Entertainment
Kids Today Will Never Understand Network TV’s Most Powerful Hype Machine
By Robert Scucci
| Published
Sit down around the fire, my lads, and let me enlighten you on the relic of ancient media known as clip chows. Back in my day, cable TV ruled the landscape, and sitcoms ran for 22 to 26 episodes a season. Week after week, we’d go on a new adventure, wondering what kind of trouble Homer Simpson, Ross and Rachel, Tim “The Tool Man” Taylor, and Jerry and the Seinfeld gang would get themselves into. But toward the end of any given season, there wouldn’t be a new adventure. Instead, we’d get the dreaded clip show.
I call the clip show “dreaded” because most people didn’t like them. I had no strong feelings either way. The idea of reusing content under the guise of a new episode never really bugged me so long as it served a purpose. As long as the episode was framed in a way that was palatable, I was all for it. I always saw it as a greatest hits reel, and if there was a solid framing device, it was a great way to revisit some of the best moments from any given series.
But there’s more to Clip Shows than meets the eye. They were important to a series’ health in a world where DVDs weren’t yet ubiquitous, and home media consumption hadn’t exploded into what it is today. In the streaming era, the idea of a clip show is rightfully preposterous. That’s why Friends, which concluded its run in 2004, used them often, while How I Met Your Mother, which debuted in 2005, mostly avoided them outside of the occasional flashback-heavy episode.
What’s The Point Of A Clip Show?
Home Improvement had some of the best Clip Shows because they were framed around Tim Taylor’s horrible decision-making. Season 4 featured two back-to-back clip shows, “Tool Time After Dark: Parts 1 & 2.” The series had just hit its stride and quickly became appointment viewing for millions of American families. But writers get tired, cast and crew members need downtime, budgets get stretched thin, and the show must go on.
So how did Home Improvement handle it?
Tim eats too much Polish food, gets laid out on the couch, and spends both episodes wrapped in blankets, drinking antacid through a bendy straw while watching reruns of Tool Time. It’s a clip show done right. It’s essentially a bottle episode that only really required Tim Allen on set for a majority of its runtime, saving on payroll toward the end of Season 4. It’s also a clean framing device that lets casual viewers catch up on the show’s best moments.
Budget And Back-End Sales
Clip Shows served two very specific purposes: saving money and marketing.
Star Trek: The Next Generation’s first and only clip show, Season 2’s “Shades of Gray,” was famously hated by fans, but it was born out of necessity. The showrunners spent so much of the season’s budget building elaborate set pieces for episodes like “Elementary, Dear Data” and “Q Who,” that they didn’t have enough funds to properly finish the season. The result is an episode centered around William T. Riker experiencing flashbacks to earlier events in the series. It’s widely considered one of the show’s worst episodes, but those earlier episodes helped introduce the Borg into franchise canon. Sounds like a fair trade-off in the grand scheme of things
Series like Home Improvement, The Simpsons, and Friends used Clip Shows differently. This was the sitcom golden age, when serialization wasn’t required. Sure, there was continuity from season to season, but for the most part, you could jump into a random episode and follow along just fine. It was during a time when clip shows ruled the land.
Clip Shows Thrived In A Pre-DVD Era
Clip Shows offered a crash course in a series’ best moments for casual viewers. Circling back to Home Improvement in its fourth season, anyone just getting into the show had to decide whether they wanted to start from scratch with reruns through syndication. DVDs were introduced in the U.S. in 1997, but most households didn’t adopt them until the early to mid 2000s.
And why would they? After decades of collecting VHS tapes, switching to an unproven format meant dropping a significant amount of cash on something that wasn’t yet proven by the market. Early, primitive DVD players cost up to $600, and then you still had to buy the DVDs in order to watch anything on them.
Networks wanted more eyes on their shows, and VHS tapes could only hold a handful of episodes. The Simpsons had specialty tapes like Treehouse of Horror collections, but full-season releases weren’t really a thing yet, and if they were during the VHS era, we’d all have to rent storage units to contain them. If you were tuning into Home Improvement for the first time and caught “Tool Time After Dark” by happenstance, you’d get everything you needed. Tim’s reckless habits, his ongoing dietary mishaps, and a highlight reel of Tool Time disasters.
Clip Shows were a sizzle reel. They were basically saying, “If you like any of this, there’s plenty more where that came from. Stick around.” Clip Shows were the greatest hits albums of network television, and in this context they thrived.
Changes In Consumption Habits Killed The Clip Show
Once DVDs proved they were here to stay, Clip Shows disappeared almost overnight. There was no need for them. Consumers could buy entire seasons at a reasonable price and own them forever. If you wanted to turn someone into a fan, you didn’t need a sampler platter. You could just show them a handful of great episodes from your DVD collection.
Then, in 2005, YouTube launched. Early on, it was mostly home videos and clips from shows like Family Guy that people wanted to pass around via email; it made sharing standout moments even easier.
As home media became more accessible, Clip Shows became unnecessary. Good shows marketed themselves through word of mouth. The streaming era brought us shorter, more serialized seasons, making them even less practical. They worked in an episodic format where you could mix and match, but when you’re dealing with season-long story arcs, there’s no clean way to justify them.
These days, If I want to introduce a friend to The Simpsons, which is nearing 40 years worth of episodes, I’m not throwing on “So It’s Come To This: A Simpsons Clip Show.” I’m pulling up Disney+ or digging through my physical media and making them watch “Bart on the Road,” “You Only Move Twice,” and “Duffless.”
But kids today, watching a clip show out of context on streaming, will never understand how differently we consumed media in the 90s and early 2000s, or how necessary clip shows were for getting people hooked on a series in the first place.
Entertainment
20+ book deals Im sending to the group chat before Prime Day even begins
Table of Contents
The best early Prime Day book deals at a glance:
It’s nearly Amazon Prime Day, which officially runs from June 23 through 26, but if you don’t feel like waiting, there’s already plenty of live deals to shop.
Besides offering three free months of both Kindle Unlimited and Audible to new subscribers, Amazon also has some pretty great discounts on books themselves. I’m not usually one to recommend purchasing physical books via Amazon (support local book stores!), but it’s pretty hard to pass up a 50% price drop on a book you’ve had on your TBR.
Amazon Editors just dropped the 20 best books of 2026 (so far) — find out what made the list
I’m tracking some of the best deals on physical books and e-books at Amazon ahead of the official Prime Day kick off, but remember to check back for more once things start ramping up.
Best early Prime Day hardcover book deal
$14.67
at Amazon
$30
Save $15.33
with on-page coupon
Why we like it
Named one of the best books of 2026 so far by Amazon Book Editors, Crux is an “exhilarating, tender novel about an unlikely friendship forged through a shared love of rock climbing,” according to Amazon Editor Abby Abell. Thanks to an on-page coupon at Amazon, you can add the hardcover version to your home library for less than half its usual cost.
More hardcover book deals
Best early Prime Day paperback book deal
$7.50
at Amazon
$19.95
Save $12.45
Why we like it
A classic trope of two abducted girls, only one returns and one doesn’t, The Girl Who Was Taken is a psychological thriller by Charlie Donlea where nothing is as it seems. Typically around $20, you can pick up the paperback version for only $7.50 at Amazon ahead of Prime Day. That’s just a few cents away from its lowest price ever.
Mashable Deals
More paperback book deals
Best early Prime Day Kindle book deal
$2.99
at Amazon
$18.99
Save $16.00
Why we like it
I highly recommend grabbing this twisty psychological thriller from internationally best-selling author Steve Cavanagh while the Kindle version is only $2.99. Kill For Me Kill For You follows two women seeking revenge against the men who killed their daughters. Over drinks one night, they decide to swap murders, but things don’t go exactly as planned.
More Kindle book deals
Entertainment
Red Drink for Juneteenth
Amber Mayfield Hewett loves a good party. Not “good” in the sense that there were enough chairs and everyone liked the dip (though a killer dip and a place to sit definitely don’t hurt). To Amber, a good party is one where everyone in the room feels like they belong — no one feels like a plus-one or wonders if they should’ve stayed home. “In my early twenties, I was living in Harlem and working as an assistant at a TV network,” she explains in her new book, Your Turn to Host. “I loved going out, exploring the restaurant scene and private clubs… But something always felt missing. Even though I was surrounded by people all the time, I felt lonely.”
So, Amber started her own supper club, hosting dinners as a way to create community. “The first dinner was 24 people — roommates, co-workers, people I’d met out in the city,” she says. “Everyone walked in as strangers, but as the night went on, they were laughing and swapping stories like old friends.” Her supper club has since grown into a full-time career, and as of this week, a book — a guide to hosting meaningful gatherings of all kinds: Friendsgiving potlucks, Sunday suppers, and of course, cookouts.
“At the core, cookouts are a way for your village to come together,” Amber explains. “I keep an open-door policy for kids and friends of friends. And to me, cookouts are synonymous with freedom because of the holidays typically celebrated with them, including Juneteenth.” In her book, Amber offers a full guide for a Juneteenth cookout — everything from grilling tips to lawn games, as well as her own recipe for traditional Red Drink. “On Juneteenth, it’s customary to serve red foods and beverages,” she says. “Red is a symbol of the profound sacrifice and resilience of African American people.” Amber’s recipe starts with a classic sorrel-syrup base (“You can use the same technique to make other syrups, like lavender or elderflower”) and is spiked with a cup of rum. “You can easily omit the booze if you prefer a non-alcoholic version,” she adds. “The drink is delicious and refreshing on its own.” Here’s how to make it…
Red Drink
Serves 15
From Your Turn to Host by Amber Mayfield Hewett
Sorrel Syrup:
4 cups (1 L) water
1 1/2 cups (300 g) sugar
1 cup (1 1/2 oz/40 g) cut and sifted dried hibiscus flowers
2 cinnamon sticks
Punch:
2 (2 L) bottles club soda
1 cup (240 ml) dark rum
Juice of 2 large lemons
Ice cubes
4 lemons, sliced into wheels and seeded, for garnish
Make the syrup: In a medium pot, combine the water and sugar. Bring to a boil over a medium-high heat, stirring until the sugar has dissolved. Add the hibiscus flowers and cinnamon sticks, and stir until the flowers start to soften. Reduce the heat to medium to maintain a gentle boil. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the syrup is deep red in color and infused with a floral flavor (about 20 minutes). Remove from the heat and let stand for 5 minutes.
Strain the mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl, pressing on the solids to extract all the liquid; discard the solids. Let the syrup cool completely before using or storing (about 30 minutes). The sorrel syrup can be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to a week.
Make the punch: In a large punch bowl, stir together the club soda, 1 cup (240 ml) of the sorrel syrup, rum, and lemon juice to combine. (Amber notes: “If you’re skipping the rum, and want a little more flavor, you can add a splash of lemonade or a berry-flavored sparkling water.”) Serve with ice and garnish with lemon wheels.
Big thanks to Amber for sharing this recipe with us! You can find TONS of party recipes and hosting tips in her book and newsletter.
P.S. Five easy party foods, and a monochromatic fruit salad.
(Top photo by Xiana Gutierrez. Excerpted from Your Turn to Host by Amber Mayfield Hewett, published by Artisan Books. Copyright © 2026.)
Entertainment
A Little Help From My Friends
I was on my fourth radiation session. I was sitting across from my friend Rachel’s husband, Rob. He was holding a paperback, dog-eared copy of The Stories of John Cheever. Rob was my driver that day.
When we’d first arrived at the medical center, Rob found a seat in the waiting room, while I went to the dressing room. I carefully took off my clothes, peeled a rectangle of gauze from my chest, and pulled on a white gown. The Maine Med radiation oncology department is on the basement level, and the cold air felt uncomfortable on my bare arms. But pain had taken on an unanticipated psychological dimension: Feeling it meant I was still here to feel it.
Then I took a photo of myself in the dressing room, smiling. I’d taken one before each session since starting treatment, as a way of marking the weeks. As always, I sent the photo to my husband Dan, and to my friend Rachel. I was here. This happened. Then I left the dressing room to join Rob on the blue chairs.
Two weeks earlier, it was Rachel who had come up with the plan: my radiation buddy system. I’d gone in for my final pre-treatment CT scan, and sitting in my car afterward, I felt my courage abandon me. The aloneness of cancer is existential. You and only you go into the strange room with the beeping machines. You alone wake with a start in the middle of the night, thinking: I have breast cancer. Life will never be the same. I called Rachel from the parking lot and told her: I wasn’t sure I was brave enough to drive to radiation by myself. She paused, then replied, “I’ll figure this out.”
Within a few days, she had. Recruiting four female friends and three of their husbands, Rachel made a schedule of my radiation drivers, all of whom had gladly signed up. Since Rachel’s work schedule wouldn’t allow her to drive me herself, she served as coordinator, and texted me the night before each appointment with the plan. Tomorrow, your driver is Merry. She’ll be there at 9:15 a.m.
On that Monday, four days into treatment, the skin on my breast was already starting to sting. Rob sat across from me, and I asked him about the book he was reading. He told me about finding the paperback at the swap shop at our local dump. I told him I loved Cheever’s stories, too — especially “The Swimmer.” After my session, Rob drove me home, and I got out of the car feeling lighter.
When you’re preparing for radiation, the doctors will tell you that you can drive yourself. It’s easy; it’s only 20 minutes. But it’s not easy — and it’s never only 20 minutes. Perhaps I could have managed the actual mechanics of driving, but I know it was those rides from my friends that got me through the treatment.
When my friend Nora brought me to my appointment, she came into the exam room and asked questions. On Leah’s days, we’d have breakfast first at my house — a Dutch baby with raspberries. Emma cried with me when we saw a boy, the same age as my younger son, arriving at the radiation center for treatment. Merry showed up on her driving days with bouquets of flowers from her garden. Surrounded by longtime friends — chatting, the way we’d done for years — I was able to see cancer as only a part of my larger life.
On my last day of radiation, in mid-July, my husband, Dan, brought doughnuts for the radiation team at Maine Med. After my session, everyone gathered and clapped as I rang the cowbell to announce that I was done. When I got home, our older son was standing in the dining room with a Lazy Daisy cake he’d baked, covered with candles.
It’s now been almost a year since those appointments, and I still remember them clearly: my breast swelling to the size of a watermelon; my nipple bleeding and my areola peeling off; the instructions coming through the loudspeaker, reminding me to hold my breath and stay still.
But I can’t recall the pain anymore. What I can still feel is my friend Jess’s leg against mine on the waiting-room sofa; the relief that rolled through me when I left the treatment room and found Emma or Rob or Dan waiting for me. More than anything, I feel a deep sense of worthiness. During those five weeks of driving — with conversations about books and teenagers and what goes best on Dutch babies — I learned how it felt to be truly cared for. I realized that love can take on many shapes: flowers, cakes, spreadsheet schedules.
Sometimes it was as simple as a friend in the waiting room holding a paperback, ready to talk about it all the way home.
Caitlin Shetterly is a journalist, editor, and author. Her new novel, The Gulf of Lions, was published in May. She lives in Maine with her husband and two sons.
P.S. “9 life lessons I learned after my cancer diagnosis,” and what does it mean to think about cancer as a battle?
(Photo by Ángela Rober/Stocksy.)
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