Dearest Emily,
My wonderful, beautiful girl,whom I am dating casually—I write to you with awful news. Just as we feared, the Streaming Wars are upon us, and they are as horrific as their name suggests. Now that Disney+ and Apple TV+ have dropped their programming bombs upon our homes, we are officially engaged in the most gruesome conflict our generation has ever seen. We’ve all been conscripted as soldiers in this fight—men, women, and children alike, forced to stand up for the content we believe in or risk its brutal demise. You remember what it was like when they rebooted “Murphy Brown” only to swiftly cancel it? The stakes could not be higher.
Already we have given so much of our lives to these services, and yet they only ask more of our bodies, our souls, our minds, and, of course, our money. Eight dollars here, five dollars there, twelve dollars over there. The financial and emotional toll is unspeakable.
Emily, please send word on how you and yours are faring as soon as you can. I am afraid that,as you belong to a Hulu, Disney+, HBO Max, and Crackle family, and I hail from a Netflix, Apple TV+, Amazon Prime, and CBS All Access clan, we may find ourselves across enemy lines—and I probably can’t make it to that work thing you have on the 27th.
Yours,
Caleb
My sweet Emily,
As the harsh reality of war continues to make itself known, I can’t help but wonder if those spearheading these content attacks from their offices in Los Angeles understand the implications of their actions on our daily lives. Each week, it’s another reboot. Prequels, sequels, and spinoffs as far as the eye can see. It’s chaos.
In times like these, we should be more united than ever, but instead these attacks drive us apart, forging an impossible divide between us. People ask me how I can call someone who does not watch, who could not watch, “The Good Fight” my bae? (Seriously, though, it’s really good, Emily, and I wish you’d give it a chance.) My bosses say, “Hey, can you stop watching TV while you work? Or we’re going to have to fire you soon.” Like I can focus on work when there is a war going on!
How I long to Netflix and chill with you, Emily. Like in the old days, before the Streaming Wars, when there were only a couple of services and hundreds of cable channels and thousands of hours of YouTube videos to peruse. But perhaps it is naïve of me to romanticize simpler times in this way.
Yours,
Caleb
Emily,
What the fuck is Peacock?
Caleb
Darling Emily,
As I type this to you, my eyes burn, my fingers cramp. Day in and day out, I remain glued to my screen, trying to consume all the content that is being delivered to me, but it is just not physically possible. My contact lenses have been seared into my eyes from lack of removal. However, I know I am lucky. I can only imagine the gruesome injuries that others have sustained from their hours of bingeing.
Among my kin, the Streaming Wars have been hardest on my brother. Overwhelmed by choices, he has sworn off television altogether, choosing to neglect his patriotic duty. He’s going to read books, he says. Like books are anything but TV shows that haven’t been optioned by Reese Witherspoon yet!
He’ll forever be pitied, viewed as a scourge upon society. No one will have a way to find common ground with him, because he hasn’t seen “Tiger King” or “The Mandalorian.” He doesn’t even know what a Quibi is. How will future generations judge us if we sit on the sidelines, allowing the golden age of television to go unwatched?
Which brings me to the question: Have you been receiving my messages? You emphasized my last text, which I appreciate, but that does not quite count as a reply.
All best,
Caleb
Faithful Emily,
At long last, the Streaming Wars have come to an end! Amazon has merged with Netflix (which had already merged with HBO and Apple), and all were acquired by Disney. Finally, there is one centralized place to watch everything, owned by one corporation that will only grow richer with each passing day—the way things should be.
But, my sweetheart, I fear you may have fallen victim to the Streaming Wars. Or perhaps you’ve been a little busy since Viacom eliminated your role in their merger with CBS? In any event, if you are still receiving these missives and a celebratory mood strikes you, please, send nudes.
Yours,
Caleb
The very day that the Streaming Wars came to an end, Caleb died from dehydration. However, his story will soon be forever immortalized in a Crackle limited series, executive-produced by Reese Witherspoon.
