CBS News’ editor-in-chief has pledged to “speak for the seventy-five per cent” of people on the center right and the center left; the reality is different.
On October 6, 1993, five-year-old Austin Messner accidentally burned down his mobile home in Moraine, Ohio, which resulted in his two-year-old sister, Jessica Matthews, being killed. Austin had reportedly been playing with a lighter when he inadvertently set fire to his bed. “There was smoke everywhere, I tried to make it past my bedroom door, but the flames were too much,” said Austin’s mother, Darcy Burk, while recounting the story in 2011. “I had to jump out my window.”
Darcy quickly pointed the finger at Beavis and Butt-Head for inspiring the deadly blaze, citing Beavis’s well-known fascination with fire. As she tells it, Austin’s babysitter allowed him to watch the show, and he would go around imitating the characters’ signature laughs. MTV responded to the controversy by moving the series to a later time slot so that kids were less likely to see it. They also went back and removed all the fire references from earlier episodes.
But that wasn’t enough for Darcy, who was quoted as saying that she wanted Beavis and Butt-Head “completely off the air.” Furthermore, Darcy vowed that she would do everything she could to see that the show was canceled. However, MTV’s Carole Robinson pushed back against Darcy’s assertion that the series was to blame, telling the press, “I think the fire was an unbelievable, terrible tragedy. But we do not feel the program is responsible.”
For his part, Beavis and Butt-Head creator Mike Judge echoed Robinson’s sentiments when it came to the show being held accountable. “First of all, I don’t agree with any of that [kind of criticism] and I don’t take any responsibility for any of it at all,” Judge told The Spokesman-Reviewin 1996. “They didn’t get cable [in the trailer park where the fire occurred],” he continued. “No one mentioned that when the story was getting inflated.”
Steve Burns hosted the Nickelodeon series Blue’s Clues for four seasons between 1996 and 2002, which is pretty weird, considering he was supposed to have died in 1998. That was the year rumors started making the rounds—for whatever reason—that Burns had passed away from a heroin overdose. In other versions of the story, he’d either committed suicide or been killed in a car accident. But as it turns out, this is just another one of the internet’s favorite urban legends.
While appearing on Rainn Wilson’s Soul Boom podcast last year, Burns revealed that he was in the “throes of depression” when he left Blue’s Clues in 2002, and speculation about his death was not what he wanted to be hearing. “When a rumor like that persists for three or four years, it stops being funny,” Burns explained. “When it persists for 10 years it feels like a cultural preference,” he continued. “When it persists for 15 or 20 years, you start to feel like you’re supposed to be [dead].”
Steve From ‘Blue’s Clues’ Wasn’t Dead, but the Rumors Nearly Broke Him
Following his departure from the show, Burns turned to alcohol and barely left his Brooklyn home. “I didn’t recognize me,” the actor told Wilson. “Everyone thought I was dead, and eventually I started playing along.” But although the experience took a toll on Burns as time went on, he said that he learned one valuable lesson from it: “Never Google myself.”
Nowadays, the rumors have died down significantly (no pun intended), but Burns still finds himself addressing them on occasion. However, he opts to treat them with playful humor at this point in his life. For example, Burns’s current Instagram handle is @steveburnsalive. And just to make it perfectly clear to his hundreds of thousands of followers, Burns posted a picture of himself in 2024 sporting a shirt that says, “Not dead yet”:
Earlier this year, an AI agent powered by Claude basically wiped out a person’s entire company by deleting the code that made the business run. It was pretty funny. Sad, but funny. Well, it happened again, but instead of deleting vital code, an AI agent deleted an entire upcoming season of a TV show.
According to reports from Swedish newspaper Aftonbladet, production company Mastiff gave an AI agent access to their servers while putting the final touches on The Challenge Sverige, Sweden’s version of the MTV reality show that feels like it’s been on the air here in the States for at least a century.
‘The Challenge Sverige’ Lost Its Entire Edited Season. Now It Has to Be Rebuilt.
According to the Swedish publication, the AI wiped out the entire edited season just five weeks before it was scheduled to air on November 22. No backup was available to restore the files, so weeks of editing vanished into thin air thanks to an AI agent that is basically also thin air.
The show’s broadcaster, TV4, has been forced to push the premiere date back into 2027 as post-production crews scramble to re-edit every single episode from scratch. The show’s host, Ahmed Berhan, seems to be taking the disaster in stride, telling Aftonbladet, “I knew AI would be the death of me” and “some days you just have to accept that you’re living in a f*cking sitcom.”
If you were asked to select the most unsettling television theme song ever composed, what would you go with? In the event that your answer ends up being Unsolved Mysteries, literally nobody on the planet is gonna have an argument for you. Not one person. However, should you be in the rare position of not knowing what we’re talking about right now, go ahead and listen to the terrifying intro music below—and, for Christ’s sake, turn on a light first.
Composers Gary Malkin and Michael Boyd wrote that haunting little tune you just heard back in the 1980s, and it’s been striking fear into the hearts of everyone who’s listened to it since. Believe it or not, even Malkin himself wasn’t immune to the song’s chilling effects. While speaking with the Los Angeles Timesin 2020, Malkin recalled that after spending countless hours on the score and watching reenactments of murders and abductions in the process, he couldn’t get the melody out of his head. “I was destroyed for weeks,” he revealed, “I had horrible nightmares.”
Why the ‘Unsolved Mysteries’ Theme Still Gives You the Creeps
But Malkin was far from the only one his music gave the creeps to. As he tells it, the folks at NBC had to deal with quite a few complaints over the years regarding kids being freaked out by the show’s opening credits. “We used to get letters all the time from parents saying, ‘Could you please change the theme music? Our children are terrified of it,’” Malkin remembered.
As for what it is that makes the Unsolved Mysteries theme so eerie, Malkin explained that he and Boyd used an interval called the tritone (a.k.a. the devil’s interval), a dissonant combination that, according to musicologist Neil Lerner, creates a sense of tension, ambiguity, and instability. Evidently, religious songs from the Middle Ages and the Renaissance avoided the tritone because it made people feel uneasy. Malkin and Boyd were also inspired by the sinister music featured in earlier horror movies, like John Carpenter’s classic Halloween theme, for example.
While Christopher Abbott and Mike Faist duke it out as John Steinbeck’s Trask brothers, Florence Pugh’s Cathy is a gothic villain you can’t help but root for.
In 1971, Stanford psychology professor Philip Zimbardo set up a fake prison in the basement of a building at Stanford. Twenty-four male college students were selected at random to either be guards or prisoners. Zimbardo hired real police officers to "arrest" the students so that the experiment felt more real. — Read the rest
No matter how well-matched a couple is, every relationship brings with it some kind of compromise. In our household, one such compromise has resulted in me being a near scholar of the survival reality show Alone. I’ve hated camping for as long as I can remember and, in general, share Socrates’s preference for the city over the countryside. My Esteemed Partner is not the opposite by any means, but she would probably like to do more outdoor activities than we actually wind up doing. When we discovered Alone during the pandemic, that created an important release valve. She gets to indulge her fantasies of roughing it in the wilderness, while I get to apply my “always-on” analytical mind to a show that is in fact almost a parody of neoliberal individualism.
The premise is simple and cruel, taking the “skills-based” reality show paradigm to its logical limits. Contestants are dropped off in the remote wilderness, in the same region but far distant from each other. The winner is the one who is able to endure the isolation and deprivation the longest. All the contestants are in some sense survival experts, in many cases either living off the grid, providing instruction in survival, or both. Hence they have many skills that can help them extract some kind of living from the land. But few have the experience of extended periods of complete social isolation — perhaps we see here why the show became a hit during the pandemic? — and all of them are tormented by a complete lack of knowledge as to how many other contestants are still going and how long they may have to hold out.
Winning does not require holding out against death. Contestants receive periodic medical checks and can be extracted if their condition has dangerously deteriorated. (To my knowledge, no contestant has actually died, but part of me wonders if someone has and they just never showed the footage or acknowledged their existence.) Instead, they are holding out against the temptation to give up — an ever-present option. They are equipped with a satellite phone that allows them to “officially tap out,” the term of art for giving up. Within the space of an hour, a team shows up to film them sharing the vital life lessons they have learned from the experience and then to clean up their hard-won shelter so that it is as though they were never there.
The post-“tap out” filming is an exceptional moment — up until then, the contestants must film themselves. We occasionally get a glimpse of the quite imposing suitcase full of camera equipment they have to lug around in addition to their survival gear. Sometimes this gives them an advantage, for instance using the camera’s light for other purposes or setting up motion-detecting cameras to track animal habits. I assume that they have enough downtime that the work of setting up the shots, etc., doesn’t become excessively burdensome. But I suspect the act of filming is a double-edged sword. It gives them an imaginary friend to talk to (one contestant this year constantly addresses the camera as “you guys,” by which I assume she means the home audience), but sometimes the irony of constantly performing for an absent interlocutor seems to promote the inevitable spiral into abject loneliness.
I’m sure there is a lot to say about the subcultures that have grown up around the show, its effect on survivalist circles, the almost uncanny recurrence of the theme of a man leaving his very pregnant wife behind to be on the show, etc. I don’t know anything about that — I just know what I see on screen. And what I see is so perfectly, sublimely ideological that I almost suspect that Adorno is an executive producer. The surface-level content of the show is radically individualistic. Each of the contestants is completely isolated and forced to rely on their wits, their knowledge, and the limited kit of survival items they have cultivated. The contest appears to be a pure meritocracy, judged not by a fallible human being but by nature itself.
Yet seldom has there been a less “natural” setting. They are undertaking a task no human being has attempted or even would attempt. The places they are forced to survive in have, as far as I can tell, never been permanently inhabited by humans. Had they chosen to live there, they would not have done so in radical isolation, but in a group. There are no indigenous lifeways that involve shivering alone in a makeshift shelter north of the Arctic Circle or hunkering down under a tarp in the middle of a freak rainstorm in the South African desert. The scenario is, in short, completely contrived — it would only “really” come up as a result of a highly technologically-mediated event like a plane crash.
And their existence is itself highly technologically mediated. Their “tap out” phones depend on a network of satellites connected to the GPS system. They have an elite medical team on call at a moment’s notice. And the reason we can even see what they are doing is that they have a wide range of camera equipment — including extremely durable batteries and advanced solar cell technology — to capture them as they essentially generate endless video “content.” The material they are filming will be distributed on cable and streaming networks, but what they are doing is not essentially different from a TikTok influencer. In fact, many of them already are influencers — the “getting to know you” segments often include YouTube clips of their survival feats — and as the show has gone on, awareness of the past episodes and the surrounding social media discussion has deeply shaped how more recent contestants prepare. After the first few seasons, it became common for current contestants to name-drop past stars of the show, both as models and cautionary tales. The most radically individual experience is thus profoundly socially mediated.
The show is not without its pleasures. There is amusement in seeing an arrogant contestant brought low by his failure to catch any fish day after day. There is morbid fascination in getting a window into the minds of these certified weirdos (who else would even attempt such a thing?). And there can be moments of profound empathy when a bedraggled contestant drops out, unaware that they are one of the last two remaining and that their opponent is also hanging on by a thread.
As when watching obscure sports on the Olympics, one becomes an insta-expert, confidently judging the contestants’ choices. (My go-to commentary: Hunting big game? Always a mistake, absolute hubris. Fishing, only fishing!) But having seen almost all extant episodes, I cannot accept the notion that this is a contest of skill or merit. The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong. One rule of thumb, for instance, is that the person who builds the most effective shelter will always tap out shortly thereafter. As I have said, the contestants who get their food situation permanently “locked down” (by killing a big game animal and drying all the meat) wind up with an albatross around their neck — their sole task becomes to protect their horde from the various rodents and scavengers. And in the end, no one ever has “enough” food for the long haul. Winter comes, nature closes up shop, and the show becomes a “starvation contest” — a phenomenon that has itself entered the contestants’ patter. Along the way, competitors are more likely to be eliminated by sheer happenstance — as when an otherwise highly skilled Australian competitor’s boot came unglued shortly after he landed — than by any discrete mistake.
In the end, it is an emotional game, and few of us have the emotional resources to stand up to the boredom, deprivation, and isolation of this competition. Those who do seem to be either vaguely insane or — I don’t know how else to put it — a little bit stupid. A recent winner fit the latter description, letting every disappointment and setback roll over him, only once losing his temper (upon finding that the persistent marten he had nicknamed “Sassy” had yet again stolen his food cache), mostly passing the time by reciting self-help slogans and other banalities. He was not just the last man standing, he was the Last Man.
And yet one did not begrudge him. Indeed, we were rooting for him to prevail against the last holdouts. There is a certain satisfaction in seeing the person that the system has selected for. I have no doubt he would be an exemplary middle manager, an unflappable customer service rep. But at the end of the day, we were rooting for Sassy, the true winner — who received a life-changing jackpot from this man who had been forced to generate social media content at the outer reaches of the GPS network.
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