Janet Anderson, an actor, writer, and outspoken voice in queer comedy, has long been known for her eclectic sense of humor and her ability to find levity in the most unexpected corners of the internet. In a new feature published today, Anderson shares her personal “Top 10 Funniest Things” she has ever discovered online. Drawing on her years of devouring online content—from viral videos to cult‐favorite reality‐TV moments—she offers readers a curated tour through the absurd, the irreverent, and the downright hilarious. This list not only reflects Anderson’s comedic influences but also underscores the evolving landscape of queer and drag‐inflected humor on platforms like YouTube, TikTok, and social media at large.
Childhood and Internet Beginnings
Anderson begins by reflecting on her early relationship with the internet. “As a child of the year 2000, my relationship with the internet was like a suckling calf to a prized heifer,” she writes. Growing up, she spent hours diving down Reddit rabbit holes and exploring niche subreddits, learning about identities and practices that ultimately shaped her personal and comedic self. It was YouTube—rather than textbooks or classroom lectures—that first taught her about her own identity as a queer individual. Among the first creators to kindle that awareness was Gigi Gorgeous, whose candid videos on hormone therapy and facial feminization surgery offered Anderson a blueprint for exploring self‐love, transition, and public persona. Anderson even likens Gigi Gorgeous’s contributions to a Purple Heart in the “diva nation,” acknowledging the profound impact these early YouTube narratives had on her own burgeoning comedic voice.
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The Role of Queer Comedy and Drag
Throughout her piece, Anderson emphasizes the vital role that drag, camp, and queer community content have played in shaping her sense of humor. “There’s almost nothing that makes me laugh more than earnest drag,” she declares when introducing her first entry, a low‐budget “mom commercial” starring drag artist Cole Escola. In Anderson’s view, drag’s exaggerated theatricality and subversion of gender norms allow performers to “scratch an itch” in viewers’ comedic tendencies—a tradition dating back to John Waters and cult cinema. By following that lineage, Anderson highlights how queer comedy has transitioned from fringe subcultures to mainstream viral success, thanks in part to platforms where “cheap wigs and a camera” can turn a bedroom performance into an international phenomenon.
- Cole Escola’s Mom Commercial
Anderson’s top pick is a seemingly innocuous video featuring drag performer Cole Escola playing “mom” in a parody commercial. Filmed during Tumblr’s heyday, the clip showcases Escola in full character—complete with a dated wig, prosthetic makeup, and a deadpan delivery that veers into absurdist territory. Despite its humble production values, the video has garnered millions of views over the years. Anderson lauds it as a quintessential example of “earnest drag”: “Very John Waters. Just a cheap wig and a camera.” In it, Escola delivers overly dramatic endorsements of household products—framing each punchline with a meticulous morsel of suburban affectation. For Anderson, this video embodies the early‐YouTube ethos, where drag performers reclaimed commercial formats and turned them into moments of queer satire. - Dina and Doreen Sketches
Following her affection for drag, Anderson selects the Dina and Doreen sketches—short comedic bits centered on two over‐the‐top drag personas named Dina and Doreen. Anderson explains that “drag is art, and art is stupid” in the best way possible. In the Dina and Doreen series, performers adopt loudly hued wigs and glitzy costumes, trading insults and barbs in thick, campy accents. “There’s a rawness to the humor,” Anderson notes, “as if these characters are fully committed to being single‐note caricatures, yet their improvisational asides feel genuine.” She credits Dina and Doreen with representing a new wave of drag artists who blur the lines between scripted sketch comedy and spontaneous riffing—allowing audiences to delight in the performers’ fearless commitment to ridiculousness. - Jiminy Glick Interviews with Martin Short
Anderson’s third selection moves away from drag to highlight celebrity parody, specifically Martin Short’s Jiminy Glick character. Short’s overzealous interview persona—bulging eyes, obsessively enthusiastic inquiries, and a penchant for absurd tangents—remains one of Anderson’s all‐time favorites. “No matter how I’m feeling, I can watch a Jiminy Glick interview and giggle,” she writes. In these clips, Short portrays a fictional entertainment reporter whose formula is simple: ask self‐indulgent questions, interrupt guests mid‐sentences, and stuff doughnuts into his mouth without a pause. For Anderson, the humor lies in the relentless energy: “Why is he yelling and force‐feeding himself doughnuts? Who cares.” The extended sequences of physical comedy and improvised non sequiturs make these interviews a touchstone for anyone who appreciates towering comedic risk. - Sukihana’s “Suki the Goat” Street Video
Next on Anderson’s list is a viral clip featuring rapper and reality star Sukihana, also known as “Suki the Goat,” filmed on a city street in California. Although much of Anderson’s chosen video is not Suzihana herself, it captures a moment when several women perform a choreographed dance routine for a smartphone camera—only to discover they are dancing in the middle of busy traffic. As a white sedan sails around them, the dancers freeze momentarily, then resume their routine as if nothing is amiss. Anderson finds humor both in Sukihana’s deadpan commentary and in the absurdity of shaking one’s hips in the center of an active roadway. “I love the moment when each of the girls realise just who it is they’re shaking ass for,” Anderson writes, “and the camera pans to show they’re standing in the middle of the road.” - “Give Me My Dishes” TikTok Loop
At number five, Anderson chooses a short TikTok video that has become a personal brainworm: a condominium resident peering out from behind a door, demanding, “Give me my dishes!” before slamming the door closed. The catchphrase—uttered in indignant tones—and the abrupt exit have propelled this clip to millions of loops on TikTok. “This plays on a loop in my head,” Anderson quips, noting that the woman’s frustration at a stolen—or perhaps misplaced—dish resonates with everyday interpersonal absurdities. Its brevity and relatability underscore the power of social‐media micro‐moments that can linger long after one’s phone is locked. - Reality T.V. “Disco Drama”
Anderson’s sixth pick returns to reality television, specifically a well‐known fight among affluent women on a shopping show filmed in Orange County. The brawl—part of a hyperstaged production—features two women in designer outfits screaming accusations, hurling luxury purses, and tearing at each other’s hair. Anderson equates the “sound of rich white women fighting” to “waves crashing on a beach”—a spectacle she finds hypnotic. She chose this particular “disco drama” clip because it showcases key reality‐TV tropes: public crying, high‐fashion outfits, shout‐y insults that borderline on non‐insults, and a bizarre cameo by an “inconsequential side character.” The entire confrontation lasts barely ten minutes but crystallizes the theater of the absurd that has come to define escapist reality TV. - Schatar Sapphira’s Flavor of Love Antics
Anderson’s seventh entry, Schatar Sapphira from Flavor of Love season one, hails from an era when VH1’s dating shows reached cultural saturation. A housemate on “Flavor of Love” (a dating series starring Flavor Flav), Schatar quickly distinguished herself by concocting elaborate lies—claiming to date celebrities she had never met—and inventing outlandish backstories for herself. “What would reality TV be without the liars and fabricators?” Anderson asks. She celebrates Schatar’s inventiveness and boasts that “her quotability is quite unmatched.” By selecting Schatar’s best moments—taped confessions in the “drama room,” staged breakdowns in the kitchen—Anderson shines a light on how early 2000s reality television pioneered the archetype of the “delulu diva” (delusionally diva), a figure whose grandiosity and unfiltered honesty paved the way for later generations of reality‐TV personalities. - The Katering Show (Australia)
Switching gears to scripted web content, Anderson applauds The Katering Show, an Australian comedy series starring Kate McCartney and Kate McLennan. She recalls watching the series in high‐school English class—much to her teacher’s dismay—and “crying with laughter.” Through sarcastic cooking tutorials and pop‐culture parodies, The Katering Show skewers tip‐of‐the‐tongue food trends, culinary pretensions, and influencer culture. Anderson emphasizes how the series’ mock‐documentary style and deadpan delivery shaped her comedic sensibilities: “I’m glad both Kates have gone on to create so much, because this was the beginning of something big.” In Anderson’s view, The Katering Show occupies a crucial place in Australian queer comedy, demonstrating how Internet‐first productions can carve out global audiences via clever writing and earnest performances. - Pennywise Makeup Tutorial Under the Influence
For her penultimate selection, Anderson highlights a beauty tutorial with a twist: a creator attempting Pennywise‐inspired clown makeup while under the influence of edibles. The video’s genius lies in its simplicity: a woman, giggling and red‐faced, narrates each step of a horror‐inspired face transformation. Smeared foundation, smeared lipstick, and wide‐eyed gasps punctuate the sequence, amplifying the horror theme while inviting empathy for the creator’s clearly stoned state. “Sometimes, simplicity is key,” Anderson observes. “Just a girl eating edibles and doing Halloween makeup tutorials.” She also gives a shout‐out to the creator’s “nun tutorial,” in which the same sense of stoned delight informs an elaborate (and slightly unhinged) habit transformation. - Trixie & Katya’s Fashion Photo Review
Anderson’s tenth and final pick is a throwback to the early days of drag‐queen Duos on YouTube: Trixie Mattel and Katya Zamolodchikova (“Trixie & Katya”) reviewing celebrity fashion looks. Before their massively popular UNHhhh series, the pair filmed a segment in which they react to red‐carpet outfits—offering pun‐laden commentary, savage critiques, and off‐the‐wall tangents. Anderson notes that this series was “the video that started it all” for Trixie and Katya’s brand, which has since expanded into podcasts, television shows, and merchandise. “From humble beginnings to global superstars, these two bald men are some of the only constants in my adult life,” Anderson writes. She underscores the duo’s importance to her comedic identity and to the wider resurgence of drag on the internet.
Reflections on Queer Internet Culture
In the final paragraphs of her list, Anderson emphasizes that her selections are not meant to define her entire comedic palette but rather reflect “the expanse of [her] research into stupid shit.” Her journey through internet subcultures—Tumblr, early YouTube, and now TikTok—mirrors broader shifts in how queer creators find community and shape humor. She remarks that the internet taught her “I even existed” and credits these 10 pieces of content with helping forge her identity as a queer comedian and writer.
Throughout the essay, Anderson repeatedly returns to themes of performativity, spectacle, and the power of raw, unfiltered expression. The unifying through line is that each entry—whether a high‐production drag sketch or a shaky smartphone video—celebrates moments when people reject convention to embrace comedic absurdity. Even when these clips involve conflict (Orange County reality drama) or subversive identity play (drag performances, delulu divas), Anderson finds value in their capacity to uplift, connect, and provoke laughter.
Impact and Legacy of Viral Humor
By spotlighting these 10 moments, Anderson illuminates the ways in which digital platforms democratize comedy. An earnest drag commercial made on a dorm‐room webcam can stand alongside a multi‐million‐dollar reality‐TV brawl, each resonating with audiences for different reasons. Anderson’s list underscores how memes and viral videos become memetic artifacts—shared cultural touchstones that enshrine drag’s camp aesthetic, reality television’s melodrama, and the delight of low‐brow subversion.
Moreover, her selections hint at the influence of queer creators in mainstream comedic discourse. The visibility of performers like Cole Escola, Schatar Sapphira, Trixie and Katya, and YouTube personalities underscores how LGBTQ+ artists have harnessed digital platforms to build followings outside traditional gatekeepers. In Anderson’s narrative, this digital participation empowered her personally and professionally—shaping her comedic style and affirming her queer identity.
Conclusion: A Continuous Search for Laughter
Janet Anderson’s “10 Funniest Things I Have Ever Seen (on the Internet)” is both an ode to her favorite comedic treasures and a testament to the internet’s power as an incubator of queer humor. From cheap wig drag skits to stoned makeup tutorials, her selections celebrate the transformative potential of online culture. For readers seeking a primer in camp, queer comedy, and viral absurdity, Anderson offers a crash course—reassuring us that, even in a world saturated with content, laughter remains one of the most potent forms of connection.
As digital platforms evolve—TikTok dances, livestream rants, Discord memes—Anderson’s list may soon feel nostalgic. Yet it stands as a snapshot of a particular moment in internet humor, where DIY drag, reality‐TV meltdowns, and early YouTube experiments coexisted with an ever‐expanding queer creative ecosystem. For those wondering where to start on their own journey through “stupid shit,” Anderson’s curated 10 provide both an entry point and an invitation: keep searching, keep laughing, and never underestimate the power of a cheap wig—or a dog in traffic—to brighten your day.
