In 2026, the Masks Are off for Good
It’s a brave, cynical new world, and, somehow, Netflix’s attempted Warner Bros. acquisition explains it all.

Three years ago, Netflix turned a vanquished enemy into a forgettable TV series. Bluntly titled Blockbuster, the show follows the exploits of employees tasked with keeping the last iconic video rental store in business. In addition to being a waste of Randall Park’s considerable screen presence, it was a meta, self-indulgent stab at a cosmic irony; the streaming platform that had once offered to sell itself to Blockbuster for $50 million (or 10 late fees) was now streaming the video store’s existential funeral. Netflix began a similar subversion when it proposed a deal to buy Warner Bros. for $82.7 billion in December. While Paramount has stepped in with its own hostile counter-bid, Netflix's attempted power move is a signpost for a new era—a microcosm of a world in which Hollywood isn’t pretending to be creative, Netflix isn’t pretending it won’t swallow the world, and the government isn’t pretending to be ethical. For 2025, the Netflix-Warner deal was an accentuation point. For 2026, it’s a definition.
Before Netflix had not-so-hidden monopoly ambitions, it was an upstart mail-in video rental service that became a cure for expensive cable prices. But as it licensed more properties and grew more influence, it earned competitors like HBO Max, Hulu, and Disney+, which only made Netflix more expensive. And more powerful. With each brand trying to keep more of their own Stranger Thingses and Squid Gameses, and as ESPN became Disney, and Disney became Hulu, copping multiple streaming services became the norm. People wanted to cut cable cords, but wound up with an entangled group of them. But that doesn’t mean things haven’t been getting severed. Specifically, dissenting ideas.
As networks have done the fusion dance, conflicting interests have compounded, and the Bad Guys™ have stopped pretending they’re anything but. Last July, Stephen Colbert quipped that Trump’s $16 million settlement with Paramount, one rooted in a 60 Minutes Kamala Harris interview Trump said was misleadingly edited, was a “big fat bribe.” Three days later, CBS announced that Colbert’s The Late Show would be coming to an end. It could have been a coincidence; Paramount cited high production costs and low viewership as reasons the show was ending. But then there’s not-even-so-figurative elephant in the room: As part of the 2025 Skydance and Paramount merger—one that hinged on approval from the FCC (and, by proxy, Trump himself)—Paramount had to agree to commit to “fact-based reporting, unbiased journalism.” In the Trump administration, that’s usually meant systemic capitulation. And when Paramount made Free Press founder Bari Weiss the editor-in-chief of CBS News, it looked like it capitulated.
In December, Weiss controversially spiked a 60 Minutes episode that investigated a Salvadorean prison that housed men ICE deported at Trump’s behest. Weiss justified the move as proper reporting compliance. Critics called it complicity. In 2026, it’s the status quo. If you’re a cynic, the fact that Paramount is also looking to buy Warner is something even more diabolical than sheer excess: it’s potentially a portal into MAGA-fying Bugs Bunny. Through that lens, Netflix acquiring Warner might be the lesser of two mids. Still, both are brazen.
But everyone’s done with pretensions of righteousness. It’s the new default when the “good fight” is a losing one and the institutions responsible for checking the powers that be are essentially owned by the powers that be. They’ve been owned by them before. But rarely if ever as brazenly. As the great philosopher French Montana once rapped, “When they mask up, comin' for your ice; when they bare-faced, they comin’ for your life.” There’s a finality to this—as much a decisiveness as the moment we saw Mark Zuckerberg kicking it with Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and all the other oligarchs at Trump’s second inauguration. In 2022, Elon Musk bought Twitter, just in time to elevate conservative voices and marginalize liberal ones. In 2024, Bezos stopped The Washington Post—which he owns—from endorsing a presidential candidate. A few months later, he de-emphasized political reporting. Except, apparently, when it benefits Trump.
This past Saturday, the Trump administration bombed Venezuela and ousted its dictator, Nicolás Maduro. Then it announced plans to sell the country’s oil. The Post’s editorial board published a glowing approval of the attack the same day. Regardless of what the Post said, Trump himself didn’t bother with an elaborate symbolic lie. No war on terror and no subtext—just what happened and what will happen.
Deliberately or not, Trump, Musk, and Bezos neutered the forces that could hold them accountable. These efforts are conjoined with Trump’s efforts to undermine critical media: Don’t trust news outlets unless they support me, and if they don’t support me, they’ll be canceled—either by me or the people who support me, who own everything. The people who own everything consolidate other companies so they can own more things, which, coincidentally, leaves fewer journalists to call them out. It’s a self-sustaining cycle powered by complicity. This isn’t conspiratorial. Through cancellations, minimizations, fringe-monopolizations, and censorship, there’s no need for conspiracy; they’ve deleted the need to conspire.
If this were a superhero movie, the supervillain would announce their master plan with a press release to be run by outlets they bought 10 years ago. Then they’d party with Odell Beckham in the Hamptons. Meanwhile, we’ll go to the club. MAYBE we’ll go to the movies if Avengers: Endgame—Again is finally out. If it’s a chill night, maybe we’ll just kick back and watch Netflix. If it were 2003, we might head to Blockbuster. If you’re in one particular town, you might still head there.
Despite its symbolic demise, the lone Blockbuster is still up and running. As much as it can. It’s independently owned and it makes most of its profit from merch. It’s miraculously got 4,000 regular customers. But it’s still a bit more artifact than successful video store. If it’s financially successful, it’s on its own terms, in its own community. But in a world in which Netflix is Warner and Disney is ESPN, it’s neat to know that, somewhere, Blockbuster can still just be Blockbuster. Kinda.
- SpotifySpotify Claims It’s Stopped Running ICE Ads
- Dirty WorkHow a 54-Year-Old Steely Dan Song Explains One of the Best Acting Performances of 2025
- Cardi BFans Are Nervous About Cardi B’s Upcoming Tour
- Timothée ChalametShould We Be Concerned About Club Chalamet?
Newsletter
The latest from us, straight to your inbox.
Newsletter
The latest from us, straight to your inbox.
Related Stories
- How a 54-Year-Old Steely Dan Song Explains One of the Best Acting Performances of 2025

How a 54-Year-Old Steely Dan Song Explains One of the Best Acting Performances of 2025
In ‘One Battle After Another,’ the revolution is dirty work.
By Abe Beame
- Should We Be Concerned About Club Chalamet?

Should We Be Concerned About Club Chalamet?
Inside the internet’s unease with the infamous Timothée Chalamet fan account.
- A BBL Massage Therapist, a Content Creator, and a Lie Detector

A BBL Massage Therapist, a Content Creator, and a Lie Detector
The truth comes out on ‘Love N’ Question’
By Type.Set.Brooklyn
- There Probably Isn’t a Hidden Episode of ‘Stranger Things’

There Probably Isn’t a Hidden Episode of ‘Stranger Things’
At least not according to Jamie Campbell Bower, who played Vecna, and Netflix itself.
By Lucas Wisenthal
- ‘It Only Has to Make Sense to Me’: 365 Button Girl is Our Mantra for the Year

‘It Only Has to Make Sense to Me’: 365 Button Girl is Our Mantra for the Year
A rallying cry for boundaries.
- Is Streaming a Bad Look for Rappers?

Is Streaming a Bad Look for Rappers?
The audiences are big, but so are the potential drawbacks.
By Mr. Wavvy