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After a grueling 2023, here are 4 predictions for media in 2024

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After a grueling 2023, here are 4 predictions for media in 2024

The numeral 2024 in Times Square in New York City on Dec. 20. 2023, after traveling across the country, beginning in Los Angeles.

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The numeral 2024 in Times Square in New York City on Dec. 20. 2023, after traveling across the country, beginning in Los Angeles.

David Dee Delgado/Getty Images

Given how turbulent 2023 turned out, saying it was a challenging year for media feels like the understatement of the decade.

Here’s what we survived: Two lengthy strikes by Hollywood writers and performers that paralyzed new production, crippling the business in ways we’re just beginning to fathom. Layoffs in the media sector totaling more than 20,000 positions, according to one study. Hikes in subscription fees, which hit consumers of almost every major streaming service, including Netflix, Disney+, Hulu and Apple TV+, and confrontations between media companies and cable providers leading to questions on whether cable TV can even survive in the streaming era.

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But experience has taught me that, when it comes to the media business, things are rarely as bad – or as good – as they initially seem. So, my predictions for media in 2024 may sound negative — based mostly on a growing cynicism about the abilities of those leading our biggest media companies to meet a historically challenging moment. But I’m also, oddly, a bit optimistic.

In other words, as clueless or greedy as media executives get, this critic remains convinced talented creators, journalists and performers will find a way to excel.

We’ll probably have fewer TV/streaming series. But that will likely be a good thing.

One minute, analysts were complaining about the glut of TV and streaming programming at the beginning of 2023 — offering too much material for anyone to keep tabs on — before the cancellation of shows and the tactic of completely removing titles from streaming services as tax write-offs drew howls of criticism as the year wore on.

Unfortunately, the numbers won’t get much better in 2024. I fear the economic hit media companies likely took from the strikes and the added costs incurred by new contract terms will result in fewer shows getting made and even more shows getting the ax in the new year. But the silver lining here: given that 2022 saw nearly 600 separate series available to viewers, the industry was long overdue for serious shearing, anyway.

The key to bringing the glut of TV down to a manageable level for the average consumer is ensuring the right programs survive – including shows featuring marginalized groups and cultures. After a year in which programs like A Black Lady Sketch Show, Reservation Dogs, the LGBTQ-centered reboot of A League of Their Own and the Black-centered revival of The Wonder Years all went away, the industry must work overtime to ensure diversity doesn’t decline along with the number of TV series.

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Streamers will cost more. But you’ll have even more subscription options.

One of the sneakiest media trends in 2023 was all the different techniques streaming services used to squeeze additional revenue from subscribers. Amazon announced, for example, that Prime Video subscribers will begin to see ads in their streaming content on Jan. 29, but customers can pay an additional $2.99 for ad-free content. Netflix eliminated its cheapest ad-free tier months ago, forcing those who wanted to avoid ads to buy the pricier, premium subscription. And lots of services cracked down on password sharing while boosting prices.

Still, streaming services’ drive for profit also creates more opportunities for consumers. Some platforms have worked out limited deals to share content with other services, bringing select HBO titles to Netflix. Streamers are also bundling services, with Disney offering Disney+ and ESPN+ to Charter cable customers for a single price, while Verizon has brought together Max and Netflix. We’re back to the future as companies and consumers rediscover the cost savings of advertisements and bundling that were always hallmarks of cable TV.

I also think we’re going to see a landscape where there is a small number of giant streaming services and a bunch of boutique specialty platforms, with midlevel players like Peacock and Paramount+ facing increasing economic pressure to join bigger companies (hence the rumors about Warner Bros. Discovery talking about merging with Paramount Global and rumors that Comcast might also benefit from buying Paramount.)

Journalists took a serious hit in 2023. But the fight against misinformation is only beginning.

One bright spot for journalism in 2023 was the gigantic settlement Fox News paid for airing and repeating lies about the last presidential election and the dethroning of the news channel’s biggest star, Tucker Carlson. What remains astonishing is how little those moves have curbed similar rhetoric on other media platforms about the election or the continued influence of toxic ideologues like Carlson and Megyn Kelly.

Expect that fight to only grow more intense in 2024, as the presidential season unfolds and people actually begin voting in primaries (I’m still upset by news items that say a given candidate is “ahead” when no one has voted yet, and we’re only talking about poll results.) Kudos to news outlets that have adopted journalism professor Jay Rosen’s admonition to avoid “horse race”-style reporting to cover “the stakes for the next election, particularly The Atlantic‘s entire issue devoted to the possible consequences if Donald Trump wins a second term as president.

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Still, in addition to the job losses, the media’s addiction to toxic but buzzy personalities remains a serious flaw. Too many supposedly serious news platforms refuse to accept that the worst outcome for shameless attention addicts like George Santos isn’t breathless coverage denouncing his lies, but no coverage at all. No more updates on certain people’s Cameo posts or social media outbursts — yes, NPR has covered such things, too — the real solution to handling some awful public figures is to deprive them of the media oxygen they need to survive.

Late night television and cable TV will continue to decline. But they will also survive.

I’ve said and written this a few times: New media doesn’t kill old media. It just forces it to change.

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The scariest media moments of 2023 involved watching Internet-led disruption come for familiar forms of media, like late night TV and cable systems. Big names like The Late Late Show‘s James Corden and The Daily Show‘s Trevor Noah and Roy Wood Jr. left the late night genre, only to be replaced by a game show and… nothing, yet.

CBS might yet find a hit with After Midnight, the sort of game show it tapped to replace Corden’s program, and Comedy Central may yet conclude its yearlong spasm of guest hosts by finding the one person ready to take The Daily Show into the future. But it feels more like a sector of media that produced an awful lot of modern comedy stars is on the ropes with no clear way back to the top.

Similarly, accelerated cord-cutting and homogeneity of content – cue the jokes about how ridiculous MTV’s marathon airings of Ridiculousness have become – threaten to permanently hobble the industry that gave us modern-day quality TV in HBO, CNN and ESPN.

Because I’m also an optimist, I’m hopeful both these corners of media will find new directions in 2024, led by innovators we may not even know yet. But they’re likely to be in a much-reduced form, a bracing reminder that change eventually comes for us all in media.

And, sometimes, what’s left is a shadow of what once was.

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The Frayed Edge: Are Fashion’s Sustainability Efforts Misplaced?

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The Frayed Edge: Are Fashion’s Sustainability Efforts Misplaced?
A disappointing COP30 deal was reached in Brazil, while floods across South and Southeast Asia showed exactly why quicker action is required. Meanwhile the EU watered down sustainability legislation yet again, this time targeting deforestation. In some positive news, bans on fur and misleading ‘green’ ads made headway.
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‘Wait Wait’ for December 13, 2025: With Not My Job guest Lucy Dacus

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‘Wait Wait’ for December 13, 2025: With Not My Job guest Lucy Dacus

Lucy Dacus performs at Spotlight: Lucy Dacus at GRAMMY Museum L.A. Live on October 08, 2025 in Los Angeles, California. (Photo by Rebecca Sapp/Getty Images for The Recording Academy)

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This week’s show was recorded in Chicago with host Peter Sagal, guest judge and scorekeeper Alzo Slade, Not My Job guest Lucy Dacus and panelists Adam Burke, Helen Hong, and Tom Bodett. Click the audio link above to hear the whole show.

Who’s Alzo This Time

Mega Media Merger; Cars, They’re Just Like Us; The Swag Gap

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Panel Questions

An Hourly Marriage

Bluff The Listener

Our panelists tell three stories about a new TV show making headlines, only one of which is true.

Not My Job: Lucy Dacus answers our questions about boy geniuses

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Singer-songwriter Lucy Dacus, one third of the supergroup boygenius, plays our game called, “boygenius, meet Boy Geniuses” Three questions about child prodigies.

Panel Questions

Bedroom Rules; Japan Solves its Bear Problem

Limericks

Alzo Slade reads three news-related limericks: NHL Superlatives; Terrible Mouthwash; The Most Holy and Most Stylish

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Lightning Fill In The Blank

All the news we couldn’t fit anywhere else

Predictions

Our panelists predict what will be the next big merger in the news.

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L.A. Affairs: I had casually known her for 5 years. Was I finally ready to make a move?

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L.A. Affairs: I had casually known her for 5 years. Was I finally ready to make a move?

In Fairfax, nestled on Beverly Boulevard near Pan Pacific Park, I ran a modest yet beloved pan-Asian restaurant called Buddha’s Belly. More than a place to eat, it was a gathering spot where our team and loyal regulars created an atmosphere of warmth and community. Every day, we exchanged stories about our guests, the generous, the quirky and the kind souls whose smiles lit up our little corner of L.A.

For five years, one regular stood out. The Buddha’s Belly team referred to her as “Aloha.” She had a familiar and beautiful face and she adored our shao bing finger sandwiches and pad Thai. During those five years, all I ever said to her was: “How’s your pad Thai?,” “Nice to see you” and “Thanks for coming in!” Her friendly smile and presence were the highlights of our routine interactions.

Then one hectic afternoon changed everything. Rushing to a meeting and about to leap into my car, I caught a glimpse of Lynda sitting at Table 64, smiling at me through our bamboo-lined patio (a.k.a. “bamboo forest”). I went over to say a quick hi.

“How’s your pad Thai?” I asked, and then I was off.

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A couple blocks from the restaurant, I was struck by the feeling that our brief encounter was different this time. There was a spark — a look in her eye. So I did something out of character: I called the manager on duty and asked him to go to Table 64, Seat 3, and ask for her number.

The next day, I found a business card on my desk with Lynda’s cell number. It was on! That small gesture signaled the start of something extraordinary.

Eager to seize the moment, I called and invited her out for a date that same weekend. However, it was her birthday month, and that meant her calendar was booked solid for the next three to four weekends. Not wanting to let time slip away, I proposed an unconventional plan: to join me and an octogenarian friend at our annual opening night at the Hollywood Bowl. Little did I know this would turn out to be equal parts amazing and mortifying. My friend was so excited — she had no filter.

Shortly after picking up our dinner at Joan’s on Third, my friend started asking Lynda questions, first light questions like “Where are you from?” and “What do you do?” Then once seated at the Bowl, her questions continued. But now they were more pointed questions: “Have you ever been married?” and “Do you have kids?”

Amazingly, Lynda didn’t flinch, and her honesty, unfiltered yet graceful, was refreshing and alluring. She had been through life’s fires and knew that when it’s a fit, it should not be based on any false pretense. Although I did manage to get a few questions in that evening, I still chuckle at the memory of myself, sitting back, legs extended with a note pad in hand taking notes!

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After dropping her off, she didn’t know if she would hear from me, as she didn’t know anything about me. But I didn’t wait three days to contact Lynda. I called her the next day to make plans to see her again. With it still being her birthday month, I asked her to join me that night for a surf film at the Ford with my best buddy. She said yes, and there we were on another chaperoned date.

By our third date, we were finally alone. We ventured to an underground gem affectionately dubbed the “Blade Runner” restaurant. Hidden on Pico Boulevard behind no obvious sign and characterized by hood-free mesquite grills and stacked wine crates, the place exuded a secret charm. Sharing a bottle of wine with the owner, our conversation deepened, and the electricity between Lynda and me became undeniable.

Our story took another turn when I was opening a new bar named Copa d’Oro (or Cup of Gold) in Santa Monica that was similar to a bar down the street called Bar Copa. The owner of Bar Copa invited me to discuss whether the concept was going to be too like his own. While we waited in the packed room, I instinctively put my hand around the small of Lynda’s back to steady us from the ebb and flow of the crowd of people around us. The intensity of our closeness and the energy between us was palpable, and we soon found ourselves at a quieter bar called Schatzi on Main where we had our first kiss.

Our courtship continued, and it would be defined by ease and grace. There were no mind games or calculations. One of us would ask whether the other was free, and it was an easy yes. Our desire was to be together.

I fondly remember being at a Fatburger not far from where Lynda lived, and I phoned her to ask if she wanted to sit with me as I scarfed down a Double Kingburger with chili and egg (yum!), and she said yes. By the time she arrived, I was halfway through eating the sandwich. But I was practicing a new way of eating a sloppy burger that my brother taught me. Why bother to continuously wipe your mouth when you’re only going to mess it up with the next bite? To save time and energy, wipe your mouth once at the end.

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I was practicing this new technique with a smear of sauce on my face, and it didn’t faze her one bit. I could only imagine what her internal monologue was!

After six months of effortless companionship, I asked Lynda to move in, and a year later, while at Zephyr’s Bench, a serene and cherished hiking spot in the Santa Monica Mountains behind Bel-Air, I asked her to marry me.

Now, more than 17 years later, with two beautiful boys and our pandemic dog in tow, I can say I found my own aloha right here in the vibrant chaos of Los Angeles.

The author lives in Santa Monica with his wife and two children. They go to the Hollywood Bowl every chance they can. He’s also aspiring to make it into the Guinness World Records book.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.

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