The Ubiquity (and Wonder) of Hot Takes

On shortcuts, certainty and why everything doesn't have to be a fight

Bad Bunny. (Eric Thayer/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images)

That was a dog of a Super Bowl. An absolute dog. Fifteen punts? Five field goals? Combined passer rating of 77? Nobody going for it on fourth down? A third and fourth quarter with absolutely no drama at all?

That was a dog of a Super Bowl.

Unless you think it was actually a great Super Bowl, and I’m too dumb to appreciate a great defensive battle.

Let’s fight about it.

That was the best Super Bowl Halftime Show ever, better even than Prince’s Halftime Show, which I was in the stadium to see. I didn’t even know Bad Bunny’s songs, but it didn’t matter because the vibe was so joyful, so thrilling, there was an actual wedding in it, there were so many fun guest appearances (Ronald Acuña Jr.!), and there was so much love for community and family and all the Americas, North and South. It warmed my heart.

Unless you think it was actually a political statement, and Super Bowl Halftime Shows should be in English, and I’m too brainwashed to understand that.

Let’s fight about it.

I admire Lindsey Vonn for attempting the impossible. It’s bananas to think that she would actually try a downhill run at the Olympics about a week after blowing out her ACL — at age 41 and five years after retiring — and she ended up crashing and breaking her leg. Maybe that was the inevitable result. Maybe it’s the result of the sport being excessively dangerous, particularly when you push the boundaries the way Vonn does. Either way, I think more people should try the impossible. We have one life.

Unless you think it was a foolish and egotistical act for someone addicted to glory, and I’m too naive to understand that.

Let’s fight about it.

I cannot for the life of me understand why so many beloved celebrities so willingly become the face of the gambling industry. Kevin Hart? Jon Hamm? LeBron James? The SNL Weekend Update guys? Why use your extreme popularity to whitewash this destructive addiction?

Unless you think that gambling is fun, and most people gamble responsibly, and I’m too puritan and ill-informed to understand that.

Let’s fight about it.

I think that Wegovy’s “I’d take it” Super Bowl commercial was, probably unintentionally, the most honest commercial in a very long time. In it, Kenan Thompson breaks the “news” that Wegovy — the weight-loss GLP1 — now comes in pill form, and Kenan says:

“Be honest, if there was a pill that made other helpful things possible, you’d take it.”

The scene cuts to the incredible John C. Reilly trying (and failing) to parallel park his car. “If there was a pill that could help me parallel park, I’d take it,” he says.

“If there was a pill to make me a pro wrestler,” D.J. Khaled says, “I’d take it.”*

*This one’s particularly funny because, um, there is kind of a pill to help make you a pro wrestler.

“If there was a pill that helped me rescue more kittens,” Danielle Brooks says, “I’d take it.”

And so on.

And you know what? I believe them all. I believe most Americans would take most pills to help them do most things — because we already do. We take pills to lose weight, to dull headaches, to help us sleep, to fight off colds, to lower blood pressure, to control cholesterol, to stop acid reflux, to alleviate allergies, to beat jet lag, to quiet anxiety, to manage depression, to numb heartbreak, to focus at work, to pass a test, to fly without panicking, to perform in bed, to talk to strangers, to cope with public speaking, to grow back our hair, to assauge sea sickness, to take the edge off loneliness, to feel like ourselves, to feel like our better selves, to get through the day.

And I think we as a nation have not honestly asked ourselves: “If there was a pill that could help us hit 73 home runs in a season, would I take it?”

We don’t ask ourselves that question honestly because there is no such pill. Nobody believes that PEDs could turn us into Barry Bonds. For all the fury, nobody can actually believe that PEDs could turn anyone except Barry Bonds into Barry Bonds.

But would people across America take such a pill if it existed? Are you kidding?

Unless you think most people would not take such a pill because it’s cheating, and I’m too unprincipled and jaded to understand that.

Let’s fight about it.

I hate hot takes. That, unlike everything else I’ve written, is the one hot take I actually believe in. I hate them for many reasons, but mostly because they make us dumber. They flatten thought into emotion. They turn curiosity into bland certainty. They take things that are worth thinking about, worth talking about, worth arguing about, and reduce them to two screaming sides and zero listening.

They turn our world into Monty Python argument rooms.

“This is not an argument.”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it isn’t!”

Hot takes break us apart over things that don’t matter at all. Do I really care if the Super Bowl was a dog or a classic? Nope. Do I actually have strong feelings about how anyone else should feel about the Bad Bunny halftime show? Nope. Do I stay awake at night thinking about celebrities promoting gambling? Nope. Do I feel strongly that people should agree with me about my half-baked thoughts on Lindsey Vonn or our nationwide obsession with PEDs? Not really.

But once we go down those roads — once we start fighting — screaming enters, anger enters, bitterness enters, ego enters, pride enters. And suddenly we find ourselves on opposite sides of things, and find ourselves wondering how we grew so far apart.

It would be nice to be on the same side more often.