This week:
- We’re paying for Taylor’s wedding.
- Cracker Barrel took over our lives.
- Carlos, what did you do?!
- A perfect trailer.
- Barbie always speaks the truth.
Time to Shell Out Some Cash
It is against every cynical impulse and curmudgeonly part of my DNA to be earnestly excited over the news that Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce are engaged.
Should we care this much about what these two rich idiots are doing with their lives? Absolutely not. Does it feel good, at a time when every push alert I get on my phone is about some civil liberty being stripped, children being shot, and World War III being on the precipice, to receive one that’s just “Hey, These Two Famous People Are Getting Married”? Absolutely yes.
This is going to be our country’s royal wedding, as I wrote the day when the news dropped. (Read that piece here. Give me the clicks!)
It’s so rare for there to be news that everyone cares about. And everyone, from my parents to my coworkers to my barista, has mentioned this engagement to me at some point this week. The rare occasion of being united around a one story brings out the best of us, which in my world means people being hilarious on social media.
That is how I learned that Swifties are taking on the responsibility of paying for Travis and Taylor’s wedding.
Are they kidding? I hope so, but can’t be sure. I would be foolish to assign a sense of humor to the Swifties. But, to me, at least, it’s hilarious: This idea that this couple who is worth over a billion dollars is expecting me, who just paid for toilet paper at CVS with a credit card, to fund their wedding.
The theory is stemming from the fact that Swift has been launching incessant (and frankly exhausting) countdowns to different versions of vinyls of her upcoming album, The Life of a Showgirl. The snarky assumption is that she is doing so many releases because she needs the cash. And she did just drop hundreds of millions of dollars to buy back the masters of her recordings.
It is shocking to me the amount of money fans are willing to spend in support of their favorite artists. I type that bitterly, as I’ve spent the last week jealously watching people’s Instagram Stories of Lady Gaga’s concerts in New York, which are apparently some of the best shows she’s ever put on; the cheapest ticket I could find (and did not purchase) was over $500.
But there are those who are willing to shell out, and I don’t judge. I appreciate how candid they are about it, which is why I’ve been so tickled by this sidebar of the engagement news that Swifties are ready to do whatever they need to in order to pay for this wedding.
“Announce those tour dates i am ready to pay for that wedding,” one fan posted on X. “HELP TAYLOR AND TRAVIS PAY FOR THEIR WEDDING DAY BY PRE-ORDERING THE LIFE OF A SHOWGIRL NOW!,” another fan wrote in all-caps.
The idea of paying for the wedding became a delightful viral trend on social media:
I used to fear the Swifties. Now I admire them. They own the ludicrous level of their obsession. I applaud that. Taylor, tell me who to Venmo. I look forward to seeing your dress.
How Is This What We Care About?
I have fond memories of my childhood eating at Cracker Barrel.
There was the time I threw up in the parking lot after a meal before even making it from the table to the car. And then the time that I missed the first 20 minutes of a No Doubt concert because it took an hour and a half to get the food that we ordered.
Nothing but nostalgia and good vibes.
I don’t know how or why this restaurant that hypnotized us into thinking that sitting in rocking chairs during an endless wait for a table and playing that silly golf tee game during an endless wait for food was an “event” is somehow now the cornerstone of American values and politics.
The fact that an entire week’s news cycle has centered around its logo and what politicians have to say about it is truly wild to me. It’s as dumb as the similar level of attention being paid to male cheerleaders in the NFL. Have you ever seen the passion with which a straight man roots for his team during football season? It’s about the gayest thing I can imagine. But men dancing is a step too far. Sure…
I cover Real Housewives, Taylor Swift, and movies for a living. I have a pretty low bar for what’s “important.” But even this is testing me.
I Am Struggling
I received multiple texts this week from close friends, empathetically asking, “How are you doing?”
They were referring, of course, to Carlos Alcaraz’s haircut.
The tennis champion and bonafide stud shocked the world when he debuted a horrendous buzzcut at the U.S. Open. Apparently his brother messed up while cutting his hair—which raises questions like “why is an incredibly rich athlete and Calvin Klein model relying on his brother to cut his hair?”
I’m a Carlito through and through. But man, this is rough.
The Perfect Trailer
If you want to know what high art looks like, I compel you to watch the just-released trailer for the new season of The Real Housewives of Potomac.
There’s a Movie Clip for Everything
Barbie tried to warn us!
More From The Daily Beast’s Obsessed
The Alien: Earth eyeball monster is the creepiest thing on television. Read more.
Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce are giving the U.S. its royal wedding. Read more.
This is the most heartbreaking episode of TV so far this year. Read more.
What to watch this week:
The Toxic Avenger: The gnarly cult classic gets a modern update. (Now in theaters)
Caught Stealing: Austin Butler is a grungy force of nature in this new flick. (Now in theaters)
The Thursday Murder Club: A genuine delight! (Now on Netflix)
What to skip this week:
The Roses: Turns out Olivia Colman can’t save every movie she’s in. (Now in theaters)
