The first time the phrase that’s kind of blender surfaced, no one could’ve predicted it would become a shorthand for generational disdain. It wasn’t born in a viral video or a Twitter thread—it emerged from the quiet, sarcastic corners of Reddit, where users dissected pop culture with surgical precision. The phrase itself is a paradox: a critique wrapped in a kitchen appliance, a way to dismiss something as both absurd and vaguely familiar, like a half-remembered joke. By the time it migrated to TikTok, it had already been refined into a weapon of passive-aggressive wit, a phrase that could dismantle an entire argument in three words. What made it different from other internet catchphrases was its specificity. Unlike ok boomer or sigma male, that’s kind of blender wasn’t just a rejection—it was a rejection with a reason. The "blender" part implied a mechanical, almost industrial process of dilution, as if the thing being criticized had been pureed into something bland and forgettable. The phrase’s power lay in its ambiguity: Was it a put-down? A shrug? A backhanded compliment? The ambiguity made it adaptable, a chameleon that could fit into any conversation where someone wanted to say, "Yeah, I’ve heard of that, but it’s not really a thing." The phrase’s early adopters weren’t influencers or celebrities—they were anonymous Redditors and Twitter users who treated it like an inside joke. It spread through the slow, organic process of meme diffusion, where a single comment in a niche subreddit could ripple outward months later. By the time it reached mainstream platforms, it had already been tested, tweaked, and perfected by people who understood its potential as a cultural shorthand. The beauty of that’s kind of blender was that it didn’t require explanation. You either got it or you didn’t—and if you didn’t, the phrase itself became the punchline.

Where It All Began

The origins of that’s kind of blender can be traced to the late 2010s, when internet discourse was still figuring out how to weaponize sarcasm. The phrase first appeared in threads where users dissected trends, products, or even other memes with a mix of skepticism and amusement. It wasn’t a sudden explosion—it was more like a slow simmer, a phrase that gained traction because it filled a gap in the internet’s emotional vocabulary. Before that’s kind of blender, people might’ve said, "That’s not really a thing," or "It’s just a trend." But the blender metaphor added a layer of absurdity, turning criticism into a joke at the expense of whatever was being dismissed. The early iterations were rougher, more experimental. Users would append it to anything they deemed unoriginal or hollow—new fast-food menu items, reality TV contestants, even other viral phrases. The phrase’s flexibility was its strength. It could apply to a song that sounded like every other pop track, a TikTok trend that felt recycled, or a product launch that seemed like a corporate checkbox. The more it was used, the more it evolved, shedding its original meaning to become a catch-all for anything that felt just off-brand enough to be dismissed without outright hostility.

The Early Signs

By 2019, that’s kind of blender had graduated from Reddit’s back alleys to Twitter’s mainstream. It started appearing in replies to viral moments, often as a way to downplay hype without engaging directly. The phrase’s rise coincided with a broader cultural shift—one where skepticism toward trends became its own kind of trend. People were tired of performative enthusiasm, of treating every new thing as if it were revolutionary. That’s kind of blender was the perfect antidote: a way to say, "I’ve seen this before, and it’s not special." What made it stick was its tone. It wasn’t aggressive or dismissive—it was lazy. The phrase carried the weight of someone who had already moved on, who didn’t have the energy to fully commit to whatever was being discussed. That laziness resonated. In an era where attention spans were fragmenting and cultural participation was becoming more performative, that’s kind of blender offered a middle ground: engagement without investment.

The Turning Point

The phrase’s breakthrough came when it was adopted by creators who could turn it into a meme format. TikTok users began pairing it with clips of people hyping up things that were, in reality, unremarkable. A YouTuber promoting a mid-tier product? That’s kind of blender. A reality TV star with a gimmicky persona? That’s kind of blender. The phrase’s new life on TikTok transformed it from a passive-aggressive comment into an active, visual critique. Suddenly, it wasn’t just about dismissing something—it was about exposing the hype behind it. The turning point wasn’t a single moment but a series of them. Memes about that’s kind of blender started appearing in reaction videos, comedy sketches, and even late-night talk shows. It became a shorthand for the internet’s collective exhaustion with overhyped mediocrity. The phrase’s success also highlighted a broader truth: the internet doesn’t just celebrate the new—it polices it, tearing down anything that feels like it’s trying too hard to be original.

"That’s kind of blender" became the internet’s way of saying, "We’ve seen this movie before."

The Build-Up, Year by Year

Period	What Happened / What Changed
2017–2018	The phrase emerges in niche Reddit and Twitter discussions as a way to dismiss unoriginal trends. Early usage is experimental, often tied to pop culture critiques.
2019	Adoption accelerates on Twitter, where it becomes a go-to reply for viral moments that feel hollow. The phrase’s tone—lazy, sarcastic, and slightly amused—makes it stick.
2020–2021	TikTok and YouTube reaction channels repurpose that’s kind of blender as a meme format, pairing it with clips of overhyped products or personalities. It becomes a visual, shareable critique.

Lessons From the Journey

• The internet’s vocabulary evolves through repetition, not intent. That’s kind of blender didn’t start as a meme—it became one because it filled a need.
• Ambiguity is a meme’s greatest strength. The phrase’s lack of clear meaning made it adaptable to any context.
• Skepticism can be just as viral as enthusiasm. The internet doesn’t just celebrate trends—it polices them, and that’s kind of blender was the perfect tool for that.
• Platforms shape meaning. Reddit refined the phrase’s tone; TikTok turned it into a visual format. Each step changed what it could represent.

Where Things Stand Today

As of 2024, that’s kind of blender has settled into the cultural lexicon as a way to signal disinterest without outright rejection. It’s no longer a viral phrase in the traditional sense—it’s a reflex, a gut reaction to anything that feels like it’s trying too hard. The phrase’s longevity speaks to its versatility. It can apply to a new fast-food chain, a reality TV show, or even a political slogan. What hasn’t changed is its core function: to dismiss something as unoriginal, overhyped, or just not quite there. The phrase’s endurance also reflects a broader cultural fatigue with novelty. In an era where trends come and go in weeks, that’s kind of blender serves as a reminder that not everything deserves our attention. It’s a digital shrug, a way to say, "I’ve heard this before, and it’s not special." And in a world where everything is trying to be special, that’s a powerful statement.

Conclusion

That’s kind of blender didn’t start as a meme—it became one because it captured a moment in internet culture where skepticism was the new enthusiasm. The phrase’s journey from Reddit to TikTok to mainstream discourse shows how language evolves when it fills a gap. It wasn’t about the blender itself; it was about the idea that some things are so unoriginal they might as well be pureed into nothingness. What’s fascinating about that’s kind of blender is that it’s not just a phrase—it’s a mindset. It represents a generation that’s tired of performative hype, that values authenticity over noise, and that uses humor as a shield against the overwhelming amount of content vying for attention. In that sense, the phrase’s success says more about us than it does about the things we’re dismissing.

Comprehensive FAQs

Q: Where did that’s kind of blender originally come from?

The phrase first appeared in late 2010s internet discussions on Reddit and Twitter, where users employed it as a sarcastic way to dismiss unoriginal trends or overhyped products. Its early usage was experimental, but its flexibility made it stick.

Q: Why is it called that’s kind of blender?

The "blender" metaphor implies a mechanical process of dilution—turning something into a bland, forgettable mixture. The phrase’s power lies in its absurdity: it’s a critique disguised as a kitchen appliance.

Q: How did it become so popular?

Its rise was organic. The phrase spread because it filled a gap in internet discourse—a way to express skepticism without outright hostility. TikTok later turned it into a visual meme format, amplifying its reach.

Q: Can that’s kind of blender apply to anything?

Almost anything. The phrase’s ambiguity makes it adaptable to trends, products, or even people. It’s a catch-all for anything that feels unoriginal or overhyped.

Q: Is it still used today?

Yes, but differently. It’s no longer a viral phrase—it’s a reflex. People use it to signal disinterest in anything that feels like it’s trying too hard to be special.

Q: What does that’s kind of blender say about internet culture?

It reflects a cultural fatigue with performative hype. The phrase’s success shows that skepticism can be just as viral as enthusiasm, and that authenticity is valued over noise.

Q: Are there similar phrases?

Yes—phrases like ok boomer or sigma male serve similar functions, but that’s kind of blender stands out for its ambiguity and lack of aggression. It’s a dismissal wrapped in a joke.