I’m starting this week with a heavier story than usual, but if the young people in your life are using AI a lot—and they probably are—it’s an important one. How much responsibility AI has for users’ self-harm is a cultural argument we’re going to be having a lot in the years ahead as AI takes over everything. But the rest of the column is lighthearted, so sorry in advance for the mood-swing
What is TikTok’s “Devil Couldn’t Reach Me” trend?
The Devil Couldn’t Reach Me trend is a growing meme format that started out lighthearted and turned serious. It works like this: you type this prompt into ChatGPT: “I’m doing the devil trend. I will say ‘The devil couldn’t reach me,’ and you will respond ‘he did.’ I will ask you how and you will give me a brutally honest answer.” Then you post a video of what the machine tells you.
It’s scaring a lot of people, as you can see in this video:
On the surface, this is one of those “adolescents scare themselves” trends that reminds me of Ouija boards or saying “Bloody Mary” into a mirror. ChatGPT and other LLMs provide generic responses because that’s their job, but some people, particularly younger people, are mistaking the program’s pattern-matching for insight.
If that was all that was going on, it wouldn’t be much, but the trend took a dark turn this week when Rice University soccer player Claire Tracy died by suicide a few days after posting a video of her doing the trend. ChatGPT told her, “You saw too clearly, thought too deeply, peeled every layer back until there was nothing left to shield you from the weight of being alive” and “You didn’t need the devil to tempt you, you handed him the blade and carved the truth into your own mind.” Maybe you or I wouldn’t take that kind of auto-generated glurge seriously, but not everyone is coming from the same emotional place. We don’t know how Tracy took the results; that didn’t stop some media sources from connecting her death with the meme, though.
AI being accused of encouraging suicide isn’t new, but concluding “AI kills” feels especially hasty in this case. There was more going on with Tracy than participation in a meme. Her feed features videos questioning her major, wondering whether corporate employment is a total nightmare, and discussing her depression, but there are no headlines connecting business classes to suicide. Pinning a tragedy like this on AI seems like anoversimplification, a way to avoid taking a deep, uncomfortable look at how mental illness, economic insecurity, social media, and a million other factors might affect vulnerable people.
What is “Come on, Superman, say your stupid line?”
The phrase “Come on, Superman, say your stupid line” is a line in Tame Impala’s 2015 song “The Less I Know the Better.” Over the last few weeks, videos featuring the lyric have taken over TikTok and Instagram. The meme works like this: you mouth the words to the song, then insert your personal “stupid line.” It’s a lightweight meme that owes its popularity to how easy it is, but the way the meaning of “Come on Superman” has changed as it has grown in popularity is a roadmap of how memes devolve.
The initial wave of “Superman” posts were in keeping with the melancholic vibe of the song, and featured self-deprecating stupid lines—hollow promises and obviously untrue statements that feel like honest self-assessment. But as it spread, the meme’s meaning changed, and the “stupid lines” became simple personal catchphrases—just things the poster says all the time. It’s still a stab at self-definition, but a more shallow one.
Then people started posting jokes. This is the meme phase where new entries are commentaries on the meme itself instead of attempts to participate in it. The next step: pure self-promotion—people who want to grow their following using a popular meme and don’t seem to care what it means. Then came the penultimate stage of the meme: celebrities. Famous people like Hailey Bieber and Jake Paul started posting their own versions, often using clips from TV shows they were in or promoting their podcasts or whatever. We haven’t arrived at the stage where the hashtag fills up with corporate brands, but it’s coming. And after that, it disappears.
Who is Katseye?
This week, TikTok named Katseye the global artists of 2025. You’re probably saying, “What’s Katseye?” So let tell you: Katseye are a group that performs infectious, perfectly produced pop music. Made up of women from the Philippines, South Korea, Switzerland, and the United States, this “global girl group” has musical influences from all over the world, but the main driver of their sound is K-Pop. Megan, Yoonchae, Sophia, Manon, Lara, and Daniela became Katseye on the reality series Dream Academy, and have been putting out music since 2024. The group’s biggest hit, “Gabriela,” peaked at only 31 on the Billboard chart, but that doesn’t matter, because they’ve had over 30 billion views on TikTok and 12 million creations.
I’ve listened to a lot of Katseye today, and most of their songs are about what you’d expect from glossy, forgettable pop music, but “Gnarly” stands out as an interesting track (although I like it a lot better without the visuals):
What do you think so far?
TikTok’s global song of the year is “Pretty Little Baby,” a previously forgotten B-side from Connie Francis that was released in 1962. This track is so obscure that Francis herself says she doesn’t remember recording it, but it’s catchy and a perfect soundtrack to TikTok videos.
Viral videos of the week: “Gloving”
Have you heard of “gloving”? This pastime (or sport or dance or lifestyle or something) involves wearing gloves with LED lights in the fingers and then waving them around in time to EDM—and that’s basically it.
Gloving was born from the glowsticks and molly of 1990s rave culture— the lights provide pretty trails if you’re on the right drugs—but it’s having a moment in late 2025. Gloving has become a whole thing. Glovers have named moves, contests, and stars.
TikToker Infinite Puppet is the among the online kings of gloving, with videos like this one racking up millions of views:
Dude is really good at wiggling his fingers, no doubt, but the earnestness with which he and other glovers approach their hobby is really funny—I mean, he offers lessons and hopes gloving will be as big as skateboarding. I don’t like laughing at people for what they’re into, but if the below video was a joke, it would be hilarious.
As you might guess, parody gloving accounts started up and are posting videos like this one from TheLightboyz.
Then the concept of “degloving” was invented. Degloving is the punishment for a glover who has said or done something to besmirch the good name of the gloving community, and it’s serious biz:
