Most people watch TV, movies, or sports to relax. They want a laugh, a distraction, a bit of escape. I’ve learned something about myself: I don’t get that luxury. For me, there’s no such thing as just entertainment for some reason, I can’t be enterntained.

When I sit down to watch a show, a movie, or even a cartoon, my brain immediately shifts gears. I start pulling at the threads, looking for meaning, contradictions, and undercurrents.

Comedy That Isn’t About Comedy

Abbott Elementary is an excellent example of what I’m talking about. Most viewers are laughing at classroom silliness and fun. I’m watching a group of people quietly battling against systemic challenges. It’s not the jokes that hook me — it’s the struggle, the resilience.

Or Bob’s Burgers. One of the most powerful lines I’ve ever heard on TV wasn’t a joke at all. It was about a Black, trans sex worker who “comes and goes as she pleases, she answers to no one, and she is truly free.” The brilliance? The show didn’t turn her into a gag or a “lesson.” They allowed her to exist with dignity. That moment stuck with me far longer than any punchline.

The Rare Times I Laugh

Here’s how rare it is: one night, I was watching Rules of Engagement, laughing so hard that my daughter actually came downstairs to check on me. She asked what I was watching and said, “You never laugh.” And she wasn’t wrong.

For me, it takes something razor-sharp to break through. Patrick Warburton’s deadpan delivery did it. The Zucker brothers’ absurd demolition of reality (Airplane!, The Naked Gun) did it. But outside of that? Most comedy bounces off me.

And yes — of course, I own the entire Police Squad! Series on DVD. Six episodes, cancelled too soon. Maybe that explains me better than anything else.

Finding Meaning in the Brutal

When I say that I can’t be entertained, even sports aren’t safe. I love boxing, “the sweet science.” But I don’t just admire the knockouts. I get caught in the contradiction of it being brutal violence, yet it’s also a beautiful skill. That’s why I was instantly drawn into Requiem for a Heavyweight. On the surface, it’s a boxing movie. Underneath, it’s Rod Serling’s dissection of dignity and exploitation — what happens when a man’s entire identity is tied to something that’s destroying him.

And then there’s Derry Girls. Everyone else sees a quirky teen sitcom. I saw kids coming of age against the backdrop of political violence and wondered: were they really in danger? How did humour and chaos coexist in a society riddled with fear?

My Strange Defaults

And when I am home alone? I’m not bingeing sitcoms. I’m watching paleontologists answer questions about dinosaurs on YouTube. That’s my idea of fun. Something’s clearly off — or maybe just wired differently.

The Contradiction I’ve Learned to Embrace

So yeah I can just sit back and relax, but I can’t be entertained. My brain doesn’t let me. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy what I watch — I do. But enjoyment for me isn’t escape. It’s engagement.

I laugh rarely, but I find meaning everywhere: in a throwaway line in a cartoon, in the absurd delivery of a sitcom actor, in a brutal boxing match, in a teenage comedy about The Troubles.

Entertainment doesn’t numb me. It sparks me. It leaves me with more questions than answers. And honestly, I’ve come to embrace that as a quirk that has shaped me into the person I am today.

Because if I’m going to spend time watching something, I’d rather it challenge me than wash over me. Escape fades. Meaning sticks.