The Greatest Monologue in Film


In a media landscape increasingly shaped by outrage, algorithms, and corporate consolidation, Network feels less like a 1976 satire and more like a prophecy — especially in the wake of Congress’ billionaire tax cut.

What once seemed like over-the-top fiction—the idea of a news anchor having a televised breakdown, or a corporation treating human emotion as a marketable commodity—now reads like a documentary. The film’s biting critique of media spectacle, profit-driven news, and public manipulation hits harder today than ever before.

With Ned Beatty’s thunderous monologue serving as the sermon of a system where commerce rules all, Network doesn’t just hold up—it warns us, loud and clear, about the world we’re already living in.

Thanks for the heads up, Paddy.


What Remains

What Remains

It is not about the feast,
but the hunger that teaches you shape—
how to bend without breaking,
how to reach with empty hands
and still return with something.

The world shrinks
until it is one task,
one drop,
one breath—
and still, you carry on.

No grand designs,
only the daily architecture
of survival:
a grip,
a balance,
a moment held longer than expected.

What remains
is not the size of the prize
but the stretch of your spine
toward it.