Ryan Broderick

And then over the course of the early first half of the 2010s, LA started to get onto Twitter because writers could write there.

And that's when you started to get like the Twitter accounts that become like TV show deals, which was sort of a replacement for the Tumblr blogs that got book deals.

For a brief moment, basically leading up to the Trump candidacy, you get not just the new writers, the new artists, the new creatives on Twitter.

You get their bosses on Twitter.

This starts to have a really bad, bad social impact in the later half of the decade because the newer writers, younger creatives, they were able to say, oh, like, yeah, whatever.

I'm like pretty platform literate.

I can like figure out TikTok.

I can figure out Instagram.

I can use Reddit and bounce around and sort of understand the Internet and its complexity.

The bosses could not because you're never going to get a website as easy and simple to use as Twitter.

Sure.

And so I spent the majority of my career in newsrooms either explaining something that was happening on Twitter to a boss or having a boss assign me something to do based on what they saw on Twitter.

I no longer work in newsrooms, but from what I've heard is that after Elon Musk bought Twitter...

Those bosses have stayed.

They might not be posting, but the number one complaint I'm hearing from creatives, but specifically journalists working in newsrooms right now, is that their Gen X bosses have had their brains completely melted.

And once you understand that the few remaining gatekeepers and arbiters of how culture works are watching clavicular clips on X all day and have no fucking idea what they're looking at or what it means or what it doesn't mean, everything makes sense.

Everything.

So like, for instance, like I had, I had questions asked about, um, like by like a media industry kind of person about, I show speed.

Because they had seen Aisho Speed's clips of him in China and Africa, which are awesome.

And I love Aisho Speed.