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Tabi is a pop culture critic, humorist, and writer for her Substack newsletter Party’s Over, where she crafts prose, essays, and short stories probing the cognitive dissonance between natural instinct and social conditioning. In this version of Obasanjo’s Internet, she reflects on her day to day Internet habits and the evolution of her relationship with […]
Tabi is a pop culture critic, humorist, and writer for her Substack newsletter Party’s Over, where she crafts prose, essays, and short stories probing the cognitive dissonance between natural instinct and social conditioning. In this version of Obasanjo’s Internet, she reflects on her day to day Internet habits and the evolution of her relationship with Twitter pre Elon Musk.
My name is Tabi. No, it’s not short for anything. I’m into media. Specifically writing and such. I am a pop culture critic and humorist. On my substack newsletter, Party’s Over, I write prose, essays, and short stories exploring the cognitive dissonance between natural instinct and social conditioning.
Check the time. If I’m late, quick shower and I take my meds. If I have time, stretch, check messages and calendar for anything urgent, and then watch a half-hour sitcom with my cup of tea.
Set multiple alarms. I have time blindness from ADHD. If I don’t timeblock my day, I can lose HOURS without noticing.
Twitter. His mama named him Twitter, so imma call him Twitter. I follow the entertainment trades, and several of my mutuals are cinephiles and telephiles. With Awards Season coming up, there’s a lot of new media to lambast and enjoy.
No. I was on MySpace in primary school. I spent my teens on Tumblr and Bella Naija. There isn’t a single facade I haven’t seen crumble or disappear. Performing for a digital audience creates a certain schizophrenia where people feel compelled to misrepresent the truth, or worse, themselves, in exchange for the validation of a fickle, insatiable, and anonymous vacuum. I’ve literally grown up on the internet. My posts reflect who and what feels important to me at the time, which gives me the freedom to evolve in a way that keyboard caricatures cannot.
The greatest attribute of my online presence is that when I FaceTime or meet my mutuals irl, they’ll say, “Oh. You’re just like this all the time.” I take it as a compliment.
Internet culture often informs my writing, but it’s not my only frame of reference. There’s still so much to uncover about social behavior that, undoubtedly, in the course of an idle TikTok scroll, I will be struck by a new pattern to observe or a new idea to explore. My curiosity draws me to the internet, which in turn leads me to ideas and stories that either broaden my worldview or send me into an existential spiral. Both are good for creativity.
Try not to say anything online you wouldn’t defend in person.
There’s no shame in correcting yourself after discoveries.
Don’t argue with strangers. You think you’re teaching a madman a lesson, but all everyone sees is two mad people shadow boxing.
At the height of the 2020 lockdown, it felt like the entire world was on Clubhouse. So, of course, I joined to investigate. In that period, I bonded with several people across different time zones and professional disciplines. That intimacy of having someone’s voice in your ear almost 24/7, confined to our prisons of comfort, accelerated closeness in a way that takes years to develop organically. Once the world opened up, I took multiple trips with people I’d never met before. The way we joked and laughed and easily found a shorthand to communicate, an onlooker might mistake us for lifelong friends. Those relationships got us through uncertain times and helped us feel seen. That’s the magic of the internet. No matter how small and insignificant you might feel, there’s a fringe community online eager to welcome you with open arms. In the age of convenience-induced isolation, connection is currency.
I made a throwaway comment about how Issa Rae’s buddy romcom “Lovebirds” reminded me of a drama about another couple on the run from the law, which had only been released a few months before. I watched the trailer and commented, “ok Queen and Salim!” The caption still makes me giggle, but it was a silly little dad joke that was never meant to leave my TL. When Issa Rae liked it, I was mortified. Issa’s my GOAT— I didn’t want her to see me like this.
Another very silly one. When Ryan Destiny was cast as a series regular on the Kenya Barris series, grownish, I tweeted, “finally, darkskinned people can go to college.” This was pre-2020, and I was getting “too woke” allegations for joking about colorism and mainstream opportunities for dark skinned actors in a notoriously whitewashed industry. Once I finished laughing with my friends, I muted the post. I don’t debate facts, and I don’t debate human rights. That’s just common sense.
Twitter for sure. As much as it is a dumpster fire for our most unrefined thoughts and opinions, I find it to be the most intriguing by far. When I’m cold, sick, or tired, I can only people-watch on Twitter. It’s fascinating to see how people reason and capture ideas we were previously unable to express. It’s a true testament to the power of language; As a polyglot and a reader, I have immense respect for that.
TikTok, absolutely. Even among the most performative skits, I find its absurdity so charming. The monetization of YouTube flattened creativity in the 2010s, while TikTok rewarded it. The whimsicality of making caricatures out of the mundane has been lost on YouTube, so I mainly go there to reminisce.

I take great pleasure in gen pop realizing something is overrated or fraudulent years after I divested. And I never feel guilty about that.
My favorite movie of 2024 was Conclave, which aptly became a cult classic when the real pope died. I was so enthralled by the chapel politics and petty gossip of the movie Conclave that when the Real Conclave was announced, I joined my friends (one atheist and one barely Italian) in drafting a 2025 Pababiles Playoffs chart. We’re all still broken up about Cardinal Tagle.
People are in intimate relationships with ChatGPT.
I love reading public journals on Substack. Long-form media is becoming an acquired taste at an alarming rate. As social creatures and tribal animals, we are nothing without literacy. The act of reading and writing for leisure, seeking information for information’s sake, is an act of survival. There’s no hope for our future if we can’t read the past.
These sensitive young authors, disillusioned by late-stage capitalism and modern romance, are owning their messy habits and, in doing so, making poignant observations. They’re all daughters of Carrie Bradshaw, and their earnestness is genuinely refreshing.
Hauwa Lawal. I don’t know her personally, but I can’t think of a more witty or charismatic individual in the digital space right now.
CJ Obasi (@fierycj) is oomf ❤️. He’s an incredibly thoughtful and provocative storyteller. Mami Wata was a revelation, and listening to him talk about his craft restored my faith in Nigerian filmmaking. I always look forward to what he’s up to next.
ALWAYS PART OF ME
Naturally. These were people with whom I shared interests, values, and political views. It’s no different than meeting on campus or at a house party (remember those?).
Chinasa Anukam, Hauwa Lawal, Tyla, Grace Johnson (@criticalgracetheory)
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