Becky binge-watches Fuller House and regrets nothing

I still have a few episodes to go, but I did watch over half of a thirteen-episode reboot on Netflix this weekend. (That's a series of words I've never strung together in that order before.) Yes, I'm talking about Fuller House, which is exactly what you'd think it would be and not a bit more (or less, for that matter).

Friends, we are living in the golden age of nostalgia porn. The weekend before, I saw Zoolander 2, which started with a self-conscious montage about how long ago the original Zoolander was released. (Fifteen years ago, in case you were looking to feel horrified this fine Monday.) Zoolander 2 was pretty damned terrible, worse than Fuller House for sure (which is saying something), but I suppose that's entirely secondary to the point that the lure of familiar characters was enough to get me to a movie theater for the first time in many months.

There's no witty or pretentious life lesson coming here. This is just me admitting that even when it's bad (maybe because it's bad?), I do love pop culture catering to my generation like this.