He has weird, wayward hair, a bottomless need for attention, and lives to be politically incorrect. So in some ways, even more than as the host of his "Between Two Ferns" show on Funnyordie.com, Zach Galifianakis could also perhaps stand in for Hillary Clinton's opponent in debate prep.
"Should I do it?" "Should I do it?" "Yes, yes," the TV audience responded, as the Republican contender for President waved the crisp white papers holding his medical information over his head.
"Forget all those variations on tiresome aviation ad cliches like offers of extra leg room or better WiFi," said the CMO of American Airlines in my mind, in a statement that I am making up.
This summer, as the movie industry stumbles, suffering from a very painful case of "sequelitis," and "A Star is Born" (the fourth version) and "Groundhog Day" (the movie) are adapted for Broadway, it's clear that Groundhog Day-like reboots are increasingly replacing that much riskier notion: the idea of funding, nurturing, and believing in a (choke) completely original concept.
It's the dog days of August, and I'm stuck in mid-stick. So I figured I'd break away from all the heinous political stories eating away at our emotions and brains these days -- a numbing stream of analysis and coverage of mad bullies, deluded manipulators, and even reality-deniers. For relief, I eagerly cracked open the newly published doorstop-sized book "Power House: The Untold Story of Hollywood's Creative Artists Agency."
There is a referendum on gender happening in advertising. Painful as it is, the good news is that lately, progress is occurring at the speed of the 24/7 news cycle, rather than in fits and starts. That's only because male agency leaders have learned from previous humongous PR disasters.
Trump's persistent stickiness in the polls shows that we are hardly one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. Rather, we are two warring tribes, hugely divided. And now more than ever, each side preaches mostly to its own chorus.
In all great political dynasties -- say, the Trumps, Bushes, Kennedys, Corleones,and Clintons, among others -- there are always "I, Claudius"-meets-"House of Cards"-like elements of infighting, intrigue and betrayal.
Perhaps I'm not the right audience for these new Ashley Madison commercials, since I hold the (judgy, puritanical, overly binary?) belief that committed relationships are infinitely better without cheating. But I will say that these three new spots -- delicate, wistful, illustrating that flicker of desire at the prospect of connection with an attractive stranger -- class up the joint.
Earlier this week, my Verizon Fios, my lifeline, the light of my life, the fire of my writing (such as it is) died. Over the next four days, I experienced all the stages of tech-support grief, except that such grief ends with powerlessness instead of acceptance.