We live in an age of cultural gluttony, bombarded at every waking moment by the stuff we like. Games, movies, music and memes await our every keystroke and push of the button, infinite methods of procrastination distracting us from our responsibilities.

The Information Age has made it easier than ever to develop deep, lasting interests. In the days before digital distribution of cinema, documentary, independent and foreign films were difficult to ascertain outside of a festival; with Netflix and Hulu, less mainstream directors can now cultivate a niche audience. The renaissance in television storytelling pioneered by cable dramas like The Sopranos, Mad Men and The Shield is fueled by the DVD industry, where these serialized shows can be viewed as a complete narrative upon their completion.

Thousands of musicians sign up on SoundCloud every day. Thousands of talented illustrators and photographers post their work on social networking sites. There are so many different podcasts, webcomics, viral videos, Twitter feeds and fan fictions out in the ether that to view and comment on them all would lead to hermitage and certain insanity.

But it doesn’t hurt to try, and I am one of those aspiring pop culture lunatics. I obsess over stand-up comedy, graphic novels, TV, 16-bit video games and notoriously bad ’80s movies to the detriment of my personal relationships. People complain about how reality shows and pop singers bring down society’s cumulative IQ, but the beauty of living at this moment in history is that I can completely ignore that stuff if I so choose and waste my time with 20 other things at once.

Critical Mass is my attempt to provide context to the hours I squander in front of rectangular screens and ink-stained paper every day. I want to deconstruct overlooked works like Law and Order: Criminal Intent and the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band musical starring Peter Frampton and The Beegees, interpreting their impact, significance or the lack thereof. By examining the mass media products of our oversaturated cultural world, I can perhaps learn something about the world around me and impart it to all of you.

Of course, I lack the time and finances to consume everything. I don’t own a current-generation gaming console, for example, so I can’t give you any reviews on that front. But what I can promise to do is write in meticulous detail about the low-cultural ephemera that fascinates and perplexes my media-addled mind.