Thinking for people who've given up on thinking.
Somewhere between my third smart pillow and my first circadian rhythm subscription service, I stopped sleeping entirely and started just lying in the dark, illuminated by seventeen different LED indicators, wondering where I went wrong. This is the story of how the wellness tech industry convinced me my body was a broken machine — and sold me the wrench.
The wellness industry has a simple business model: convince you that you are quietly falling apart, then sell you the glue. I know this. I have always known this. I still have seventeen open tabs about lion's mane.
From $12 celery juice to digital monkey JPEGs, the 2010s and early 2020s produced a staggering quantity of dumb ideas that somehow got the 'genius' label slapped on them. We've compiled the definitive list of intellectual crimes committed against the American wallet and brain. You're welcome, and we're sorry.
I decided to spend a month rejecting every recommendation engine in my life — no Spotify Discover Weekly, no Netflix suggestions, no Amazon rabbit holes, no Instagram Explore page. What followed was thirty days of low-grade panic, accidental greatness, and the dawning realization that I have absolutely no idea what I actually like. The algorithm won. But I have thoughts about it.