In 1787, Alexander Hamilton sat down with a quill, some parchment, and the kind of caffeine-fueled ambition that today would earn him a podcast and a TED Talk. Over the course of five months in 1787-88, he, James Madison, and John Jay penned 85 essays known as the Federalist Papers—an intellectual marathon designed to convince a fledgling nation that the Constitution was a balanced system of government that couldn’t just be wiped away with any dictator or king in power.
These essays were published serially in newspapers, debated in taverns, and digested slowly, like a stew left to simmer. The country took its time. People read, re-read, argued, and occasionally threw tankards. It was the kind of national conversation that unfolded over seasons, not seconds. Even without the creature comforts of smart phones and electric cars, the Constitution was ratified only a mere six months after the publication of the final Federalist paper. Light speed for its time.
Fast forward to today, where the pace of public discourse has been upgraded from horse-drawn carriage to a rocket sled. Case in point: Jimmy Kimmel’s return to late-night television. Just days ago, his show was suspended “indefinitely” after comments about the tragic death of Charlie Kirk. And now—blink—he’s back on air. The announcement dropped like a digital confetti bomb and was instantly the top story across nightly news programs, social media feeds, and probably a few smart fridges. Regardless of your opinion on the late-night host, the pace at which this news circled the globe is impressive.
The contrast is dizzying. Hamilton wrote 51 essays himself. Kimmel’s return was summarized in 51 X posts, 19 TikToks, and 14 Truths before lunch. The Federalist Papers were a slow burn; today’s news cycle is a Ferris wheel set to 200 mph, flinging headlines like cotton candy into the void. We don’t consume news anymore—we inhale it, cough once, and move on to the next outrage, meme, or celebrity redemption arc.
Imagine if Hamilton had to pitch the Constitution today. He’d be live-streaming on Twitch, debating Madison in a split-screen CNN show, while John Jay dropped hot takes on Threads. The Federalist Papers would be reduced to a carousel of Instagram infographics: “Top 5 Reasons We Need a Strong Central Government—#NoMoreArticlesOfConfusion.” And tomorrow, we’d be on to the next thing. Coming up next on Fox News, should Supreme Court justices wear powdered wigs? The answer may surprise you!
Despite the velocity, the stakes remain. Kimmel’s suspension and return weren’t just entertainment gossip—they touched on free speech, political tension, and the boundaries of broadcast responsibility. But instead of months of deliberation, we got a few days of hot takes and a Tuesday comeback.
So what does this say about us? Maybe that we’re addicted to immediacy. Or maybe we’ve traded depth for dopamine. But perhaps, just perhaps, there’s still room for a slower kind of thinking. One that doesn’t scroll past, but settles in. One that lets us argue, reflect, and occasionally throw a metaphorical tankard.
Until then, buckle up. The news cycle waits for no one. And if Hamilton were alive today, he’d probably be trending—right after Kimmel’s monologue. I hear he’s kept a mistress. How will this affect the Bill of Rights?
