Hulu Kevin
Hard to believe it’s been over a decade since I started using your password. I got it from our mutual friend Carie back when she and I were roommates. She said you two went to college together in the early 2000s and that she’d been giving your password out to everyone she knew. Your “continue watching” section must be insane—Blippi, Most Terrifying Places in America, 1000 lb. Sisters. What’s even harder to believe is that you never changed your password in all this time. You never tried to shake off the legions of freeloaders blowing up your algorithm. It’s also hard to believe that Hulu hasn’t cracked down on you, on us, like so many other platforms have. Thank you, Hulu Kevin. And thank you for never logging out. I lost your password many years ago.
We met once, Hulu Kevin. When Carie got married and you brought your whole family to Boston to attend the wedding. We joked with you about how half the city was using your account. You laughed and seemed a little annoyed but kept it cool. Your kids were young then, and my wife and I hadn’t had ours yet. We were still getting drunk in bars and posting our meals on Instagram. That was before we had our kid. I remember your son did something bad to his sister and you pulled him aside. You got down on your knee and asked him to do better. That you knew he could do better. I thought that was cool, Hulu Kevin. I’d never heard a dad talk to his kid like that before.
To be honest, I don’t really watch that much TV these days. I’m in the weeds of parenthood and life and I hardly ever use your account anymore. But it’s comforting to know it’s there just above Peacock on our Apple TV. It’s good to know you’re out there too, Hulu Kevin. Forking out ten bucks a month for hordes of strangers who could definitely afford to pay for our own subscriptions. How Hulu might even get bundled in with our Disney + accounts we all buy for our kids. That’s where most of the TV happens in our house these days. Infinite Bluey; infinite Spidey. I’m sure we’ll eventually get to watch more of our own shows when our kid is a little older, and when we do, I hope you’ll still be there, Hulu Kevin. But if not, I understand.
I’m afraid, Hulu Kevin. I’m afraid for society and for our children. I’m afraid that our kids won’t have passwords to share with one another, or won’t get to choose what they watch, but have some state sponsored info-mercial piped directly into their neuro chips. Infinite propaganda. I’m afraid that we’re failing them, letting all this shit just happen, watching their futures diminish into some kind of post-apocalyptic Apprentice episode. Ice caps melted, while a new season of Philly Shore airs. I’m worried they’ll only be able to eat Cool Ranch taquitos from gas stations and that AI will be the ones to teach them how to be cool and how to get laid. I’m afraid, Hulu Kevin. I’m sure you are too.
But what can we do, Hulu Kevin? I guess we can only try and do better too. I guess we can block out the Fuckery by being with our families and friends. Go to carnivals and toss our phones into the blue abyss of the porta potties. Eat cotton candy and ride the Teacups while our kids still want to be seen with us. Win purple stuffed bears from ring tosses and the spray & race. Watch the lights from the tilt-a-whirl flash on our kid’s night faces, then drive home listening to their tiny snores in the back seat. We can try to do better, Hulu Kevin.
Maybe it will all be okay. It’s not like things have never gone to total shit in the past. There used to be mustard gas and trench warfare. This is just our version of bad, Hulu Kevin, which I suppose is better than mustard gas and trenches. But it’s really bad and we’re just a couple of scared dads hoping for the best, while secretly looking up real estate in Portugal and Spain. Trying to keep our kids from spending too much time on screens and eating ultra processed foods. We’ll get through this, Hulu Kevin. As long as we have each other, and we support one another, we’ll be okay. Solidarity will always win. So, to fortify this bond, I’m sending you my HBO Max password. It’s 26CrawfordSt. That was the address Carie and I lived at together. Don’t forget the period after St.
- Hulu Kevin - March 26, 2026
* This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are producs of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
