In my view everything that’s been popular on Netflix, or other streaming services, has been tiresome or unremarkable. Tiger King, the morally bankrupt cat-breeding documentary series, took over the platform at the end of March, but an adaptation of the beloved Baby-Sitters Club book series released in June was a genuine delight. Of course, the proliferation of second-rate content predates the pandemic: Who could forget Bird Box, the baffling Sandra Bullock thriller that raked in viewers largely because of its memeability? (I can, thankfully.) No matter how eye-roll-worthy the premise or execution of these productions, I understand their appeal. There’s something inordinately comforting about letting the algorithm decide for you, relinquishing the burden of choice to an external force. There’s a kind of utility in lists that do that and offer a window into what shows other, similarly stressed people are letting wash over them, if only for two minutes. Even outside of the stylist’s chair, I’m still a captive audience—and so are you.