Ordinary men do not insist on enriching mental food because they
have no instinctive taste therefore.
Humans same as other creatures are born desiring their needed survival nourishment, and what collective humanity mentally consumes is what is necessary for them  --  --  collectively.
The mind is programmed to seek mental food of a practical nature (information)
which will make survival more likely and comfortable, and when not doing that
(which is most of the time for most of the people reading this)
it hungers for mental food that is merely entertaining: ergo man’s creation of culture,
and while the first type food by its nature must be nourishing (read: useful),
the second variety has no such requirements:
the question of cultural food’s nutrition never arises,
since it does not exist for practical purposes to begin with;
you may personally like movie A more than movie B,
but that does not indicate its dietetic superiority:
neither will have any actual nutritional value (that is): nothing about them
(or any other facet of man’s cultural life: literature, music, religion etc.)
is for the purpose of expanding man’s understanding  --   it is commonly said to be so, that the arts are a mirror man holds up to himself: to learn about himself,
but a jaundiced man will always fashion a reflective device, yellow tinged,
and once a man has looked at himself and seen the wart on his nose,
how is his understanding of himself improved by subsequent looks.
A man born with that certain anomalous hunger to see more than does the herd, realizes as soon as it is noted, that the ordinary people who make up the planet’s population do not produce art, culture, politics, or philosophical ideas
that in any manner enrich man’s understanding,
but rather works which are merely confessions of his flaws and failures;
truly nourishing art & entertainment would be that which pointed to what a man could achieve in his inner life, rather than repeated showings of his present shortcoming;
although it is clearly what life currently wants for man (witness: that’s how it is):
all of his culture, from Classical to Contemporary; from poetry to film,
from fiction to drama, from religion & politics to social commentary & gossip,
are men, via their words and artificial images, presenting pictures of man as a sniveling, blood thirsty, cowardly, pig headed, prejudiced, thief, rapist, murderer
(with a hero [ala deus ex machina] frequently appearing in the final moments).
In what way is this nourishing, informative regarding the matter of man
(which is the subject and raison d'être of all culture);
he has seen himself in such a light for as long as he has recorded a history.
Once you’ve looked in a mirror and noted: “I have unusually large ears”  --
what understanding of yourself will result from a restating of the fact.
In this sense: all culture is history  --  and a most brief history
(though not so recognized by collective humanity) for the history consists of but
man long ago saying: “Something is not quite right about me;
in some manner  --  I do not measure up”:
this he has repeated over and over again in his politics, his literature, his religions,
his social observations: the endless diagnosis of an ill passing for its treatment
(or we could say: for its improvement).

Meaningless confessions and whining entertain ordinary men,
but not so an unconventional few;
they not only do not find it entertaining, but indeed near toxic (in a figurative context);
they (as it were) by birth feel somehow off-put by what seems to be their self;
they do not really need the routine condemnations presented to man from his
various cultural institutions;
by their nature do they feel that something is wrong  --
that something is lacking in them with an intensity much deeper than
the common guilt experienced by the rest of humanity which they believe
is caused by the censure of powers outside of them (their religion, community, family).
These few with a rebellious knot in their nervous system have an innate hunger that tells them there is something missing from the mental diet from which
men ordinarily partake (and quickly discover theirs is a minority view);
the adults and peers around them express no radical displeasure with
the intangible fare available to them; they appear to thoroughly enjoy it  --
the recreation part of their lives seems to thrive thereon,
but these nervous system outliers feel a hollow in their neural gut
that nothing in the public marketplace fills, and as noted:
repeated trips to that trough finally begin to produce a low level nausea
(or should we say: exhausting indifference).
These people’s unique inner hunger can no more be fed by the food that
satisfies everyone else than can a wolf live on a bee’s diet;
there is nothing intrinsically wrong with the intangible fare that pleases everyone else, it is merely insufficient for the certain man whose life is centered around
a desire to understand what is going on, which, as supra mentioned,
is never the ingredient in humanity’s ordinary mental food.
The info fare the man with the certain hunger wants and needs is someplace
entirely outside the normal realms, and for one simple reason:
it is antipodal to the normal realms;
it destroys them in the sense of making clear to the certain man, their nature,
(men are not driven to write books that tell how to eradicate literature).

The entertaining knowledge (which is about what it should be called)
that the neural rebel/warrior/sage & adventurer seeks
is to be found nowhere that an ordinary man would or can look:
life (if you will notice) does not program suicidal activities into its creatures
so the interest of these certain few anomalies is never to be satisfied via
commonly available sources of entertainment and ostensible information about man: so where is it?  --   no where!  --  they must create it.