It’s felt like an oversight for the Nobel Prize committee to have not yet honored whoever created the technology that allows us to skip ads.
It’s not world peace or penicillin, but pressing that number below a curved arrow or condensing five commercials into a 7-second flipbook grants millions an ephemeral self-determination, the tiniest reclamation of their time and impulses.
YouTube recently recommended I watch a vintage college football game, one tied to intense memories even though I had never seen it.
All of the disparate emotions that arose when I clicked the video were dampened by the disappointment of it being longer than three hours, meaning the idiot who uploaded it didn’t edit out commercials.