Intro: Mindless TV (Complimentary)

There is a new form of online shorthand in which someone makes a value judgment—such as the quality of a movie or a celebrity’s likeness—and then qualifies it with the word “complimentary” or “derogatory.” Some examples of this convention include:

• “They don’t make ‘em like this anymore (derogatory)”

• “The ultimate dad movie (complimentary)”

• “The ultimate plane movie (derogatory)”

This internet jargon turns subtext into text, so a joke will resonate in a digital space devoid of tonality. But the same dynamic also exists offline, where a speaker’s tone clarifies whether calling something a “dad movie” is meant as praise or criticism.

It’s with this in mind that I’ve noticed a new phenomenon: the rise of “mindless” TV (complimentary).

For much of television’s existence, calling this medium “mindless” was usually a critique of its content and the intellectual engagement required to consume lowbrow programming. A parent sees their child watching The Bachelor or The Masked Singer and derides them for watching “mindless” television (derogatory).

However, post-pandemic, I’ve noticed that people will describe a show’s appeal as “mindless,” with this practice going something like “This weekend I watched eight episodes of Is It Cake? while filing my taxes—it’s mindless but entertaining. I’d recommend it if you’re looking for a good background show!” Over the past thirty years, a program’s perceived mindlessness has actually become a selling point, at least for a specific type of viewing.

So today, we’ll explore the emergence of mindless TV (complimentary), examine the collection of behaviors that define this nascent phenomenon, and evaluate how this trend reflects our ever-changing relationship with television.

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A Definition for “Mindless TV”

Mindless TV is a low-engagement mode of media consumption in which television offers ambient comfort or emotional ease through easily digestible stimulation. To be clear, this phenomenon isn’t inherently bad—it’s simply a different way of using the medium.

Mindless TV isn’t defined by any one habit, but rather a collection of behaviors oriented around passive, comfort-driven viewership.

Notably, the term “mindless TV” has seen increased use in literature since the early 2000s, according to Google Ngram data. Whether the phrase is being used affectionately or critically is unknowable (though given the expression is appearing in books, I’m guessing it skews judgmental).

So what habits have fueled this shift in how people think about watching television?

Mindless TV Behavior #1: Repeat Episode Viewing & Comfort Shows

When I can’t decide what to watch, I’ll often revisit an episode of Parks & Recreation or Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives. My rationale for this behavior is twofold:

1. Finding new content is hard: I possess an irrational belief that I need to be watching “the best thing possible,” which usually leads to aimless scrolling through streaming catalogs in search of my new favorite show. Sometimes, I get fed up with myself, give up, and put on Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives because I’m supposed to be relaxing.

2. I find comfort in familiarity: I love watching Guy Fieri scarf down gut-busting sandwiches and come up with new ways of saying “yummy.” I also enjoy the creature comforts of Nick Offerman’s mustache. So what if I’ve seen Guy Fieri eat the same steak sandwich three times? Watching this man say “finger-lickin’ good” is like snuggling up in a warm blanket.

As is the case with all things, I am not unique. People love rewatching their favorite shows.

According to a 2023 YouGov survey, 69% of Americans rewatch TV episodes at least monthly, and 16% of viewers will revisit a beloved series daily.

When these respondents were asked why they repatronize content, they cited comfort, comedy, and relatability. Sometimes you just want to chuckle, or experience the ASMR-like sensation of watching a grown man with pineapple hair eat a deep-fried Oreo in rural Kansas.

At its core, serial rewatching reflects television’s increasing use as a tool for emotional regulation. A CableTV.com poll found that 87% of viewers have a designated “comfort show,” and 70% seek out these series during heightened periods of stress.

This impulse is what drove millions to binge-watch The Office during the pandemic. As television has become more embedded in daily life and beloved series are readily available on streaming platforms, the medium has become a mechanism for self-soothing. With a Peacock subscription or Amazon Prime episode rental, stabilizing stress relief (in the form of Nick Offerman’s facial hair) is only three clicks away.

Mindless TV Behavior #2: Multitasking

77% of Americans say they regularly use their phones while watching television. That fact alone isn’t surprising—what is fascinating is how both our brains and the entertainment industry have adapted to this phenomenon.

Netflix has responded to this knowledge by (allegedly) accommodating multitaskers.

According to multiple reports in early 2025, the streamer encourages writers to have characters vocalize their actions—for example, “I’m going to the kitchen”—so that viewers who are second-screening can grasp major plot developments.

Netflix refuted these reports, but the rumor persists—likely because this storytelling approach is an extremely logical response to a widespread human behavior. Why wouldn’t streamers do something to account for millions of passively engaged viewers? It’s a bleak but practical solution to a very real problem.

I’ve always been skeptical of tailoring scriptwriting to disengaged viewers, but unfortunately, there is scientific evidence supporting the approach. Researchers recently tested cognitive performance while subjects multitasked across various forms of digital media.

Ultimately, they found multitasking cognitive performance to be age‑dependent, with teens and twentysomethings performing better because they’ve grown accustomed to heavy digital exposure during their formative years (note: in graph B, higher scores are worse).

In short, our brains have adapted to digital multitasking, allowing people to retain plot details of a show they’re half-watching.

The persistence of second-screening has fueled the idea of “background shows”—hyper-verbal programming that complements other activities. These series aren’t meant to command your full attention; they create ambiance, lifting your mood without demanding focus. This viewing mode has grown more common post-pandemic, bolstered by the ubiquity of streaming and the normalization of remote work.

I sometimes second-screen while doing intensive data tasks because I’m only human and have no in-person coworkers. I like watching (or rather listening to) It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia while writing SQL queries because it feels like I’m hanging out with “the gang” while doing hours of solitary coding. This behavior does not offer meaningful human connection—after all, it is “mindless”—but it’s better than nothing.

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Mindless TV Behavior #3 and #4: Binge Watching + Guilty Pleasure Viewing

I’ve combined our last two behaviors—binge-watching and guilty pleasure viewing—into a single section because these concepts are highly complementary.

By now, almost everyone is familiar with the idea of binge-watching: a consumption pattern increasingly favored by younger generations raised on seamless content access and autoplay features. Television shows are now consumed in large chunks, with Gen Z and Millennial viewers reporting a preference for watching three or more episodes in a single sitting.

When those who favor binge-watching were pressed on their motivations, most cited entertainment, stress relief, and the cessation of boredom.

I find this poll fascinating for two reasons:

1. TV use for emotional regulation: Again, respondents emphasize TV’s role in managing stress and anxiety.

2. Isn’t all television entertainment?: Shouldn’t everyone cite “entertainment” as a core motivation for watching TV? What is consuming four episodes of Severance if not entertainment? It raises an intriguing question: what mental model are people applying to television if “entertainment” isn’t the default category?

Binge-watching has always had a confusing cultural reputation. The name alone denotes self-destructive overabundance, given that in many contexts—like binge drinking—the term “binge” signals unhealthy behavior. Yet at face value, many cite binge viewership as a coping mechanism or a standard mode of consumption.

This contradiction pairs naturally with guilty pleasure viewing: both behaviors are coded as indulgent, vaguely taboo forms of entertainment, even though they’re among the most common ways we engage with television.

In 2023, DirecTV surveyed its customers about guilty pleasure viewing, with most citing reality TV shows (like The Real Housewives) or melodramas (like Grey’s Anatomy) as common “guilty pleasures.”

The survey went a step further and asked these same respondents why these shows were guilty pleasures. Their reasoning largely revolved around the belief that the content they enjoy was not the “right type” of show.

Baked into this rationale is the idea that there’s a “correct” kind of programming people are supposed to watch, while everything else can be dismissed as a guilty pleasure.

What’s most striking is that “guilty pleasure” viewership is a relatively recent phenomenon. Television has always been rife with lowbrow content—soap operas, daytime game shows, cable news—so why do contemporary audiences feel “guilty” about their preferred programming? My best guess is that this sentiment—along with binge-watching behavior—is a symptom of boundless content availability.

In the 1960s, you watched soap operas and game shows because that’s what played during a given timeslot. Now, people have infinite choice: you can watch anything at any time. There is nothing that stops you from watching The Wire, Breaking Bad, Succession, or any other prestige show, which makes someone’s insistence on binge-watching The Real Housewives of Potomac a guilty pleasure.

The past twenty years have seen television elevated to a more serious art form. To seek out TV shows that are not striving for Emmy Awards and then watch those episodes in bulk requires its own justification—perhaps a word like “mindless” (but with a positive connotation, of course).

Final Thoughts: Will I Be “a Cool Dad”?

When it came to watching TV, my family was a strict no-phones household (at least that’s how I remember it, though this may be more about “vibes” than actual rules). If entertainment was being consumed, this art demanded everyone’s attention—even if that “art” was American Idol, Top Chef, or Entourage.

For the first 18 years of my life, I assumed that monk-like concentration while consuming television and movies was a fundamental civic duty—along with paying taxes and quietly mumbling the “Star-Spangled Banner” because you don’t know all the words.

As an adult, this learned behavior has festered into a fanatical belief. I have strong opinions on how movies and television should be watched: one must choose “good” content and actually pay attention, with the lone exception of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, which is my one sanctioned loophole.

When someone takes out their phone in a movie theater, I am instantly enraged—but I obviously say nothing because I’m “a cool guy.” Deep down, though, I’m convinced these people should be sentenced to an entire day at the DMV, only to be told they didn’t bring the correct forms.

Most of my adult life, I’ve operated under the assumption that I’m “really laid back about stuff.” However, recently, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m selectively uncool about how and why culture is consumed.

If this were just my own neurosis, then who cares—I’d simply be another film-and-TV nerd with overly strong opinions. But soon my beliefs will actually matter to someone else. My wife and I are expecting our first child in February, which raises an existential question: Do I try to pass this highly specific ideology along to the next generation, or do I try to be “a cool dad” and accept that attitudes shift whether I like it or not?

My own philosophy of television was shaped by a specific mix of influences: my parents’ viewing habits, the arrival of cable (and later streaming) during my formative years, the rise of social media, TV’s expanding role in daily life and emotional self-regulation, and a dozen other cultural forces I never consciously considered. In short, I am a product of my environment.

My child, on the other hand, will inherit an entirely different media universe: Netflix and YouTube will dominate, binge-watching will be the norm, phones will be omnipresent, I will be a debatably “chill” parent imparting sage wisdom, and all this will be mixed together with a swirl of cultural attitudes I can’t possibly anticipate. What I will consider “bad,” he may consider “bad (complimentary).”

Perhaps this is simply the fun of parenting, watching culture shift beneath your feet, and accepting that you don’t get to decide what your kid finds comforting, binge-able, guilt-worthy, or mindless (derogatory).

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