strategy.

Start with distraction: While jobs are outsourced, wages stagnate, and housing costs soar, people are glued to Keeping Up with the Kardashians, watching Kim cry over a lost diamond earring while eating instant noodles in their studio apartment.

Then normalize the chaos: Shows like Survivor and The Bachelor teach viewers that cutthroat competition is the natural state of things. You’re not a victim of a rigged system; you’re just not trying hard enough.

Glamorize inequality. Let the Kardashians flaunt their absurd wealth while Jerry Springer shows you what happens if you slip: broken families, fistfights, and a steady descent into caricature. Between these poles, you learn to fear failure but worship success—even if the success is fake.

And through it all, push consumption. Every frame of reality TV screams at you to buy something: the clothes, the diet plans, the surgeries, the lifestyle. Forget savings, forget stability—just consume.

Finally, erode the value of expertise. Why work hard when a TikTok influencer makes more in a week than you do in a year? Why listen to scientists or educators when reality TV stars set the cultural agenda?

In the end, the people become docile, distracted, and divided. They’re too busy laughing at TikTok challenges or groaning at 90 Day Fiancé to notice that their jobs are gone, their wages are stagnant, and their futures are being sold for ad revenue.

It’s not just entertainment—it’s a full-scale cultural lobotomy, brought to you by corporations that want you numb, dumb, and compliant. And the worst part? Most of us are too entertained to care.

It’s not fear and loathing anymore. It’s fear and scrolling.