📺 Saïd Sayrafiezadeh finally watched Seinfeld.

It occurred to me, in my humorless state, that the extreme compression was working against my enjoyment, that the show would have been better with slower digestion, one episode per week as intended, followed the next day by recapping at the water cooler, and then summers off. Instead, I was alone and swallowing “Seinfeld” whole. It was also possible that I was trying, albeit unconsciously, to justify a decision I had made thirty years ago, and that each solitary laugh now threatened to cause a painful fissure in my world view. In other words, I was caught somewhere between comedy and regret.