💗 Deep in Her Heart, the Thunder Rolls ⛈️
There is a particular kind of internet event that makes you realize you may have accidentally wandered into the wrong dimension.
Last week, Candace Owens debated Andrew Wilson on the PBD Podcast, with Patrick Bet-David moderating. The subject was the death of Charlie Kirk, and the debate was billed as something important enough that people would apparently spend an evening watching two people argue about it on YouTube.
And here's the strange part: very few people actually care about this debate.
Unfortunately, almost all of those people are on YouTube.
The rest of us are wondering why the algorithm has deemed this our problem now.
I tried listening to the debate. Listening may be generous. It was less like a conversation and more like being trapped inside a malfunctioning political podcast where everyone had been given unlimited caffeine and absolutely no obligation to make the experience pleasant.
The technical term might be malingering: a situation in which something continues long after there is any obvious reason for it to continue.
There were claims, counterclaims, allegations, theories, challenges, interruptions, and moments where the central question seemed to disappear entirely beneath the sheer volume of people talking about the central question.
And that's where I think normal people have a legitimate emotional response available to them.
You can say: I don't want to live like this.
That doesn't mean you have to decide that Candace Owens is right. It doesn't mean you have to decide Andrew Wilson is right. It doesn't even mean you have to decide that Charlie Kirk's death isn't worth discussing. It means you are allowed to recognize that a three-hour argument on YouTube may not be the best possible outlet for grief, evidence, uncertainty, or political disagreement.
The debate has generated plenty of people declaring winners. Some commentators have praised Owens; others have argued Wilson exposed weaknesses in her claims.
But perhaps the most interesting outcome is neither person winning.
Perhaps the winner is the person who turns off YouTube.
There is something psychologically healthy about realizing that not every controversy requires your participation. Not every viral argument deserves your blood pressure. Not every thumbnail screaming DESTROYED! or EXPOSED! represents a historic moment.
Sometimes it represents two people with microphones.
And aspiring to be normal in 2026 may require a little rebellion against the internet's demand that everything become an event.
You can care about politics without watching every political fight.
You can care about Charlie Kirk without consuming every theory about his death.
You can be curious without becoming obsessed.
And you can hear two people arguing loudly about something extraordinarily complicated and think:
"You know what? I'm going for a walk."
