2025 Year in Review: The Great National Faceplant
The 2025 Year in Review, as so many enterprises do, began with borrowed confidence. In January, commentators declared a “vibe shift,” which meant that a handful of people in television studios believed the country had finally settled on a mood. It had not. By mid-February, the mood had changed again, and by March everyone was pretending they had never used the phrase.
Politics wasted no time embarrassing itself in 2025. The White House changed hands amid victory speeches that sounded like book blurbs and concession speeches that sounded like hostage negotiations. By Inauguration Day, January 20, the word historic had already been rendered meaningless. Every press conference that followed treated reality as a suggestion.
In September, tragedy cut through the noise when conservative activist Charlie Kirk was assassinated during a college campus event in Utah promoting free speech. The country paused briefly, then immediately split into factions arguing about motive, blame, and conspiracy before the crime scene tape had faded. Social media did what it always does in moments of grief: it monetized outrage and rewarded the loudest voices for being the least careful.
Nature handled its own business this year. By summer, wildfires ravaged Los Angeles County, turning neighborhoods into ash while officials held somber briefings and reassured residents that rebuilding would be discussed later, preferably with federal assistance and fewer follow-up questions. Climate change was mentioned. Then it was argued about. Then was ignored again.
Hollywood attempted to provide distraction and instead produced a string of colossal flops. Rachel Zegler’s Snow White arrived and vanished without ceremony. Julia Roberts’ After the Hunt reminded audiences that prestige does not guarantee attendance. Even Bruce Springsteen’s biopic Deliver Me from Nowhere delivered exactly that at the box office. Movie theaters sat empty, lit only by exit signs and regret.
Streaming fared slightly better but could not resist self-sabotage. The White Lotus gave Walton Goggins another career glow-up, while Adam Sandler’s Happy Gilmore 2 leaned hard into nostalgia and celebrity cameos like a man shaking an old scrapbook for loose change. Meanwhile, And Just Like That completed its transformation from beloved franchise to cautionary tale, ending its run in August with a finale involving an overflowing toilet and actual feces. A generation stared at the screen and quietly wished it had watched reruns instead.
Late-night television continued its decline. Jimmy Kimmel and Stephen Colbert turned what was once comedy into a nightly sermon for the already converted. Johnny Carson, somewhere in the afterlife, reportedly turned over.
Celebrities achieved new heights in April when Katy Perry, Gayle King, and Lauren Sanchez boarded a Blue Origin rocket and returned to Earth insisting they were astronauts. King chastised the public for calling the flight a ride instead of a journey. The distinction did not land. The nausea did.
Elsewhere, Bill Belichick spent the year proving that legacy is fragile. At 73, he handed much of his brand to his 24-year-old girlfriend and followed it up with a chaotic losing season as head coach at the University of North Carolina. The effort earned him ridicule, distraction, and eventually a cover on Us Weekly, which appeared to be the point.
Meghan Markle began the year by writing “2025” in the sand during a beachside Instagram video and ended it with another failed Netflix show, “With Love, Meghan,” and a podcast cancellation. At least the flower sprinkles are still available by mail order.
Sports offered mixed blessings in 2025. The Kansas City Chiefs dynasty crapped out, though Travis Kelce did put a ring on Taylor Swift’s finger in August. Phillip Rivers returned to the NFL at age 44, briefly convincing middle-aged Americans that their knees still had a chance. Indiana quarterback Fernando Mendoza won the Heisman Trophy in December and delivered a speech so wholesome it confused the entire media apparatus.
The body positivity movement quietly expired somewhere between an Ozempic prescription and a red carpet appearance. Amy Schumer and Meghan Trainor emerged noticeably slimmer and notably silent. No manifesto was issued. The photos spoke for themselves.
New York politics provided its own spectacle. Andrew Cuomo attempted a political resurrection and failed decisively. In November, Democratic Socialist Zohran Mamdani was elected mayor of New York City, sending landlords into panic and cable news into overdrive.
Religion, oddly enough, had a banner year. Catholicism saw a surge in converts, even in New York City. In May, Cardinal Robert Prevost of Chicago was elected pope, becoming Pope Leo XIV, the first American pontiff. Twitter theologians immediately weighed in.
Sean “Diddy” Combs survived a sensational trial, avoided the most serious charges, and still ended the year in prison serving a four-year sentence related to prostitution offenses, all while a Netflix documentary finished the job his reputation started.
Charlie Sheen capped the year with a Netflix documentary, aka Charlie Sheen released in September. Clean, sober, and oddly reflective, Sheen offered a requiem for a Hollywood era defined by excess, speed, and very little adult supervision.
Perhaps the most shocking moment of the year came in April, when Bill Maher revealed he had eaten dinner with Donald Trump. The internet reacted as if Maher had defected. Tolerance was suspended. Dinner was declared violence.
By December 29, 2025, when pundits sat down to tally winners and losers, the truth was unavoidable. Nobody won. Some merely fell louder than others. The year ended as it began: with declarations, debris, and a nation face-down on a clean surface, insisting it had meant to do that.
Watch your step in 2026. The banana peel is still there.
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