A Satirical Field Guide to the Courtship of Takes: Stephen A. Smith and Joy Reid
Disclaimer: The following is satire, an imagined timeline where social media platforms and emotions are recycled into content, subtext becomes text, and everyone is yelling because that is how love speaks now.
It began, as all modern romances do, with an algorithm sensing weakness.
In this particular fever dream of the internet, Joy Reid’s show is canceled in early 2025, and the internet, never one to waste a perfectly good cancellation, decides this is not an ending but a digital meet up. MSNBC’s programming shake up becomes the emotional compost from which a new, deeply confusing flower grows: the mutual fondness of Stephen A. Smith and Joy Reid, fertilized entirely by bitterness and broadcast at 1080p or 2 million pixels per frame.
Stephen A. does not whisper his feelings. He declares them. On YouTube. With a thumbnail where his eyebrows appear to be filing a formal complaint.
“LET. ME. BE. VERY. CLEAR,” he announces, voice oscillating between sermon and sports bar. “JOY REID IS TOO SMART, TOO BRILLIANT, TO BE DONE LIKE THAT.”
This is not, he insists, flirting. This is principle. This is outrage. This is what happens when a man who argues about backup point guards for a living discovers media solidarity.
Joy Reid responds the only way one can respond in 2026: with a monologue that sounds like it was written for MSNBC, now MS NOW, but delivered to X/Twitter, YouTube, and a group chat simultaneously.
“I don’t always agree with Stephen A. Smith,” she says, pausing just long enough for the internet to scream LIAR, “but I do appreciate when someone understands that criticism can come with passion.”
Passion. The word hits the timeline like a slow jam at a cookout. Like Frankie Beverly’s “Before I Let Go.”
From there, the dance is inevitable. Stephen A. reacts to Joy reacting to Stephen reacting to a headline reacting to a rumor reacting to the cancellation reacting to capitalism. Each video grows longer, louder, and somehow more tender. He starts calling her “my sister in the struggle,” which in internet dialect means please notice me without anyone being able to quote tweet this into HR.
Joy, for her part, adopts the faintest smile whenever Stephen A.’s name comes up, a smile that says, I will absolutely dismantle your argument, but I respect your cardio.
The audience decides they are in love.
The bitterness is the key ingredient. Without it, there is no chemistry. Bitterness gives their exchanges flavor, like vinegar on fries. They are not drawn together by ideology or shared hobbies or even mutual admiration. They are drawn together by the unmistakable thrill of being mad at the same thing from slightly different angles.
Stephen A. is mad loud.
Joy Reid is mad precise.
Together, they form a love story no focus group asked for.
Soon, every disagreement feels intimate. Every agreement feels suspicious. When Stephen A. says, “Joy Reid made a salient point,” the internet gasps as if he proposed. When Joy says, “Stephen A. isn’t wrong here,” engagement spikes, and three podcasts are born.
Is it romance? No.
Is it content? Absolutely.
In the end, nothing happens. No dinner. No date. No crossover special called First Take After Dark. Just two media veterans circling each other in the digital coliseum, bound not by love but by the shared understanding that bitterness, when properly monetized, is the most romantic thing of all.
And somewhere, an algorithm sighs happily, already planning the sequel.