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At first, the news that Netflix had canceled its cult favorite mockumentary series “American Vandal” after two under-the-radar seasons sparked great sadness in this writer’s heart. The show expertly blended raunchy, juvenile comedy with biting social critique, and it was all predicated on the genius concept of creators Dan Perrault and Tony Yacenda. Capitalizing on the growing audience hunger for true crime, they decided to swap out the morbid seriousness of the grizzled old men in landmark docu-shows like “The Jinx” and “Making of a Murderer” with delightfully stupid teenagers. Instead of the question of who killed Kathy Durst, we were asked, who spray painted the dicks on the cars in the teacher parking lot? It was certainly a fantastic idea, but for a Saturday Night Live skit, not an entire television series.

The concept seems as though would wear thin after an hour’s worth of material, and there was always the worry that it would be beaten into the ground in true Netflix fashion. The central character, Dylan Maxwell (Jimmy Tatro), was so well-realized that I began to consider if his presence would be enough to carry the show past this issue. Four hours later, after coming to the last episode, tears were shed, not only out of laughter, but of genuine sadness and sympathy for the plight of so many characters. The show had taken this paper-thin premise and turned it into a complex meditation on adolescence, social media narcissism, stereotyping, and the consequences of publicity. That it managed to cover so many themes, create so many compelling characters, and deliver an addicting plot out of a conceit as deep as a Clickhole headline had me convinced that Perrault and Yacenda were miracle workers. I would dutifully sign up for more material on Dylan Maxwell and his high school buddies.

The second season, however, decided to adhere to the anthology format (somehow, the series’ creators had now managed to double down on two of the hottest trends in T.V., the true crime and the anthology). Season 2 follows Peter Maldonado (Tyler Alvarez) and Sam Ecklund (Griffin Gluck), the “documentarians” from Season 1, and places them in a new high school with a new investigation with a new gross, shallow joke to base an entire season around. Pete and Sam, while certainly charming in their own right, were arguably the least interesting characters in Season 1, serving as audience surrogates and piecing together all the loose ends of their own investigation. Yet, for the show to continue, some remnant from the first season was needed, and they were the only logical choice. From the humble origins of the Dick Drawer, the more menacing Turd Burglar emerged, with a crime much more sadistic and just plain sad. With all of the gut-wrenching surprises already used up by the first season of “Vandal,” it was certainly less thrilling to watch a season that everyone knew would end in misery and deep introspection for its protagonists. Credit to the creators for making another watchable, profound, and hilarious season of television out of the slimmest idea for an anthology series the world has probably ever witnessed.

With that in mind, however, it is impossible to think of how a third season would do anyone any good. And so, in the case of “American Vandal,” it’s better to burn out than to fade away.  

Netflix, which has no problem letting creatively spent shows like “House of Cards” and “Orange is the New Black” die slow and painful deaths, cut the cord early on “Vandal,” which remained sharp even in its less engaging second season. Although it would be nice to think that Netflix made this decision out of long-term planning and artistic considerations, it is already being reported that they are attempting to cut down on the amount of programs made by outside studios. This means it is highly likely some other streaming service will snap it up and churn it out again for a third season.

Even the best shows in television history have sometimes fallen victim to the one-season-too-many disease. “Dexter,” “Mad Men,” and “Homeland” come to mind immediately. All of these had much larger audiences than “Vandal” could ever dream of, and at least in the case of the latter two, had premises that could theoretically be mined for decades. The ’60s of  “Mad Men” could have extended into the ’70s and ’80s. Imagine Don Draper in the Reagan Era! “Homeland,” which, believe it or not, is still a show, has been ripping its last few seasons’ narratives directly off real foreign policy headlines. While “Mad Men” regained its footing in its two-part final seventh season, it meandered about for a couple of middle seasons, and “Homeland” will limp to the finish line of Season 8 later next June after trending downward for years.

Then comes the curious case of “American Vandal.” What possible tricks could they have up their sleeve for Season 3? The Tampon Trampler? The Barf Bandit? And then what? Would it be revealed that these mastermind criminals were deeply insecure about their social media presence? After two seasons of exploring the ins and outs of this tiny subculture, it would be great to see what other ideas Perrault and Yacenda can come up with, in some other show or creative outlet. If they choose to limit themselves even further with a third season of “Vandal,” it would be slightly disappointing.

But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t watch it.