1. Holy shit Scrubs had some funny scenes
2. I had no idea what the extent of this series was

While I’d love to go off on a tangent ranking all of my favorite scenes from that show (it’s on a list), the second point here is more interesting. Before streaming the idea of a truly sequential series, at least to me, seemed foreign. There were things I’d watch on a weekly basis, but not many. So many nights were spent racing in the hopes of seeing something new. And then Netflix entered the scene.

I hadn’t watched a single minute of Lost before I watched the pilot in bed on my laptop. After that it just destroyed my sleep schedule. See in the age of repeats I’d been trained to turn immediately to the show that had a grasp on my curiosity. After all, there were only a few chances in a week it would play, and any one of those brought with it the potential for novelty, whether in jokes, characters, plot, it didn’t matter — it was new. Netflix though? That was all of a sudden all new, all of the new there was, the extent of the series clicks away. So when that training kicked in, oh boy.

Yeah, yeah, I know I’m not the first to write words about the new era of binge watching, but I promise there’s a point! I’ve sped through dozens of shows, a few that I’ve loved, a great many I’ve merely zoned out too, and a fair number I’ve probably forgotten about. It’s that last category that vexes me. There’s a beautiful thing in looking at a bookshelf and being stirred by memories of what you’ve read, but digital bookshelves range from lacking to shitty.

So this is my digital bookshelf, or at least the extension of it that pertains to what I’m watching, or rather what I’ve watched. There’s another, maybe more important part that has the many unread and unwatched and unheard things out there that I want to add to my memory one day. But this is a start to something I think will be good for me. Maybe you’ll like it too.

A displaced worker with in-demand skills should be able to transition to another sector of the market, and with unemployment levels this low, the supply of skills will be tighter, putting positive pressure on wages. This is good for that worker, especially because of the inefficiency in the process: every displaced worker doesn’t necessarily find a better or equivalent job, many will simply settle for worse [as evidenced here], some will not find anything at all. But the data tells us that overall, things should be better, that technology is a productivity multiplier. More things produced and low unemployment rates suggest positive economic health. And yet, a political outsider in Donald Trump finds himself buoyed by the support of Americans in low-wage, low-skill fields subject to displacement now as well as through the economic turmoil of the last decade. These people haven’t seen positive economic health, they’ve seen severance and stagnation.

Donald Trump’s initial campaign and rise to the nomination was entirely targeted at this demographic, the political pillars being the prevention of immigration (in addition to the deportation of immigrants) and protectionist trade policy. Yet we’ve had a negative flow of population to Mexico (more leaving than coming) recently, and the parties hurt by the inefficiencies of displacement we understand to be relatively few. That trade policy is inspired by those personally affected by treaties like NAFTA, whose skepticism of TPP negotiations have motivated Hillary Clinton to vow to strike down the agreement once in office, despite having helped craft it. And yet, study of NAFTA has found only a modest impact on the American economy, without the huge job losses feared before its implementation.

So why, then, has the strongest and most surprising political push of the election season come fueled by the voices of two subsets that seem to be rather small, and, in their economically limited state, should be lacking in political capital? Engagement is an important aspect, as the opposing party has nominated a candidate with historically low favorability ratings, and economic confidence is tepid at best. It seems that despite signals of economic health, consumers are not convinced. After a primary campaign where the loudest democratic voices came from Clinton’s opposition, it seems she’s struggled to convince her constituency that continuing to walk the political path carved by President Obama is both a good and a necessary thing. After all, they hate the alternative. Clinton’s double digit negative favorability? Exceeded only by Trump’s (-22.4 at time of writing). Motivating people to vote against him is barely needed, he’s managed to do that on his own quite well. But motivating the progressives that turned Bernie Sanders into an online phenomenon has been an uphill battle.

Clinton was at her absolute strongest at the DNC, bolstered by a ringing endorsement from the greatest campaigner of our generation. She served for a politician who thrived on engagement, who won on engagement. He convinced the American people that his path was the best. In return, the people send him out of office with positive approval ratings after two contentious terms. Why is it that Clinton can’t tap that force? Maybe it’s as simple as a lack of trust. Maybe it’s the media’s saturation of Trump coverage. Whatever the obstacle is, the clock is ticking, the race is closing, and decision nears for the electorate. If she can’t find a way, she’ll be walking on the razor’s edge come November.

I’m a Thunder fan. I haven't followed the NBA long, only for the existence of the team down in Oklahoma. Prior to that, I was a college fan, following my father’s Georgetown Hoyas, a brand that has specialized in disappointment since the departure of Allen Iverson the pros.

Organically growing into a fan is a unique experience, a little like falling in love. At first, it’s casual, whimsical, forgettable. You see a grainy cell phone video of one Kevin Durant, a 6'9" high school athlete alternately raining down threes and throwing down dunks that simply don’t look possible.

Wow.

Growing up in the DC area, I saw an overwhelming consensus of young basketball fans begging for Gary Williams to forego his AAU vendetta and get the kid from Montrose Christian in a Terrapin jersey.

It didn't happen.

And so we watched him at Texas. Or, really, I watched him at Texas. My friends and classmates were interested, but not enough to care about a college team that wasn't Maryland, Georgetown, Duke, or UNC. It was the first time I found my fanhood fractured, and it felt foreign. Unnatural. Like a betrayal, but one I couldn't set aside.

Draft day arrived in haste, and I had an athletic crush on two players. I wanted to watch the NBA careers of Kevin Durant and Jeff Green more than I wanted to watch anything in the NCAA. Yes, Jeff Green. Ask any Hoyas fan who one of their favorites of the past decade was, and Jeff Green will often be on a shortlist with Hibbert and Monroe.

But I had no idea how I would do this. It felt wrong to adopt a team with a history, existing players, coaches, and philosophies cast out of a history and a struggle I had never been a part of. But when my two favorite college players wound up on the same team, I had to watch. So what if I knew nothing about the great Supersonics of the ‘90s. That rookie season was my first true foray into a 24-second shot clock, 12-minute quarters, and athletes of a different class. And I loved it.

But still, it never felt like it was mine. It was so much like the prior season at Texas, where I stood alongside fans with vested interests and better understandings than me, and tried to learn as much as I could without giving away that I was foreign. So when word came that the Seattle Supersonics would seen be the Oklahoma City Thunder, I was elated even as the fans that I had rooted with cried. I could get a chance at being a real fan, with real knowledge and no one with the experience to belittle me.

I threw myself full-force into that season, and came out emotionally scarred. Rooting for a team that starts 3-29 is painful. Doubly so when every game is watched on a very likely illegal 140p stream interrupted periodically by a storm of popups. But I liked it. All of it. I liked watching Stromile Swift. Call me a sadist.

As I watched, I did everything I could to learn. About the CBA, about the draft, about other teams, about Sam Presti and the front office, about how PJ Carlesimo was an idiot for trying a near 7 footer at shooting guard. And I was a smarter, better fan for it. Russell Westbrook would amaze me with inhuman feats only to confound me with oh so human flaws. But I understood what he was doing right, doing wrong, and how he could improve. And then he did. It’s been amazing.

I’d like to think that my knowledge and investment in the game makes up for my below average experience around the league. That’s not to say I’m some basketball savant, brilliant at noticing and examining the intriciacies of coaching schemes. I miss things. Often, even. But the more I read, the more I feel I have something to say. And the more I feel message boards and Twitter are ineffectual.

So this will be my place. I like it here. I can write what I think, read what feedback I get, and grow for it. Whatever my audience is, tell me when I’m being stupid. I need a 3-29 stretch of my own to shake out my flaws and find my strengths.