Meghan Markle’s much-anticipated Netflix venture—dubbed the show where she “cooks but doesn’t really”—has hit an unexpected delay.
If you’re thinking the postponement is due to lukewarm pre-release buzz or a flood of negative early reviews, think again. According to official reports, the reason cited is concern over wildfires. Yes, wildfires. Naturally, this explanation has raised more than a few eyebrows. Media personality Greg Gutfeld wasted no time poking fun at the situation, quipping that Meghan’s delay due to wildfire concerns “has the public demanding more wildfires.” That stinging remark cuts deep, but it highlights a larger question: Is the wildfire excuse really the issue here, or is there a more obvious reason for the hold-up?
A quick glance at the trailer’s reception gives a telling clue. With over 166,000 dislikes (an eye-popping number that’s impossible to ignore), the public’s reception appears overwhelmingly negative. That’s not just a suggestion to make a few tweaks; it’s a deafening call for a total rethink. Yet acknowledging a lukewarm response isn’t nearly as glamorous as positioning oneself as a symbol of compassion and altruism. Facing poor reviews would be difficult, but shaping a narrative of humanitarian heroism? That’s far more palatable—and predictable.
And here comes Meghan’s next move: embodying the compassionate figure deeply concerned about wildfire relief efforts. As with past appearances, there’s a distinct pattern. Cue footage of devastation, a somber expression, and a conveniently positioned camera to capture it all. Her highly publicized participation in a Pasadena relief event was a textbook example. Harry and Meghan arrived, ostensibly to help, but their actions seemed more geared toward a media moment than meaningful assistance. The scene felt more like a chapter from her “tragedy tourism” playbook than a genuine attempt to aid the cause.
Candace Owens added her own sharp commentary, delivering a satirical critique on TikTok. She pointed out the irony of Meghan’s wildfire relief efforts, which included stooping to lift a plastic bin for the cameras. Owens mockingly praised her for this noble act, thanking her for her dedication to saving plastic bins. The biting humor underlined what many saw as another case of hollow, performative charity.
The backlash gained further momentum when Meghan Kelly joined the fray. Known for her directness, Kelly delivered a scathing takedown of the couple’s media-driven antics. She highlighted the glaring contrast between their public persona and private lifestyle, noting how their $29 million mansion offers more than enough room for quiet philanthropy. Kelly’s words were brutal but resonant: “When you’re an actual member of the royal family, people expect answers and action during a tragedy. But guess what? You’re in America now. We don’t need you, we don’t want you, and we’re tired of the show.”
Meghan’s public persona continues to draw more scorn than support, with critics arguing that her ventures lack authenticity. For all the elaborate PR spins, carefully orchestrated optics, and faux emotional moments, the result seems to be mounting skepticism. There’s a growing sentiment that even a reality TV rerun might offer more sincerity than the latest installment of the “Meghan Markle Show.” While she may persist in crafting her narrative, the message from the public is increasingly clear: This script needs a serious rewrite.
