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This week, 7 Minute Stories transforms into a courtroom drama—well, sort of. In this courtroom-style story, Aaron Calafato takes on the role of defense attorney, arguing not against cynicism but for hope. As the prosecution condemns Hallmark movies as “brain rot,” Aaron makes a case for why these small-town stories, full of clichés and Christmas lights, might be exactly what our overstimulated culture needs. A clever, heartfelt reflection on repetition, ritual, and why the simplest stories can still teach us the most about being human.
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The Team:
Story created & performed by: Aaron Calafato
Senior Audio Engineer: Ken Wendt
Additional vocals: Cori Calafato
Art: Pete Whitehead
Original Theme Music: thomas j. duke
Additional Soundscape Design: Isaac Gehring
TRANSCRIPT
Today’s story is going to unfold like a courtroom drama. The prosecution is up first. I’m going to summarize their argument in just a few seconds.
And this argument, by the way, is made up of real arguments—by real people in my life. No names, please. Arguments they’ve made about the defendant.
Then it’s my turn to deliver the closing argument for the defense, on behalf of Hallmark movies. And by the end, I’m going to make a case for why Hallmark movies might just be the most important thing happening in our media landscape in 2025.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
I know you’ve been through a lot. I’m sorry we’ve put you through this, but I’m thankful that you’ve stayed present, that you’re here, and for your service to our community.
Now, you’ve heard the prosecution. They’ve told you stories about how binge-watching Hallmark movies creates a false world—a world that represents the brain rot of today’s media landscape.
They’ve argued that we should reduce the distribution of these stories, or stop watching them altogether. That we should focus on “reality.” That Hallmark movies are just a distraction from the real problems of the world.
I understand that pessimism. I get it.
But here is my final ask of you.
I know you’re not stupid—and neither am I.
We know what Hallmark movies are. We can laugh at them. In fact, they’re so absurd that we’ve built entire parodies and meme cultures around them.
The city slicker who returns to their small hometown. The old flame they reunite with. The Christmas festival that needs saving to help the local kids.
You’ve seen it. I’ve seen it. We’ve all seen it—over and over again.
But why?
Why would smart people like us keep watching?
The prosecution says there are more important things to focus on—that there’s better art, more meaningful stories grounded in reality.
My plea to you is to remember how dynamic a person you are.
Ask yourself: do they think we’re stupid?
Do they think we can’t watch the news, see an art film, and then turn on a Hallmark movie?
The prosecution assumes we don’t know how to curate our own media diet—that we can’t exercise our own free will to choose the stories we consume.
So how do we respond to that kind of insult?
With kindness.
Before we deliver a verdict in defense of Hallmark movies, let’s remind the prosecution that we are complex individuals with complex needs.
And if you find yourself watching Hallmark movies—hell, even binging them during the holidays—know that it’s not bad for you. In fact, it might be good.
Maybe I’m biased because I live in a small town that resembles Stars Hollow from Gilmore Girls. We have a town square. Historic buildings. A Christmas festival that’s known nationwide.
It’s real. I walk around it every day.
And while it’s not perfect, it’s about as close to a Hallmark town as you can get.
Some people call it Rockwellian.
And you know what they say about Norman Rockwell’s paintings—they’re wonderful, but “they’re not real.” Well, I’m here to tell you: they are.
Hallmark towns exist.
I live in one.
They’re rare, sure, but just because you haven’t seen one doesn’t mean they don’t exist.
So what’s so good about a Hallmark story?
Even with their cheesy acting and predictable plots, they remind us what’s important.
The big things we chase—success, status, control—pale in comparison to the small moments in between.
To community.
To connection.
To love.
You don’t have to like these movies or even watch them—but you can’t say they’re bad for us.
The prosecution claims they’re repetitive. That they’re the same story, again and again.
But so are some of the greatest philosophies, the greatest faiths, the greatest mantras in the world.
We pray the same prayers.
We celebrate the same holidays.
We repeat the same rituals.
Why?
Because there’s freedom in repetition.
And that’s what we’re doing when we watch these stories—we’re participating in a shared cultural ritual.
The prosecution says these movies take our attention away from the real world.
But are they forgetting what world we live in?
It’s 2025.
We are constantly inundated with news, opinions, headlines, notifications—all of it competing for our attention.
We don’t need to be more aware of the world’s problems. We already are.
What we need is balance.
Stories that disconnect us just enough to remind us what connection feels like.
Stories that rekindle our sense of wonder.
Stories that give us hope.
So whether or not you choose to watch them, remember this:
Hallmark movies are a small but necessary ingredient in our media landscape.
They may be simple, predictable, even corny—but they keep something alive that we need more than ever:
A little bit of magic.
A little bit of hope.
A reminder that the world can still be kind.
I rest my case.
