No One Understands Me...Except Netflix

All right, Netflix, I'll admit it. You're right. I do like British Period Pieces Featuring a Strong Female Lead. I just didn't realize how much until you pointed it out. But you're so clever you've given me neat little row of movies just for me! What was it that gave me away? It's because I watched Masterpiece Theatre's Bleak House, isn't it? Are you sure I'd like The Mill on the Floss?

Netflix, you've got a nifty little system. You figure out what I like, and you offer me more of it. In doing so you make me label myself as an Anglophile feminist. You think you've got me all figured out. Maybe you do. You decide what kind of viewer I am, and bombard me with suggestions in my "preferred genre." And there's a high likelihood I'll watch or at least browse through your suggestions. But what if this system prevents me from expanding my horizons, trying new things, discovering something that you thought I wouldn't like? You even try to guess how I'll rate certain shows and movies. You think I'd only be two-stars interested in one thing, but four and a half on another. Can't I be the judge of that? You seem terrified that I'll watch something I don't like. What if everyone was like you? What if everyone told me what I wanted to hear? What if I could avoid anything that made me bored, angry, or uncomfortable? What would I learn, Netflix? Not much at all. If people confine themselves to their own narrow interests, they'll never learn how to appreciate the interests of others. If you tell people what they are and what they like, you should watch out. They might believe you.