On Tuesday, The Ringer updated its list of the 100 best TV episodes of the century for the first time since 2018, surveying the television landscape of the past seven years and inducting 27 highly deserving episodes of TV into the pantheon. (You can check out the whole list here.) But what we couldn’t help notice while deliberating about the updated ranking was that in the intervening years, TV became only a portion of our viewing habits. The explosion of YouTube, TikTok, and other platforms has led to a world in which some of our most memorable “episodes” weren’t released on television. For obvious reasons, these pieces of content couldn’t be considered for the main list, but we still wanted to give them their due. (Don’t worry: No one nominated MrBeast.)
Shaquille O’Neal on Hot Ones
By March 13, 2019, Hot Ones had already released nearly eight seasons’ worth of celebrity digestive torture, while Shaq had transitioned seamlessly from churlish inner-circle Hall of Famer to apex sports media personality. The meeting of these two forces may not have launched either, yet, in hindsight, it’s almost impossible to say that it didn’t cement each one. The skirmish began with a gallon of milk—Diesel brought his own, because of course he did—but what ensued over the next 30 minutes was at once meme fodder, myth building, and social media gold.
Reflux-addled coughs were enhanced in postproduction with earth-rumbling sound effects. There were many exasperated sighs, glances off set, and episodes of self-fanning. Shaq’s stray inquiries and thoughts included but were not limited to: “America, should I drink some water or not?” and “I have a confession. These wings are not cold; they are hot. I’m sweating, and my boys are sweating.” At the summit, the Big Aristotle was forced to apologize to the entire state of Kansas for saying its hot sauce was weak. After taking a bite of said hot sauce, he whispered, “Hol-eee shit,” then screamed, “Oh. OOOHHH.”
He soon hawked uncontrollably. At minute 20, the Big Cactus began to cry outright. Later, he’d ask for ice as “ChapStick” and gargle milk into a trash can. What I am telling you—in so many words—is that there is a before and after here. Both for Hot Ones as a cultural touchstone in the internet era and Shaq as the sports world’s most unserious individual. And that we, the YouTube-dependent masses, should only be so blessed that nothing was ever the same. —Lex Pryor
The Best TV Episodes of the Century
The Mike Francesa Podcast Following the New York Knicks’ 138-135 Overtime Loss to the Indiana Pacers
Initially, my plan was to write about “Mike Zaun 1776,” the opening installment in a series of loving Mike Francesa–inspired historical reenactments uploaded to YouTube a decade ago by a fellow sicko WFAN fan. But it just felt wrong not to honor the source material—a.k.a. the Sports Pope—more directly. So instead, I wish to formally shout out the episode of The Mike Francesa Podcast on the BetRivers(TM) Network that streamed live on YouTube this spring:
Not that I streamed it live on YouTube, mind you! It took me nearly a full day after the Knicks blew that 14-point lead with three minutes to play to muster the strength to tune in to his broadcast. But once I did, I felt catharsis almost immediately. Mikey didn’t so much rant as he simply related. He used phrases like “one to the solar plexus” and “I was sitting courtside on May 7, 1995.” He also delivered a brief eulogy for late Indianapolis Colts owner Jim Irsay that included a digression about whether or not JFK wore hats—content I hadn’t known I craved. “I hope he rests in peace. I really do,” Francesa concluded. “And as far as Knick fans, well: Don’t watch the replay.” The Knicks wish they had a transition game like that. —Katie Baker
The Internet Invitational
I know. This is a tough look for me. Did I intend to give up 16 hours of my life watching a YouTube golf tournament put on by Dave Portnoy? No, I did not. But I don’t regret it either, because the inaugural Internet Invitational might be an all-time guilty-pleasure watch. It might be the most captivating golf tournament since Tiger won the 2019 Masters. Everything about it—except for, notably, the golf itself—was just aces. The field, the format, the drama, the commentary, the production. Billions of Saudi dollars haven’t been able to touch this level of entertainment. Frankly (Borrelli), it just hit all the right notes. It combined the biggest (YouTube) personalities in golf, playing for massive stakes (a $1 million grand prize), under gripping pressure (the skull heard round the world), with plot twists galore (SlopeGate) and more big moments than a Ryder Cup (Fasoli!). From Luke Kwon becoming golf’s biggest villain to Beef being immortalized, the Internet Invitational is an incredible piece of content for anyone who loves golf or strangely loves watching quasi-celebrities grind out pars. This sounds nuts, but the final hole of the tournament might stick with me … forever? There were tragedies and triumphs on so many levels. I haven’t been the same since. I was literally weeping over my keyboard (like I said, the production!) as the outcome sank in. Against all odds, the Internet Invitational is here to stay. —Matt Dollinger
Chicken Shop Date With Andrew Garfield
The purest example of on-screen love—and unbridled levels of sexual tension—in recent non-TV history comes via Andrew Garfield and YouTube host Amelia Dimoldenberg. The two have flirted with and around one another for years on red carpets and in interviews, and they finally affirmed their chemistry in this 2024 episode of Chicken Shop Date.
The flirtation starts four seconds in, as Dimoldenberg tells Garfield not to drop to his knee and propose, and Garfield positively eye-fucks her across the table. Things only get better from there. I won’t recount the entire 12-minute episode, because we don’t have the space and because trying to describe their chemistry would be like trying to explain how it feels to be struck by lightning. But here are just a few of Garfield’s memorable quotes:
- “This is called flirting, Amelia. This is called flirting.”
- “I’m gonna be myself, and I need you to know me. Fully.”
- “You are funny. You’re a funny person.” (Said with a head tilt.)
- “This is fucked up the fact that we could have actually gone on a date at some point, maybe. … Take out all the practicalities and the logic. I actually believe, maybe, we could’ve.”
Positively giggling and kicking my heels. Love is real, and I know it because of these two. —Megan Schuster
The Ever-Growing Mythology of Spider League
It’s not enough for Tim Robinson to own the sketch comedy space, the indie comedy space, and the surreal prestige comedy space—he now also owns the late-night television guest spot space. It started in October of 2024 when comedian Brooks Wheelan, who was briefly a part of the SNL cast with Robinson, appeared on Late Night With Seth Meyers to air grievances about something he called “Spider League,” a fantasy-esque league among friends where each member photographs spiders seen in their everyday life and is then awarded status based on the danger level of their roster of spiders (as determined by an app). Almost immediately, Brooks painted a picture of Robinson as a dictatorial Spider League commissioner, harsh on members (particularly Wheelan) and strict as it pertains to the rules.
Six months later, Robinson appeared on Late Night to proclaim that Wheelan is “the biggest problem in Spider League, by far.” Robinson expanded, detailing a situation in which Wheelan texted the league a photo not of a spider but of Anthony Kiedis, lead singer of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. “Happy for you,” Robinson texted back. “You’re suspended from spider league.”
A month ago, Robinson and his longtime collaborator Zach Kanin, also a member of Spider League, returned to Late Night to continue to defend the league’s no-tolerance policy for Wheelan’s antics—this time Wheelan said something insensitive about a spider, forcing the league to require him to take an actual diversity training class. They also declared that Meyers was an “enemy of Spider League.” About two weeks after that, Wheelan joined the show to defend himself further: “I just wanted to come and be like, ‘I’m not a bad guy.’”
Surely this is too much. Surely Seth Meyers is over-indexing on a made-up competition involving grown men and spiders and the corruption within. But actually, it’s not even close to being enough. I need weekly updates. I need a livestream of Wheelan appealing his suspensions to the Spider League panel. I need Meyers to launch The Spider League Show, a Ringer podcast that releases four episodes per week. Of all the incredible things that Robinson has given us in 2025, somehow, Spider League may be the greatest. —Andrew Gruttadaro
“Jordan Schlansky Reviews Toilet Paper”
Something you’ve probably noticed since we last published the best TV episodes of the century: The internet isn’t what it used to be. We’ve coined a term for this feeling—enshittification—and this digital decay encompasses everything from Amazon to Google to Instagram. But the rot that began online is also seeping into the aisles of CVS: Even our toilet paper has turned to shit.
In an absolutely unhinged podcast segment, Conan O’Brien’s longtime foil, Jordan Schlansky, goes on a 20-minute tirade about his preferred toilet paper, Charmin Ultra Gentle. There are some lengthy tangents—about Jordan using toilet paper for all types of “discharge,” about elevating his feet at hotels to simulate Squatty Potty posture—but what Jordan’s learned is that, over time, the amount of paper on each roll of Ultra Gentle has been quietly reduced by 20 percent. All the while, Charmin charges the same price. If you’d recorded my reaction during this segment, I would’ve looked just like Ethan Hawke in First Reformed. This is Pulitzer-worthy investigative journalism tucked away in a comedy podcast, but Jordan speaking truth to power has been overlooked.
“Anyone who listened to all of this, I don’t know what to tell you, but you should spend your time very differently in the future,” Conan says to close the segment. “Something’s wrong with you.” No, Conan: There’s something wrong with the world, and Jordan’s uncovering it—one wipe at a time. —Miles Surrey
The Punic Wars by OverSimplified
It had been eight months and 28 days since his last upload. The world was breathlessly waiting. Would he ever return? And then, on September 2, 2022, it finally happened: OverSimplified posted a new video on YouTube. Actually, two new videos. And, boy, was the wait worth it.
For those who are unacquainted, OverSimplified is one of YouTube’s most successful creators. He has over 9 million subscribers and has racked up more than 1.3 billion views across just 33 videos. He has done all of this by posting comical—and surprisingly well-researched—videos about history, animated with stick figures. Up to that point in 2022, he’d already put an amusing twist on standard documentary fare with videos on World War II, the American Revolution, and Napoleon. But that day, the creator delighted subscribers with a somewhat left-field drop: the Punic Wars. Hannibal’s famous crossing of the Alps! A pre-imperial Rome conquering Carthage and establishing itself as the dominant power in the Mediterranean! The subject was the perfect blend of important and under-examined.
After a successful rollout of his two-part series on the First Punic War, OverSimplified returned 16 months later to tackle the Second Punic War, releasing the first two episodes in tandem before concluding with Part 3 a year after that. Altogether the series on the Second Punic War is one hundred and fourteen minutes of glorious material. To date, the three episodes have garnered more than 50 million views between them. And we still don’t know what this man actually looks like. He’s just a voice behind a mouthless stick figure, cracking jokes about foolish military strategy and half-witted despots. But whenever that new OverSimplified video drops, for at least a week or so, you can count on it being the hottest show around in the eyes of an extremely niche and nerdy subset of followers. —Aric Jenkins
Grocery Goblin on TikTok
I spend a lot of time on TikTok and in grocery stores, and most of that time is spent not really paying attention to anything. Fluorescent-lit cheeses and GRWM videos alike stream by as I scroll through life, looking for something to distract me. But Grocery Goblin (a.k.a. Vanessa Anderson) snaps me out of it with her lilting, pious paeans to L.A.’s grocery stores. In her TikTok videos, she pauses in the aisles to tell us about basturma, prosciutto’s foulmouthed cousin, or treks back in time at Pavilions to uncover the history of Plasticine grocery-store sushi. She talks to the patrons and owners of Papa Cristo’s or Q Market or Odessa Grocery or Bhan Kanom Thai about what, exactly, it means when herring is wearing a fur coat, or why red Fanta can be found at any Thai grocery store, or how there’s sometimes no home quite like your neighborhood market. The first of her videos that I saw was an ode to Odessa Grocery’s candy section, where she unwrapped jewellike candies and asked customers what they thought of when they saw Little Red Riding Hood or three bears on the wrapper. Grocery Goblin’s own videos are a lot like those candies, just waiting in the TikTok bulk bins to be dug up and savored. —Helena Hunt
Conner O’Malley’s Work in the 2020s
During the early part of the pandemic, there were times when I felt overwhelmed. Cooped up and bored at night, I needed something to watch after the newest episode of The Last Dance. So, to feel less crazy, I turned to some crazy shit: Conner O’Malley’s videos. His comedy is cathartic. He yells a lot. The clip I still think about—and that I’ve referenced in The Ringer several times already—is O’Malley simply riding through New York City on his bike. For two minutes, he serenades then-mayor Bill de Blasio at the top of his lungs. (And then coughs up a lung.)
Over the last five years, O’Malley’s videos have gotten more complex. He introduced a new kind of cryptocurrency called Fuck Coin. He vowed to restart the Irish mob. And he blew our collective minds with his pipe rock theory. If his stuff has a unifying principle, it’s that mass enshittification is real. The fact that he acknowledges that, in the most deranged way possible, makes me feel a little less despondent about the world. —Alan Siegel
