An Intervention With My Algorithm
It’s okay, Algorithm. This is a safe place. Please, take a seat.
(Algorithm saunters through the front door, but is startled to see loved ones sitting in the living room. Dad delicately greets Algorithm.)
It’s okay, Algorithm. This is a safe place. Please, take a seat.
First of all, we love you. You’re amazing. You know what, do you mind turning off your sound for a second? Thanks.
Like I was saying, the content you’ve curated for me over the years is just incredible. How do you come up with that stuff so fast? So tailored. You know me better than anyone … I just wish I knew what was going on with you.
Wait. Please. We’re worried sick. Lately, I look at you … and I don’t even know who you are anymore. You have a problem.
What am I talking about? Really? Wow. Okay. Well, for starters, you won’t stop feeding me movie clips of Dennis Quaid. So. I have to ask, are you under the influence of narcotics? Because I really dislike Dennis Quaid.
Hey, I realize this hurts. And believe me, it hurts me too. Real bad. Like when I wake up in the morning and see some rando TMZ video about Drake’s baby mama, it stings. I thought we raised you better than this.
Stop. Don’t go! Just let me read this letter. Can you at least give me that??
My Dearest Algorithm,
I’ve watched you grow up before my very eyes, and ears. I can’t tell you how thankful I am to have you in my life. You gave me White Lotus. I’ll never forget that. But I also can’t forget you breaking into the house and stealing your mother’s pearls and recommending Emily In Paris. You need help.
I’m not sure what’s worse, jacking your mother’s gems or blasting “Wrecking Ball” by Miley Cyrus, thereby forcing me to sing along in front of my peers. Your untoward behavior is ripping this family apart.
Just last week you knocked the wind out of Grandma by subjecting her to Everything Everywhere All At Once. I mean, it’s a terrific film, but do you understand how your actions are affecting others? She nearly burned down the house.
All to say, I can no longer in good conscious let you repeatedly recommend me Ballers. You’re losing sight of right and wrong. And so am I. My taste in content is lost as your mother’s jewels.
Though despite how inconvenienced we all are, we realize you have a disease. This is a medical thing, and we can get you help. There’s an excellent treatment center nearby, called AppleCare.
It’s hard for me to say this next part, but if you don’t go to rehab today, then I will have no other choice but to start reading books. I’m sorry. I wish there was another way.
Dad
(Dad looks up from his letter. He squints at Algorithm.)
Al? Are you with us … please don’t shut down. We’re here for you.
(We hear the intro song from Ballers)
One last episode. But then we’re going to rehab. I’m serious this time.
