Don wasn’t slick. He wasn’t polished. His videos looked like they were filmed in a basement lit by a desk lamp and pure desperation. And that was the charm, wasn’t it?
He’d do unboxings of rubber iPhone cases that took fifteen minutes to arrive. He’d rant about a PDF reader update for three straight videos. And you? You’d watch the whole thing, because he made you feel like you were in on the joke—even if you weren’t sure who was laughing at whom.
I remember one video in particular—his review of a “revolutionary” blue-tooth headset that looked like a hearing aid. The audio was so bad it sounded like he was underwater. Classic Don. He called it “the future of telephony” with a straight face, and I believed him for a solid week.
A Love Letter to the Glitch Era
Don’s channel wasn’t just content; it was a mood. It was that late-night rabbit hole where you’d watch a 45-minute rant about printer ink cartridges. You didn’t care about the topic—you cared about the Don Goodshort energy.
He had a way of talking directly into the camera like he was your older, slightly unhinged cousin. It was intimate. It was messy. And it was completely free of the algorithm-hungry perfection we see now. Don didn’t care about your “engagement metrics.” He just wanted to show you his broken webcam and tell you why it was actually way better than the new one.
We didn’t know we were living in a golden age of weird, personal internet. We just thought it was normal to have a guy with a lisp and a passion for budget USB hubs as our nightly entertainment.
😘“A Billionaire Stay-at-home Dad's Two Treasures” | 👯Grayson, twins
