Last week, I wrote out an extensive 2025 in review and was hoping someone would reply in the comments explaining One Battle After Another or Geese or Joe Rogan, but no one said shit, which I assume means I was right about everything in 2025.
This bodes well for Season Three of NECo., which premieres Wednesday, where ten weeks of takes on Stranger Things, hauntology, Drag City, and more are sure to garner your praise and agreement. This season, I’ll be dropping episodes every two weeks. Hope y’all dig it.
But for now, some things I’m feeling, short but sweet this week because I’ve got to get a draft of S3E1 done by day’s end…
STRANGE STRANGER THINGS
I finally watched the entire final season, and I really enjoyed the somewhat ambiguous, choose-your-own-adventure ending. That is, until the internet went fucking crazy and Conformity Gate theories dominated my social feeds, usually reserved for lit journals begging to reject me, and Zohran.
I’ll get to this in more depth this week, but I’m torn between loving the fact that a show meant something to people again—or the first time since… I guess Game of Thrones, but I’m not a dragon guy—and being annoyed by the entitlement generation that demands everyone be satisfied by someone else’s art. That Stranger Things is an original IP makes me hopeful that one day we’ll have fewer Back to the Future musicals and more new ideas. Though there’s already an ST play on Broadway, so maybe not.
Revisiting the freedom and nostalgia of my 80s childhood in ST’s five seasons was something I don’t think I’ll get again, and I’m going to legit miss the world of Hakwins, Indiana. Will you?
HIS & HERS MINI-REVIEW
How can a series with the talent of Jon Bernthal, Tessa Thompson, and Bill Dubuque end up being such a contrived pile of nonsense? Was it written by the algorithm and AI’s bastard child? I feel like the intended audience for this was true crime tradwives and people who don’t think one Harlan Coben series a week is enough content. F
GEESE FOLLOW-UP
My niece told me to start with “Taxes” and “Au Pays du Cocaine,” and she was right. I don’t love them yet, but I’ve found my way in. More apace.
MARTY SUPREME MINI-REVIEW
My morality doesn’t allow me to watch a movie with cameos from Kevin O’Leary and John Catsimatidis. Also, I don’t get Timothee Chalamet. F
TWITTER/X
Because BlueSky doesn’t (yet) have an algorithmic quality that promotes community engagement, I thought I’d get back on Twitter/X. I lasted two days. It’s so angry, craven, and fascist. And I don’t need an app to find those things.
DCB DAY
Baby, we got dressed up… and went to the annual DCB Day at the Bowery Ballroom last week, celebrating the life and art of David Berman. Berman, for those who know me, is the most influential writer in my life, and his death in 2019 was heartbreaking. But this show fills me with the kind of hope that’s hard to muster in 2026. The crowd was younger than in previous years, and Hallelujah the Hills, Majesties, C’Mon Children, Butch Klotz, Ezra Furman, and others paid great tribute to DCB. January 4th is the only holiday I celebrate.
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