The famous 'Lisa becomes president after Trump' episode wasn't a prophecy. The script originally read 'President Blank.' Trump was already floating a presidential run in 2000, so the writers plugged in his name for a laugh. That's not prediction — that's topical satire that aged unusually well.
Where this was said
At 37:17 · chapter starts 35:15
The episode's most grounded explanation comes from cognitive science: hindsight bias [1] — Carter Roy "The most grounded explanation for The Simpsons' apparent prophecies is hindsight bias: the 'I knew it all along' phenomenon. Once we know t…" 35:15 . Before an event occurs, we entertain multiple possible futures; afterward, we convince ourselves the outcome was always obvious. The Simpsons doesn't need a crystal ball — it needs 30+ years of satirizing everything, and probability will do the rest. Simpsons writer Jay Kogan put it plainly: 'If you make fun of everything and make impossibly silly jokes about everything, well, it turns out 30 years later some of them turn out to be true.' The Trump prediction is the perfect illustration: the writers originally wrote 'President Blank' and filled in Trump's name because he was already floating a presidential run in 2000. They weren't prophesying — they were making a topical joke. Similarly, Dr. Simon Singh explains that the show's writing room is packed with mathematicians who have hidden math jokes throughout the show's run; Homer's Higgs boson approximation is their craft, not clairvoyance.
The most grounded explanation for The Simpsons' apparent prophecies is hindsight bias: the 'I knew it all along' phenomenon. Once we know the outcome, our brains retrofit certainty onto what were just topical jokes. A show that covers everything for 30 years will inevitably look prescient in retrospect.
A University of Albany professor calculated that The Simpsons has made 1,224 predictions that came true.
The entire plot of the original Terminator film depends on the phone book. The Terminator looks up 'Sarah Connor,' finds multiple listings, and starts killing them one by one. No phone book, no movie.
Rico has already appeared in Den of Thieves, Den of Thieves 2, and Roadhouse alongside Jake Gyllenhaal and Dave Bautista. Jason Statham is developing a specific role for him. Working alongside elite actors taught Rico something about himself: the emotional suppression that makes him a great fighter is exactly the material that makes great acting — if he learns to stop pushing it away.
Trump joked that Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. personally ran over, butchered, and delivered the evening's beef tenderloin to the dinner — then topped it with a punchline about RFK wanting to serve raccoon roadkill as an appetizer. The crowd's laughter at jokes targeting his own administration signaled a rare night of good-natured self-deprecation from Trump.
Jimmy Tatro is playing the nemesis-son to Will Ferrell's washed-up golfer in The Hawk, his fifth project with Ferrell and Ferrell's first lead TV series. The real highlight: Molly Shannon, playing his on-screen mother, drove off set on the last day with Chief Keef blasting from her subwoofers.
Alan Ritchson walked into a Thor audition with his sides still in his hand, half-assed it on a spotlight-lit stage before two silhouettes in a dark theater, and bombed so completely that the casting director broke protocol to call his team. The feedback? He had no craft. That one sentence sent him to acting school — and changed the trajectory of everything.
Alan Ritchson walked out of his Titans audition so sure he'd booked the lead that he called his wife and told her he was going to buy a Tesla. She said he hadn't booked it. He went and bought the car anyway. His instincts were right — he was offered the role — just not the one he wanted.
Reacher drew 56 million global viewers in a single week of Season 2. Alan Ritchson points out what makes it unusual: unlike ensemble shows, almost all of that visibility lands on one person. It's an anthology with a rotating cast built around a single titular character — and the scale of it is something even he calls unprecedented.
Motor City has no spoken dialogue. Every major leading man in Hollywood — Jake Gyllenhaal, Hugh Jackman, Gerard Butler, Adrian Brody — was attached at some point. It was greenlit nine times. The concept was simple: Greg Silverman wanted a film everyone in the world could watch with the exact same experience, regardless of language. Alan Ritchson read the script and called it a masterpiece.
Working with Arnold Schwarzenegger showed Alan Ritchson what 100% recognition looks like. People feel Schwarzenegger before they see him — like a meteor approaching. Alan's wife wants a strict no-photos policy around family. Arnold stops for everyone. The contrast was a master class in how gratitude should manifest when fame is inescapable.
We use essential and analytics cookies to run Vuci. To understand how the site is used: Privacy Policy.
Install Vuci on your phone
Add it to your home screen for a faster, app-like experience.
Install Vuci on your phone
Tap the Share button, then “Add to Home Screen”.
A new version is available
Reload to get the latest Vuci.