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Culture

A Millennial Reviews: Lynchian Creepshow ‘Friends’ Destroyed My Mind

Last night I was staring into Netflix’s familiar red glossy plastic flatland of a menu screen for what seemed like hours, scrolling through categories like “Because You Watched ‘Fireplace For Your Home,’” and “Dark, Cerebral Cooking Shows Set in the 70’s” when I almost gave up and went outside to play with Kanye, my rescue Iguana. Then out of nowhere I came across this show called Friends. Everything that happened my TV screen from the moment I pressed play was a bath salts fueled nightmare: vests, the awkward loose fitting clothing of a doomsday cult, different haircuts in every episode, umbrellas without rain, people swimming in Central Park garbage while easy listening pop rock blared from my speakers. Was this show created by Harmony Korine? What was happening?

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